Page 117 of The Cruelest Undead

His mother and father blinked.

And then sat.

Well, that said it all. This gift would have been handy when he was a teenager.

Yeah, you might have gotten laid.

You’re funny for a God who was having sex with his kids. Perv.

There was sputtering, but Flynn ignored him.

As the wall tore open, a familiar figure slipped through, and it was, once more, Jacques.

Well, Death.

He didn’t mince words.

“Here’s the situation,” he said, ignoring the woman giving him death stares.

It was clear he was angry too.

Jacques, don’t be angry. We have to find a middle ground on this.

Hell.

No.

I am. How many times have we been left out in the dark over something, and we didn’t hold a grudge?

This is different. She cared about Mathew. She loved him.

Jacques wasn’t playing.

When she calms down, we’ll talk. I’m too busy to play this game, Flynn. We are on the clock.

Why the rush?

Oh, well, he shared.

“I have Fate trapped in my realm. I used blood I obtained from her without her knowledge. The spell will hold for about one day. That’s all the time I can buy for you.”

Kiera gasped.

“Oh, boy. She’s going to be hella pissed when she gets free from this. All of our asses are grass.”

He was aware.

Only, he was going to be the prime target—without a doubt.

“At this moment, she can’t help Mathew, or interfere with your hunt for the antiquities. You have to stop him, get the cross, and beat him to the sword. If he draws blood with that sword, even the slightest amount, he will have the power of the necromancer, and we are, for a lack of words, fucked.”

That said it all.

This was no joking matter.

Then, he waved his arm, and the tear in the fabric of time opened behind him.

“The clock is ticking. Call me if you need me. I’ll be babysitting Fate and hoping that buying you this time doesn’t destroy the entire universe.”

---