Death is My BFF (The Death Chronicles Book 1)

Wind and rain whipped around my cloak, a nightmarish storm wreaking havoc on precious Pleasant Valley.

This girl was getting on my last nerve.

From the sidewalk across the street, I watched Faith pace the length of her bedroom, absorbed in the little piece of paper I’d written on. My scowl deepened. She had collapsed in the warehouse, folding into my arms like a doll. I’d taken her home, but I didn’t plan on sticking around to chat once she awakened.

I’d let my guard down. She’d touched me again. Delving into my most private domain and leaving me helpless to a power she couldn’t even control. She’d torn through a barrier between us, paralyzing me, implanting her consciousness into mine like a viper injecting venom into its prey. Now, in the wake of what she’d done, my control wavered. A dent embedded in a cage door that imprisoned the monster on the other side.

I could hear its sinister whispers, leaking into my thoughts.

A cruel, malicious voice, so akin to mine I could hardly tell the difference anymore. End this all, it purred. You know she would be tasty.

My neck rolled, a groan tumbling out. I should have snapped her skinny neck in the warehouse. Snatched the light from her eyes and saved myself from the constant burden of keeping tabs on her. A simple thought, a slight movement of my fingers—dead.

The longer I reeled over our interaction, the darker my thoughts dimmed, and the more I wished I had indeed ended this charade once and for all. Tempting was not the word for the effect her near-ness had on me. Interacting with a human was always a dangerous game when I was depleted of energy, but over two thousand years of experience and adapting to my cravings had not prepared me for her and that sharp tongue.

It didn’t help that her hair products, skin cream, and perfume combined created the aroma of a goddamn dessert. Why couldn’t she reek of body odor and stale french fries, like the other mortals at her high school?

I’d known from the day she took the deal that a power dwelled in her soul. An energy, which made her aura glow like a lantern. I never thought it’d develop into such a pain in the ass.

Faith’s thoughts after she’d entered my conscious were too chaotic to decipher. Half the time, I couldn’t hear her thoughts at all, and when I could, they were often in broken-up fragments, like a poor radio signal. However, this time I’d plucked enough from her brain to know exactly where she’d landed in my head.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to keep it together.

Facing what I’d buried long ago was inevitable. Memory is the true curse of immortality and forgetting is a forgiveness the wicked are not spared. The night pulsed to the pounding of my undead heart, the roar of my past smothering out the howling winds.

I was around ten or eleven years old, perched below the canopy of the mulberry tree. Rooted at the peak of a grassy hill, it overlooked our entire vineyard with proud emerald arms. Every early afternoon, I would take my meal from the servants to go in my satchel and race through the endless rows of the olive trees to feast beneath its blooming branches. Now the blooms were turning to fruit—deep red berries. I’d pluck them straight off the branches, my mouth stained crimson from their juice.

I dropped down to a lower branch, then another, before landing in the pillowing grass. Ringlets of golden hair fell into my eyes as I pushed aside a worn-out log and dug into the dirt below it with a flat stone. My bare feet were grimed with dirt, and my play tunic, draping off my one shoulder from where it was torn, bore a few stains from adventuring in the woods.

Displayed on a linen cloth to my right were a few rocks, a snake’s skin, and various-sized pieces of wood I would chisel into figurines.

What stood out amongst the rest was an odd-shaped blade, which I picked up and caressed my small fingers over. It reminded me of a jagged crescent moon, with intricate symbols along the blade and hilt. This weapon was my most prized possession and my greatest secret. Uncovering it had led me to something so otherworldly and precious that I felt it was my responsibility to protect it. Which was why I was burying it here, under my mulberry tree, where it would be safe, and my father would never find it.

“Alexandru!”

A hot wind surged against my face as I shot a frantic look over my shoulder. I twirled the weapon around my fingers in a dance of skill, before stuffing it into the hole I’d dug. Shoving dirt with my forearm, buring it in seconds.

“Alexandru!” the woman’s voice grew louder I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Over here!”

The woman trudged up the grassy hill to meet me at the mulberry tree. Her soft, feminine features were cradled by unblemished olive-toned skin and wavy curls cascading down her back like liquid gold. My mother, Phoebe Cruscellio, renowned for her broad knowledge in herbal medicine and her deep care for the deprived of Rome. Townspeople flocked to her for affordable medical services.

