Death is a Bitch Page 4

  ***

  Of late, the schedule had grown grueling. No sooner had Death accompanied one soul than another signaled. The skin around her tattoo felt puckered from so many changes. She fingered it and sighed in relief when she found only smoothness. Immortality masked the effects of age, but if any part of her was vulnerable to showing it, her tattoo certainly ranked first.

  The thought faded as she approached Sunnyside Manor. Thank the gods, an easy job.

  She eased down beside the second story window. Alarm halted her as an old man stared out. Magnified by his glasses, his eyes seemed to connect with hers.

  No, he wouldn’t see her. She wasn’t there for him.

  She passed through the window and glided to the bed closest to the door. Not hard to identify the soul she’d come to collect, his head slack on the pillow, breaths growing more shallow by the moment.

  “Wait.”

  Surprise made her turn to the first man, who stared at her, wonder and fear plain on his face.

  So he could see her? His life thread wavered, but yet shone strong. “Rest easy.”

  He reached out with gnarled fingers. “Please, take me.”

  Odd, but she’d encountered it before—elderly souls too world-weary to continue. “I cannot.”

  The old man gripped his bed rail. “Yes, you can. Take me along with him. Or if you can only take one of us, leave him.”

  She glided back to him. “You want to die? Why?”

  Sadness drowned his features and his head wobbled. “I miss my wife so much. All I want is to be with her again.”

  His appeal wrenched her heart. It was almost as difficult to refuse a world-weary soul as to claim an infant’s.

  “You know it’s not your time.” Much as she’d like to accommodate his wish, Death upheld ancient law; she didn’t break it.

  “But I don’t want to be here any longer,” he rasped. “Life is hell enough without my Jo.”

  Deep beneath her skin, buried beneath countless layers of souls who’d passed after her, the spirit of Jo grew restless, and strained to reach the top. She must have heard his voice. Now she wanted to see him, too.

  Death could reveal at least that little bit. “She misses you just as much.”

  The old man caught her wrist, his eyes pleading. “Can I see her? Please?” His harsh whisper broke.

  Peering into his glazed eyes, Death’s practiced sternness failed. His heartbreak cracked her hard veneer. Centuries of harvesting souls taught her to keep her distance. To do her job without becoming involved.

  Tonight, in the stillness of the early hours, denying this man his wish troubled her. How she’d love to grant him release from his torture.

  Ancient law prevented her from forcibly severing his life thread, no matter how fragile. It did not prohibit granting him this small relief.

  With the arm bearing the tattoo facing him, she sat on his bed. “Do you swear to abide by my rule and not argue any further?”

  As he realized the meaning of her offer, his life force swelled, and his eyes gleamed. “Yes.”

  “Then remain still. Do not be alarmed.” She lifted her arm and touched the bracelet. The tiny bell charm tinkled, its music strange and wonderful. A wisp of light emanated from it and pushed through the door, which creaked from disuse. The spirit of Jo, who’d passed over nearly a decade earlier, took shape beside him. Enveloped by a gauzy haze, her features grew clearer, and details defined her image.

  “Jo.” His eyes shone bright.

  His wife’s hand moved across his thin white hair as if stroking it. “Harry.”

  As they stared at one another, Harry’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I want to come with you.”

  “Soon,” his wife said.

  Death stiffened. She wasn’t supposed to tell him that. With a tap of her long nail, Death recalled the spirit and Jo called, “I love you.”

  As her figure blurred, Harry blubbered, “No, please.”

  Death hated to break his heart again, but she had no leeway in such cases. She tried to harden the veneer around her own heart again, but the old man’s grief softened it with each sob. What must it be like to share a life with someone? Even so short a life as a human’s? These two made her envious of their time together, obviously filled with love.

  She touched the tattoo to seal it. “I shouldn’t have summoned her.”

  Wiping away the tears, Harry stiffened and seemed to draw upon an inner well of strength. “I’m glad you did. It’s just hard to let her go again.” His jaw trembled but he clamped it tighter.

