Hello my babies. Music goes excellent with the chapter!! :))
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Drapetomomania- noun- an overpowering urge to run away.
Death laughed deep in his throat and my body became tremulous from the sound. It was as if it echoed off the walls, bouncing off like a cruel game of pinball, then pelted at my face with each sinister chuckle. Death hadn't taken those dark eyes off of me the moment he ripped me from my secret hiding spot. Now he was close to me, stroking me cheek. Close enough to smell. Close enough to feel...
Did I say mention was close? He was absolutely watching me squirm as I fought against my attraction towards him.
"Debora told me about the first person you killed," I blurted. Death's dark eyes flickered with interest. "David. I don't know why you chose his identity and his first name, probably a sick reason, like it made you feel pretty inside knowing you're walking with the feet of your first kill. Well the joke's up, and I'm not laughing."
Death's lips quirked up for a moment as he suppressed a small laugh.
"What was that?" I asked, finding that Death's hold on my had loosened as he keeled over with laughter. His musical laughter my insides twist even more as if I was on a roller coaster. The laugh was humorless, evil, and downright disturbing. As if he had his own inside joke from my statement.
When Death looked up, his expression was once again set in stone. He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye and flicked it away. "And why would I ever do that, Faith Williams? Why would I take the form of my first kill? Why wouldn't I just tell you if I was David Star?"
"Because you're a sadistic, cruel creature who enjoys making me suffer?" I thought that was obvious!
"And?"
There was an 'and.' Of course. I crossed my arms over my chest. "And, I don't know why you would pretend to be your first kill!"
"You don't know," Death whispered. His finger traced the outline of my jaw teasingly and that strange feeling of electricity soared through my body. "You're assuming everything, like you always do. You have no liable proof. You stand in front of a six-foot seven muscular, powerful, and easily aggravated creature, alone, in a small ass fun house with nothing to protect you. By openly accusing that creature of something that no mortal is suppose to know, with literally no evidence or support, you are threatening that six-foot seven, muscular, powerful creature, alone, in a fun house. And I'll let you in on a little secret"--he lifted a single finger up and looked around him, then put a gloved hand over his mouth and leaned in as if to tell me a secret-- "that six-foot seven, powerful, muscular creature in a small fun house didn't visit a crappy ass carnival, and force her aunts perky little boyfriend to bring you here, then ditch, just to give Faith Williams a piggy back ride around town. That creature came here, knowing that Faith Williams, a curious, annoying bitch, would dig her perky little nose into other people's business, and ruin everything that creature worked for to have complete control over Illinois and its inexplicable amount of portals to the Unknown." Death's voice became a roar of words. "That creature, which is once again, six-foot seven, muscular, powerful, and easily aggravated, wants to make sure that Faith Williams knows, that if Faith Williams doesn't shut her diminutive human mouth, show respect towards him, and end the subject of David Star, he will shut that diminutive little mouth for her, using his supernatural, sharp scythe; which he really, really, really wants to slice her holey jean-wearing-Pocahontas braids-self in half for ever getting on the subject."
The jaw I had depended on so greatly decided to drop somewhere between his speech. "Where you just talking in third person--?"
"No."
"Are you--"
"Don't ask me it. Don't say it."
"I just want a confirmation--"
"Remember who's the oldest one in the room and shut up."
My mouth went into a straight line.
"So," Death said, casually making a gesture with his long arms. "Tell me. Before I rip your organs out and eat them with a shard of glass as a utensil. Why must you hide in from me in places I'm a little too big for?" He tried to jerk his head towards the ceiling and ended up banging it. He frowned.
I blinked. Alright, so clearly he's changing the subject...could I press and risk my life? Or should I keep my mouth shut and plan future investigations?
I would play along for now like a good little human.
"Why must you find me?" I gave him a wary look.
"I can't help myself." I could feel Death's forceful stare before I even saw it. He started to curve around to me, making a weird noise in his throat that I didn't feel comfortable hearing. I hurriedly moved away and we started to circle. "I've never been so hungry in my life as I am right this second," Death grumbled.
