XXII

"Cute drool."

Having almost fallen asleep, I jolted at the deep voice in my ear and smacked my spoon on the table into a flip.

Death rounded the dining room table, twirling my once-airborne spoon between his fingers. I did a double take. He prowled across the room with the glide of a panther, muscles shifting beneath a sharp black dress shirt and black slacks. Tailored perfectly to his menacing frame, the ensemble both attracted and intimidated with all the lethality of an apex predator.

"Cat got your tongue?" Death purred.

"Remind me to put a bell around your neck," I seethed.

"Someone's a wittle cwanky."

I bit my tongue. He knew damn well he was the cranky one ninety-nine percent of the time. After helping Death with his harpy wound last night and sucking his face off, I hadn't slept a minute. He, on the other hand, seemed well rested and unbothered. By the touch of a healthy tan in his complexion and the spry gleam to his catlike eyes, I could tell he had collected souls that morning.

Death sipped from the large black mug in his hand. I wondered if it was coffee in his morning cup or something villainous, like gasoline, liquid souls, or the blood of his enemies. He lifted the mug away, and a small white crescent lingered on the dark stubble along his upper lip.

"Cream?"

"Warm. Four sugars," Death said with a wink. Then he downed the mug like it was a shot and licked away any evidence with a swipe of his tongue. "Grab a jacket, cupcake. It'd be a shame if you froze off those perfect tits."

I choked a little on my cereal and glared in his direction. "What exactly is this meeting about?"

"You'll see."

Death parked his motorcycle illegally at the entrance to D&S Tower, and an employee rushed out to move it. The cryptic nature of this meeting had launched my imagination into overdrive, and I instantly thought about the reason Lucifer had wanted my soul in the first place.

When we entered the lobby, a nervous, uneasy energy settled sourly in my gut, labored my breath, and formed a small, throbbing headache behind my eyes. The lobby was eerily empty, without the usual frenetic energy of employees rushing about.

Death punched a gloved finger into the elevator door and checked the time on a black Rolex on his wrist. I cast a look over my shoulder: the glass doors through which we'd entered were now guarded by four armed men.

As per usual, the long ride up to the top floor was torture. I hated tight spaces. But this time, when the elevator walls closed in, I felt a different sort of apprehension. The nausea blooming in my stomach swelled, and I put a hand to my neck as the sensation climbed up my throat.

The elevator doors opened with a chime. I did not move. The nervous energy had magnified until it became external, until it became a tether. An invisible force reeling me in. I stepped off the elevator, the pristine marble entryway pulsing to the rhythm of my heart. Dissociation numbed all thought as I felt detached from my body, an onlooker watching myself trail behind Death's long strides.

The Grim Reaper pulled open a glass door and gestured me forward. "After you."

Heading into a small waiting room, the air went static, raising the hairs on my arms.

I took a deep breath and entered Devin Star's office.

The Devil poured a drink at his personal bar, wearing a perfectly pressed navy suit. He had his back to me and didn't turn as I entered.

Sitting at the long glass meeting table was Aunt Sarah. My heart clenched. Her red, inflamed eyes indicated she had recently been crying. When she saw me, she snapped out of her chair to stand, her weary face wracked with worry. A moment of conflict passed between us before I raced toward her for a constricting hug.

"Oh, thank God," she whispered against my hair. Then she held me at arm's length to clutch my face in her hands. "Are you okay? Has he hurt you?"

Not in the way she was asking, at least. "I'm fine." There was so much to tell her, including the fact that I had read her note about the Guild, but we weren't alone. And I had a feeling it wouldn't matter anyway. "What's happening? Why are we both here?"

"I'm so sorry, Faith. I did everything I could—"

"Have a seat, ladies." Devin's smooth voice cut through our moment, and I jumped. He was standing directly behind me.

I glanced back at Aunt Sarah, who sat obediently at the head of the table. What the hell?

I remained standing, my eyes trained on Devin as he sauntered over to his desk.

"Now, Faith," Devin began, "I'll save you some anxiety and cut to the chase. I know your aunt debriefed you about the Book of the Dead . Told you her little tale about the Guild and then shared our belief that you are the Chosen who can read it."

At our , my attention shifted over to Death. He was a dark presence in the room, peering out a floor-to-ceiling window and into the city while he smoked a cherry roll-up. The brooding storm outside matched his mood.

"With Sarah's gracious help, we were able to recover the grimoire last night," Devin Star continued.

My attention snapped to Devin. To my aunt. "What?"

Aunt Sarah had given him the book.

"How could you do this?" I cried.

But as I stared into her wide, terrified eyes, I understood. She had been willing to die to stop this, until he'd broken her. Somehow, he'd broken her.

"I felt it would be best to test our theory straightaway," Devin said.

