POOP IS HITTING THE FAN.
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P.S- This chapter is doing the wierd italics/bold thing it did last time.
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To: Faithwilliams@gmail.com
From: Davidstar@verison.net
Subject: I'm Sorry
Faith,
I guess I'll just cut to the chase. I'm still worried about you, and I know I'm not being treated fairly. You're ignoring my calls and my texts, and I know it's because of the whole therapy situation. Or maybe you're mad at me because your mother asked for a signed picture of me before I left the hospital and squeezed my ass? I guess that is pretty embarrassing...
Just kidding.
Well, it did happen, but you hopefully know what I mean...
Listen, your mother is a wonderful woman. I don't mean that in a creepy way. She cares about you so much. She did the right thing, telling me about your panic attacks when you were younger, and how your dad was recently laid off from work. I understand that you're mad at me because I know all of that. I get it, I really do, but I was right there, sitting beside you in that hospital room until your parents came in. I saw how pale and anxious they got when you started to complain of chest pains, when the nurse started running tests on you. I felt obligated to help your family as much as I could. I don't think I've ever sweat as much as I was sweating when the doctor was asking you about your symptoms. Didn't help that he looked like Albert Einstein on crack, if you ask me. Plus, that squeak of his pen as he wrote was literally driving me insane...
Anyways, the point is, I offered to help pay for your therapy because I care about you, not because I feel bad for you, or because you're a charity to me. You're not a charity to me, Faith, and you never will be. I really care about you, and I wish you would forgive me.
Call me and let me know you're alright.
Yours,
David
It was 24 hours after I had left the hospital, and I still hadn't called him or texted him. What was wrong with me, you ask? Why wouldn't I respond to a handsome, caring man who was obviously a perfect gentleman? Whose jaw could cut diamonds, and whose physique could make a woman pregnant, just by looking at it?
The answer is, I was afraid. I was afraid to let him in, to forgive him once again in the span of one week. Was this what our relationship would be like? One of us constantly needing forgiveness? Death trying to kill us? My mom squeezing David's butt?
I needed severe help.
White leather seats. Stacks of magazines. Air fresheners once in a while puffing a scent into the room that made me want to sneeze. A few plants. Mellow paintings of rivers and sceneries.
Therapy.
It had already come to this.
I was going to make progress. The clowns, the scarecrow, the drowning, the teasing and manipulation, maybe I could forget it as if it never happened. Maybe, he would never bother me again. It had all been a game from the beginning. Some sort of sick, twisted game that I never wanted to be a part of, and maybe, just maybe, Death had gotten bored of me.
Dr. Brian Tiny was seated in the chair opposite of mine, observing me carefully behind modern glasses. He wore a dark sweater, the color of his eyes, and tan slacks. He couldn't have been a day over thirty, with obsidian black hair, tanned skin, and broad shoulders. No wedding band. He definitely hadn't fit the "Bald Guy with Horned Rimmed Glasses and a Monotone Voice" stereotype. I couldn't pinpoint what race he looked like. Egyptian? He definitely was a handsome man. That made me want to conceal my emotions even more.
"Would you like a candy?"
"I'm not crazy," I blurted.
"I know you aren't." His voice was pleasantly smooth. Not too deep, not too high pitched. "And I never intended to treat you like a crazy person, Faith."
He offered me the bowl of candy.
I raised an eyebrow. "I'm not supposed to take candy from strangers..."
Dr. Brian Tiny laughed, shaking the bowl of candy in front of him. "Come on, everyone loves candy."
He was bribing me like a child. If I started to talk, that meant there was a chance I would bring up Death. And if I brought up Death and revealed his existence, who knew what he would do. Hadn't he told me once not to tell anyone about him?
The hell with it. It was just a piece of candy.
I popped the root bear candy into my mouth.
