Death's Temporary Home For Lost Souls

Chapter Fourteen: Cause of Death

    "Please, join us for lunch," Death insists, motioning to the empty chair that Sarah just so happens to be propping her feet upon. Today, even though it's unseasonably warm outside, he's wearing a fuzzy blue sweater with the words THERE'S SNOW TIME LIKE CHRISTMAS stitched into it. Honestly, it's adorable, and almost enough to distract from his gorgeous face. Almost. "I wasn't sure when you were coming back, but I can whip up another sandwich really quick."

    "No, I'm fine," I say almost instinctively, while my stomach growls loudly in betrayal. I am pretty hungry, but I can't imagine subjecting myself to the torture of enduring another meal with Sarah. There are only so many fake smiles that I have left in me, and I definitely don't want to cause another blow-up at the table. "Actually, there are a lot of things to unpack, so I might just..." I slide back towards the doorway, about to make my quick escape, when Death stands a little too eagerly.

    "I'll help you!"

    "Oh." For a moment, I don't know what to say. The other spirits watch Death with varying degrees of confusion. Paul actually manages to tear his gaze away from his newspaper for a few seconds, frowning. "Okay, sure. If you want."

    He follows me out into the foyer, where I'd left my mess of cleaning supplies on the sofa. I stand there for a second, not sure how to begin. Should I tell him that I'd kind of used the unpacking thing as an excuse not to join everyone for lunch? No, that would come across as rude.

Before I can properly come up with something to say, Death crosses over to sit on the floor within perfect reach of the bags. I join him as he starts to remove the ridiculous number of things that I bought, resolving myself to more physical labor. "Wow, Cara. Look at all of this stuff! You weren't lying when you said you were serious about turning this place around."

"Well, that is why I'm here." I shrug. "And I don't lie about lye." I freeze, my hand halfway stretched out to grab a toilet brush. Oh my God. That was the dumbest thing I've ever said. I'm going to go crawl into a hole, now.

But beside me, Death laughs, deeply – almost as if he's surprised that he has the capability of it.

I think it might be the best sound I've ever heard.

"I never pegged you as a comedian," Death says, smiling as he starts to organize the products into neat rows on the floor. I quickly catch on to his organizational strategy and follow suit, sorting everything by room then surface.

"That's because I'm definitely not," I insist. "Trust me. Some people don't find me amusing in the least."

I must have laid on the frustrated tone a little thick, because Death pauses in his sorting and glances at me. "Want to talk about it?"

I freeze again, my blood running cold. "Talk about what?"

"You know what." He full-on stares at me now, and when I remain silent he says, "Sarah. I heard about what she was doing last night."

"Oh." I shake my head, unsure whether I'm mostly relieved or ashamed. I should have expected that Sarah's crusade to terrorize me all night wouldn't have remained a secret forever, especially with Lisa's room being right next to mine. "Look, she's just trying to scare me. I won't let it bother me."

"I know you won't, but I promised that I'd stand up for you. You haven't done anything wrong, and she shouldn't be treating you like that." Death's fingers flutter restlessly, and I feel something deep inside of me crack just a tiny bit to know that he cares so much.

But at the same time, it seems that Death's – attention? affection? pity? - towards me is precisely the reason why Sarah is acting so vindictively. In fact, it seems an awful lot like jealousy. And I can't give her any more ammunition to use against me in the coming days.