Page 52 of Death is My Ride or Die

I threw my arms outward, a celebration dance in my wake, when it dawned on me that he was leaving me alone.

“Hold on, where are you going?”

“Take a wild guess, cupcake.”

He was going to collect. And some of the souls he feasted on would die differently than they were supposed to. Because that was just the kind of monster he was.

Death leaned into my ear. “I’ll think of you when I feed,” he whispered.

When I turned back, all that was left of him was a black mist.

XVI

Being in Death’s penthouse piqued my curiosity, but I was dog-tired and anxious about being alone. The only way to keep my mind off the uncertainty of Marcy’s situation and the insane happenings of my life was to focus on a purpose; otherwise, I knew I’d lose my grip. Getting Death to train me seemed like the perfect distraction.

Walking down a long hallway, I found four open guest rooms and a closed door at the far end. I had a feeling it was Death’s bedroom. Slowly, I padded down the hallway and tried the handle. Locked. Not surprising.

I entered the guest bedroom on the right of his. Dark-gray flooring led to a queen-sized bed with light-gray sheets. There was a glass dresser in the corner of the room, a closet that would currently be useless to me, and my own bathroom. Every aspect of the furniture and decor reflected Death’s cold, hard nature.

The bathroom was larger than my bedroom back home, with a luxurious rainfall shower and a massive tub. There were a couple of high-end shampoos and conditioners lined up on the edge of the tub. The counter held lotion, hand soap, toothpaste, and a sad, lonely toothbrush.

I showered quickly then looked in the dresser, where I found plain underwear, two bras, two pairs of leggings, and T-shirts. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the dull clothes in my lap.

The world began to close in. I’d never feel at home in this dead penthouse. Tomorrow, I wouldn’t wake up to the sound of Mom doing dishes and frying bacon at an ungodly hour because that’s what the best moms do, or hear the coffee pot sputter to life as Dad made a thermos of coffee with milk for me to take to school. I wouldn’t eat tacos at Manuel’s every Tuesday with my best friend and gossip with her about all the stupid drama that didn’t matter much before, and—Oh God, Marcy.

On the edge of losing my identity forever, the only thing that pulled me back from the ledge was hope. Hope that this all wouldn’t end as horribly as I was imagining. Hope that I would survive and so would Marcy, that I would win this battle. Giving up meant giving in. It meant saying goodbye forever to everyone I’d left behind.

I pulled on the clothes and lay down on the bed. Mentally exhausted, I figured I’d try to take a short nap, and by some miracle, I dozed off.

I woke up to darkness, except for a thin line of yellow light under the door. How long had I been asleep? Where was I?

The bed shifted. Something lay beside me. Whatever it was, it was too small to be a person and too big to be a cat. I reached out with a tentative hand. My fingers pressed against short, velvety hair. When I flatted my palm against its body, I felt warm muscle twitch against my touch. It snorted, and a wet nose pressed against my arm and nuzzled.Sniff.Sniff.Sniff. It licked me with a coarse tongue.

It was just a dog.

A dog?

Wait a minute.

Death had never mentioned anything about a dog.

Two big, fiery red eyes burst through the darkness in front of me.

“Neerggghhhhhffff!”

I shrieked and fell off the bed, my pillow thankfully falling with me and protecting my head from the ground. Rolling over, I crawled rapidly across the floor toward the crack of light under the guest room door, threw it open, and raced into the penthouse.

The front door was locked. I banged on it nonstop.

“Let me out of here! Death!Death!Somebody better get me out of here right now!” Rage overtook me, and I tugged on the door handle. “Death, if you don’t let me out of here right now, then—so help me,God—I will kill you! I will make you deader than you already are! I’ll—I’lldoublekill you!”

“Neerggghhhhhffff!”

I spun fast and plastered myself against the wall.

A miniature black stallion appeared out of thin air in the foyer and came galloping toward me. In his mouth was a blue ball, which he dropped at my feet. He looked up at me, tail swishing rapidly back and forth, and I just stared. And stared.

I picked up the ball, and the mini stallion whinnied, stomping his hooves. The creature was about three feet in length. He had a silky black mane that blew back as he raced around me like an excited puppy. Dark markings and fading scars riddled his body. The resemblance he had to Death’s demon stallion was alarming, but this tiny stallion couldn’t have been the ginormous horse from the alleyway . . .

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