"I can tell this is a new experience for you, Faith." Dr. Tiny eased back into his chair, smiling at me again. For a moment, a flash of something suspicious danced over his eyes, like he was hiding something. "I can also tell you hate me already, and you hate it here. I don't blame you. Therapy is scary at first. You should know that a good amount of people seek therapy at least once in their life. I'm only here to help."
I accidently cracked the root beer candy in my mouth. The shards of the candy seemed to scrap against my esophagus all the way down to my stomach.
"You said you rode your bike here?" Dr. Tiny pressed on. I hadn't responded to his previous questioned, nor did I intend to. I wasn't some lunatic in dire need of help. I had one anxiety attack. One, and my mother had sent me right to therapy.
“I’m a little stressed,” I stuttered, crossing my legs, then uncrossing them. It felt like the room temperature had increased at least ten degrees. Had it?
“And what are you stressed about?"
I have the Grim Reaper following me around, teasing me, and other times, trying to kill me. Not to mention, I have no job, which means no way to pay for art school, which is unbelievably expensive. And my underwear is giving me a serious wedgie...
I shrugged shrug. “I-I don’t exactly know.”
Oh god, not the stuttering.
Dr. Brian Tiny leaned on the side of his chair and stared at me intently. “Have you been feeling stressed for a while now?”
“Yes.”
“Have you been able to sleep?”
“Not without having nightmares.”
“And what were those dreams of?"
I swallowed a lump in my throat. It didn't seem to go away. “A lot of different ones…”
Of the Grim Reaper trying to kill me…
Something smacked hard into the window, startling me. Outside, the world was dark and dreary, as if rain was cradled in the clouds, about to burst at any moment like a water balloon. It was mid-day, but it looked like it was night.
Everything felt fuzzy, and moments later, I had forgotten why I had looked out the window in the first place.
My mouth felt dry.
"Would you like another candy?"
I looked over at my psychologist. It felt like it had been slow motion, like his question was repeating over and over again. My eyes dropping to the candy bowl in his hands. He was bribing me again. Something wasn't right...
"Try the cherry," Dr. Tiny insisted, handsome face morphing into another grin.
"Yes, thank you." I popped another candy in my mouth, casually pulling my sweater away from my neck. I hoped I wasn't visibly sweating. "Do you mind...opening a window? It's... kind of... hot... in here..." The room tilted slightly. I started to lean over to the side, straightened myself, then all of the sudden, I collapsed on the couch, unable to move. "What...?" I slurred out, unable to finish the rest of the question.
"Don't fight it."
I opened my mouth to say something in response, but my mouth went dry and I started to cough.
"I do apologize for the side effects." Dr. Tiny watched me intently, perched on his chair elegantly. "They're not exactly drugs. Stronger. You really shouldn't take candy from strangers." I understood what he said, and I knew it was time to panic, but my heart was so slow and my body was so calm that all I could do was lay there and drown in my thoughts. My psychologist had drugged me?
Was this how therapy usually worked?"
"A few minutes is all that I'll need." Dr. Tiny's voice grew raspier with ever word as he crossed the room towards me, kneeling at my side. He was even more beautiful up close. "I've wanted to meet you for some time now. Kissed by Death. You really have no idea how valuable you are, do you?"
I tried to concentrate on his face, but his image was becoming distorted and blurry.
"It said I could see him and any other forms of evil once it marked me," Mason had told me at the carnival, sputtering about a demon. "It said...it would let me live...it would let me live...if I... sent you a message."
"You're....him," I slurred out, trying to move away as the man brushed a strand of hair over my forehead to the side. "Demon..."
"The demon wanted me to tell you that there's a way to avoid signing Death's contract."
"Call me Malphas, darling." The dark haired man leaned closer to me, and in a blink of an eye, clamped his mouth down on my forearm. I couldn't move. I couldn't fight. All I could do was scream at the top of my lungs on the inside, watching the shallow veins on my arm turn black with something I knew was evil. When the demon let go of my wrist with his mouth, his teeth were black and sharp, covered in my blood.
