XIV

Ace had recovered from Death possessing his body.

I could only imagine what this meeting would entail and how pissed Ace would be. After Glenn had informed Death that the warlock was located at some club called Spades, Death dismissed the little demon with a vicious glare and gripped my bicep.

Shadow consumed us both, and my equilibrium vanished as we dematerialized. When my feet hit the ground, everything spun like a merry-go-round. I held on to Death's arm for dear life, but he shoved me off of him like a stray dog. I hit his black leather couch at a clumsy angle, sucking in large gulps of air as David Star's office came into full focus.

"Seriously?" I sneered.

Death struck a match against the heel of his boot and lit a rolled cigarette. "I forgot to tell you to inhale, didn't I?"

I scowled. "That—that blood exchange . What did you do to me?"

"It'll help me track you down easier." He didn't explain further and tilted his head back, exhaling smoke as he strode away. "You'll stay here while I meet with Ace."

"But what about Marcy?" I demanded.

Releasing an aggravated breath, he turned around. "What about Marcy?" His tone was mocking and viciously moody.

"Marcy is the whole damn reason I signed your contract. You said you'd find her."

"I never said I would. Semantics, cupcake." When I just stood there, shell-shocked and thinking I'd made a huge mistake, he brushed past me. "Relax. I'm sending a few of my subordinates to start looking for her tonight."

Tonight?

"Why not now? She's in danger. Every second we wait, she's in danger. Send your people now!"

"I know what I'm doing, Faith. You don't call the shots." He slammed his palm into a panel on the wall, and a door opened. He disappeared inside, returning with a blood-free face and a black sweatshirt. His shirt rose slightly up as he pulled the garment over his head, and I caught a glimpse of black tattoos snaking up his lower abdomen as he rolled it down.

"Bye." He chucked a pack of open D&S Tower travel tissues in my direction and slunk past me to palm his phone on his desk "Don't touch any of my shit while I'm gone."

Shadows slunk from the corner of the room, crawling over his massive frame as he started to wane away. I launched forward and grabbed his hand before he could. "Wait!"

The mist absorbed back into him, and he became fully solid. Death's hooded head tilted down to our linked hands, and a chill slid up my spine. His fingers flexed as he tore from my grasp.

"I'm going to pretend you weren't just holding my goddamn hand, cupcake."

"You can't leave me here alone," I whispered. "Not after what happened. Ace called for both of us."

"We aren't an us . You aren't in control of your abilities, and I can't risk another slipup. As hilarious as it would be, you could kill somebody. Then you'd be a blubbering mess, and maybe you'd—whoops—accidentally flash my dick off next."

"I can assure you, that wouldn't be an accident."

The corners of his mouth almost turned up. "Ace is at his club. There will be hundreds of people there. I'm in enough shit with Rainbow Hair as it is. I don't need you burning down his place the second you have a little panic attack on top of everything else."

"The only way I'll learn how to control my power is with experience."

His jaw flexed. When he went to turn away from me, I grabbed him again, and he whirled back around to shove his muscular chest in my face. "Touch me again. Watch what happens."

My whole body tingled from head to toe, but I knew he wouldn't hurt me. Not physically, at least. "What if something happens while you're gone? What if Malphas breaks into the tower like he did last time?"

At the mention of his father, Death averted his eyes and snarled out a foreign word. Guess I knew the Grim Reaper's trigger now.

"What if you mess up again," I continued slowly, "and Lucifer finds out?"

His obedience to Lucifer was a weakness that we both knew he had. I could see a vein pulsing in his neck now. My next words had to be the final nail in the coffin.

"Or maybe you can't handle being around me," I said, letting my voice drop to a sultry murmur. "Maybe I make you lose control—"

"Stop." His face snapped toward mine, and I stiffened. He stalked a slow, calculated circle around me, his mouth dipping close to the wild pulse in my neck. "It's a bad idea to taunt me, Faith."

I turned over my shoulder, our lips a breath apart. "Since when has a bad idea stopped me from doing stupid things?"

