There are times in people’s lives when the very essence of who they are is challenged; times when they are forced to dig deep inside themselves to overcome the trials that they face. I remember the death of my father as being one of the most trying times in my life.

I was only fifteen at the time. I remember how much we used to talk as a little girl. My mother died giving birth to me, and Dad never remarried, so all we had was each other. I would cozy up to him onto the couch - I remember it was bright red, and I never let him hear the end of it, and just spend time with him. Come to think of it, that old couch was rather tacky, but Dad kept it around because he said it reminded him of Mom.

Even as I grew older, I would always come back to the couch and have a chat with Dad - he was such an amazing person. There was never anything that came between the two of us. I shared all my secrets with him. He was my world.

I remember when I was asked to deliver the eulogy. I dressed up in an elegant black dress, with a large satin bow in front. The shoulders were far too wide for someone my age, but the skirt went all the way down to just below my knees in wonderful frills, complementing my black stockings. My grandmother told me I looked beautiful despite the occasion. I’m not sure I really noticed back then, but it certainly stood out in my memory. 

It’s funny what we remember under such strange circumstances. I remember standing in front of everyone, ready to read out the speech I had prepared the night before. I couldn’t get past the first two sentences. I fled the service, running as fast as my legs would carry me, as the whispers grew louder. I didn’t  care much to speak to anyone, and I really just wanted to be with Dad. But such a thing was impossible now.

I realized back then that every person had the power to overcome their circumstances. They just needed to reach deep within themselves, to find the strength that they needed to keep going. 

Nothing in my nineteen years could have ever prepared me for my own death, however. Especially when it came so quickly. 

I now found myself staring right at this stranger, waiting for what felt like an eternity, staring at his eyes. His body seemed to disappear in that instant, his silhouette turned hazy and I wondered if my eyes were playing tricks on me.

“I am known by many names,” the stranger said softly. “Memitim, Samael, Azrael, Anubis, Thanatos, Santa Muerte.” The Shadow bowed again before me and smiled, his dark eyes were piercing. It was very uncomfortable to look into them.

“But I believe you’ll recognize me most as the Grim Reaper,” he said with another soft smile. And what blood I had left within me chilled as it suddenly dawned on me who it was who faced me in that moment.

“You’re Death,” I said looking straight at him now. I clenched my fists. I didn’t really know what to do. “So you’re here then, to take me to the afterlife?”

Death chuckled. “In a way, yes, Cherie. But there are, I should say, complicating factors in your particular situation.” He tipped his Fedora at me again, but the illusion was completely ruined now. He was no longer attractive or mysterious. I now felt a strange revulsion looking at him.

“What complicating factors?” I asked, curious now as well. I felt  the narrow alley we were in begin to close down upon me, the shadows growing ever taller. I was never claustrophobic, but here, in this dark corner no one knew about, I felt trapped, hemmed in. The weight of the realization that I was dead coupled by this strange encounter with a being no one ever wants to come into contact with, was too much for me.

“When it is time for someone to go, it is my responsibility to take them to the afterlife where they are judged,” said Death in a strangely monotone voice, then frowned. “But when someone goes before their time,” he said, as he motioned toward me to come closer. “There are certain things that must happen before you ascend to be judged.”

“And what are those things?”

Death raised a single finger and pointed upward for effect. “You must be satisfied, you must find closure,” he said finally. He had walked a little further away and was now leaning on the side of the alleyway. In the distance and the shadows, he looked but a common person, a lawyer or a banker perhaps, with his impeccably crafted suit.

“And how do I find closure?” I asked. I found myself getting impatient.

“Closure comes in many ways, for those who have been wronged, Cherie,” he spoke with finality, and there was just the slightest hint of sadness in his words. Back then, I hadn’t truly grasped the significance of what he was trying to tell me. “But in the end, it is the wronged who have to choose. Vengeance or Forgiveness.”