"Interesting." Malphas licked his lips, moaning a little as he looked down at the gnawed, gory wound on my arm, then those black eyes flickered to mine. "I'd like to show you something at the window. But you will have to stand, and that will be difficult with the drugs. But they are wearing off, and you are strong. You can fight them. Will you try to stand for me, Faith?"
The way Malphas said my name made it sound like he had emphasized every letter. I found myself unable to obey.
I frowned for a sliver of a second before responding. "Yes."
"Come here, darling." He took a step back, holding out his hand to me for me to reach. "Come, look out the window with me."
You know those moments when you're so scared, every bang, clatter, whisper, hush, scream, pin-drop, and horn seems to be significantly louder? How about when the loose, comfortable clothes that you're wearing seem to grow tighter, restraining your chest?
That was me at that very moment.
Hide, fight, scream, run...
There's only one way to know when you're truly terrified. It's not as simple as watching a horror movie, or running through a corn maze with someone chasing you. To be truly terrified, is to know that you're not in the highest category of the food chain, to know that if you hide, the one looking for you will always find you. You can't hide. Ever.
You want to fight. It's your life, it's your body. Yours. You want to scream, and let the world hear your cry. Screaming gets you nowhere, it just gives your enemy the satisfaction that you're afraid.
Running is one of the biggest mistakes you will make. You want to get away. But you, yourself, are a prize to your enemy. You are a goal. Running makes you a challenge. When it comes to hunting, the predator loves to chase down what they want to snack on. For example, if a nice chunky Zebra continued to lay on the ground, and didn't frolic away after spotting a cheetah, I could bet my left big toe that the cheetah wouldn't feel obligated to run towards its prey. It would already know it'd won. I mean, really, why would the cheetah bother wasting it's energy if the Zebra is too lazy to participate in the ol' "you-go-run-that-way-and-I'll-bite-you-in-the-ass-in-a-few-minutes" game?
My mind was too hazy to think twice about it. My warm hand entwined with Malphas' cold one. I stood up to my feet, blood dripping from the wound on my arm. Malphas walked me to the window, dark eyes on mine the entire time. The window flew open. I took in the view outside of the window, throat tightening.
A horde of ravens outside the window chortled, rattled, screamed and cawed outside. They gurgled sharp notes and bleated their throats raw. Their wings flapped as if they were about to take flight, sounding like a silken gloves clapping together. They ruffled and rustled on branches, pecking at each other.
Malphas shifted behind me, large hands gently holding my arms. "You are afraid," he whispered at my ear, voice rough. "You are dying. You feel the poison from my fangs in your veins." Now, I could feel the pain, and I wanted to collapse to the ground. But Malphas held me up, face inches from mine. "Scream his name to the birds, and they will carry your message to him. Scream his name, Faith Williams. Scream it. You want him to save you, don't you?"
Tears filled my eyes as I stepped out of the window, dropping the short distance to the ground. My feet dragged towards the birds. "Death!"
"Again!" the demon barked from behind, a crazed look dancing over his eyes. "I don't think they heard you, darling! Louder!"
"DEATH! DEATH! HELP ME, DEATH!" The ravens flew away in a flock, blackening the sky as they rushed away abnormally fast, wings and beaks cutting through my clothes to my skin. Within a second, they were all gone, and I collapsed to the ground, sobbing, shielding myself as if I was afraid something would hurt me further.
"Why did you make me do that?" I choked out, once all the ravens were gone. I felt the demon's presence behind me.
"I'm sending a message. Now get up." Malphas gripped me by the wrists, lifting me up off the ground, eyes boring into mine. "Who would have thought that the most effective way to get through to The Angel of Death, is you?" He stroked my cheek with his finger, raspy voice lowering. "This is just child's play, Faith Williams. There's more terror to come. Your world is changing right before your eyes." Malphas' mouth morphed into a unsettling grin, when suddenly, it dropped, and he clutched at his stomach. "What...the...hell?"
