*crawls out from the grave wearing Gucci*

HALLO, MY CHILDREN! VELCOME TO CHAPTER VORTY-VIVE. MANGIAMO!!!!

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T-minus forty minutes remaining until Ahrimad's deadline.

I tugged on form-fitted black cargo pants and laced up my heavy-duty black boots. My first layer over my bra was a skin-tight black long-sleeved shirt with a heavy material that Romeo claimed was bullet proof. A discreet but rock-hard black armor vest covered most of my torso and chest, designed like a corset, but minus the suffocation factor. It zipped up the front instead of having complex laces. The jacket with a built-in hoodie thrown over the entire outfit felt like it was made with a neighboring material to leather. My gloves were simple and black with spikes on the knuckles and apparently Romeo had switched my pink backpack for a–wait for it–obsidian colored one. With high-tech glasses and a much sleeker helmet than the Tarnhelm that fit perfectly underneath the thin hood of the jacket, and my French braid laid over my one shoulder.

Damn, I thought, turning to look at my ass in the cargo pants in the mirror. I looked like a pretty badass bounty hunter, slash secret agent spy.

A firm knock on my guest room door sent my pulse rocketing. "Come in."

My stomach fluttered at the sight of Death entering the room. He shut the door behind him and locked it.

He wore a similar all-black clad outfit that he wore the other day, minus the cloak. His chest and a portion of his arms were covered in an armor chest piece strapped together with modest clasps and buckles that laced together down the front to his tampered waist. On top of his typical leather gloves, combat boots, and a black cowell hood, he also had bunched up black material around his neck that I imagined he'd pull over the lower portion of his face. Weapons were tucked into every strap of along his legs and waist, and he had two swords on either side of his hips.

His cold expression said it all. The moment Dunkin left Death's apartment, any inkling of humanity in vanished Death. His otherworldly side and fury took full precedence and he'd called back all of the Reapers for immediate action. Romeo arrived first my new gear. Without even exchanging a few words of what was going to happen next, Death had closed himself off in a room with his Reapers.

"Um," I said, feeling awkward. "Howdy."

He checked something on his phone and pulled open one of my dresser drawers, ignoring me.

"Looking for my underwear to steal?" I quipped, trying to deflect the negative vibes he was radiating from every deadly pore and the uncomfortable tension he'd carried into the room with him.

Death was all-business, still distracted, as he unsheathed one of his swords– the sword he'd given me, I realized– and inspected the blade, before stalking toward me. Even in all of the gear that made me a tad bulkier, I felt especially small in comparison to him as he towered over me.

"What's...up?" I asked, uneasily glancing at the sword. Considering his beast-side was trembling to unleash beneath his façade at all times lately, him holding a sword in front of me wasn't exactly comforting.

Death grabbed my belt in a large gloved hand and my breath stunted. I imagined one year ago, he would have picked me up and curled me upwards like a dumbbell on bicep day, just to bring me level to his fanged mouth and rip my throat out. Actually, he'd probably still do that. But surprisingly, he'd only clutched my belt for a second to adjust one of the straps and slide the sword into an empty sheath.

"How does the belt feel?" he asked in a low, timbre voice. "Is it too heavy?"

All I could pathetically focus on was the sensation of his fingers grazing my hip again and the close proximity of his stupidly hot features as he bent down to add another smaller blade to my opposite hip. I started to think about our moment in his theater room, how he'd held me as I cried, and I felt the most affection from him in, well, ever.

And here we are. Back to square one.

"The belt feels fine," I muttered, toying with my braid with my one hand. "Only thing I'm nervous about is the clothing. Romeo claims my entire outfit is designed with some enchanted fabric that repelled most magic, possibly including my own power, but we haven't had time to test that theory."

As if giving him permission, Death gave my outfit a slow once-over, his exotic eyes snagging on the corset. "You've never had that issue before." He shifted around me to unzip my Mary Poppins backpack and dug around.

"So far," I said, glaring over my shoulder to try and see what the hell he was doing back there. "But the fact that Romeo even brought that up is nerve-wracking. There's nothing more humiliating than accidently chargrilling yourself to a smoky crisp in front of your enemies."

"Ideally, you won't be using your power at all tonight," Death said, coming back around to stand in front of me. "Give me your wrist."

"Please," I coached him. "Give me your wrist, please."

He stared down at me.

I reluctantly held up my arm and let him clasp the stupid fancy looking watch he'd taken out of my bag around my wrist. "Now I'm being benched while the big boys handle everything? I thought we were doing this together. You know, just like Ace's vision told us. Just like we discussed a thousand times."

"Things have changed. Ace's vision never included him being abducted."

"As far as you know," I said, beginning to get irritated by his attitude. "What if Ace gave you the wrong date? What if he omitted that little fact and him being kidnapped because he didn't want to change fate?" I looked elsewhere as emotion lodged in my throat and I struggled to finish the rest. "Maybe this was how it was supposed to go all along."

"It's possible, but it doesn't change my decision with you, " Death said. "Ahrimad requested to meet with me alone. You're not the only one will be excluded, and you'll do as you're told. End of discussion."