  Unable to say more, Death nodded. She sat with him a moment, sharing the solemn moment with him. Only when his roommate gurgled his final breath did she release his hand.

  Silence issued from the other bed. The man’s spirit rose up and floated near her. Heaving a breath, she sent him a sad smile.

  Harry held up a hand. “See you soon?”

  She nodded before whisking the soul away. Sometimes, this job held equal parts pleasure and pain.

  Chapter Four

  A rare weariness settled over Death. Even immortals needed a respite now and then. She detoured to the Nethers. Entering, she scanned the crowd, where demons, angels, and every other type of otherworldly being clustered in cliques. A place of truce between worlds, the bar provided an area of sanctuary where all could meet without judgment or consequence.

  She glimpsed Azrael, his figure unmistakable to her. She knew his every contour and texture, from the hardness of his sinew to the softness of his downy wings. More than a mental recognition, her body reacted with an immediate rush.

  It cooled when she caught sight of who stood beside him: Damien. How odd. Those two never got along, yet there they were, sharing the far end of the counter. Huddled together like old companions.

  Curiosity drew her closer. Before she could make her way through the crowd, Azrael glanced over at her, scowled, and made a hasty exit.

  What the hells was that about? Damn, she’d hoped to catch up to him, maybe share another interlude. She’d hardly been able to think of anything else since their last. His glare had doused her desire.

  Her mouth in a pout, she halted. Maybe she should ask Damien if he had mentioned her.

  Someone bumped her shoulder. A guy leered as he passed. “Hey, sweetness. Can I buy you a drink?”

  Ugh, another demon. “No thanks. I’m meeting someone.” Too bad he didn’t wait for me.

  Pressing ahead, she focused on Damien, who glanced up at her approach. Surprise blanked his face. And what else — guilt? Now that was odd. She had no clue the demon experienced that emotion.

  She flashed a smile. “Hello, Damien. Long time no see.”

  “D. Hi.” He dug a coin from his pocket and slapped it atop the counter, a chip of grace applied to the bartender’s eternal punishment. Stingy, though, only a fraction of what the poor bartender must have earned.

  She edged closer. “Was that Azrael with you just now?”

  Damien’s furtive glance set her on edge.

  He patted the breast of his suit jacket as if checking for keys. “Uh, yeah. He had to leave on urgent business. Sorry, but so do I.”

  Seriously? Damien was going to ditch her, too? And what keys could he possibly carry? He required no vehicle to get around. And if he wanted to drive his auto of choice—a Maserati—he simply stole one.

  He can’t leave yet. She rested her elbow on the bar and cocked a hip, a flirtatious pose usually reserved for males who truly excited her. She’d planned to use it on Azrael. “I’d hoped you’d let me buy you a drink.”

  He backed away. “Some other time. See you.”

  Her forced smile faded as she watched him dart through the crowd and disappear. What the… Signaling the bartender, she tried to shake the odd feeling and ordered a mojito. Don’t be a fool. Damien meant nothing to her. So why should it matter how he treated her?

  Azrael, on the other hand, mattered a great deal. Much as she hated to admit it, he’d become more than a c
asual fling in her mind.

  Taking the long cool glass, she thanked the bartender and gulped, licking the minty lime concoction from her lips.

  Odd, that Azrael should react to her so. Maybe Damien had said something? That made no sense. Azrael probably rushed away because of Damien. They could barely tolerate each other.

  She stifled a groan as her tattoo tingled. So much for downtime. She gulped back the tangy liquid, pushed the glass to the interior and left several grace coins beside it.

  Regret tugged at her as she left. Should have followed Az. But I’ll find him later.

  With that thought warming her, she descended from the heavens toward Earth, a second, third, and fourth tingle hurrying her along.

  All originated from the same place. Undoubtedly, a grim scene.

  ***

  Light rimmed the horizon with a blaze of orange-red. Appropriate that the sky be as blood-stained as the earth. Death hovered over the city street, all too familiar to her. Too many of its residents met violent ends.