All at once, he collapsed to the ground, convulsing, puking up blood. My blood. Mine? His features shifted into something unnatural, exotic, as blood endlessly poured out of his mouth. Malphas lunged towards me, lips and fangs scarlet with my blood, weakly collapsing to the ground. "What did you do to me?!" His voice was like sandpaper and inhuman, horrifyingly inhuman. With claws as hands, he reached towards me on the ground, crawling. "I'LL KILL YOU!"
I turned, instincts kicking in, adrenaline numbing the pain in my arm and the weakness in my body. I ran towards the front of the psychological center and unlocked my bike from the rack with shaky fingers.
RAWK! RAWK! RAWK! RAWK!
The conspiracy of black birds soaring over my head towards Malphas. They were back. They flew on command. Would he send them after me, next? Struggling to breathe, I swung my leg over the bike and pushed off, pedaling as fast as I could. I prayed I wasn't going to have a panic attack, or that I wasn't going to bleed out. I avoided looking down at the wound on my arm. Oddly enough, it wasn't bleeding anymore, and I wasn't sure if that was a bad thing or not. It was only a fifteen minute ride to my house. Only fifteen minutes.
I peddled harder down the road, looking over my shoulder every once in a while. The sky was menacingly dark. It was no longer raining. The psychological building was a spec in the distance. My dad had offered to drive me, but I was too mad at my parents for making me go to therapy. I told them I was fine. Now, now what was I going to be when I entered the house?
A freaking bird demon was after me.
A thick, eerie fog gathered along the road in front and behind me. I remembered thinking it was just my freaking luck. What was a terrifying experience without fog?
I heard a horse galloping in the distance. Was I hallucinating? I pushed forward on my bike, blindly following the road. Now I was breathing harder, peddling slower, straining to see what was ahead of me. Blood pulsed in my ears. I was sweating more than I ever had in my life.
It started to downpour. The road became slippery. I was so exhausted at that point, that l lost control of the bike and collapsed in the middle of the road.
I was dying. I had to be.
RAWK! RAWK! RAWK! RAWK!
I wanted to cry out. But my throat was raw, useless. It was close to impossible to stand up again, or to focus on anything else but the growing sting in my arm. This was just like in the funhouse, except it was all too real. I helplessly rolled over as a horde of ravens hurtled towards me. I knew I was going to die, from either the bite, or the birds, so I shut my eyes, awaiting my death, when--
From out of the fog on the road came a monstrous, handsome, black stallion at full gallop, untouched by the pelting rain and thunder from above. The muscles on the animal's body were enormous and sinewy, and its eyes were like two bright red rubies, piercing into my own as it came closer and closer. It's cloaked rider ushered the beast onwards, shouting commands in a foreign language, black cloak whipping violently with the wind. His hood remaining miraculously in place.
The Angel of Death.
"Stay on the ground!" Death ordered, as the beast raced furiously past me towards the ravens, nostrils flaring. It charged at the birds, flames shooting out from its nostrils right before it collided with them. As the fire hit the animals, they burst into ashes and then disappeared all together.
I shrieked as a small group of birds separated from the pack and landed around me, pecking at my skin. They tried to peck at my face, but I rolled over and cringed as their beaks dug into the back of my neck. I tried to feebly knock them away with my cut hands, howling.
"Death!" I cried out. The hooded rider responded, turning sharply towards me. The beast rose up onto its hind legs, whinnying upwards to the sky, flames shooting out towards the birds even as it changed directions and charged towards me. The stallion knocked the birds away from me, smashing them with its hooves, and stood defensively over me.
The remaining birds seemed to stop attacking; calmly landing on the ground, hoping towards each other, collecting in a circle.
