XXIX

As I came to, Death's furious features hovered over mine, and I knew I was in trouble. "Welcome back."

I rubbed my forehead, feeling a stabbing headache. "Lovely to be back. Feels like a hydraulic press is smashing into my brain."

We were in Ace's library. Books upon books surrounded us, and the lights were dim.

"How long was I out?"

Death breathed hard through his nose like a dragon. His fingernails grazed my shoulder, the ends of his gloves hiding razor-sharp talons primed to release. "Two hours."

Damn.

I put a hand to my throbbing skull and looked down at the black blanket strewn over us both. His cloak. Oh my God. The firm pillow underneath my head was his muscular thigh. We were on a couch made of blue velvet, and my head was in his lap .

And I was way too comfortable to get up.

"You fainted in the greenhouse," Death said in a gruff voice.

"So you carried me all the way here and wrapped your cloak around me? How romantic." I thought a playful smile might crack the irritated expression he'd loved wearing lately, but all it did was train his vicious gaze onto my mouth.

"I thought you were dying," he said, grinding out the words between his fangs. "Your scent changed. Your pulse was almost nonexistent. And your mind slammed closed."

At the thought of the whole astral projection thing and Malphas, I snapped out of what felt like a nightmare hangover as sobriety slammed into me. My heart started to pound a million miles a minute.

"Where's Ace?" I asked.

A muscle pulsed in Death's jaw. "He had to talk to one of his employees." He re-tucked his cloak around my side. We made eye contact. He stopped tucking and stabbed his glare elsewhere. "Tell me what happened. Now."

"I went . . . somewhere else." I felt my breath choke as a sob lodged in my throat. Suddenly, I couldn't stop the fearful words on the tip of my tongue from tumbling out. "Oh God, Death. Your life is in danger."

He laughed derisively. "My life?"

"Listen to me: you're going to die," I said, sitting upright with his cloak clutched to my chest. The room swam a little, and his arm curled around my waist. "You're going to die. You're going to die, unless . . . " I jump . Whatever that means . I shook myself, confused as to why I was believing all of this in the first place. It sounded so ridiculous when I said it out loud. "Ace. I think he's playing us. He knew something was going to happen to you, but he kept it to himself."

Death focused on the bookshelves ahead of us.

"I don't know if we can trust Ace," I whispered.

"Ma chérie," announced a chirpy French voice, and I jumped a little. "I'm so pleased to see you are awake. How are you feeling?

Death dumped me to the side and pushed off the couch to storm toward Ace. "You told her?" he boomed.

The warlock glided a few nonchalant steps back and lifted his chin. Turquoise swirls of electricity formed a wall between the pair. "Do calm yourself in my library, or I'll have to contain you."

"You swore an oath you wouldn't tell her." Death's broad shoulders tensed, and his fists clenched until leather creaked. "Now she knows, and she's stoned out of her mind from whatever the hell you slipped in our tea!"

"What do you mean he swore an oath?" I demanded. "You kept this from me on purpose?"

" Silence , woman," Death hissed. Under his cloak, my right hand sparked a little with light. Silence, woman? What was this, the medieval era? His cloak smoked a little in my lap, and I swatted it with my hand.

"Just because you don't have your scythe," I said once the small fire was discreetly out, "and you're more ‘pantherine' than usual, or whatever the hell your otherworldly ass is, it doesn't give you the right to act like an animal." I frowned. "That sounded much more coherent in my head, but you get my point!"

Death narrowed his eyes into slits and faced Ace again. "How do we put her back to sleep?"

"I'm a part of this conversation whether you like it or not," I said, throwing his cloak off as I stood.

Death glanced at his cloak on the ground, then glared unblinkingly at me. That look could have literally wilted every single plant in Ace's greenhouse. I picked up the stupid fancy garment, folded it haphazardly, and tossed it back onto the couch. "There. Happy?"

"Neither of you are stoned," Ace said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Your teas had cream and sugar and a slight dash of magic, perhaps." When he saw our faces, he quickly added, "I kept to our blood oath. I didn't tell her anything of your foreseen death."

I felt my heart fall into my stomach as my eyes met Death's. "You knew?"

Death became unnaturally still. "Yes, I knew."

"For how long?"

Death's gaze dropped to the ground, yet another betrayal wrenching me apart. "When we first met with Ace in his club, I could tell he was withholding information. I had a hunch. When I met him earlier today, he implored me to see the vision of you and me through. Said I was risking too much by going against the glimpse of the future he'd shared with us." A grim smile lifted the one side of his mouth. "And I knew my hunch was correct."

I felt like crying. Instead, I retreated inward, slipping into some dark place. When I spoke, my voice didn't sound like my own. It was hollow and empty.

"You weren't going to tell me, were you?"

"He couldn't," Ace said. " We couldn't, and for that, I must defend him. Death understands the cost of overriding fate more than anybody. It could be destructive to the balance between good and evil—"

" Screw the balance between good and evil!" I shouted. After everything we'd been through, he was going to let fate have its way with him? "I was supposed to die, and here I am!"

"That's not the same, Faith," Death said. "Your soul, your gift, it never weighed on the balance between good and evil because I was meant to save you. I'm meant to be destroyed, and the consequences of stopping that would be drastic."