"Then eat me."
"You think you're so cute with your little comebacks," Death snarled. "Always have a little comback, don't you?"
I'll give him little. "I am quite adorable. And if I don't say something back, you'll demand attention in uncanny ways."
He grunted.
Hands on hips, I took in the man/ creature/ liar occupying the room with me. Up close, I could see a thin amount of skin between his hair and makeup that looked tan. He as hunched over a little in the low ceiling fun house because was so tall. His hood was down and bunched up around his high collared jacket, revealing the skull makeup he plastered onto his face and the thick Mohawk on top of his head. Death's eyes were dreadfully black, cold, and reminded me of two wise cat eyes. Something shifted around them like multiple layers, made me imagine that the shape of them should have been more narrow, more exotic, and more green. The layered parts of his eyes I was seeing had to be an illusion.
His nose also appeared to be distorting as well as the angles of his jaw. I knew it wasn't really Death's face in front of me, but someone he had probably eaten for lunch. And it wasn't David Star.
"Who's this snack on your face? He's kind of hot," I said. "I bet he's even cuter under all that layered on paper Mache." I tried to ignore the fact that Death's fingers felt like claws against my soft neck.
Death's lip twitched. It wasn't a smile. "A little of this. A little of that. It might have been a random guy I saw on the way here, doesn't have to be someone I killed. I believe his name was 'None-of-your-goddamn-business'"--his opened wide and he let that hang in the air--"but then again, I was never good with names. Too many to count, you know? I forget their names...they forever remember mine."
He lifted an eyebrow up. How mature. A sexual joke. Who's the oldest in the room, now?
I shifted my gaze to his hair. It was that kind of hair that was so thick it's depth seemed endless. I knew his hair would be soft, too, had it not been formed with gel. It was a bit strange to see a Mohawk. But then again, Death had formed a red Mohawk on his illusion before. "He has cool looking hair, at least." It was somewhat a compliment.
Someone as old as Death has got to have one of those rat tail hair styles or a leather tie holding together long silky black hair.
"This is my real hair," Death said bitterly. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he heard the pony tail thought. I knew he did. "And it's a Fohawk. Mohawks are taller."
"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.
He could see into your soul if he wanted to.
I thought he would never talk to me again after I brought up his reflection. I thought he would just disappear into a cloud of black like he always did. "It's hard to look at yourself in the mirror, Faith, and see someone else staring back," he said. "Somethingelse staring back."
An unnerving feeling settled in my lungs. The way he had said 'something' made it sound like he was being literal. "Is something else staring back?"
"Not exactly," was all Death said.
My heart went into my throat. Death avoided mirrors. There had to be a reason besides his curse. What would explain why Death had angled himself perfectly in the fun house, of all places, so that not only I could not see the front of him, his face, but he couldn't see his reflection either. He had also punched in many mirrors since he entered the fun house and brought down groups of them with his scythe. Could it also be because he was afraid of himself, though? Afraid of what was behind the...
Ok, this was becoming creepy again.
"Why you keep up illusions if the Unknown just tears them down?" I wondered. The conversation had strangely shifted to a more casual one. "Because you're afraid of what people will think of you when you're not in front of a mirror? Because you want to be known for your good looks and not for being the Grim Reaper?"
A super hot Abercrombie model for example...
He laughed shortly. I could tell he didn't want to answer me after what I said. "Not at all, Faith," Death said."I'm not allowed to show people my identity because of what it does to them."
"What does it do to them?"
There was a pause.
"Look," Death said shortly, his voice gravelly. "You're already suffering through what I do to people without even seeing me. Fallen are creatures of pure temptation, enthrallment. Demons are lust. I'm a revolting combo of both." He motioned to the space between us and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I was swaying towards him. Everything about my body language screamed attraction, magnetism. Death was a magnet. My eyes drifted down to my feet, which were practically against the toe of his combat boot, then danced over Death's wide chest to his shadowed face.