Death slid off the stallion, landing gracefully to the ground like a cat, next to me. He gripped my arm with his gloved hand, analyzing the bite mark, growled something that sounded like a curse under his breath, threw me over his shoulder, then leapt up onto the beast, positioning me so I was straddling the horse, in front of him. When I started to flop foward, unable to keep myself up, Death hooked a strong arm securely around my midsection, and grabbed the reins with one gloved hand.
But when we turned around, a massive raven, at least forty times the size of a normal one, spread its wings out in front of us, and lunged towards us with a monstrous croak.
With the last amount of energy I had, I ripped the cross off my neck and hurled it at the beast. The cross landed on its back, lodging between feathers, and with a painful cry, it's entire body exploded into a vortex of thousands of birds and feathers. The vortex of feathers kicked up around us, and hot wind licked like burning razors against my skin. Death held onto me tightly, drawing me into the lapels of his hood, protecting my face from debris and obsidian feathers. The beast whinnied, hooves scraping against the ground. It tried to resist the strong pull of the vortex, but we were getting closer and closer.
Blue lightening struck the horizon.
The pull of the vortex gave way all at once, and I tore my gaze away from Death's cloak to see what had formed. Or, more specifically, who had formed.
The Raven Demon.
No clothing covered his body, but feathers lay elegantly over its arms, its privates, and portions of its ribs. It had long black talons as hands. Beady black eyes and a large beak made up its face, and upon its head, lay thick black feathers in the shape of hair. The creature vigorously cracked its head side to side and flapped its wings, which started to gain a fleshy color and form into human arms. Its limbs were bending in all different disturbing directions, and the creature collapsed to the ground, curling into a ball, as it completed its transformation. Near the end of the transformation, the creature lunged forward onto all fours with a howl, its limbs and arms cracking into normal positions, and dark clothes formed around its limbs. The more he transformed, the more familiar he became.
Malphas.
His hair, which had once been long black feathers, unraveled into long, silky black strands with Viking braids. His pale skin slowly grayed until it was almost a purple hue. Eyes remaining on us, Malphas stretched his talons behind himself, dislodging my cross from his back, and with a visible look of pain, threw it to the ground. I smelled burning flesh. He inhaled sharply, skin becoming colored with vigor.
Malphas began to laugh. The hoarse, cruel sound gave me chills.
Dread filled my chest. I remembered Mason explaining to me how the demon he had been approached by could take the form of a raven. Never had I imagined the demon would look like that.
The blistering black eyes of Malphas burned a hole into mine. "It's been too long," Malphas hissed bitterly. It was then I realized he hadn't been staring at me. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"More like swine."
Seconds stretched out.
Malphas hissed, treading towards us. Death hissed back like a wild animal, chest vibrating on my back. The stallion beneath us kicked upwards and shot out flames, making Malphas leap backwards.
Death gripped me so hard I thought he was going to crack a rib. "She has nothing to do with our little quarrel, Malphas," he snarled. This was the version of his voice that shot chills down my spine. "Stay. Away. From Faith."
The black haired demon grinned. "Or what? You'll tell your Mommy?" Malphas tilted his head to the side, as if inviting another response. "Oh, right... I killed her."
Death stilled behind me
"The human let me touch her. Didn't take a lot of duress, really. And now... now she's, well..." Malphas slid a talon slowly across his neck. "Let's just say that once venom gets to her heart, that'll be a real bitch to reverse with one of those famous kisses of yours. Your move, Death."
Malphas cackled with laughter, then disappeared in a black mist.
"EQUO, CRUENTAS!" Death commanded the horse, and then the beast hurled forward into a full retreat. "Stay awake, Faith. Please, just stay awake." The beast pointed its head downwards, hooves eating up the distance hundreds of times faster than a normal animal. So fast, that I became plastered against Death's steel chest.
The world was a blur around us. I was too weak at that point to even keep my eyes open. I felt my grip weaken around Death's arm...
