Page 53 of Death is My Ride or Die

I fished for his name in my racing mind. “Cruentas?”

The tiny stallion nickered, black eyes glowing red, and a puff of smoke and a bit of fire blew out from his nostrils. I jumped back, startled by the flames.

I threw the ball. The stallion dashed across the room at lightning speed and caught it. Ball in mouth, he trotted back to me with pride.

“This is so freaking weird . . . ” I reached out and patted his neck. He whined softly, dropped the ball, and lay on his side so I could scratch his belly. “But you’re socute. What a good boy!” I cooed as his tail thumped against the carpet. “Who’s a good—?”

He vanished.

“Boy,” I finished to empty air.

Two black gym shoes stepped into my line of vision. Tilting my head up, I slowly raised my face to the Angel of Death. He wore a baseball cap that cast the tiniest shadow, shading those glowing green eyes. A devastating smirk sliced across his mouth.

“Let’s put you to work, cupcake.”

He placed me in the corner of his personal gym, where I alternated between hitting a punching bag, squatting with weights, and doing push-ups and sit-ups. This went on forhours, while Death read a book on the opposite side of the room. He didn’t give me any instructions, except for a few corrections about the form of my punches. I didn’t feel like I was doing anything right, and I’d never worked out that hard in my life. Despite him appearing absorbed in his book, I knew he was testing me. Testing to see if I would give up.

At the end of the training, I couldn’t tell if I’d passed or failed his second “trial” of the day. My legs felt like noodles as we climbed the staircase from the gym to the main floor. I had to hold on to the railing like an old lady, still wheezing from Death’s merciful command to do a finishing move of twenty burpees.

“We’ll regroup at five a.m.,” Death boomed from the top of the stairs.

I couldn’t hide my excited grin as I raced up the last five steps. “Really?”

He nodded once, albeit reluctantly and with an annoyed grunt.

“Yay!” I performed a little victory dance by tucking my hand behind my head and fanning out my other arm horizontally to mimic the movement of a sprinkler with dub music sounds.“Mm—mm—mm—mm!”

Feeling Death’s judgmental stare, I swiftly composed myself by smoothing a strand of my sweaty hair back from my face. “I mean, cool,” I said with a jazzy snap.

Cringecringecringecringe.

“Five a.m.,” Death repeated.

Then he turned sharply and vanished in a black mist.

In the shower, all I could think about was what I could learn. Maybe I’d finally feel in control of my ability and be able to protect myself! I also wondered where Death had gone away to this time. All those thoughts distracted me from thinking about being alone again. I changed into an oversized shirt and underwear and passed out within minutes in my new bed.

A wave of raw heat jolted me into awareness. I was hanging halfway off the mattress. Panicked, I pulled myself up and swatted at mysmokingblack wool socks and locked eyes with the blazing red eyes of the supernatural creature at the foot of my bed.

The culprit.

“Cruentas!” I shouted, shooing away the miniature stallion. He hurdled over the mountain of blankets and stomped playfully toward me. “What are you, my alarm clock?”

Air pushed quickly out of his nostrils in a high-pitched whine. Sounded a lot like laughter. Speaking of alarm clock, the one beside my bed read five-thirty.

“Aw, crap,” I muttered, throwing my blanket off.

“You’re late,” Death said as I raced into the training room. He sat in his usual place in another set of dark gym clothes. “Start running laps.”

There was almost no conversation. Once in a while, Death would turn down the hard rock blasting from the gym’s built-in speakers and bark out a short order. I bit down on my lip multiple times to keep from cursing at him.

I’d thought he was pissed because I was late that day, but when I arrived earlier at the gym the next day, his mood had only worsened.

The next three days of my life were, to put it lightly, horrible.

The good news was Death always made sure I ate, although his concern (if we even want to call it that) began only when I felt faint during our gym sessions. He’d take me to the refectory in the building, which never had any people in it, at least during the day, and would sit silently across from me with his hood drawn over his face. He wore black aviators there and sometimes in the gym, which I knew was because the lights bothered his eyes. It was also a way to avoid interacting with me.

“Why don’t you eat with me?” I asked after swallowing a huge mouthful of mac and cheese. Day four of working out had consisted of upper body, and I swear my fork was shaking in my hand from all the push-ups I’d done. “Candy and chocolate milk isn’t the most nutritious diet. Well, I guess you don’tneedmortal food to survive, but you said it helps, right?”

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