My fists tightened. I'd give him an end of discussion. "Since when do I do what I'm told?"

"Since I commanded you," Death said, his voice rumbling with the beast inside of him. Even his skin started blackening up his neck and parts of his face momentarily, before he shook himself. "I'm in charge of this mission."

I stepped up to him. "You don't command me. You're not my prince, or my Your Highness. I won't kneel at your feet at the snap of your fingers."

"I don't snap," he growled. Although, I would make an exception for your delicate mortal neck, he didn't have to add.

"Don't, or can't?" I grilled him. "Hard to be nimble-fingered when you have big bear paws as hands."

He snarled, and the noise was more animalistic than usual. "If we weren't so pressed for time, I'd show you exactly how quickly you'd kneel for me."

I laughed. "Fat chance, bucko."

His eyebrows dipped inward and that was when the temperature plummeted in the room. Suddenly, Death twitched, and cast a glance at the bedroom door. He stretched his neck somewhat to the left, then examined the room. When he looked back at me, there was something sinister in his expression. There was an immediate change in his features, which were tightly structured and too perfect, and his almond shaped eyes darkened a shade or two, blackness creeping over the whites. Shadows collected around the room, crawling over the nearby bed, the walls, the ceiling.

"Um, Death? You're kinda..."

His mismatched eyes clung to my corset before he squeezed his eyes shut. "Fuck. No, no." He seemed to be visibly restraining himself, before his eyes flipped open again. He gazed at me like he didn't see me. Then he gazed at me like he did. Like I was a hot piece of succulent ham.

He stalked forward. "Mate."

Crap. I made an 'X' with my arms. "No, no mate!" I whispered-yelled.

His head slanted and his mouth parted in a low hiss. "Kill."

"Oh, shit." I sprung back into the dresser and knew there was no way I could outrun him. "Dude, get yourself together! We have a mission to focus on, remember?"

But Death kept prowling closer and his eyes were so black they were like empty vortex's. He stepped into me and inhaled my hair, my neck. Every part of me froze up and a chill raked down my spine. Wasn't like I could call out to somebody with those talons currently resting on my waist.

"Nice kitty...?"

He grabbed the back of my head, and our eyes locked.

"Bad," he purred in a low drone.

Then he pulled me in and claimed my mouth in a scorching kiss. Jesus Christ, I didn't even try to resist him. The promise of the rough manner of his tongue alone sent my morals hurling out the window like a stunt double. Death hand fisted my hair tighter, exposing my throat to his mouth as he licked up my neck. His fangs grazed my jawline, and then he rubbed his stubbly jaw against my face in a deep purr, before claiming my mouth again. His gloved hands drifted to my waist, my hips, my legs, which he spread as he lifted me onto the dresser and his tongue flicked against mine. The growing friction of his gloved thumb rubbing a sweet spot between the apex between my thighs sent me into a frenzy of explosive heat.

Death pulled back with a curse, and we broke apart. He turned his back on me, breathing hard, and I remained frozen on the dresser, stunned.

"What the hell was that?" I rushed out in a whisper, when I really wanted to ask him why he'd stopped.

"Only the beginning," Death rasped, holding his stomach and grimacing. "Remember how I told you about the whole 'without my scythe I slowly turn more animalistic' thing?"

I swallowed, remembering the feral look in his half-form's eyes and the length of his talons. "Unfortunately..."

"Let's just say it's a little more complicated than the explanation I gave you." He straightened and turned to look at me over his shoulder, a sheen of sweat around his hairline. His catlike eyes were glowing and his pupils were rapidly dilating. "My other side wanted me to take you on the ground and essentially obliterate you."

I blinked fast, surprised my heart hadn't just tapped out it was beating so fast. His other side? Obliteration? Taking me? On the ground? What the F was wrong with the bed?

"Ok," I squeaked out. "That's kind of random. But I mean, were those thoughts any different than the usual ones you have of me?"

"It wanted to rip your head off, fuck you into an actual pulp, and then stick your severed head onto our mantel."

I pursed my lips. "But is that really any different than the usual you?" I reiterated.

He gave me a long, dry look and then raked his gloved fingers through his fohawk. "We need to get moving. Fast.

"Definitely. Before you start scratching up all the lavish upholstery." I struggled to remember what my concern was with all of this. Before we, you know, sucked face like tongue enthusiasts and he admitted to momentarily being taken over by his 'Other Side.'

"Wait," I said, stopping Death with a hand to his chest before he could exit the bedroom. "Do you honestly think Ahrimad will meet you alone? That he won't try and destroy you the second he sees you?"

The anger that rippled over Death's expression told me not to question his authority again. Too bad I was too fired up to care, even as room darkened significantly.

"I didn't come in here to change my course of action." As if remembering why he was even in the bedroom in the first place, he closed the distance between us again and reached down and grappled with my belt a little more aggressively than before, securing another item onto it. I looked down and realized he'd harnessed the mini-version of the Book of the Dead into my waist. It was surrounded by its own sheath, so he hadn't been affected by touching it.