"Hey! Hey!" Hands shook me viciously until my eyes slowly opened. We were no longer riding on his horse. I knew that much. "It's not time to sleep!" He gripped my jaw. "Open your eyes, Faith. Show me you're listening to me. Open them now."
Just five more minutes...
"No, not five more minutes! I told you to stay awake!" Death barked. "You're not dying on me, stupid human. Not tonight."
"Death." My eyes felt heavy, weighted by rocks. After a short amount of struggling to stay concious, I finally managed to pry open my eyelids, honing in on the mystifyingly empty face of Death. I hoped that someone would take care of my mom and dad when I was gone. Maybe, if I asked him nicely, Death would. "You...came for me."
"You've been poisoned. Demon blood moves slowly through a human blood stream. I have to suck the poison out." He forced some sort of cloth between my lips. "This is going to hurt."
Something hard clamped down on my arm, and my eyes went wide. Death's hooded head was lowered over Malphas' bite on my arm. I screamed at the top of my lungs, trying to sit up, but his arm prevented me. I hadn't felt his fangs enter my skin, but now I was super aware of them, like little blades latched onto me. His warm mouth sucked hard at my arm, and his hand gripped my shoulder, keeping me pinned down.
Death lifted his mouth, licking the wound clean until it closed up. Had I, in some miraculous way, entered Twilight? Was I Bella Swan? Had I been bitten by a vampire and he was sucking the venom out? Would Edward grieve me? Would Edward miss me?
"Compare me to Edward Cullen," he began in a hiss, "and next time, I'll bite you where it counts. Now drink up, and pretend its grape soda." He bit into his wrist and pushed it against my mouth. As soon as a bit of his blood hit my tongue, it was warm and thick with an odd acidic taste. It wasn't coppery like human blood, and seemed too thin...
My gag reflex kicked in.
"You're drinking it. All of it." He forced my jaw to open with his hand, forcing the liquid down my throat. I drank more vigorously, fighting back a moan as the taste of his blood changed into something much more pleasing. But after a few seconds, a heat suffused my body and I trembled, a fever gripping me. It was becoming anything but pleasant, and I was becoming stronger. My mouth was filled with one more swallow of his blood, when he pulled his wrist away. I tried to spit it out, but he clamped a gloved hand over my mouth, pressing me against his cloak and hugging me against his steel frame as I fought him. I refused to ingest the last bit of the bile flavor in my mouth.
I refused! "Mmm!"
"Swallow it," Death snarled. Trust me, those two words were anything but an innuendo at that point. He was threatening me. For real.
"Mmm!"
"Swallow it, or you die." That time, it might have been an innuendo. He tilted my head up at an awkward angle, hand still clamped over my mouth. "Cupcake," he cooed in a higher voice, treating me very sarcastically like a baby. "You have until the count of three to swallow what's in your mouth. Death isn't going to tell you again..."
I remembered Death carrying me inhumanly fast into what looked like a storehouse, with his gorgeous black stallion trotting obediently behind us, and then I fell asleep. Death had cleared a metal table with his arm and set me down on it. He had taken the time to help me. Me.
Had I missed something? Would he have grieved my death if he had found me with Malphas, dead? Did he...care?
"Please just drink it already," he finally said. He clearly didn't say please often. It actually sounded like it pained him.
I swallowed the last bit of blood.
Death inched away from me, as if I was about to explode. "How do you feel...?"
"I feel..." A sense of euphoria built inside of me. "ALIVE!" I swung my legs off of the table, stretching. My eyes darted rapidly around the unused storehouse. I felt strong. Very strong. And energetic. Like I could do a back flip.
Could I?
I put my hands on the ground, trying to bring my legs up. Then I realized I didn't know how to do a back flip and stopped. I could no longer stay in one place. I sprinted around the room, laughing crazily, then came back to the spot where Death stood, poking him in multiple places.