“And should I choose to forgive?” I asked, that certainly sounded like a simple alternative, albeit one that sounded impossible to me at the moment.

“Forgiveness means to ascend. You leave this mortal coil and you move on to the world beyond, case closed,” he smiled. “Despite how that seems, quite a few are able to do it. Despite what has happened to you, nothing in this world compares to the eternal,” he said, the faintest hint of a smile upon his lips.’’

“And should I choose the path of Vengeance?”

“Alas, cherie, as far too many do, I am prepared to offer you assistance in that matter as well.” Those lines were delivered with a gravity I did not expect. I was so used to his affable manner, used to his calm demeanor. I must admit I was taken aback by this.

“And what assistance may you provide me in this regard?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else at the time.

Death moved closer to me, until his beautiful face was almost touching mine. He gazed at my eyes with his piercing eyes.

“There are spirits, Cherie, whose hatred binds them to this earth. They refuse the judgement of the divine and forever walk the land in anguish. They know no peace,” Death said with a sigh. “But such are their circumstances; it is hate that binds them to such an existence. Hell on earth. Dear Cherie, please do not choose such a fate,” Death said a low voice, and I detected a brief hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Do you enjoy what you do?” I asked, unsure of what else to tell him, but wanting to break the seriousness of the situation.

Death seemed to think about that for a while, mulling my words without responding. 

“No,” he said after a long pause. “No, I can’t say that I do, Cherie,” he said simply.

“Ok, so what if I said I wanted revenge, after all?” I could feel anger rising up within me. The injustice of my situation had not been lost on me, not even after the initial shock of my own death. 

The shadows all around the alley shifted again. The oppressive feeling was growing, threatening to engulf me. The darkness. The darkness was coming for me. I was afraid, frightened that Death had come to take me. 

I felt powerless to do anything about it, which was not very common for a person like me.

My father, Donovan Hunter, was the Chairman and CEO of Hunter Robotics. He built the company from his garage twenty-five years ago and grew it into a multi-billion dollar global conglomerate, with offices in Sydney, Paris, London, and Tokyo. When he passed, I was left the sole heiress to an enormous fortune. I had learned much about the business in the four years I have had to get to know it. 

I had the sense back then to install a new CEO: my father’s trusted friend and right-hand, Robert Mayer. Robert was a family friend, and knew the business well. I grew up around the business and memories of Robert were everywhere in my mind. Entrusting the company to a CEO with Robert Mayer’s clout and experience was a smart move, and one that the Board of Directors instantly supported. At fifteen, I was in no way ready to manage a multi-billion dollar complex business like Hunter Robotics. I stayed on as Chair and majority shareholder, retaining full rights to exactly 53% of the company. The stock continued to do well under Robert’s leadership, growing to a market capitalization of just under $5 Billion.

I was never one to cower before any one. I have faced powerful Board Members, fended off hostile attempts at takeovers, and learned to hold my ground no matter what. I had a strong personality and I was a fighter. But the darkness that threatened to overwhelm me now was a far greater obstacle than I have ever faced in my life. 

They say everyone is equal in death. The weight of that truth pressed upon me that very instant. Tears welled up in my eyes. “I… I don’t want to die,” I said softly, whimpering. “I’m so afraid; I’m so very frightened. Please…”

Death took my hand with his right and lifted up my chin with his other hand. “You do not strike me as the type of person who would come begging for her life,” he said shaking his head. “You do not fear me, that much I know. One such as yourself lives in the moment. Such a person does not fear the moment when oblivion comes for them.”

Death’s face turned into a frown once more. “What holds you to this earth then, I wonder? What binds your soul, Cherie, that you refuse the judgement of the eternal and choose damnation on earth?”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized the reason I was scared of dying.

Daniel Rainwater.

“Daniel Rainwater,” I said, trying to choke back my sobs.

Death smiled. “Ah,” he said almost satisfactorily. “The one person that still binds you to this earth; The only reason you and I are having this conversation right now.”

