Page 92 of Death is My Ride or Die

“Good morning . . . ” I glanced around, expecting Death to make his usual cryptic grand entrance. “What are you doing here?”

“Keeping you company for the day. I’ll be overseeing your training.”

My brows lifted. “Where’s Mr. Harbinger of Doom? Mauling a scratching post and coughing up a hairball?”

“Any pressing issues you want to communicate to Death can be forwarded through me,” Leo answered, as if he were a programmed like a robot. “I will direct the message to Glenn, who will in turn deliver the message to Death. Would you like me to send anything?”

He had to be joking.

“No, thank you,” I said and crossed my arms. “Actually,yes, thank you. You can tell Glenn to tell Death that he’s anasshole, both as an individual and as a parent, and he should pay attention to his horse-dog. Cruentas is a sweet, cutie little baby and is clearly neglected. Also, tell Glenn to let Death know that we’re out of Chunky Monkey ice cream, so he should get on that.”

Since I binged it all last night, I didn’t add.

“Told you she’d be cranky,” Gunner said, exiting Death’s kitchen with chocolate milk. He wore a gray T-shirt with a mini grilled cheese sandwich on the right breast pocket. “The Prince of Insomnia must be shitting on her sleep schedule too.” He drank greedily from the container, pausing as Leo shot a disapproving look in his direction. “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” Wolf growled, materializing from the darkness behind Gunner like Dracula. Must have learned that from Death. He snatched the carton from Gunner’s grasp. “Neverdrink Death’s milk.”

“It was a sip,” Gunner said with a laugh. “It’s not like Death keeps tabs on who drinks his milk.” He paused. “Right?”

“Of course not,” Wolf said with a straight face. “That’d be psychotic.”

Gunner would be an outline on the floor by morning.

The rest of the Seven were waiting for us in the gymnasium where Death had built the Graveyard. The obstacle course from hell filled half the room, but there was plenty of space to train around it. I’d just started my warm-up when someone tapped my shoulder.

Glenn stood directly behind me. “Hi, Ms. Williams.” He handed me a folded note. “From His Highness.”

“Uh, thanks.”

Glenn didn’t move and remained fixated on the note. Realizing he had probably been ordered to wait for a reply, I awkwardly peeled it open.

You’re mistaken. Cruentas is spoiled rotten. He spends time with you because he thinks you’re clever and funny.

— D

P.S. I’ve settled on black lace.

My mouth hung open as I read, a slow burn making its way down my body. It took me a moment to remember he was talking about the striptease.

Glenn was holding a notepad for my response to Death. I crumpled the letter in my fist and flipped it the bird. He got the memo and gave me a sheepish smile before vanishing.

“Ah, love letters.” I looked over at Romeo, who was leaning against the wall beside me and shaking his head with pride. “An almost forgotten and yet insurmountably effective method of wooing a woman and exposing a man’s heart.”

After a water break and a protein-packed salad (boo), I returned to the gym with hand-to-hand combat with Wolf, Gunner, and Flash. These reapers really were Death 2.0 except with less callousness. Gunner, a stickler for correct form, made me do push-ups whenever I dropped my left punching arm and left my face vulnerable. Wolf was an expert on reading an opponent’s body language to predict a counterattack. Flash played the role of the pretend opponent who would attack me or Wolf and Gunner during demonstrations. Leo stood off to the side, watching me from afar like a lifeguard the entire time.

After the sparring session, I followed Romeo to a back room to learn about various weapons and equipment.

“Come one, come all, come up and take a look at the table!” Romeo shouted in an announcer’s voice, gesturing at items with his hands. “Here we have body armor, headgear, shields, gauntlets, daggers, swords, and some miscellaneous . . . ”

The stuff on the tables made my eyebrows go up above my hairline. I dangled a pair of fancy-looking handcuffs from my finger. “These are yours, aren’t they?”

Romeo snatched the cuffs away. “Careful, sweet cheeks, these aren’t your standard handcuffs.” He held out his arm to snap one of the pairs of cuffs down onto his wrist, and suddenly the cuff transformed into a rope-like object that curled up his arm and tightened like a boa constrictor. “Get these on the enemy and you’ll incapacitate any powers they may have for about thirty minutes. The more they struggle, the tighter they get. Kind of like sticking your fingers in a novelty bamboo finger trap.” The veins in his arms protruded as the cuff jerked around, and he grappled to get the key in the lock to free himself. “However, that’s if you can get these on the enemy. Cuffs come with a matching leash too. Why walk your dog when you can walk your enemy, am I right?”

I eyed the handcuffs with interest.

“Let’s see what the boys are doing, love. I’m starving.” Romeo swaggered out of the room, whistling. I quickly stuffed the handcuffs into my sweatshirt pocket and followed him to the main gym. Gunner and Denim were sparring on the mats, while the rest of the Seven watched. I went to stand next to Leo.

“What’s Death’s plan for killing Ahrimad?” I asked.

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