He arched brow, as if to say, You have a point . You are the dumbest individual I know .

And I knew I was wearing him down.

I pouted. "Pwease?"

Growling, Death clutched my wrist in a rough, viselike grip. "You screw up again, it's your ass and my palm."

His shadows consumed us both.

We landed in the alleyway beside the D&S Tower. As I gasped for air against a wall from the lack of oxygen on that manifesting journey, Death yanked on a leather jacket and straddled a black motorcycle. It roared to life, and he shoved a tinted helmet over his head.

At the front of the bike was a symbol. A black stallion. My attention lifted to the other end of the alleyway, where the massive black stallion Death had called had saved us from Malphas's demons. Cruentas . That was his name. Upon closer inspection, the symbol on Death's bike had red eyes. There's no way . . .

Death revved the engine to a roar, scaring the bejesus out of me.

"Get on, chicken," he said with a gruff snicker.

My mind briefly shifted to the time Marcy and I had been watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Buffy had gotten on Spike's bike after driving home from a demon bar. I'd told Marcy jokingly that it'd take more than a hot guy to get me on the back of a death trap. Now Buffy's life didn't seem all that different from mine, and motorcycles were the least of my worries.

I took the second tinted black helmet from the Grim Reaper's hand and straddled the bike behind him. He was burning hot beneath his leather jacket, like the flames of Hell lingered beneath his skin. I looped my arms around his waist as he booted the kickstand to tear into the street.

Death drove like a maniac, and I held on for dear life. We weaved between cars and broke so many traffic laws that I gave up counting and squeezed my eyes shut. By the time we reached our destination, I was a sweaty mess, and my thighs were tense from squeezing his legs so hard, but I was alive. Death drove his motorcycle up onto the curb without a care in the world and parked it. Even though it was barely noon, the line to get into Spades stretched out as long as I could see, roped off by red velvet and monitored by intimidating men in suits.

I tore my helmet off. "What kind of private club is open this early? Don't these people work?"

"They are working," Death said, removing his helmet only to tug up the hood of the sweatshirt over his head. "Blood whores. Mortals who offer their necks and bodies for a paycheck."

As I pieced together what that could mean, Death kicked the stand of his motorcycle out and shut off the bike. Leaving it on the curb, he prowled toward the club, forcing me to hurry to keep up. Not even the autumn wind dared to embrace Death as it picked up, tossing my hair around me but leaving him untouched. Looked like Mother Nature had a more complicated relationship with the Grim Reaper than I did.

"Wait a minute, Ace owns a vampire club?"

Death stopped hard in his tracks, and I nearly crashed into his chest.

"No socializing," Death said, ticking off his gloved fingers in front of my face. "No drinking or eating, and no Faithing . Until we're alone with Ace, your name is Hope. Just Hope. But you shouldn't have to introduce yourself because then you'd be chitchatting and breaking my first rule. Now, what's your name?"

I smiled sarcastically. "Hope."

Death clutched my wrist again—a move I was getting really tired of—and hauled me to the front of the line. He came face to face with the bouncer, who immediately let us enter. The pounding bass and colorful beams of light enveloped me, and my eyes roamed over the intimate private club. The walls were dark-purple with lighter purple accents and a sleek black floor. Lavender curtains revealed the silhouettes of individuals sitting in private booths.

Death stood directly to my left against a shadowy wall. He was so in tune with his surroundings that he'd found the perfect spot to lurk like a predator, just beyond the reach of any lights. As I stared at him, the darkness shadowing his body peeled away and his furious, striking eyes radiated like two mismatched green gems. For once, his wrath wasn't aimed at me but at the bloodsuckers mingling around us.

He slunk further into the club, not bothering to check if I was following. Asshole .

I turned back over my shoulder toward the entrance of the club, wishing I had the option to run away.

Luckily, Death was seven feet tall and easy to spot in a crowd. I was moving toward him when someone slammed into me, their drink spilling all over the floor.

"I'm so sorry!" I shouted, then recoiled as the woman hissed at me.