My heart beat a thousand times per minute. "You have the Book of the Dead ? In this room?"

"Indeed," Devin murmured, those sharp, glacier eyes unblinking. "Although, you already knew that, didn't you?"

Coldness slipped down my spine. I could sense Death slinking somewhere nearby, the shadows in the room shifting with him.

Thump .

I looked down at what the Devil had dropped on the table in front of Aunt Sarah. A small, pocket-sized book. Devin distanced himself a few feet. He wore thick gloves on his hands that were disintegrating right before my eyes with a yellowish smoke.

"Sarah," Devin said in a velvet voice. "Your turn."

Aunt Sarah lowered her eyes to the book, a tear sliding down her cheek. She took a deep breath and laid her hand directly on it.

"I, Sarah Pierce," she began, her voice tremulous, "your loyal protector, pass you to my blood, Faith Williams."

My heart fell.

She slid the Book of the Dead across the table, inches away from me. Stones swirled in an intricate design on a black leather cover, and four old latches bound the pages together.

I couldn't help but laugh.

" This is the Book of the Dead ?" I asked. "It's just a diary."

But as I continued to stare at the little book, an eerie feeling came over me.

It was watching me too.

Devin and Sarah were speaking, their voices fading into the distance. The air crackled against my fingertips, that odd tethering sensation snapping suddenly like a rubber band. The Book of the Dead slid sharply across the table to me, and I froze.

Everyone fell silent. Aunt Sarah had gone pale, and the Devil was grinning from ear to ear.

"Please," Devin said, motioning to the glass table before us, "have a seat."

"Hell no," I said. "You can go pound salt."

Devin arched a golden brow. "Excuse me?"

"If I can read this thing, then you'll make me your bitch," I said, rolling my shaking fingers into fists. "You'll use me for whatever sick, evil plan you have, and I'd rather die than be a part of it."

Aunt Sarah smiled with unspoken pride at my response, though her mouth turned down as the Devil sauntered closer to the table.

"I'm afraid, my dear," the Devil drawled, " you dying is not on the schedule for today."

A snapping noise whipped through the air from behind him, and Aunt Sarah cried out with a gurgling choke. My eyes widened as I realized it was a long, ropy tail that had impaled her throat, the deadly arrowhead embedding into her carotid artery.

"No!" I started toward her when leather bit into my forearm. Death manifested beside me and pulled me sharply into him. And what I found in his face was frighteningly cold and monstrous. Darkness spread out from his towering frame, and the tattoos along his neck slithered up his face like deadly cobras.

I writhed against Death's hold, but it was like trying to bend steel.

"What are you doing?" I shouted, my chest heaving. "Let go of me—!"

"Faith!" Aunt Sarah gurgled, snapping my attention to her in horror. "I love you—"

Devin released her throat with a snarl, blood pouring from her neck. I screamed at the top of my lungs. He quickly waved his hand, and she faded into nothing with a wisp of fire.

"I'll kill you!" I roared. "I'll fucking kill you!"

The Devil's tail whipped behind him, his expression utterly fiendish. Like he wanted more .

And I'd give him more.

I thrashed against Death harder, my arms burning hot as a rage unlike anything I'd felt before took over. Somehow, I shoved the Grim Reaper away with every intention of charging at Lucifer, but Death manifested back into my path with a wicked grin and snatched me around the throat. His other hand cuffed my wrist, and I could feel my power radiating off my palm.

"Obey." The slits of his pupils dilated, the single command snapping my spine ramrod straight as I felt a hard tug inside my chest. My soul . My breath caught in my throat, tears sliding down my face. "You will sit down at the table and behave."

The low drawl of his velvet-clad voice hypnotized me, and through a dreamlike haze, I obeyed. I lowered into a chair, vibrating with anger.

Death stalked around the table, roughly grabbed a chair across from me, and sat down with his dress shoes kicked up onto the table. He pulled a lollipop from his pocket. "See what happens when you fuck around, Faith?"

I could hear Devin snickering, but I couldn't remove my glare from Death. He unwrapped the lollipop, dipped it into the crimson pool on the table, and licked it off.

He was just as bad as Lucifer. A heartless monster.

"Now," the Devil said, "will you cooperate? Or must we bring another mortal pig to slaughter?"

Seething, I turned my fury to Devin, who was standing casually with his hands in his pockets again. Like he hadn't just slaughtered my aunt.

He loves her .

Death's unexpected voice in my head made me pause. He subtly slid the lollipop from his mouth and pressed it against his lips as though to indicate that was our little secret.

Lucifer loved my aunt.

Death was telling me he wouldn't let her die.

Incredibly relieved, I showed no outward reaction.

"What do you want?" The question grated through my tight teeth, directed at the Devil.

"Open the book," Devin said.