Little did they know what she truly was. How her late mother, my grandmother, had taught her magic since she was a little girl, and now she was the most powerful witch in her inner circle.

Giving commoners medical advice, while keeping her powers hidden, left my mother with a dangerous employment. Nobody could ever discover the eccentricities of our family. We’d risk exposure, or worse, executions, as my father constantly reminded us.

Father could not see the hypocrisy in his own words, how he was entrenched in mortal society and risking our lives more than any of us. No, he would never see the whole truth, like I did. Mother went to great lengths to save others because she could never find the courage to save herself from him.

“There you are, my naughty child,” Mother said, slightly panting as she hiked up the satchel slung over her shoulder. “I was picking olives for a snack, when I saw you racing down the rows like the farm dogs were nipping at your bottom.” A small smile curved her lips as she approached the mulberry tree, her hand pressing against the bark as she looked up into the canopy blooms. “The Fates work in mysterious ways . . . ”

“What do you mean?” I asked, watching Mama pluck a berry to taste it. Her lips puckered as the berry was not ripe yet.

“I too used to climb up here to be alone,” Mama explained.

“I would sing to you under this very tree. You were only a small swell in my belly then, and I came down with a great sickness while you grew. Your father would climb up here to collect the mulberry leaves and its fruit to aid in a healthful pregnancy. These berries were my only cure.” She touched her flat stomach with a reminiscent smile and laid a kiss on my forehead. “Have you fed your animals, my sweet?”

“I fed the dogs and the sheep,” I said, plopping down in front of the dirt pile so she would not question it. I fiddled with my wooden figurine of a lion and made it pounce on top of a rock.

Mother bent down to pluck a twig out of my hair. Her fingers wiped dirt off my cheek, too, the scar on my face tingling before I flinched away. The large vertical mark slashed through my lighter green eye was a cruel reminder of the trauma I’d suffered a year ago.

My face had been torn by a wild cat during a combat exercise, jagged flesh mending together to form a grueling permanent mark. It was still pink from poor healing, but I did not mind the appearance as much as Mama did. I only wished it wouldn’t ward off other children my age. Since I was homeschooled, I rarely had any social interaction with others.

“And the horses?” Mama asked, drawing my attention back to her. “Have you fed the horses? Cruentas needs a wash, my love.” Her nose scrunched up. “As do you.”

“Father told me not to visit Cruentas today. I hurt my arm . . . sparring.”

I trained daily with my father. The harrowing lessons with him were the worst parts of my day.

My mother looked down at me for a prolonged length of time.

“You lie to me. I can hear it in your voice.” Before I could move away from her grasp, she reached down and tugged up the sleeve of my toga, exposing a darkening purple bruise on my upper arm.

Her eyes widened, and she gasped. “Did your father do this?” I didn’t want to instigate another fight between them, so I began to draw in the dirt again. Her voice only amplified. “Answer me, Alexandru!”

“I went out in the forest early this morning,” I said, stabbing a broken branch into the ground and snapping it in two. “Father went looking for me, though he was not concerned with my safety as I am sure he will tell you. He was angry because I was late. His only concern is my training.”

Mama stood and hugged her arms to her chest. “I have tried to get through to your father, but he is so stubborn, and he only wants what is best for you. There are many dangerous animals, hunters, even drunk men that wander about the forest. He worries for your safety when you run outside our land all alone.”

I shook my head at my mother’s naivety, laughing bitterly. “I only wanted to show the town boys my new secret spot in the woods.

They are allowed to play in the morning, and it is not fair. I am forced to spar with Father until midday break, and if I disobey him, I am treated like an animal. And you . . . ” I tried to hide my seething tone from my mother and failed. “You do nothing about it.”

My mother slid a hand over her mouth, her eyes pooling with emotion. “If I could, I would take you far away from here.”

“Then why not try?”

“It is complicated, Alexandru,” she murmured. I’d heard that vague answer a thousand times before and had grown numb to it.

“Do you wish I was not your mother?”

“Never.” Absentmindedly, I dug in the ground beside me for the blade I had buried. “I wish for a friend. A true friend.”

Mama was heartbroken by this, and it made me feel worse. I didn’t talk to her often about feelings because I knew she had her own issues with my father.

