Page 78 of Death is My Ride or Die

Having almost fallen asleep, I jolted at the deep voice in my ear and smacked my spoon on the table into a flip.

Death rounded the dining room table, twirling my once-airborne spoon between his fingers. I did a double take. He prowled across the room with the glide of a panther, muscles shifting beneath a sharp black dress shirt and black slacks. Tailored perfectly to his menacing frame, the ensemble both attracted and intimidated with all the lethality of an apex predator.

“Cat got your tongue?” Death purred.

“Remind me to put a bell around your neck,” I seethed.

“Someone’s a wittle cwanky.”

I bit my tongue. He knew damn wellhewas the cranky one ninety-nine percent of the time. After helping Death with his harpy wound last night and sucking his face off, I hadn’t slept a minute. He, on the other hand, seemed well rested and unbothered. By the touch of a healthy tan in his complexion and the spry gleam to his catlike eyes, I could tell he had collected souls that morning.

Death sipped from the large black mug in his hand. I wondered if it was coffee in his morning cup or something villainous, like gasoline, liquid souls, or the blood of his enemies. He lifted the mug away, and a small white crescent lingered on the dark stubble along his upper lip.

“Cream?”

“Warm. Four sugars,” Death said with a wink. Then he downed the mug like it was a shot and licked away any evidence with a swipe of his tongue. “Grab a jacket, cupcake. It’d be a shame if you froze off those perfect tits.”

I choked a little on my cereal and glared in his direction. “What exactly is this meeting about?”

“You’ll see.”

Death parked his motorcycle illegally at the entrance to D&S Tower, and an employee rushed out to move it. The cryptic nature of this meeting had launched my imagination into overdrive, and I instantly thought about the reason Lucifer had wanted my soul in the first place.

When we entered the lobby, a nervous, uneasy energy settled sourly in my gut, labored my breath, and formed a small, throbbing headache behind my eyes. The lobby was eerily empty, without the usual frenetic energy of employees rushing about.

Death punched a gloved finger into the elevator door and checked the time on a black Rolex on his wrist. I cast a look over my shoulder: the glass doors through which we’d entered were now guarded by four armed men.

As per usual, the long ride up to the top floor was torture. I hated tight spaces. But this time, when the elevator walls closed in, I felt a different sort of apprehension. The nausea blooming in my stomach swelled, and I put a hand to my neck as the sensation climbed up my throat.

The elevator doors opened with a chime. I did not move. The nervous energy had magnified until it became external, until it became a tether. An invisible force reeling me in. I stepped off the elevator, the pristine marble entryway pulsing to the rhythm of my heart. Dissociation numbed all thought as I felt detached from my body, an onlooker watching myself trail behind Death’s long strides.

The Grim Reaper pulled open a glass door and gestured me forward. “After you.”

Heading into a small waiting room, the air went static, raising the hairs on my arms.

I took a deep breath and entered Devin Star’s office.

The Devil poured a drink at his personal bar, wearing a perfectly pressed navy suit. He had his back to me and didn’t turn as I entered.

Sitting at the long glass meeting table was Aunt Sarah. My heart clenched. Her red, inflamed eyes indicated she had recently been crying. When she saw me, she snapped out of her chair to stand, her weary face wracked with worry. A moment of conflict passed between us before I raced toward her for a constricting hug.

“Oh, thank God,” she whispered against my hair. Then she held me at arm’s length to clutch my face in her hands. “Are you okay? Has he hurt you?”

Not in the way she was asking, at least. “I’m fine.” There was so much to tell her, including the fact that I had read her note about the Guild, but we weren’t alone. And I had a feeling it wouldn’t matter anyway. “What’s happening? Why are we both here?”

“I’m so sorry, Faith. I did everything I could—”

“Have a seat, ladies.” Devin’s smooth voice cut through our moment, and I jumped. He was standing directly behind me.

I glanced back at Aunt Sarah, who sat obediently at the head of the table.What the hell?

I remained standing, my eyes trained on Devin as he sauntered over to his desk.

“Now, Faith,” Devin began, “I’ll save you some anxiety and cut to the chase. I know your aunt debriefed you about theBook of the Dead. Told you her little tale about the Guild and then shared our belief that you are the Chosen who can read it.”

Atour, my attention shifted over to Death. He was a dark presence in the room, peering out a floor-to-ceiling window and into the city while he smoked a cherry roll-up. The brooding storm outside matched his mood.

“With Sarah’s gracious help, we were able to recover the grimoire last night,” Devin Star continued.

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