I blinked. I had totally just taken him all in. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that." My face couldn't have been any hotter. Why are you saying sory?!
It was then I started to hear the hum again. That consistent sound that resembled a small bell being to ring over and over again. It was musical. It was alluring...
It disappeared.
"Only natural." He sounded disgusted.
Only natural. The sentence gave me goose bumps, but they quickly disappeared when fury lit my eyes. "You're not disgusting, Death. You're just not human and you're a jerk. And before you say it, what makes you different doesn't make you a jerk. How you go about your differences determines what people think of you."
A hiss sounded from underneath his hood. "I'm not even enough of a person to be compared to one." I jumped back as Death took a large glide towards me with his long legs. "I don't age. I barely use the bathroom. I can't get cancer, aids, or even a common cold. I can see miles away, hear things I don't want to hear." He took a step closer to me. "Can't you feel what I am, Faith?"
"You're an angel."
"I'm a Fallen," Death corrected harshly. "I'm a bastard with a cold heart. I can read your mind, right this second. I can feel how sick I make you when I'm around. That's not my hunger you feel in your stomach, Faith, that's just the feeling I give everyone when I'm around. The sensation just happens to be more painful to humans when I'm deprived of a meal. Trepidation. Your soul knows you are in danger every second I am around you and gives you warning signals. Warning signals! Have you ever even heard of that before?" He let out a growl and said sarcastically, "I love when the Elder's create new dreadful sensations with my name on it."
"Death--"
"I hear your heartbeat," he interrupted. "You almost had a heart attack when you were eighteen because I terrified you so much. I knew you were afraid of me then, and I know you're afraid of me now. Everyone is afraid of me. I would be too." Death pulled at the neck of his sweatshirt underneath his cloak as if it was clinging to tight to him. "I'm fast. I'm strong. I'm instinctually predatorily in every single damn way. I'm more like my bastard father than my mother even though I promised myself, I swore on my mother's grave stone that I wouldn't be like him."
What I said to him had obviously cut deep. Death was starting to believe there was no hope for him, that he was just like his father. "Death..."
His voice was thick with emotion. "No. You were right. I am a monster and I'll always be one."
"No you won't."
"There's no hope," Death said. "There never was any hope. The prophecy about me is written in stone, Faith. Literally because I'm as old as...nevermind. I was doomed the moment I struck a deal with Lucifer's messenger. I did this to myself. Now I pay for it."
I felt the air thicken. Lucifer. The emotions within my body were at a peak. How could I feel bad for someone who was so set on destroying me? The sob which was wedged in my throat came out. "You know I want to help you. But you're so secretive, Death. You don't tell me anything. Maybe what you need is someone to talk to--"
"What I need is revenge and redemption. You've shown little to no hints of supernatural abilities besides seeing a single black halo, which could have easily been a trick of the yes. You can no longer help me with either of my aspirations."
I froze in my spot. You can no longer help with either. Death's voice had shifted to something dreadfully cold. Death wasn't joking. He was going to kill me. "You can't just kill me! I didn't do anything! I'm not suppose to die!"
"That's the most twisted part of the world, Faith. I can choose who dies." I was about to run when Death snagged me by both arms. "Don't fight me." I wanted to cry his voice was so emotionless. This was different than all of the times Death threatened to kill me. This was real.
"Death, please." I was resorting to begging?
"If I don't kill you right now, my father will. I will no longer protect you because you are no use to me." Was his voice containing seducing, velvety qualities, or was I just imagining it?
"But you're my guardian! The Elders will punish you! You'll be sorry!"
He ignored me. I guess it didn't matter. "And just for the record, I loathe this outfit." I frowned as I felt the weight of Death's eyes silently investigating the holes in my jeans. Was he really fitting in one last insult before I died? I flinched as Death's gloved finger tickled my skin and he pulled down the bottom of my t-shirt. "I see flesh where a man should not see flesh on a young lady in public, Faith Williams."