“I am your friend,” she said, and then she hugged me to her chest.

We sat in silence, her fingers combing absently through my hair.

“What is this?” she inquired, poking the toe of her sandal against the hill of dirt where I’d buried the blade—buried it too shallow.

The hilt of the weapon lifted up from the dirt, and I lurched to the ground to cover it.

“Nothing.” I buried it again and shot a nervous glance at my mother, my heart racing in my ribs. “An old treasure I found in the fields.”

“That is not nothing.” Mama nudged me to the side as she knelt to the ground, digging up the weapon and brushing it off. Anger filled her emerald gaze, and for a sliver of a moment, I visualized my father’s rage, and my leg muscles tightened to run. “This is a weapon!

Alexandru, you have lied to me again. Where did you find this?” Her fingertips traced the inky symbols lining the weapon. “Black magic is engraved into its blade, words not even I can translate. Perhaps it is from the Helm of Darkness!”

“It is not a dagger of Hades,” I said, snatching it from her.

I tucked it into my pants and stood up. “I made sure it was not enchanted, like you taught me. I found it, and so it is mine.”

“Alex—”

“May I go play? I want to sift for rocks in the stream. I will be back well before dusk.”

She gaped at me as if I had two heads. I had skillfully dismissed the subject of the weapon, and she didn’t have the time to question it further. She was leaving today to attend to her clients in the city.

“Your father will not be pleased.”

I smiled mischievously. “Only if he finds out.”

“You will not go anywhere until you promise me this: you will get rid of that blade and be back long before the sun falls. Promise me, Alexandru.”

“I promise.”

She kissed me good-bye, and I took off toward the woods.

“Alexandru,” she yelled after me, “not too late!”

I ran through the woods until I arrived at an empty dirt road.

Kneeling in the bushes, I waited. A rider on a tan horse trotted down the dirt path. When he neared my hiding spot, I threw myself into the middle of the road and landed on all fours. The man brought his beast to an abrupt halt. As he was distracted by the reins, I bared my teeth at the horse and released a hiss. The horse’s nostrils went wide.

It kicked up its hooves, dancing restlessly in place as if I were a snake.

“What are you doing, boy?” The rider calmed his horse and glared down at me. “I could have killed you!”

“I need your help!” I wept, feigning fear. “My friend, he’s dying!

He’s in the forest!” I thrust my finger toward the opposite side of the road, where the ominous trees swayed. “You have to help him, please!”

The rider tied up his anxious horse and followed me through the woods. We ran for a long time, when the man urgently asked,

“Where is your trapped friend?”

“Right here, follow me!”

We came to an opening near a body of water and flat moss, where an old willow tree stood. My hands gripped a cluster of vines at the base of the tree trunk, and I tugged my arms to the side, wrenching free the blanket of camouflage I’d laid there. This revealed an aging mirror made of silver, since it was created before mirrors were glass.

“My friend . . . he is inside the mirror,” I said. “He says I am different, because I can communicate to lost spirits such as his. The souls lost to the shadows between here and . . . elsewhere. That is where he is, and he is scared. Trapped.”

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Alexandru.”

“I’m Bastien.” He scrutinized me up and down with his eyebrows drawn inward. “You have an unusual imagination, Alex . . . ”

“I am telling you the truth. He has been imprisoned in this mirror for a long time. My friend, he was punished for stealing food for his sick wife. The evil man who trapped him, the man who my friend stole from, practiced the dark elements, and now my friend suffers. If we do not help him soon, he will be encased in his own nightmares and memories for all eternity. My friend says I can help him create a bridge to cross worlds because I am half-human. I could save him, but I need your assistance. You are a good man, I can tell. You have a kind heart, and you are exactly the person I need.”

Bastien roared with boisterous laughter, and my shoulders crippled inward a little in defeat. He didn’t believe me.

“Do you have a family, son?” Bastien said, wiping at a tear as he composed himself. “They must miss you. Go to them. Stop playing pretend and be a man. Soon it will be dark, and these parts of the woods are filled with wild cats and other creatures of the night. It is not safe for children.” He began to walk away. “Come with me, I will lead you back to my horse.”