I hurried away from the vampire, but Death was no longer in sight. Thinking it was better to get to high ground, I hurried to the top of a set of spiral stairs, the strong odor of copper hitting my nostrils. Pulling at my sleeve, I felt bile climb up my throat as I realized that what had spilled onto my arm had been blood .

And now everyone was looking at me. Wherever I went, I felt the weight of hungry eyes.

This was a horrible idea. A horrible, horrible idea.

It was time to get the hell out of there.

I turned fast to make an exit down the stairs, but I slipped on something wet on the floor, nearly falling on a topless woman making out with a gorgeous man with shoulder-length black hair. The air rippled over the couple, and the attractive man grew paler, then gray, with foul, rotting skin that triggered my gag reflexes. Fangs extended as he ripped into the flesh at the woman's neck.

The vampire's eyes met mine. I couldn't move. His pretty illusion strobed in and out. Beautiful man. Monster. Beautiful man. But I hardly cared, as I was consumed with an indescribable heat. A spell glued my feet to the ground.

The dark-eyed vampire tossed his topless woman to the side and stood, closing the gap between us with a few swaggering strides. One sultry smile and I fell deeper into the trance.

"So beautiful . . . " The vampire lifted my hand to kiss it. "So pure . . . "

"So pure," I murmured.

His nails were long and sharp as glass as he brushed my cheek. "So . . . delectable."

The vampire's mouth parted, long canines extending. He was leaning in close when a large, leather-gloved hand shot out from over my shoulder and enveloped his throat. The vampire's eyes bugged out like one of those eye-popping stress toys.

"So . . . not happening ," Death hissed and snapped the vampire's neck in one sharp, vicious movement before throwing him over the glass railing to our right. He fell a whole story down onto the dance floor.

I leaned over the railing and stared numbly at the horrified reaction of the crowd below.

Black leather stepped into my line of vision. Death wedged himself between the railing and me, leaving a portion of his sharp, tattooed features exposed to the light.

"No socializing," Death said, ticking off his gloved fingers in front of my face, "no drinking, and no Faithing. You had three rules. Three. You have the attention span of a squirrel on crack, and you . . . Hello? "

I sighed. "I want to be ravished by a vampire."

Death let out a monstrous, frustrated noise and leaned down so that his mouth was at my ear. "I'm naked and dripping with sweat."

I was torn from the spell. I blinked up at the Grim Reaper, whose furious cat eyes were glowing and drilling into me. The vampire. The neck breaking. The spell. The swooning. Oh God .

"Hell's prince," a voice declared. "In a demon club?"

Death's fangs gnashed together, and he slowly turned around to face a group of beautiful, pale vampires.

"Yes, Hell's prince indeed." A tall vampire with slivery hair and eyes to match stepped into the space the others had cleared. He was the only vampire with color in his irises.

"I'd know those dishonorable markings anywhere," the silver-haired vampire remarked. "Enlighten me, Angel of Death. What is the penalty for attacking a newborn of an affiliate of Lucifer's comity?" When Death said nothing in response, that silver gaze slid to mine. "I am Duncan, by the way. Master of the Crypt clan."

"Nobody asked, Dunkin' Donuts," Death snarled.

"Cheeky," Duncan said dryly, while his focus remained on me. "Goddess, you are a sight for sore eyes."

I looked down at my baggy sweatshirt and leggings. "Um."

"Not the outfit. Your essence, love," the vampire said. "It's luminous."

"I'm blushing," Death said and then clutched my arm to tug me past the vampires. However, they shifted directly into our path.

"Not so fast, Grim," Duncan said. "Where is your pet's mark?" He held Death's simmering stare. "Or is she something to hide?"

Death slung a heavy, leather-clad arm around my shoulders and pulled me into him. If a neon sign hovered over my head, it would have had an arrow pointed toward Death, and it would have read: "HIS."

"She doesn't need a mark," Death said. "She's my girl."

My stomach flipped. As strategic as the gesture might have been, Death was an intoxicating presence, and I had to stop myself from huddling closer.