Death's hooded head tilted down at me. "Faith..." His voice was empty, distant. "This isn't normal. You should be at least shaken up--"
"Chase me! I'm like a cheetah, or something! Look how fast I am! Watch!" I ran away laughing, and leapt over large stack of plywood on the floor. Jabbing at the air, I pretended I had an opponent. "Hiya! Take that, Malph-butt! Hiya!"
I ran to another part of the room, punching a metal door. "Didn't even feel it! Take that!" I punched the door a few times, then clutched my hand. "Ok, ow!" I threw my arms up. "Just kidding! It didn't hurt! Ha! You should have seen your face! Wait...never mind, that can't work. I can't see your face..."
I started running around again.
Death stood in the same spot, turning to face me whenever I changed positions in the room, hitting things. I climbed up stairs, dancing on the second level of the storage house. "Woo hoo!"
"Faith!" Death barked, furious. "Come here. Now. I'm not healing you again if you hurt yourself. You're not invincible."
"Don't be so grouchy!" I looked down at him from the second floor, leaning over a railing. "I feel invinci--AHHHHH!"
I leaned too far over the edge and fell over. But at the last second, I grabbed onto a chain and swung across the room, shrieking. "I'm Tarzan! AAAAaaaaaAAAaaaaaAAAAAA!" I shouted, whizzing past Death. He stood posed like a statue, arms crossed over his impressive chest, legs firmly planted on the ground. Not amused. Swinging my legs out, I gained momentum coming back towards him, then realized I was now swinging towards a metal shelf.
"Crap! Help!"
I let go of the chain.
Death moved across the room in an instant, catching me in his arms, quickly setting me down with a hiss. "That was just embarrassing. Would you knock it off--!?"
"What the heck is in your blood? Hulk's blood?" I shimmied my shoulders towards him, trying to make him dance with me. "Can you maybe give me a pitcher of some of it? Maybe an ounce? Whoa, I feel so different! I think I read that sign all the way over there! I feel powerful! I don't think I even have a conscience..." I stopped dancing and squeezed his bicep. "Wow. Now that's just really impressive..."
Death removed my hand from his bicep, gripping it hard, and leaned into me, inhaling at my neck. "You smell different," he said roughly. "Something isn't right about you."
"I smell different? Why are you so angry about that? Maybe it's just my perfume. That's the stuff women put on to smell nice."Relax, would you? Lighten up!" I reached for his shadowy face. "Goochie, goochie, goo!"
"Don't touch me." He gripped me harder. "Faith, you almost died. Do you have any idea how close you came to dying? From a demon? Who knows your name? Does that not want to make you want to freak out at all?"
I shrugged. "There are worse things than death." I shifted on each foot, unable to stand still. My heart was racing in my chest with exhilaration. "That whole bird man thing, was definitely one of them, but it's ovaaaa! Lighten up, would you? This feels awesome!"
"Actually, no. I'm definitely the worst." His arrogance had no bounds. "And this isn't "awesome". This is very, very bad. You shouldn't be having this kind of reaction. This isn't a human reaction. Are you getting it now?"
"Like you've ever healed a human before me! How would you know how I'm supposed to act? You're Death!"
"Actually, I have healed a human before. When I first became a Fallen." His voice went hollow. "But it didn't work. Their body resisted my blood."
"Really?" I asked, dancing lightly on my feet like a boxer. "Who was it?"
"That's none of your damn business." Mystery Man gripped me by the pony tail, starting to drag me away. "We're staying in here for a while longer, and you're going to sit down. Even if I have to tie you with something."
"Hey!" He was hurting me. "Let go of me, Grinch!"
I went to slap him with my free hand, but he caught it easily in his glove, pivoting sharply towards me. Now our bodies were touching and his face loomed over me again, a dark angel. "What do you think you're doing, Faith?"
I felt no fear.
Excitement lit up my face. "Fight me."
"No."