“Wait!” I took out the curved dagger I had buried in the sand, clenching it at my side. “I have proof. I will call to my friend with this blade, and you can meet him yourself.”

The rider glanced over his shoulder, his attention snagging on the weapon. “You will put that knife away, child. I do not want to play your game—”

“Ahrimad!” I shouted, pivoting, and straightening my arm to point the dagger toward the mirror. “Ahrimad, I summon you!”

A great wind kicked up, knocking leaves off the trees, and spreading the rest of the vines, growth, and thorns away from the ancient mirror. The reflective surface rippled like silvery water and a low whistle pierced the air, making Bastien cover his ears.

“He is here!” I said, smiling as I moved closer to the mirror.

“Ahrimad, can you hear me? I told you I would find a good man.

This is Bastien!” I grabbed Bastien by the arm, ushering the stunned man forward. “Bastien will help us, so you can finally be freed, I know he will!”

Bastien looked up at the darkening clouds above the willow and took a step away from me. “What is wrong with the sky?” he demanded, his voice wavering. “I hear . . . whispering. Where are those voices coming from?”

“My friend has returned,” I explained. “Do not be afraid.

Ahrimad is funny and clever. He is kind too.”

Evidently mystified by the mirror’s waving surface, Bastien allowed me to lead the dagger to the mirror.

“Come closer, Bastien,” whispered a voice. Startled, Bastien looked down at me, and I gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s all right, Ahrimad will not hurt you.” I ushered Bastien closer and placed the weapon into his hand. “He said the man with a pure heart must point the hilt of the blade toward the mirror, and this will unlock his prison. Like this.”

I guided Bastien’s trembling hand with the base of the dagger pointed toward the mirror. As the hilt of the weapon hit the surface, the mirror stilled and the whistle in the air amplified. I winced at the unexpected reaction and clamped my hands over my ears.

“What witchery is this?” Bastien cried, and my eyes widened as I saw that blood trickled from his ears. “What have you lead me into!” Bastian let out a howling scream and tried to pull back from the mirror, but his hand and the dagger had fused with the surface. A burst of energy suddenly exploded from the mirror in a sonic boom, knocking me back to the ground and pinning me down.

Two silvery, wet hands flew out from the mirror and gripped Bastien’s arms. They seized the dagger out of his hand and stabbed him repeatedly in the heart. Blood sprayed the ground and Bastien’s face as he roared in agony. I gaped at the scene in horror, tears filling my eyes. My screams lodged in my throat as I watched the rider get brutally knifed to death.

Bastien’s limp frame was heaved forward by those silvery hands and pulled into the mirror, until there were no remains of his body.

The mirror’s surface cracked into a million pieces and exploded into shards. I threw an arm over my face to shield myself as bloody glass rained down to the earth.

An amorphous figure glided forward from the willow tree and took shape, bending and twisting, until it converted to the silhouette of a man with a draping obsidian cloak. With his face concealed, the creature tilted his head down at me, and I went cold as ice.

“Ahrimad?” I whispered.

“Hello, my friend.” He drew his sword in one fluid motion.

Through widened eyes, I saw it was engraved with the same intricate designs as the dagger I had discovered. “Whatever creature you are, reveal yourself to me now, or I will have to destroy you.”

“I-I am only mortal.”

“You dare lie to me!” My eyes widened as he thrust his sword out and dug the tip of it into my throat to pin me to the ground. “No one can touch my blade. Not without turning to ash.”

“Perhaps it is because my father’s blood runs in my veins. He is a demigod.”

The hooded creature stilled. “A demigod . . . ” Two vicious eyes glowed with a wrathful amber yellow beneath the creature’s hood.

“Ah, I know of your father. The young demigod general has a son?”

All I could do was nod, tears flooding my eyes. “I don’t understand what is happening. Where is Bastien?”

“Bastien is dead. One soul, gone, for another freed.”

I choked on a sob. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt him!”

“All gods are tricksters.” Ahrimad laughed under his breath.

“Your father, he deprives you of your greatness. He forces you to lie about your uniqueness. Such a shame.” His head angled as he analyzed me. “Tell me, how did you get that scar on your face, child?”

“A large wild cat. Father made me fight it for my training.”

“It almost killed you. Yes, I sense you were close to death indeed.

What has become of your damaged eye?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly.

