Death is My BFFLAD Rewritten (Book 2 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 9: The Premonition

THE CREATOR IS HERE.

Something new and exciting is happening for my Reapers... I wish I could tell you guys!!!! ;)

PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AS YOU READ! <333333

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There's a type of tension where you evaluate the space between you and someone else and crave more proximity. You feel hot and flustered when they look at you. You become terrified when you're looking and they're not. You can feel their existence when they're standing somewhere behind you. Whenever that person so much as brushes up against you, there's a flutter in your chest.

Then there's another type of tension: when two powerful supernatural beings loathe each other so strongly that it's excruciatingly awkward to be standing in a room with them.

In Ace's room of books, quirky gadgets, and jars of peculiar things and herbs, the tension between Death and Ace leaned towards the latter.

"Death," Ace said shortly.

"Warlock," Death clipped.

They prolonged their staring contest.

"You asked us to come here?" I reminded Ace, hoping he'd be the bigger person and relieve the discomfort in the room. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought Ace was expecting an apology. Wouldn't have surprised me. Possessing someone's body and humiliating them was worthy of at least a polite 'it won't happen again'.

"That I did," Ace answered and scanned me from head to toe. Considering my oversized clothes and his impeccable taste in fashion, I was relieved he didn't grimace. "I summoned both of you. A mistake on my part, now that I see that your divine companion is severely underfed." He flicked his violet gaze to Death. "It's rather careless of you to bring her along when you're so weak."

"Weak, not so much. Hungry, very." Death remained melted in the shadows between two bookshelves, eerily still, like a predator hiding in tall grass. Even his mismatched eyes were dimmer, as if he was contemplating an attack. A spark of fire slightly lit the Grim Reaper's shadowy hideout as he flicked his lighter. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

Ace grew visibly irritated. "Yes, I do mind."

"I wasn't asking you." To Ace, Death's voice was a cold knife navigating throughout the room, but when addressing me, I realized it was more of a velvet purr. "Princess Narc gets her panties in a twist whenever I light up."

Heat crawled up my neck. "I'll twist something on you, alright," I muttered under my breath.

The Grim Reaper chuckled, a low, carnal sound that made me hotter than the flame as he lit his cigarette. Damn you, hormones! "Alright, Warlock," he said. "Let's acknowledge the numerous chubby elephants in the room. You don't like me right now–"

"I never liked you," Ace corrected sharply.

"And I had to possess your body when I was trapped in Limbo," Death continued without pause. "It was my only option at the time and you can't do anything about it, unless you want all of Hell to reign shit fire down on you, and lose your middle-of-the-road position between good and evil. I can do that, you know. Reign shit fire down on you, I mean." He shifted his tune. "I have souls to reap, an ancient being to stick back in a cloak, and a regularly scheduled catnap at five. So tell me, why are we here?"

"Because you and Faith were both in my vision," Ace said bluntly.

Death was now silent. I just stared at Ace with wide eyes, remembering the angel identical to Devin, Gabriel, and his message. Your warlock will use his vision to guide you to your solution.