Page 54 of Death is My Ride or Die

Grouchy remained silent in response. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said he’d fallen into a deep depression because of his scythe.

“What’s the update on Marcy?” It was a question I’d asked him every single day, nagging him for an answer.

“They’re close. I feel confident they’ll recover her soon.”

Later, alone in my bedroom, I realized that for that entire day, Death had said only those two sentences to me. The whole not-talking-to-me thing was starting to feel vindictive, and that feeling drove me crazier than the arduous workouts, but I was too stubborn to bring it up at first. Was he seriously still mad at me about his father? What about everything he’d done to me? What the hell was going on in his head? I shouldn’t have cared so much, but he was my only point of contact. Stockholm syndrome was looking awfully fashionable these days.

This was probably another one of Death’s games, but I wanted him to train me, not play games.

“I quit,” I said on the fifth day of doing the same boring, repetitive workout and getting the same evasive answers about Marcy. I wiped sweat from my forehead and marched toward the exit. “This is pointless. And the silent treatment you’re giving me? Childish. I’m going to go eat a big, fat chocolate bar at the refectory and then take a twenty-eight-hour bubble bath.”

The gym door was locked.

Death bookmarked a page in his book. “You have five hours in here with me every day. No bitching. No whining. And no chocolate.” He pushed his aviators down his nose and gave my body a once-over. “You can have a salad after your workout.”

My jaw hit the floor.“A salad?”

“Yes, asalad. It’s pointless to work out as long as you do and then eat junk food. Pizza, mac and cheese, donuts. Do you even eat vegetables?”

I stormed over to him. “Are you calling me fat?”

“The only place you’re fat is your ass.” His voice hit a new deep, raspy low that enticed a dark part of me. He studied my hands, which were in tight fists and unusually hot. If I didn’t know any better, I would have said Death was purposely trying to get me angry.

I ripped his stupid book out of his hand and heaved it across the gym with a grunt. Death sat back in his chair and crossed his thick arms, and I desperately tried not to pay attention to the fact that his long legs were lazily spread open on either side of me.

“Doesn’t take much to get you fired up, does it?” Death asked. “We need to work on that, bubble butt.”

Bubble butt!

Hewastrying to provoke me. Another one of his tests.

Inhaling slowly, I crossed my arms over my chest in an attempt to look unfazed. “You can’t just stick me in front of a punching bag for a week and expect me to learn something.”

“You need discipline and patience. I’ve seen little progress with either of them. You held out longer than I thought you would, but you’re not ready to move on.”

“Showme what I need to do, and I’ll do it. These simple workouts you’re giving me are pointless. Sit-ups and push-ups won’t help me control my power. I’m ready to jump into the next step. Why don’t you teach me more of what we were doing in your dining room with breaking the vase?”

Death rose to his imposing height in a slow, lazy way. He was so close that I had to tilt my head back to meet his glare, and I swallowed a dry lump in my throat. “You think you know better than me?” he growled.

“Yes,” I said.

“Then congratulations, you’re fully equipped to get yourself killed.”

“I’ve controlled the power before,” I maintained. “I’m determined to learn, and I learn fast. I can do this, Death. I’m ready to jump into it.”

“Then leave this place and kill a demon,” he seethed. “Show me you’re ready to ‘jump into it.’ Because let me tell you something.” He leaned in, and it took everything in me not to lean away. “If you’re so naïve that you think you can justjump intothis, then you’re in for one hell of a rude awakening. You need to train at a realistic pace to succeed against an enemy. In this gym, I’m your enemy.”

He bared his fangs in a vicious smile. He and I both knew he was my enemy outside of the gym too.

“I won’t go easy on you,” Death purred, and a chill crawled up my back. “If you don’t like my methods, leave. Go stare at the wall in your guest room for all I care. If you stay, leave your Googled training tips and positive mantras outside of my gym. They’ll only convolute your preparation and make me laugh harder when you prove yourself wrong and I knock you down on that perky ass of yours.”

My mouth popped open to defend myself, but he was right. Especially the positive mantras bit, which I’d been vocalizing . . . often out loud . . .

“When I give you a task in this gym,” Death said, “it’s for a reason. I’ve been exactly where you are. I’ve made the mistakes that you’re capable of.” He faltered a bit, as if regretting admitting that last part. “In my world, you need to strengthen your resilience to face things most mortals can’t mentally handle. You’ll need patience to get there, and I’m not seeing any of that from you.”

His words left me silent.

“When you get that through your little mortal brain,” Death continued, as he began to stalk away, “then we will move on.”

---