The hooded creature released a chilling growl. “The truth, or I will twist your little neck.”

I trembled from head to toe, sweat soaking my underclothes. “The truth is . . . I am a monster,” I whispered. “Mama, when she healed my injured eye with black magic, it came with a dark consequence. I do not tell her of the pain I have carried. How I can see the evil parts in people, the twisted secrets they hide inside. I see the wrongs they have committed. Other times, I will see the light parts, the good.”

“It appears your power failed you this time,” Ahrimad noted, drawing his sword tighter to my throat. “Wipe your tears, boy. I want to know more of this uniqueness.”

I lifted my chin against the blade, willing my tears to stop.

“I am different than other children my age,” I said. “I learn fast, and what I learn, I never forget. I am faster than a man in his prime and I am strong. Strong enough to lift a horse. Father says these gifts will only get stronger. Because his blood runs through my veins. So when I enter gladiator school, and when I fight, I will win. This will satisfy our king as I will become Rome’s champion gladiator.”

“You do not want this fate,” said Ahrimad. “It will be challenging for you to hurt others, to kill, when you are able to see what makes every mortal an innocent. Your father is using you to gain political power.”

“Yes,” I breathed, relieved someone understood. “I dread my future at all times.”

Ahrimad harnessed his sword to his side. “You have saved me from a world of torment. I must offer you a gift in equivalence to my life. Do you understand this?”

I took a labored breath. I thought of Bastien and how quickly Ahrimad had taken his life, and I knew I had no other choice. “Yes, I understand.”

“No one, including your father or mother, can know I have escaped this prison. You are a child. Children do not keep secrets well. I will make you forget me, forget this day, for now.”

Panic laced my voice. “Please, I beg of you not to touch my memory. I would never tell a soul about you. I have nobody to tell!”

Ahrimad knelt to the ground beside me. My words fell away as I stared in horror at the darkness underneath his hood, where a face should have been.

“One day, not far from now,” Ahrimad began in a mighty voice, “you will fight who you hate the most inside the gladiator arena. With your gift, you will see both the dark and the light within their soul, and you will make a choice. Whether they live, or whether they die. If you should decide to kill them, then from that day forward, you will have a piece of my soul. You will cross into the shadows and evolve into the immortal creature I am. You will have all my power.”

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “Why are you giving me these choices?”

“You freed me, and now I must give you a gift in equivalence. This is how good and evil coexist, Alexandru. At a balance.” Ahrimad rose to his full height. “Nevertheless, I will not offer my power to a weak soul, which is why you must prove you are worthy. Creatures before me have ruled entire realms with my abilities. You could be a god.”

“A god,” I echoed in consternation. “Would I be loved?”

“Foolish child, you would be far greater than loved. You would be feared. Feared by all.”

With a sharp jerk of my head, I wrenched myself back to the present. Faith’s silhouette stood in her bedroom window. She peered out into the night, the glow of a desk light haloing the slight curve to her feminine waist as she leaned forward to slam her window shut and close the blinds.

A mere mortal, invading my mind, was not only humiliating, but potentially catastrophic for my reputation in Hell. I needed to know if she’d seen more. Maybe she had information against me now; maybe she’d seen the truth about my intentions. If she knew my true name . . .

I reached into my cloak for a rolled cigarette. If it were up to me, she’d be punished for what she’d done. Oh, yes, I’d have fun with her.

But no, Lucifer had full authority over this one. He wanted the girl safe and unscathed, both mentally and physically. Yawn.

Flicking my lighter, I lit the cig. One whole pack in three hours told me I was already building a tolerance to the most recent blend of herbs supplied to me by a witch. Her blends suppressed my hunger, at least for a little while, but as I exhaled, I knew I’d already ventured past the point of no return.

The migraine landed like a sledgehammer to the skull. I snuffed out my now useless cigarette, preparing for what was next. A painful churn of my stomach sent me nearly doubling over. Fangs gnashing together, muscles cramping up, a trickle of panic slid down my spine that this would be worse than usual. Not here. Not here. I cast all thoughts of the girl and my appetite aside and concentrated on the waning gibbous moon carved into the night. The sensations slowly rolled over, decelerating my heartbeat until it grew still. A low growl rolled out from the back of my throat as the rest of my organs shut off.