Ace nodded. "He's right, mon ange . You were destined to live, through the Kiss of Death. It was not a direct act against fate. Telling Death his fate has a much smaller impact on the balance than physically changing what the Fates have woven for him. He must die." He looked to Death. "And she must go with you to the battle." Then he spoke to us both. "Or else I fear what I have seen will be gravely worse—"

"You don't get to decide anything about his fate!" I exploded, jabbing a finger in the air toward Ace. "I trusted you. This whole time, you've done everything in your power to make sure his death went according to plan! What kind of friend does that?"

"Faith," Death said firmly. "You need to calm down."

My surroundings warped in and out. I was so confused. And angry. The kind of anger you keep tightly bundled inside you so nobody else feels the burden of your pain, but it lingers right below the surface, ready to erupt. Why was Death so willing to accept this fate, and why, why hadn't he told me?

"No!" I cried, backing away. "I will not calm down. This is bullshit. You're the Angel of Death. You can't die. Don't you have some sort of way around this? A trick? A spell?" When neither of them responded, I pressed a hand against my breastbone and held my frantic heart. "I refuse to accept that there's nothing we can do to save you. Not when Malphas told me otherwise."

Ace's eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh, no."

Death's expression closed up until something terrifying and inhuman was left in its wake. "You were with Malphas ?" The black tattoo snaking up his strong neck came to life and bled into his face like wicked ink. Right before my eyes, his skin was shifting color to obsidian. "After I kissed you in the greenhouse, you went off to meet with my father ?"

"I can explain," I said quickly. "Well, maybe I can't, since it was an accident and doesn't make any sense to me either, but Malphas claimed that I astral projected to him."

Death stepped toward me, incensed. "Did he now? You two are super close?"

"No, it's not like that—"

"Then tell me what it is like ." His catlike eyes scanned every inch of me, his tongue poking against his cheek. "Why the fuck," he growled out, his voice more monster than man, "were you in contact with my father again?"

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Ace said, holding out a calming hand to Death. "She's in shock, and she hasn't fully explained herself."

"You shut up!" I screamed at Ace. "I don't need you to defend me!"

The warlock's eyebrows bowed together. "Ma chérie . . . "

"I await your explanation," Death hissed. "This is the second time he's approached you. The second time you've interacted with him behind my back."

"I can't control what Malphas does," I said, "let alone these mysterious powers I'm developing. I don't know why I astral projected to him, but last time I was alone with Malphas was different. Last time he screwed with my head. This time . . . he didn't seem to want to hurt me. He warned me. Warned me that you were going to die. Unless . . . " I frowned. "Unless I jump."

Death stared at me, his eyes stony.

"I think he's trying to save you," I said softly.

In what felt like a heartbeat, any imitation of humanity in Death had vanished again, leaving behind the face of a cold, detached creature.

My chest tightened. "Death, please, I know how this all sounds, but you have to listen to me—"

"He's a lying sack of shit," Death snarled, the whites of his eyes consumed in black. "End of story."

Ace shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps we should all sit down—"

"I would never tell you something like this unless I thought it was true," I told Death.

"You have no idea how lucky you are Malphas hasn't killed you," Death snarled, darkness rising off his shoulders. "Why he hasn't is beyond me." He laughed humorlessly. "Honestly, knowing him, it's probably because he wants to fuck you."

Behind him, Ace lifted his chin. "Death . . . "

His pain. His anger. It devoured the oxygen in the room until it felt hard to breath.

"I'm not trying to justify what Malphas has done to you," I said carefully. "All I'm saying is there might be a chance that this alliance between him and Ahrimad isn't what it seems—"

"He murdered them!" I stumbled back as Death's enormous body towered over me. "Two thousand years ago, my father killed my mother. Then he killed my wife. She was—she was pregnant." His voice broke with emotion, pure anguish ripping over his features. "I have to go."

Death turned and stalked down an aisle of books. Shadows leapt off the massive shelves around his retreating frame, drowning him in darkness.

"Death!" I shouted. "Death, wait!"

Ace grabbed my hand as I started to run, halting me. "Let him go. Let him go, Faith."

His mother . . . and his wife. A baby? I turned back, tears welling in my eyes. "What have I done?"

It was too horrible to imagine. Too traumatic to comprehend. How did you even begin to process so devastating a grief?

Ace placed his hand on my shoulder. "It's not your fault. You couldn't have known."

I wish I'd known. Then I wouldn't have hurt him.

"If he believes your vision is true," I said, hugging myself with my arms, "then this was a suicide mission all along."

Ace's silence was blaringly loud in my heart.

"You can't run from your destiny," Ace said quietly. "The Fates and the Spirits are spiteful with our glimpses into the future. Premonitions are fragile; they're not supposed to be revealed in full. Not even Death himself can run from what is meant to be. Not without a great consequence, which could impact others, including yourself." He paused. "Although, sometimes consequences are inconsequential. When we meet someone who is worth walking through fire for."

I considered his words. Knowing what I did now, I couldn't stand by and let Death die. Which meant I needed to be in the fight, and I needed to prove that I was ready. Above all else, I needed to be able to protect the Book of the Dead .

"I need you to do something for me, Ace," I said. "I need you to help me break the vase."