The master vampire smiled thinly. " Your girl isn't my type anyway." His tone betrayed him. If anything, we'd piqued his curiosity. "She's skin and bones."

Death's arm tightened around my shoulders. I felt my fingertips tingle as a surge of sudden energy built inside of me. They must have started to glow, because Death clamped down on my hands with his free glove.

Duncan arched a brow at our joined hands. "He should keep you on a leash, love." He switched his gaze to Death. "He might lose you like he's lost his scythe."

"Let me be clear," Death snarled. "I will respect Lucifer's rules, but you are not above me, and you will never insult what's mine again." In an instant, Death's pupils consumed both of his eyes. "Otherwise, I will tear your fucking head off, you menial parasite. Now get out of our way."

Duncan's bland expression cracked slightly. He took a step back, as did his clan of beautiful creatures. Keeping me on the opposite side of the vampires, Death strode confidently past them.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"That leech is on Lucifer's comity. He represents the rights of his large clan of vampires. The vampire species has been around since the beginning of time, and they're highly respected by Hell. Let's just say they have a lot of connections in the mortal world that Lucifer uses to his advantage, but they're a bunch of entitled, soulless pricks. They chronically abandon their newborns, which leaves a bloody, gory mess for Hell to clean up, and they're constantly demanding special treatment."

"Sounds like a rocky alliance."

"Even rockier now." Once we were away from Duncan's vampires, Death hooked his fingers into front of the sweatshirt and pulled me to a halt like a feline capturing a mouse. In an instant, my body was flush against his. His silver piercings winked under the lights. "I turn my back on you for one second."

"It was a mistake —"

"You tend to make a lot of those. It is too bad stupidity isn't painful. Perhaps you'd learn your lesson and listen to me for once."

"Maybe you should take some accountability. You left me alone in a vampire club. What did you expect to happen? That I'd make friends, and we'd all sit down around a campfire singing ‘Kumbaya'?"

His eyes narrowed to harsh slits. If he wanted me to be his doormat, he would be sorely disappointed.

This incident only further demonstrates your impertinence , I imagined Death would say next. And then he'd read off a recipe he'd created for a clambake, which substituted clams with diced-up pieces of Faith Williams.

Because you're so flawless in every way yourself, right? I'd reply.

I wouldn't say in every way. One of my fangs is slightly longer than the rest. Would you like to see? It's all the way in the back, so you have to lean in real close.

You're insufferable.

"And you only annoy me when you're breathing, cupcake," Death hissed out loud.

My mouth gaped. "You just read my thoughts!" Great, now I needed an ad blocker to keep the Grim Reaper out of my mind.

"No, your thoughts are still difficult to decipher. I can only communicate with you in your head. Very clearly, as of recently." He arched his scarred eyebrow like there was so much more he was capable of now.

I thought back to Death biting my finger when I signed his contract, and then the black blood from his tongue mixing with my own in a sweet concoction in my mouth.

"What did you do to me?"

He winked. "Nothing you didn't deserve."

"Look what the cat dragged in," a voice intervened, and we broke apart.

Trixie. Ace's assistant. The last time I'd seen her had been in Ace's bookshop in Pleasant Valley when she'd pointed a gun at my head. She flaunted a slim brown corset and matching leather pants. I eyed the strap along her waist that held a walkie-talkie and a gun holster, which her right hand rested on.

"Trixie the Pixie," Death said. "It's been a long time."

"Not long enough," she sneered. "You know, despite everything that happened between you, Ace has never spoken ill of you. What you did to him was despicable and vile, even for you."

Death shifted on his feet. I couldn't believe it. Death , uncomfortable? If only I had a big tub of popcorn because this was going to be good.

"I see you're still suckling on Ace's staff for his magic," Death noted. "Only a pixie leeching off a warlock can keep that much glamour in place."

Trixie roared in another language, her eyes igniting to white. Then she turned to me. "I remember you. Don't tell me you're sleeping with this parasite, or worse, dating him."

"Do your job and take us to Ace," Death said.

