Page 10 of Death is My Ride or Die

“Zero.”

“Bye-bye!” I gave him a sarcastic wave as I jumped onto my bed. “Best of luck tonight!”

Death bared Ace’s teeth and growled.“Fine,”he snarled. “Twenty questions. Tonight. After I get my corpse back, we’ll revisit the rest of your spoken demands.”

We shook on it. That familiar coldness washed down my neck as our hands firmly but briefly connected.

“Now for your outfit.” All business, he yanked me up off the bed and gave my figure a critical once-over. “I want her in black,” he commanded to nobody, or so I thought.

Hidden shadows peeled off my bedroom walls and brushed my skin like feathered kisses. My clothes evaporated as the shadows transformed and a dress unfurled down the length of my body, rippling darker than an obsidian sea. A sleeveless A-line ball gown with a provocative V-neck that cut past the swell of my full cleavage and complemented the communion cross around my neck. The skirt of the gown fanned out at my waist in enticing layers of tulle that pooled at my feet. I stepped forward, and my Converse sneakers dissolved.

“I’ll admit that was impressive, bearing in mind you aren’t even in your own body. But next time, warn me before you go all fairy godmother.”

“Warning.” The hard line of his mouth twitched.

Shadows clung to me again. Heels slipped onto my feet, and my hair was pulled back from my neck, piling in curls over my head. The hem of the gown was now the perfect length, lightly kissing the floor.

“Wow,” I marveled. I never wore dresses and found them uncomfortable, but this gown was an exception. It was made for a princess. “This dress . . . it’s breathtaking.”

“For what it’s worth, it’s not the dress.” Death’s eyes met mine, and the soul peering out from behind Ace’s face was predatory. Any trace of that look washed away as he turned his head and ripped his gaze away from mine. “We should go. The event is commencing soon, and my soul needs to return to my corpse.”

He swirled the warlock’s cane, and shimmering smoke gathered around us.

The world blurred and narrowed in at hyperspeed, like getting shot through a tunnel. Our surroundings had changed, but I could hardly process where we’d landed. Disoriented and deprived of oxygen, I shoved away from Death and braced my hands on my knees as I dry heaved.

“Seriously?” I coughed out. “No warning or anything?”

I looked up from the wet pavement and froze. Death had managed to use the warlock’s magic to teleport us all the way from Pleasant Valley to New York City. We were standing in an alleyway, and not just any alleyway—the one where Malphas had attacked me outside the D&S Tower.

“Come on.” Death gripped my elbow and steered me to a line of guests snaking across the side of the building. This whole situation was so awkward. Maybe because I’d told Death that I cared about him, and he hadn’t acknowledged it in the slightest. Talk about a pathetic declaration better left unsaid.

“Doesn’t the warlock have a limp?” I asked. He’d been walking perfectly fine, whereas Ace usually leaned on his cane.

“It’s a psychosomatic pain,” Death said. “A consequence of conjuring black magic.”

“Why isn’t it bothering you then?”

“Because I’m not a pussy. I’ll saw off his bum leg before I use a cane.”

Oh.

“I changed our identities with illusions,” he explained as we stepped into the line. “Our voices are altered too. The last thing I want to do is keep up the image of the warlock and speak croissant the whole night. You won’t be able to see the illusion or hear the change in your voice. The dagger Malphas gave you will be invisible as well; it’s hidden in a strap under the layers of your dress.”

“Is there a reason I still have it?”

“Just in case.”

He didn’t elaborate. I didn’t expect him to.

“This line goes on forever,” I grumbled. “We should rent a tent.”

“It’ll move once the doors open. I’d manifest, but I have to conserve Ace’s energy. His human body is hungry, and I already wasted energy traveling from your home.” He brought his head back, as if he was tired of waiting too. “My soul gets depleted faster on Earth than in Purgatory.”

“What happens when you get completely depleted? At midnight will you turn back into your true form, a talking skeleton?”

“Let me clarify a few things for your waning intelligence, cupcake.” Evidently, he was triggered by my joke, and I couldn’t stop smiling. “I am not, nor have I ever been, a skeleton. I have never owned an hourglass, I am not a headless horseman, I don’t drive a rickety old wagon, I do not hold a mortal’s hand like a friend while we walk into the heavenly light of the afterlife, and—”

“You do not, under any circumstances, moan in the middle of the night, wandering aimlessly through a graveyard?”

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