“Control yourself,” I seethed.

Easier said than done, when all I wanted was to hunt and chase and feast on this whole neighborhood. I rolled my neck, easing a crick, and forced an intentional inhale again as the sensations faded away. The next hunger episode wouldn’t be pretty. I needed to collect at a much faster rate.

Lately, I hadn’t been focused enough on souls. I’d been too burdened with keeping Faith alive. How could I get someone as stubborn and headstrong as her to trust me before it was too late?

The Elders, aka the original goody two-shoes head honcho angels in the realm of Heaven, had recently created a garbage law that humans could only give their souls to Hell if they consented to it. Which meant the mortals had to verbally agree to, or physically sign over, their souls to Hell. Despite the headache of getting creative with our ploys, Lucifer and I had yet to have too many problems tricking the humans into selling their souls.

Then there was Faith.

Faith didn’t trust me as far as her skinny emo arms could throw me. Smart. But what she didn’t know was that she had a deadline.

If she didn’t verbally agree to my protection and give her soul to me soon, well, let’s just say her life wouldn’t burst at the seams with sunshine and happiness.

I didn’t want to admit it, but I required counseling on this. Faith tested my control in ways that clouded my judgment, and apparently, I didn’t have the best people skills. Especially when I was hungry and said people looked like dinner.

Glaring down at my phone, I debated whether to dial Lucifer or just track him down in Hell. Cell phones were so delicate and irritating, and they could never fit in my leather pants. Whenever I steered away from the new advances in Hell and Earth, I felt like an old man with his khakis pulled up to his nipples. I might have existed for two thousand years, give or take, but I was physically imprisoned in time and cursed for all eternity as a young adult. Still had the great hair, overconfidence, random spurts of insane horniness, and late-night cravings for anything-cheesy sauce to prove it.

“My lord,” trembled a voice. Glenn, my kick around demon, emerged from the shadow of the tree to my left. Thirtysomething years old when he died, Glenn was short and wiry in stature with outdated rivet spectacles that balanced on his nose. “I apologize for the interruption, but you didn’t answer your phone. I have news from Hell. It’s not good news, I’m afraid.”

I fisted my hands until leather creaked and nodded once. I enjoyed my moments of peace and quiet. Everyone annoyed the shit out of me.

Especially Glenn.

“My lord,” Glenn spoke up again, edging closer with a clipboard in hand. “Does the nod mean I have permission to speak? Or, does the nod mean to ‘go eff myself’? I only want to make sure—”

“Glenn,” I snarled.

“Never mind, forget I even asked! My apologies, my lord.”

Glenn cleared his throat, shuffling in front of my view and adjusting his spectacles on the bridge of his nose. As if it were broad daylight, I could see the crisp bleach white of his shirt, and the sheen of wetness bubbling across his pale forehead. Glenn focused on his clipboard and read off a script, as he often did the past two hundred years.

“Hello, sir! You look exceptionally evil and menacing tonight!” His gaze darted frantically between me and the clipboard. “I have all the information you wanted to acquire. According to Hell’s records, there have been three documented eliminations of guardian angels within the span of three weeks.”

Darkness crawled from my body, concealing the ground with howling shadows. “Where?”

Glenn turned faintly green. He kept his eyes glued to the script.

“All w-within New York City, my lord.” The bubbling sweat turned to a stream. “All with their eyes pecked out. The corpses were not too far apart.”

I combed through Glenn’s anarchic thoughts as a single drop of sweat rolled down his nose and prompted him, “There’s more.”

“Yes, my lord.” Terror overtook Glenn’s face, and he clutched his clipboard to his frail chest as if it were a shield. “About your own Fallen, I’m afraid.”

“Well?” When he was hesitant to respond, my fangs lengthened in my mouth. “Spit it out!”

Glenn jerked back half a step, fumbling with his clipboard as he turned a page too fast and tore it in half. “In the past three days, there have been seven recorded attacks on our Fallen outside of Hell. Five casualties within twenty-four hours.”

“Five casualties.” I cracked my neck to the side. “Within twenty-four hours.”

All color emptied from Glenn’s face. “Correct, my lord.”

“And when, exactly,” I grated out, a venomous outburst brewing beneath my façade, “did you learn this information?”