Trixie pivoted on her heel and led us to the back of the club, opening a door for us to walk through before locking it behind us. We followed her down a long hallway, the sultry, pounding music in the club beginning to fade until it disappeared completely.

She parted a deep purple curtain and stepped to the side. "Get in."

Death moved first, and when I came through, a rush of energy in the air tickled my skin as I took in the lavish room. There was an old Victorian-style desk with a purple velvet chair. A folded changing curtain partially hid a few selections of lavish clothing, and one side of the room was dedicated to jarred herbs.

Death slunk away from the chandelier at the center of the room and positioned himself between two old bookshelves, where the light barely touched.

"Bienvenue."

The warlock had appeared from nothing. He stood to the left of the desk and placed a dark mauve bell hat on it, drawing attention to his shoulder-length white hair with various colors at the ends. He wore a Victorian paisley vest with hints of purple in the pattern. It fit tightly around his lean torso. The golden dress shirt beneath had purple accents as well, and it was unbuttoned partway down, offering a peek of smooth, pale skin and various pendants around his neck.

Ace's violet eyes met mine, and he smiled warmly. Leaning on his cane, he limped closer. "Ma chérie." He took my hand and kissed it.

Heat climbed to my face. "Um, hi," I said with a flustered laugh.

The warlock's smile only grew. Until, that is, he turned his head toward Death, who had prowled lazily from the darkness like a predator that had gotten bored waiting in the grass.

"Death," Ace clipped.

"Ace." Death returned the same.

"You're underfed," Ace said, lifting his chin. "It's rather careless of you to travel with her when you're weak."

"Weak, not so much. Hungry, always." Death pinched a rolled cigarette between his lips. "Mind if I smoke?"

"Yes."

"Wasn't asking you." Death's voice was a cold knife whenever he spoke to Ace, but when addressing me, it slipped into that velvet purr. "Princess Narc gets her panties in a twist and makes a face whenever I light up."

"I'll twist something on you, all right," I muttered.

Death snickered but tucked the cigarette back into his pocket. "All right, warlock, we're here. What do you want?"

"You and Faith were both in my vision," Ace said, and suddenly he had our full attention. "The most powerful one I've had in a long time. One of the future. One that may determine whether you ever hold your scythe again."

Death was silent as the two beings had some sort of cowboy standoff. Ace's mouth curled into a small, vindictive smile. I was either missing something here or, as my gut told me, this standoff had everything to do with me.

"Well, since he isn't going to say it," I said, gesturing to Death, "the suspense is killing me."

Ace turned his head slowly toward me. "I will tell you the vision, ma chérie . For a price. The price is your time for two dates."

An inhuman growl vibrated the room in a frighteningly low pitch.

"Unless, Death ," Ace added quietly, holding up a paperweight, "you can cross the glare wall in front of my desk and take this from my hand."

Death approached the desk without hesitation and froze. White bolts illuminated the air like spiderwebs and latched on to him like hooks. His muscles stiffened, his jaw locked, and Ace's mouth curved with pride. Eventually, the force released Death, and he relaxed as if nothing had even happened.

"Impressive," Death said, working his neck to one side with a crack. "But I like a little pain."

The Grim Reaper glided forward, striding through the glare wall with a leering grin that communicated it had been a piece of cake, until Ace took out a spray bottle and spritzed it right into his face.

"Motherfu—!" Death moved in a blur and darted to the other side of the glare wall, darkness unveiling from his shoulders until his entire silhouette was hidden. Low, chilling hisses unleashed from the darkness.

"What the hell did you spray him with?" I asked.

"Water," Ace said with a sly smile. Genius . "Same way I keep the strays from sneaking into my greenhouse and eating my valerian root. Those darn cat behaviors just sneak up on you sometimes, don't they, Death?"

Death wiped a gloved hand over his wet face and shoved the bookstand behind him, knocking it down with a crash. "I'm going to wring your neck," he snarled.

"One more step and she dies." There was a clicking noise as Trixie aimed her gun at my head.

"Why are you always pointing that thing at me ?" I shouted.