My vision pounded to the beat of my heart. In the seconds since I'd last looked upon the Book of the Dead , it had transformed and swelled six times its original size. And the locks, they were unlatched.

Slowly and unsurely, I reached toward the grimoire to lightly brush its obsidian cover. The smooth, waxy texture deeply disturbed me. It almost felt like . . . human skin.

Chosen .

A force heaved into me, knocking the wind right out of me, but I didn't fall backward. A phantom yanked me forward instead. The book flew open on its own, my palms slamming against the pages. Pages that melted to hot liquid, seeping through my fingers like lava.

A vapor rolled over my surroundings in chaotic whirl, and suddenly I was no longer in Devin's office. I was . . . somewhere else . . . trapped in endless darkness. In front of me, the book lay open, hovering in the empty air. My stomach twisted into knots, the black murkiness on the pages melted away, revealing words and pictures like cryptograms.

Words fluctuated along the parchment, a Rubik's Cube shifting each row of blocks until the puzzle finished and it all translated to English. The book came to life again, feathering out with endless possibilities . . .

Footsteps. Movement snapped my attention to the side, but nothing was there.

"Hello?"

Slowly, I turned back to the book. Instead of finding the grimoire, I found myself. Standing right in front of me. She stood perfectly still, a lifeless doll with glossy, dead eyes.

When I turned my head to the left, she mirrored me. To the right, the same. Then a sly smile unlike my own curved her mouth, and she stopped following my lead.

"I have waited for you, Chosen," it said. "Tell me, Faith Williams, what do you seek?"

It all warped away, and I was screaming. Devin had slammed the book shut, the thick glove disintegrating into smoke as he hastily tugged it off.

I sagged in my seat, trembling, utterly exhausted.

Doomed beyond belief.

It was true. I was the Chosen.

"Excellent," Devin said, clearly having arrived at the same conclusion. "I will need more equipment to move the book to a safer location."

"I hope it melts the scales off your nasty lizard face," I spat.

Devin leaned back, though he appeared more amused than insulted. "You have quite the spirit in you, Faith," he observed. "I do admire aspects of it."

"I don't," Death grumbled as he slowly licked the pink lollipop he balanced casually between two fingers. "In fact, I often think of something she could wrap her mouth around to shut that spirit right up."

My face burned.

Devin's lip curled with a low hiss, and the room's temperature rose a few notches. "Now that we have confirmation that she's the one," he said, speaking to Death as though I were no longer in the room, "we need to discuss where you are with regard to recovering your scythe."

I looked over at Death in confusion. They hadn't discussed recovering his scythe this entire time. Weren't Lucifer and Death a team?

"I have a source that is confident that Ahrimad will open a portal into the mortal realm in a week and a half. All I need to do is narrow down the location."

"How many soldiers will you require to resolve this situation quickly?"

"Not sure yet."

"Very well," Lucifer said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'll watch the girl while you're gone."

"Wait, what?" I exploded. "What about Ace? What about his vision?"

Death slowly turned his head toward me, his jaw twitching, like I'd made an enormous mistake. He bit down on the lollipop with a crunch.

Lucifer's sharp gaze snapped to Death. "What is she talking about?"

"May I speak with you in private?" Death asked Devin, his politeness carefully masking what I knew to be rage. He hadn't told Lucifer about Ace's vision. But why?

"What you have to say to me, you can say out loud," Devin said. "I wouldn't want to be rude."

"The warlock," Death began begrudgingly, "had a vision. He said a portal between this world and where Ahrimad is located would open, and that is when Ahrimad would unleash his army."

"And you didn't tell me this," Devin questioned, biting the words out, "because?"

"Your Majesty, you indicated on multiple occasions I was to recover my scythe on my own."

To this, Devin said nothing. "And what about the girl's training?"

"What about the girl's training?"

"If I didn't know any better," Devin said around a hostile grin, "I'd say you were training her to come with you."

"Because he is," I said, and suddenly all eyes were on me.

And Lucifer began to laugh. I waited for Death chime in. Instead, he lit up another cherry cigarette and snickered under his breath.

"Is that what he told you?" Lucifer asked. "That he was training you to fight with him ?"

"Yes," I whispered. "That's what was implied, at least."

Lucifer clucked his tongue. "Well, that's just cruel. Tell her the truth, Death. Tell her why you're really training her."

Death wore a bored, passive expression. "If you insist . . . " He dragged his gaze across the table to meet mine, smoke escaping his nostrils. "Training you has been the only way to get you stop bitching and moaning about your old mortal life."

I stared at him. All this time. All this time training, and he'd never intended to take me with him. He'd lied to avoid dealing with my emotions.

Rage simmered inside me, until I reached my boiling point.

I had to get out of this office. Now .

I sprang to my feet, heading toward the door.

"Go after her," Devin said in an amused drawl. "Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. We need her alive."