“Today. Precisely, a few hours ago, my lord.” His expression twisted, as if anticipating a wrecking ball to the face. “I couldn’t reach you . . . ”

I flexed my fingers, willing my talons to stay in place. Had I known of these attacks sooner, I would have kept Faith far, far away from me. I would have known it was Malphas, and I could have stopped the events in the alleyway from ever happening.

Suddenly my control slipped, and an upheaval of anger swelled within me. The porch lamp of the property nearby shuttered on and off. Soon the entire block’s lights were flickering and buzzing, the trees violently swinging.

My rage hit Glenn like a laser and his clipboard went flying into the street. I unleashed a guttural roar. “You idiot!”

Perhaps the suburbs were not the best place to release my nasty temper; however, we were camouflaged by my power, and I didn’t have the patience to teleport elsewhere to discipline this inbred fool.

Lifting my lip in a snarl, I honed back in on Glenn. Stalking forward, I seized the pitiful little demon by the shirt and hoisted him to my lofty height. “Five of my Fallen have been killed within twenty-four hours,” I roared in a thundering voice, “and you didn’t tell me? You have one job, Glenn. One job! To do as I say. You were supposed to tell me everything you obtained immediately. What if it had been one of the Seven? Don’t you know what the death of a reaper would cost me? We have objectives to reach!”

“Believe me, I understand I have failed you,” Glenn squeaked out, shuddering from head to toe. “It was an honest mistake, I swear.

Electronic communication is difficult for a demon my age. You understand, don’t you? Please, spare me! I beg you, my lord!”

“Your whiny voice grates my ears,” I hissed waspishly, as my features shifted beneath my hood to a creature more animalistic and exotic. I threw Glenn down and willed tendrils of darkness to curl around his feet like snakes. “I know how to shut you up.”

Heat blasted outward from my frame, crashing into Glenn’s chest and knocking him flat. Serpent shadows lunged for his small frame, fastening his thrashing body to the ground.

“Please, Your Highness!” he gasped out. “I tried to provide the information to you, I tried! You were with the human, and then your phone kept going straight to voicemail! It’ll never happen again!”

Capturing Glenn’s jaw, I forced his eyes to meet mine. “You’re damn right it’ll never happen again.” A smirk peeled away from my enormous fangs. “You won’t be able to do much of anything with your spine separated from your skull.”

“You said not to expose ourselves to the girl!” he wept. “I couldn’t get the message to you while she was with you! Please, have mercy! Don’t send me down to the pits of Hell, they give me awful anxiety!”

Horror collected in Glenn’s eyes as I struck, trapping the organ between his teeth with two fingers. A sharp tug ripped his tongue, and his cry of distress, clean out. The wind hurled around us, as the wicked creature inside me purred in delight from this gory scene.

Rationally, I knew the lack of communication between Glenn and I had somewhat been my fault. I had been with the girl when he called, and my ringtone hadn’t been on. Nevertheless, the primal part of me was itching to rip this demon limb from limb for not finding another way to warn me about Malphas’s attack, which could have certainly ended with Faith dead, had I arrived a moment later.

My black soul valued Glenn’s life as much as I valued the life of an ant I could crush beneath my boot. Zilch. Still, Glenn had survived under my employment far longer than the rest, and the whole awkward nerdy virgin thing he had going on was hilarious . . .

Above all, I enjoyed screwing with him.

“You’ll heal,” I said, wiping my bloodstained gloves on Glenn’s once perfectly pressed white shirt. I backed off the thrashing demon and rose to my full towering height. “Never withhold information from me again.”

Choking out a sob, Glenn dragged himself to the shadows then evaporated.

Maybe I was too harsh, I supposed, and then shrugged it off. Nah.

“Hell’s Bells” blared from my pocket.

I slid my cell out and answered. “Vegan Delights. How can we help you?”

“You idiot!” Lucifer roared.

I yanked the phone away from my ear and held it at arm’s length as he cursed me out in several languages. This was the last thing I needed tonight.

“I am done cleaning up your messes,” Lucifer snarled. “There were witnesses to your massacre earlier today. Next time you flex your powers in front of the girl, pay a little more mind to the elementary school loading off a bus for a class trip twenty feet away!”