"Now, now," Ace said, holding up his palm for Trixie to lower her gun. "No need to get violent. Do you both agree to the terms of me telling you the vision or not? Two dates. That's it. Agreed?"

"Agreed," I said.

"Never," Death snarled at the same time.

Death's face snapped in my direction, and he wore the most imperturbable mask. His jaw clenched tight as he turned back to Ace. "Two dates. We're listening."

"As we speak, Ahrimad is forming an army to retrieve the Book of the Dead ," Ace began. "An army of Forsaken."

"What are Forsaken?" I asked.

"Lost souls," Death said curtly, like the question irritated him. "Wandering, forgotten souls that abandon Limbo and stray into the realms of the Unknown. The magic that binds each realm together mutates their essence and turns them into . . . monsters."

Holy shit .

"I don't know if he's creating new Forsaken or if he's binding the existing ones to his command," Ace continued, "but either way, I know what I saw. In about two weeks' time, when the moon is full and the ripple between our world and others is at its weakest, Ahrimad will open a portal and return to the mortal realm. If you should fail to destroy him, I fear he will unleash this army of Forsaken onto the human realm and irreparably damage the balance between good and evil."

"Ahrimad's soul won't be able to keep together much longer," Death said. "He needs a new vessel. A powerful one. For that, he'll need a forbidden spell."

"Found only in the Book of the Dead ," Ace said. "Do you have possession of it?"

"No." Death clasped his gloved hands behind his back, his jaw clenching. "We have a lead, though."

"So, we find the book before he does," I said, "draw Ahrimad out with it, take back the scythe, and say screw your solidifying spell. Problemo solved."

"Stop with the we ," Death grated between clenched fangs. " You can't protect yourself. Therefore, there is no we ."

"All the more reason to teach her," Ace said, lifting a white brow. "I asked both of you here for a reason, Death. Not just because of our deal but because you were both in my vision and together at the portal where Ahrimad will return to the mortal realm. Telling you all of this is a risk, but the consequences of not telling you felt much more damaging."

Death stared hard at Ace as if trying to determine if the warlock was being honest. And what he found made him slam any emotion behind a wall of wrath. "I will take your warning into consideration."

"You do that. Our conversation is over now." Ace's violet gaze flickered with lightheartedness as he angled himself toward me. "I hope the atmosphere in Spades didn't traumatize you too much, ma chérie ?"

"Besides the frightening creatures and random naked people, it wasn't too bad."

"What did you expect at a demon club?" Death noisily unwrapped a piece of gum. "A cotton candy machine and a fucking ball pit?"

I tucked my tongue into my cheek.

"Do you kiss on the first date, Ace?" I asked with a wink to play along.

"Always."

The temperature in the room plummeted.

The warlock laughed in a soft, amused way. "I will see you on our two dates, ma chérie . However, if you would like to see me sooner, please do not hesitate to call on me." Ace made a small gesture with his hand, and a poker card was now wedged between my fingers. On one side of the card was the ace of spades, while the other read Qui vivra verra .

"Qui vivra verra," Ace said. "Who shall live shall see. It's my lucky card."

"As handsome as you are sweet . . . " I looked pointedly at Death before stuffing the card in my pocket, but his attention was trained on the exit. Death shot toward the curtain back into the club, and I followed him with the strangest feeling that there was something Ace had left out of his vision.

When we got outside, it was drizzling. Droplets of rain cascaded down my face as I watched Death swing his leg over his motorcycle.

"You should listen to Ace," I told him. "I sense he's telling the truth about the vision."

"Your sense is wrong." Death turned his head toward me, and I could feel his glare beneath the tint of his helmet. "Never trust a man who doesn't like cats."

"And why's that?"

"Dogs listen to their owners' commands. Cats bow down to no one. Draw your own conclusion."

Two men slunk out from the club, and Duncan's silver eyes slid directly to mine. Death revved the engine again, and I got the message. Get on or get left behind.

Buckling my helmet, I straddled the bike behind Death, and he tore into the street. Rain pelted down, but that slowed neither the beast beneath us nor the beast that I held tight in my arms as we sped through the miserable city.