"Punch me in the face!" I lunged to the side as if he had tried hit me, dancing on my toes. "I can take it! Go!"
"No," Death ground out, still clenching my hand, "you really can't."
I went to slap him with my other hand. This time, he tucked my fingers in tighter until they were balled up. "Punch like a man, don't slap like a girl. And protect your thumb."
"You're going to teach me!" I beamed. "Teach me! Teach me how to fight!"
"That was force of habit." He made an animalistic noise. "No, I'm not. When this blood wears off, I have a feeling you're going to feel like shit. You're not acting like your usual self."
"What if it never wears off?"
"Then I'll probably shoot myself in the face."
"Hit me!"
"I'm not going to hit you." He was getting more aggravated by the second. "You have no idea how strong I am."
"Scared?" I taunted, feigning punches at him. "Hit me, Death! Hit me right in between the eyes! Just do it kind of lightly..."
"No."
"It's cold," I suddenly said.
"What? That was so--" He brought his hand to his shadowy face, before he could continue, and I imagined he was gripping the bridge of his nose. Was it a straight bridged nose? Bumpy? Or did he have a nose like Pinocchio? Did Fallen even get headaches? I had never thought up so many questions in my life!
"I definitely gave you too much of my blood. And I need a cig." Death waved out his hand out, producing a cigarette, and lit it. He brought the cigarette under his hood, and smoke came out. It was memorizing how everything seemed to just vanish beneath his hood, like a black hole. "Honestly, at least you're not bird feed. Count your blessings, or whatever you Catholics still do."
I watched the smoke come out of his hood, still fascinated. "Why didn't we fly here? Aren't you an angel?" He inhaled again, and I got on my tippy toes to see if he even had a mouth. "Is there a mouth somewhere in there?"
"I'm a Fallen. F-A-L-L-E-N. Fallen. Do not put me in the same category as an angel." He shifted his face away from me. "And back up, human. Personal space."
"So...you don't have wings?"
"I do." His responses were short, staccato, as if the last thing he wanted was to converse with me. What was wrong with him? Why wasn't he being...well, playful? Or even sadistic? He was just being plain cold...
My eyes fell on his back. It sure didn't look like he had wings. Did they tuck into his back? "Are they buffalo wings that can only lift you up off the ground? Because that horse ride wasn't exactly pleasant..."
Death growled.
"Why didn't we fly here?" I pressed.
"Remind me to just let you die and not give me you my blood next time. You're being a pain in the scythe." His next words was so quiet it was almost inaudible. "And I'm grounded, that's why."
"What?" I fought back a laugh. "Did you just say you're--"
"Change of plans. We're going to be in here a while. I'm not going anywhere with you like this, you'll ruin my reputation," Death said dryly, changing the subject entirely. "Get comfortable. And by get comfortable, I mean shut your mouth, and go stand over there." He pointed to the other side of the room.
"Well arightyyyy then, Snuggie. Why are you in such a bad mood? Besides the obvious bird thing, I sense something else boiling underneath that hood of yours. We got away from creepy bird man. You can just, like, take your scythe and slice him, right?"
Death ignored that.
"What's bothering you?" I stepped in front of him when he turned away from me. "Still bitter about the funhouse? Or is it really that bird guy?"
"His name is Malphas." Death turned towards me as if he was going to say more, but then he thought better, and turned away from me. "Damn it, would you just stop talking?"
"Good, you're mad! Hit me! Hit me, like I asked you to before, I can take it! I have your Hulk blood! Hit me--Ow!" His gloved fist collided with my nose. My head snapped back. I felt like maracas were shaking in my skull. I felt nauseous and keeled over, gripping my throbbing nose. Then I rebounded, laughing. "Did you see that? I didn't even fall! I'm like The Rock--!"
"That's it." He took off a glove, revealing a hand with branchy, black markings, and put a finger to my forehead. "Sleep."
My eyes crossed.
I went out cold.
* * *
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