I ground my fangs together. “You try having four hundred underling demons simultaneously pecking at your dick and see if you’re mindful of your environment.”

“You have not only risked our exposure and harming the girl, again, but you have also put my ass on the line. I’ve let you get away with a lot over the years, but these trails of dead Fallen and Guardians you’re leaving are the last straw. Now I have to sit in on a council meeting in Hell. The board is not happy about this.”

“You think I’ve been killing Guardians and our own Fallen?”

A catlike grin lined my mouth, and for a moment, I was able to disregard my ravenous appetite. “I am flattered, but it was not me.

I’m neat with my extracurricular activities.”

“Neat!” There was a crash on the other line. He’d thrown something heavy. “Two months ago, you left four human bodies with their throats cut, hanging from their intestines in the middle of McDonald’s. And let’s not leave out the Guadalajara incident last year. Or the poisonous snakes on the plane? Real fucking original.”

“Burger King,” I corrected, a muscle in my jaw ticking. “It was at Burger King. They were all going to die anyway, and I was having a sugar low and the line was too long. You have to admit, leaving those cardboard crowns on their corpses was pure comedy.”

“A nice touch,” Lucifer seethed.

I scratched the stubble on my jaw. “You want to know who’s going on an angel-murdering spree in New York City? I’ll tell you.”

Tensing, I accidentally crushed my phone a little. “But you’re not going to like it.”

“Elaborate.”

“Malphas.” Just saying that name made my blood curl. “He’s alive.”

Lucifer was silent for a long stretch of time. “How?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Is it too much to ask for all my nemeses to take a permanent dirt nap for once?” Another migraine threatened to surface, and I massaged my temple. “I had a feeling I was being shadowed by someone last weekend. Thought I was being paranoid. Malphas knew about Faith, even before he met her. There must be rumors in Underworld of her soul being spared.”

“Shadow her with more of our Fallen.”

“Already on it.” On cue, four dark forms made themselves known on Faith’s roof. They perched on each corner of the house, monitoring their surroundings.

“Malphas’s underlings nearly took her away from me.” There was roaring in my ears at the memory, and my talons itched to be free.

Another small wave of hunger overtook me, and this time I smashed a frustrated palm into my throbbing temple. “One of his newborns marked her. I had to suck the venom out, so she didn’t turn. She clocked a demon in the nose, if you can imagine it.”

“She was able to see the demons even before they died,” Lucifer noted.

“Yes, although she hasn’t seen through any of my illusions yet. I wouldn’t put that ability past her either though. Her soul is transforming.” I ran a hand absently over my jaw. “I put up a nasty ward around her house and charmed her backpack. If anything supernatural tries to weasel its way into her home, or steps within an acre of that backpack, I’ll be notified.”

The other line went quiet again.

“Sounds like you’re going all out, kid.”

I tried to ignore the usual mocking kid moniker but failed this time. “Of course, I am. The girl was almost taken.”

He didn’t press further. “We’re running out of time, Death.

You’re running out of time. My patience runs thin. Hurt her, torture her into complacency. Whatever it takes, get the job done.”

“You said you didn’t want me to harm her.” I couldn’t believe I was defending her safety.

“You have had plenty of opportunities to do this the humane way,” Lucifer said. “Do not disappoint me, or you’re grounded.”

“What?”

“That’s right, I’ll ground you. Like a child. I’ll take away your ability to fly.”

I scratched at my stubble. “You can do that?”

He hung up.

Fuck. If Malphas somehow got his hands on Faith before Hell did, she was as good as dead. I knew what he was capable of more than anyone. But the thought of physically harming Faith or her family to get what I wanted was a line I felt conflicted about crossing.

Hunger clawed at my gut and the monster freed another menacing growl from my throat.

There had to be another way.

I could try being nice to her.

Pass. I would rather gouge my own eyes out than resort to pleasantries.

Standing on the curb, I sorted through my limited options, when the perfect idea suddenly hit me. A slow, wicked grin framed my mouth. “Bingo.”

I signaled to the Fallen on the roof of Faith’s house. They bowed their heads in unison. She was safe, for now, so it was time to sate my never-ending craving.

As I stepped into the road, I flexed my arms outward and enormous wings unfurled from my back. I cast one last look at her bedroom window before launching into the night.