God, I love it when he talks like he's ancient...Even though he is...
"Any straight male in this general area was looking at you tonight," he continued. His finger paused on my shirt and his hand wrapped around my waist.
The voice in my throat was small. "At least I know you're jealous of people staring at me before... before tonight." I pointed out. Maybe if I didn't bring up him killing me he would forget. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you've always had a soft side for me."
He didn't say anything. I slowly let out a breath. I could see it. The room had dropped at least twenty degrees. Death had grown still. In neither if his hands did he hold his scythe. That was a sign. At least, I thought it was.
The kiss of Death.
No, it wasn't. It wasn't a good sign at all. And, I was starting to panic. Full on scratching at my chest to try and catch my breath. Death was coming closer, too.
"Everything is going to be ok. You're going to be fine."
Oh God, he was coming closer and throwing out cliché lines that someone said before something a lot worse happened! I was doomed!
His hand found the side of my face and instantly the world slowed down. "Listen to me very carefully, Faith..." Was his voice always that beautiful? I instantly caught my breath at his soft words. His breath, which strangely always smelled of mint, instead of decay like all the other men I knew.
I shut my eyes it was so lovely to hear when suddenly the humming had returned to my ears.
I hated it. I tried to block it out again, unable to process what was going on besides Death's lovely voice filling my ear drums. I just wanted to hear Death in my ear. Not the stupid hum. Why wouldn't it go away? I shut my eyes, willing it to just...
"Alexandru!" a woman's voice penetrated my head. It was a woman's smooth voice.
Death's mouth was to my ear now. I wasn't sure what he was saying. It wasn't English. I wanted to hear him speak to me forever. I did the unthinkable. I wanted to apologize to him before my life ended. "I'm sorry I hit your face with the cross," I whispered. "Had I known how much it would have hurt you I--"
He put his entire hand to my mouth. I thought my eyes would cross when his glove made contact with my skin it gave me so many funny sensations. God, I couldn't stand being so close to him. It did things to me. I could barely breath as it was and Death's presence made it even more difficult.
I didn't care if he had makeup on, or the fact that technically he had chosen an illusion that was a complete stranger to me. I didn't care how unnatural it was for me to be so attracted to a creature who had me up against the wall with his hand around my throat. I wanted him to kiss me...
"Alexandru!"
"Did you hear that, too?" Death's voice was strained, uncontrolled, and his head jerking to the left. He let go of my mouth and gave me some breathing room. I blinked a few times. My mind became less foggy.
I nodded once.
"Alexandru!"
Death's head jerked in another direction. He wasn't looking at what I was: the strange mirror that I had definitely not been there before. I knew now, for sure, that when Death had pulled me out of my secret compartment I had darted my eyes in that direction, and saw that all the mirrors on that side of the mall had been shattered completely. The one I was looking at? It had somehow fixed itself. It was more prominent than the other few mirrors in the room left standing. More cleaner.
"Death," I said, concentrating on the mirror that had somehow regenerated itself. I was frantically pulling on his jacket and staring at the mirror with wide eyes. He was as still as a statue.
"Alexandru!" the beautiful voice echoed. It sounded more demanding than the last couple of times. The room began to shake. Death let out a soft hiss and grabbed onto me as the voice continued with, "Ubi sunt vobis?" Alexandru! Where are you?
Now I was freaking out. "Death! Death, why can I suddenly understand Latin?" I asked. " Is that normal?" Abruptly, a horrible feeling washed through me that came with the foreboding sensation that something was trying to get through that mirror. And it wasn't something nice. "Who's voice is that?"
There was a stretched moment which made me believe that Death was contemplating whether to tell me what he did next. "My mother's. That's my mother's voice." He secured an arm around my waist. "Don't let go of me," he whispered into my ear. It sounded a bit threatening, to be honest. "No matter what."
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