Death Is My Frenemy (Book Three)

Chapter 11: Drapetomania

"I wonder how long you stand in front of a mirror to..." I trailed off. Death's glare was becoming a little too psychotic for Faith's taste after the word 'mirror.' It was clearly a touchy subject.

 I looked down at his jacket briefly. It was a dark leather trench coat. Through analysis, though, I concluded it was Death's cloak. I had seen the thing form into a cat before. It wasn't exactly impossible for it to turn into a jacket.

Underneath the jacket Death wore a dark grey cotton shirt that I could only imagine was extremely soft. "You got a little..." I rubbed the spot on my own t-shirt where  I wanted him to wipe.

 Death slowly dropped his dark gaze to his jacket, then his grey undershirt, which had a dark black stain by the breast bone, and a tear narrow enough for a blade. Instantly, my eyes glued to Death's thick black hair when he bowed his head to look down. A strange noise escaped my lips. So maybe I wanted to literally stick my face into it and sniff until my head spun.

 There it was again, that hair. From his practically pristine sense of fashion, Death had to use an amazing shampoo. Right?

Something is seriously wrong with me.

Death subconsciously touched the spot on his chest and drifted those menacing eyes back up at me. The stain disappeared as well as the hole. I literally was expecting him to rip his clothes off entirely and scream at the sky his jaw was so tight. "That would be from you stabbing me. I'm sure you would have done it with my own blade if you had the chance. Just like the betraying little bitch you are."

"You should write a song about that," I drawled out sarcastically. "I'd buy it. Now, are you going to kill me or is this whole conversation going to be me verbally kicking yout tush?"

With a small growl, Death pulled up his hood. No words.

 I wondered if that meant he couldn't hold his illusion anymore because he was so fed up with me. Probably. A piece of glass fell and shattered on the ground. I darted my eyes to a broken mirror, next to the strange one I had spotted before that I had sworn wasn't there before. My breath stilled in my throat at the sight of Death's back. He was wearing a cloak in the reflection, but there was something different about the size of his body. If anything, his body shape was completely different from the man standing before me. He was broad, with good posture, and long legs that I could see the outline of from beneath his long cloak. I could only see his left arm from the angle of the mirror. It was enough to prove that Death had fantastic biceps underneath all that illusion. My eyes begged for more to be revealed underneath the cloak. I concluded he was definitely lean, not stocky.

Not to mention he had a really nice butt...

Death shiftily looked to both sides of him and moved. I could no longer see him in the reflection because  he was now standing next to me. "I do have a really nice butt," he said coolly. There was something different with his humor. It was definitely because it was more dry than playful. " I'm told I have nice pictorials as well. Comes with the sweet package which is Death."

I gave him a long look. "I don't understand why you hate mirrors so much if you make jokes like that." My voice was so awfully quiet. I hated it. It made me feel small. "I don't think an angel could ever be"--I shifted on my feet as I tried to think of a word--"ugly. At least, I don't think you're ugly under there."

Suddenly, Death's hidden eyes drew little empty slots were my eyes were they were so heated. I knew he always looked at me like that, drilling his eyes into my own, but knowing Death was already furious with me, and it was looking at me like that, made me want to throw up. Death literally looked through me.