Coldness hit my spine as I realized what this meant. Ahrimad wanted one thing and one thing only, and that was this book. The Book of the Dead. I was being used as bait, which made me suddenly feel so disposable. Infuriated, I shoved Death's hands away from the belt.

"You're using me as bait?" I lifted my arms and dropped them. "Wow. So, I'm starting to think your English isn't as good as I originally thought, Roman Man. When I said I wanted to come with you and fight with you, I didn't mean I wanted to be the fucking worm you dangle in front of the king bass."

Death fired a sordid look into my skull, and I took it like a man. "We can't keep the book here, not when Dunkin was able to enter into the wards."

"Vague and not answering my assumptions fully," I observed. "Back to your old ways, I see?"

"If we can take my scythe back tonight, we can avoid entering the other world all-together," Death said. "There's a chance that you're right about our fate, that it can change. It's happening already. This gives us both the best chance of survival" He looked away from me, his jaw tightening. "The Reapers and I all agree that you're not strong enough to go up against Ahrimad. You're not strong enough to enter the portal, either."

Neither are you, I so desperately wanted scream back at him. Death had lied to me. This whole time, he'd never even considered me entering the portal with him. I felt so betrayed. I knew it was my fault for actually thinking I was becoming one of them. They all still thought I was some weak little girl with a wild power and the inability to defend herself.

An uproar of emotion sent my thoughts and actions spiraling out of control. My fingers began to tingle as power rushed through my veins. Death must have known that I was about to explode because he corralled me back against the dresser.

"Don't," he warned.

I couldn't look at him in the eyes. "You lied to me."

"We have to be realistic. You've only been training defensively for a week. One week. Maybe six hours of those days, max. You've only just started gaining control over your ability with Ace. This is for your own good. As long as you have the one thing Ahrimad wants the most, as long as you're the only one who can handle the Book of the Dead, you're invaluable to Ahrimad. None of them will touch you."

"Then what exactly is your plan here? Because it sounds to me like you're going to go into the mausoleum, by yourself, and just wing it. And if all else fails, you'll use the Book of the Dead as leverage for Ace."

Death rolled his neck and growled out a nasty word in another language. "I'm not giving him the book. You just have to trust me."

Was he clinically insane? "You can't make me hang back and be babysat while you go in there like a martyr. Sure, I might not be a full-blown she-warrior yet, but I'm not some clumsy Twinkie anymore."

He raised his scared brow.

"Okay, fine, maybe I'm a little clumsy still. But I'm ready. I need to be involved. Ace needs both of us, and he's my friend, too. I'm more motivated than ever before. I can do this."

But he didn't seem convinced.

"Ahrimad is twice, maybe three times, as old as I am," Death omitted. "If there's anything I learned about him the past two-thousand years, it's that he doesn't give a shit about anyone, including me, including the warlock. He's an ancient, evil entity created solely for the purpose of harboring death. If you want Ace to survive, we need to do everything he says."

I thought I'd found the courage to walk away from my fears, but now they overpowered stronger than ever before and packed a hellish punch. I couldn't lose him, and I couldn't fight my way onto the frontline and make matters worse. Death and the Reapers were immortals. They could all easily subdue me. Which meant that I had no control tonight. If something happened to Death and I couldn't help...

Death's eyes skimmed my features, as if were trying to pry his way inside to read my thoughts. "We need to talk about the worse-case scenario." I could feel my heart sinking before he even spoke. "If things go south, if things don't work out the way we'd hoped–"

"No, no!" I thrashed out of his grasp, but he only grabbed me again and secured me against him. "I'm not having this conversation. I'm not. Let go of me–"

"Enough. Faith, enough." He pinned my wrists at my sides and flattened me against the dresser. His eyes bore steadily into mine. I trembled as I tried to keep it together. "I know. I know this is a lot to handle. We're both on edge. We both saw tonight going differently. But we can't pretend Ace's vision is not a possibility. If things don't go the way we planned, if Ace's vision is correct... I need you to promise me you won't be reckless."

I hated this. I hated that he was even making room for the worse-case scenario. As far as I was concerned, Ace's vision was wrong the moment he was kidnapped. We would be at the mausoleum one night earlier than he'd predicted, so fate had already changed. Losing Death was too difficult to think about, but the denial I so desperately held onto was slipping from my grasp and reality was the ugly monster standing behind the curtain.

"I made my promise to you," he said, removing his hands from mine but still pinning me in place with his gloved hands hooked onto either side of my belt. "Now it's time you make yours. I've lived over two-hundred lives. You've hardly lived one. If something happens to me, promise me you won't get yourself killed trying to be the hero. Promise you won't seek out revenge. That you'll choose you over me. I need you to choose you over me."

I wanted to tell him how wrong this was for him to ask, how impossible a decision like this felt. I was willing to sacrifice everything for the people I loved. If he was gone, who knew what would happen with my soul and Lucifer. He was always the one creature standing between me and the rest of his world and I needed that security blanket. I knew I couldn't say anything more. Not if I truly wanted to protect him, protect myself.

Death rested a hand on the door and leaned into me. "Swear it, Faith."

"I swear," I whispered, but my fingers were crossed behind my back.

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