  Strewn on the pavement bleeding bodies gave testament to this. Not all would travel with her today. Sirens wailed in the distance, signaling the approach of police and two ambulances to haul away the bodies. Death would claim the spirits of four.

  Scanning the writhing figures of the men, not much older than boys really, she sighed. Such a waste of youth and such a senseless end for them all. She’d never understand gang wars.

  For the fifth time, her tattoo signaled another soul to collect, also from this street. The five lay in various stages of dying, but close enough she thought it better to wait and bring them all at once. With all her recent trips, she’d worn thin the path between this world and the next.

  The first passed quickly, so she harvested his soul. The next watched with a wary eye until his life thread dissipated. Instantly, his soul scampered away as soon as it severed from his body.

  “Not so fast.” Death touched the chain of her bracelet. The thin silver strand shot out to encircle him, looping around him until he was covered. With another touch, the chain retracted steadily against the spirit’s flailing attempt to free himself. She no sooner secured him in the cage when the next two scattered in opposite directions.

  I am so not in the mood. Such folly, to run from Death. It made her task more inconvenient to chase them down, but no less inevitable. She whisked them up none too gently and tossed them into the cage with the others.

  As the final man’s spirit ebbed away, he snarled, “Bitch.”

  “Only when I have to be. And you’ve brought out the worst in me.” She lassoed him and drew him in.

  Using the equivalent of duct tape to bind him, she grinned once his mouth was covered. “Oh, and if you think I’m a bitch, wait ‘til you meet your eternal keepers. You’ll really love them.”

  Stopping to scan the street a final time to be sure no others would require her right away, she double-checked the lock on the cage. Damien appeared, blocking her path as she was about to ferry the souls away.

  His absurdly white teeth glinted when he flashed a smile. “Need any help?”

  “No thanks.” Not from you. No one had called him, what was he doing here?

  He cocked his head. “Now, D. That’s no way to act. Just because we work on opposite sides doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

  Anger simmered to a low boil. Friends? He couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with her earlier. And if given the chance, he’d cut her down at the first opportunity. She had no desire to deal with his fickleness.

  He arched a brow. “You’re looking exceptionally well.”

  Gritting her teeth, she flew off.

  He reappeared at her side. “I’ve been searching for you. I have some bad news.”

  His sincerity slowed her. Not that he wasn’t prone to accurate portrayals of sincerity now and then, but something about his intensity surprised her. He seemed worried, almost.

  A scary thought. In all the eons she’d known him, Damien had cared about one being: Damien.

  She slowed, hoping it wasn’t a mistake. “Let’s have it. I’m carrying five, and another two—” her tattoo tingled again “—make that three, will soon need me.”

  He grabbed her hand. “This is important, D. It’s Sisyphus.”

  Something about Damien’s tone added to her worry. “What about him?”

  Studying her, Damien sucked in a breath, then blurted, “The Prince approved a parole hearing. It’s happening soon.”

  “No.” How could it be? Since Sisyphus’ previous two escapes, Zeus had assured her his offenses warranted an eternal sentence.

  “I don’t have all the details. All I know is if you want to testify, you have to come right now.”

  Impossible. Death’s voice strangled in her throat, but she forced out the words. “Right now? I have five souls in transit.”

  Damien shrugged. “Okey dokey. If you don’t care that Sisyphus might go free, fine.”

  Death grumbled a curse in an ancient tongue. Her duties would have to wait. If the Prince granted Sisyphus’ parole, she’d never have peace. He’d sworn revenge on her for his fate, though as always, she was simply doing her job.

  “All right. Where’s the hearing?”

  “In Tartarus.”

  Ugh. Figured, they wouldn’t hold it out of the Prince of Darkness’s jurisdiction, but Tartarus ranked low on her list of favorite places.

  Damien snaked an arm around her waist and guided her away. “Shall we?”

