Page 114 of Death is My Ride or Die

It was too horrible to imagine. Too traumatic to comprehend. How did you even begin to process so devastating a grief?

Ace placed his hand on my shoulder. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

I wish I’d known. Then I wouldn’t have hurt him.

“If he believes your vision is true,” I said, hugging myself with my arms, “then this was a suicide mission all along.”

Ace’s silence was blaringly loud in my heart.

“You can’t run from your destiny,” Ace said quietly. “The Fates and the Spirits are spiteful with our glimpses into the future. Premonitions are fragile; they’re not supposed to be revealed in full. Not even Death himself can run from what is meant to be. Not without a great consequence, which could impact others, including yourself.” He paused. “Although, sometimes consequences are inconsequential. When we meet someone who is worth walking through fire for.”

I considered his words. Knowing what I did now, I couldn’t stand by and let Death die. Which meant I needed to be in the fight, and I needed to prove that I was ready. Above all else, I needed to be able to protect theBook of the Dead.

“I need you to do something for me, Ace,” I said. “I need you to help me break the vase.”

XXX

Break. Break, damn it.

Ace and I were in an extension of his library, a large, circular area with bookshelves as high as I could see and balconies with doors leading into other secret rooms.

“Try to visualize your light becoming a weapon, such as a fireball or a bullet or a knife,” Ace instructed. He stood about ten feet to my right, leaning against a bookcase with his golden cane propped beside him. “Whatever you prefer to wield. That might help you.”

I tried to visualize a knife. Nothing. A gun. Nada. One of those medieval spiked ball things with a chain. No dice. I dropped my hand and heaved in a deep breath.

I brought my head back in frustration and looked at the ceiling. “We’ve been at this for an hour. Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting the same result—”

“Leads to discipline,ma chérie,” Ace finished.

“Notwhat I was going to say. At some point, you throw the in the towel or try something new.”

“Again,” Ace said, his violet eyes calm and steady. “You can do this. Don’t give up because you are struggling. Stay in the struggle. Move toward it.”

Rolling off the tension in my shoulders, I raised my hand toward the vase. In the silence of concentration, all I could think about was Death. I kept remembering our same lesson with the vase. The turmoil of emotions I kept trying to push down resurfaced, and my vision blurred. My fingers trembled before I dropped my arm with a curse.

“Give me your all,ma chérie,” Ace said. “You can’t back down now; you have come so far.”

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “You’re right. I can’t give up.”

“Why?” he prodded. “Why can’t you give up? Tell me.”

“Because,” I muttered, “I have to be able to protect myself.”

“Why?”

“To protect theBook of the Dead. Aunt Sarah passed it down to me, and now it’s in Lucifer’s possession, but he can’t touch it. When Death goes to take back his scythe from Ahrimad, who knows what will happen. All I know is, it’ll be up to me to protect the book. I can’t let Ahrimad or Malphas get their hands on it.”

Ace began a slow walk around the marble platform until he stood on the opposite side of the vase as me. “Your power is energy,” he said. “That energy is moved by your will. I have taught others to properly channel their gifts with this same drill, and this is how you will learn too.”

My mouth fell open. “You taught Death this, didn’t you?”

“This isn’t about breaking the vase, Faith. And it isn’t about Death. It’s about you having agency over yourself.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I don’t have any agency over myself. I gave that away the moment I pressed my bloody finger down on that contract and signed my soul away.”

“Stop whining and break the vase,ma chérie,” Ace commanded, power vibrating through his voice and pulsing in his violet eyes like electricity. The golden urn levitated off the marble platform. “Or else the vase will break you.”

The vase fired toward me. Snapping into action, I dodged it before it shattered against the bookshelves behind me. I whirled around, and another identical vase was halfway toward me. I had little time to react: my hand shot out instinctively, and I fired an orb of light at it, annihilating it.

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