Page 6 of Death is My Ride or Die

Ace removed his top hat, running his hand through his colorful hair, and studied my clothes again. “Perhaps this color for you,oui?” He smoothed out the lapels of his extravagant purple jacket. “Although, I do fear that Death would prefer a depressing obsidian with skulls and gore adorning your gown . . . ”

Ace pointed at me with his cane as though to do something to my clothes, but I swatted his hand away.

“I asked you a question, Ace. Since when are you working for Malphas?”

“Do not worry about my role,ma chérie. Why don’t you remind me what yours is tonight instead? Malphas did explain the plan, didn’t he?”

The cold dagger pressed against my hip, reminding me what I’d been asked to do.

“I was told to attend the D&S Tower ball,” I said. “If I come into close contact with Death, I’m supposed to incapacitate him with a poisonous blade so that Malphas can crash Lucifer’s party.”

Ace stared down at me, his expression impenetrable.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Aren’t you in on this? What happened back there with Malphas? With that—ticking thing?” I pulled the dagger out of my jeans and held it up. “And seriously? A dagger? What is this,Macbeth? It’s the twenty-first century, and I’m up against the Angel of Death. You could have at least given me a military tank or a wrecking ball. Or one of those fancy drones, so I could attack him from very, very far away.”

When Ace didn’t respond again, I raised my eyebrows.

“Did you really think you could get me to poison Death? First of all, I can barely endure the pain of plucking my own chin hairs, let alone killing someone, and second, the guy can bench-press me with his pinky. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve done some stupid things these past couple weeks, but I’m pretty sure Death wouldliterallyeat me, flesh and bone, if I tried to stab him. He calls me ‘cupcake,’ for crying out loud. I’m already walking on thin ice. And last but not least, I don’t want to find out how deep Death’s fetish for sharp objects and violence goes, so no thank you. I’m out.”

“You weren’t susceptible to Malphas’s hypnosis,” Ace said. “He tried to charm you . . . ”

A droplet of sweat fell down my forehead. The rant had taken the wind out of me. “Yep, he tried to manipulate me to finish the job for him. Figured it was best to play along with his creepy mind games to avoid getting eaten by that psycho too.”

Wrath ignited his violet eyes. “How did you break the charm?” he demanded.

“I pushed back.”

“What do you mean, you pushed back?”

I threw my arms into the air. “I don’t know the terminology for what I did! I felt Malphas in my head, it hurt—a lot—and then I evicted him.”

Ace went quiet again, thinking this over.

“Is Death alive?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I slumped against my bedroom wall in relief but kept the knife clenched in my palm. “Malphas persuaded you to help carry out this plan, didn’t he?”

Ace had shifted his attention to one of my paintings on the wall, so I could no longer see his face. “And what if he did, Faith?”

“Then neutral force, my ass. I thought you were trying to help me with your little clairvoyant show, but all you’re concerned about is yourself and your profit.”

“It’s not like you’ve been honest about yourself either,mon ange.” Ace turned his glare on me, and the temperature in the room plummeted a few degrees. “Whose side areyouon?”

“I’m onmyside! I can’t trust any of you. Look at you. You’ll do anything for anyone if there’s a valuable trade involved. Have some self-respect. What did Malphas offer you, anyway? AWorld of Warcraftexpansion pack? A bag of birdseed?”

“If Death is deprived of souls for small amounts of time, cut off from his reapers and the earthly realm, he will begin to deteriorate and gradually mummify. Tonight may be your only chance to escape him and Lucifer.”

“Like you care what happens to me. If I go after Death with this toothpick dagger, he’ll rip my head off!”

Ace’s hands hovered around the blade in my palm with a pensive expression. He pivoted away from me and slowly walked the perimeter of the room, analyzing every inch of my personal space. Bending down to pick up something on the opposite side of my bed, he rose with my childhood teddy bear, Mr. Wiggles, clutched in his hand. The old, mangled bear was falling apart, his left arm hanging on by a literal thread. He set it down on my bed.

“That dagger is bewitched,” Ace said. “It will give your arm unnatural strength and speed when you use it. If he hasn’t killed you by now, I have to think he wouldn’t tonight. You could still carry out the plan.”

“What you’re asking me to do is horrible. He hurt me. A lot. But I’d rather find another way out of this mess than make him suffer out of revenge.”

Ace walked over to my bedroom window and peered outside. “Yet you assisted Malphas and Ahrimad in their scheme to rip his soul from his body . . . ”

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