  “Are you sure it’s right now?” Her tattoo tingled again; souls were stacking up like pancakes at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

  Damien’s face hardened, but just as quickly his features smoothed. “Like I said, if you’d rather skip it, fine. That’s the thanks I get for trying to do you a favor.”

  She stifled a groan. Just like Damien to play the guilt card. His feelings must still be hurt. “I’m grateful, Damien. Truly. Thank you for letting me know.”

  Freaking Sisyphus. She didn’t need this hassle right now.

  Chapter Five

  The Underworld still gave Death the creeps. Yes, she’d been there more times than she cared to remember, but it didn’t make the journey any less unpleasant. The hot stench burned her nostrils, making her wince. She smoothed her hair, already frizzed by the foul humid air.

  Yes, the sooner this was over with, the sooner she could wash its remnants from her.

  Damien forged ahead, jacket flapping open. What was his damn hurry?

  Her heel caught on a rock and she glided over it to preserve her stiletto. “Damn eternal darkness.”

  Much as she loved her father, Erebos, she sometimes cursed the blackness he spread. His essence hung heavy here but she didn’t feel his presence. Very odd, especially given that Erebos surrounded Tartarus with nine rings of darkness.

  “You okay?” Damien reached for her.

  She shrugged away from his touch. His over-attentiveness signaled either lust or greed, and neither appealed to her.

  “I’m fine. I just need a little light.” She touched the star charm on her wrist, and a brilliant glow emanated from it.

  She caught the gleam in Damien’s eye as he studied her bracelet.

  “Don’t you ever take that thing off?”

  Instinctively, she covered the jewelry with her hand. “No.”

  “Ah, so it’s not possible to remove it.”

  Despite knowing the hearing upset her, the demon had to rile her. “Sure it is.”

  He shifted his focus to the path ahead. “But there’s no clasp.”

  Why the twenty questions? Irritation made her stiffen. But perhaps the inane conversation was Damien’s way of helping her take her mind off Sisyphus.

  “It’s hidden.” Why was she blabbing? She’d never shared that tidbit with anyone.

  “Oh.” He again faced forward.

  Her nervousness receded. He had no real interest in it. That fact was useless anyway, for all but herself. With what awaited them, she
understood the need for mindless babble.

  Ahead, the outline of the boulder appeared ominously still. It seemed so strange not to see Sisyphus struggling with it. A sigh of frustration escaped.

  She’d hated to think of him pushing that boulder up the hill a maddening number of times. In her opinion, Zeus went a little overboard, making an example of Sisyphus, but she was merely a servant. She did not decide such things.

  “So where is the hearing?” she asked absently.

  Damien’s dark eyes darted. “In the caves.”

  The caves? She hated them worst of all. Used to infinite space, small spaces gave her the willies. “Why there?”

  Damien heaved a breath. “Ask the Prince when you see him. Look, D. If you don’t want to come along, then don’t. Just don’t blame me when Sisyphus pays you a surprise visit.” He stomped off.

  Point taken. “All right. Let’s go.” And get this over with. She hurried to catch up, but hesitated again when they reached the mouth of the cave. Inscribed with ancient runes, the entrance bore grisly sculptures, terrible scenes depicting various means of torture.

  Foreboding overtook her. She hesitated. “I still say this is a strange place to meet.”

  “I know. Right?” Damien laughed. “The Prince does as he wishes, as usual. If you ask me, he wanted to freak you out.”

  His laughter grated through her. It sounded forced. False.

  She followed Damien down a winding corridor unfamiliar to her. Nothing unusual in that. She avoided these caves and hadn’t ventured inside for centuries. Finally, a dim glow shone from deep within.

  “About time,” Damien mumbled.

  She breathed more freely, and her thoughts wandered to earthly souls. Her tattoo had signaled half a dozen more were awaiting her.

  “Here we are.” Damien shoved at the heavy cast iron door. “Watch your step.” He grasped her wrist. With uncanny speed, his other hand flew to her bracelet as he pushed her inside.

  With a surprised squeal, she stumbled, but righted herself. Alarm froze her as she glanced around the empty room.