“Daniel was my fiance,” I said, with an almost odd sense of detachment. “I’ve known him since I was eight. We spent so much time together.” I felt the oddest of tugs at my heart just then. A twinge of regret perhaps? 

A flood of memories hit me. Of warm summer nights,  spent on the shores of Lake Michigan, of countless days in the fields of Illinois farmland catching crickets. Well before Dad’s company took off, our lives were simple. But Daniel was a man after my own father’s heart. He was like me, in a way. His family made their name in big pharma; Daniel’s and my own fate were intertwined before we even knew we had a choice. Money was never a topic we openly discussed, though it was the spoke in our families’ lives. We were comfortable with it, we understood our privilege, but we never took it for granted.

I remember we would spend what seemed at the time to be endless summers on Belmont Harbor - just North of Chicago’s affluent Gold Coast - where the boat traffic wasn’t as heavy, and farther away from the beach and crowds. I remember the sights and sounds like they were yesterday. 

The Lake would glisten in the summer, its blue waves softly undulating in their deep serenity. The boats gently bobbing up and down, safely moored on the docks, like cattle grazing contentedly out to pasture. We would sit upon the shore, watching the waves as they crashed upon the rocks beneath our feet, the water dancing gracefully, its sing-song voice soothing. The smell of the breeze was fresh as the cool wind blew upon our faces. We counted the sailboats dotting the horizon; like markers between the sky and the water. On warm, sunny days we would see just a tiniest smattering of clouds; Dad used to say this was a small reminder that the angels sighed and man was meant to be happy.

We sat there talking about endless nothings as we watched the joggers and bikers pass us by. We had not a care in the world back them. Just two people being with each other; one heart touching another’s.

I turned sharply toward Death, looking straight at the being now, unafraid. “Yes,” I said. “Daniel Rainwater is the reason I cling to this earth. And I shall cling to this earth no matter what the consequences.”

Death shook his head and there was compassion in those dark eyes now, such a strange thing to see emotion in this being. “Unfortunately, Vengeance is the only reason allowed by the Law of the Universe as being valid for binding a spirit to this earth.”

I felt pain inside me, a realization that I would never see Daniel again. I had left life just before our engagement party.

A smile appeared on Death’s face that instant; for a moment, it looked as if he were about to deliver the punch line to a carefully planned joke, and that the joke was on me.

“I have a proposition,” he said, speaking very deliberately this time, and I had a feeling I had been carefully led all along to this. “A proposition I have never made before to another soul.”

Death turned to me and the shadows in the alleyway grew all around me. The sun had completely disappeared. Was it night already? That was absurd, I had died in the middle of the day and it hadn’t even been an hour since we began talking. Or was it? Was there an eclipse today? My mind was playing tricks on me, and I could trust it no longer.

“And what, pray tell is that proposition?” I countered back. I made the decision not to back down. Vanessa Hunter had lived all her life as a fighter. I would face my death as a fighter as well. I would confront Death himself, meet him in the arena of his choosing and beat him at his own game.

“Become my apprentice,” Death said simply. 

“Become me.”

---

Announcement: In celebration of Death Angel hitting the 100K read milestone, my good friend @KatrinHollister decided to make a cool graphic for me! It's in the Media Section for those of you interested. In addition to being a talented artist, she's also a mighty fine writer and her book "Rise of the Vengeful Dragon" is one my favorites on Wattpad. Check it out if you're looking for a good dragon book to get into. :)

Note to readers: there is a LOT of telling in this story. This is unfortunately how my first drafts look like, so I am sorry - you have to bear with them. I end up fixing these in later revisions. I'm so sorry!

Now for the fun part: Daniel Rainwater sounds like a name taken out of a really bad romance novel! Can anyone come up with a better name? If I like it, I'll dedicate the next chapter to you and give a shoutout to a story of your choice. :D Sound good? Give me a name!