Page 146 of When Death Whispers

My shadows lash out in agitation, eager to return to our exquisite Parker. They hunger to feast on her decadent flavor, desperate to wring more of those sweet, intoxicating sounds from her lips. Her lingering scent already fades from my body, leaving me restless and growling with impatience. The need to return to my burrow grows urgent, bordering on painful.

First, food and drink for my mortal. Then, I can bury myself, shadows-deep, in her warmth.

The annoying pink tint of my shadows has all but faded, blending once again with the oppressive darkness of the mortal realm. This only serves to agitate them further.

Idiotic, foolish things.

They preen when Parker turns them that absurdly cheerful pink..Preen.Like peacocks displaying their feathers.

Ridiculous. We are Death.

We do notpreen.

Even for the delicious morsel of snowy white flesh that is my intoxicating Parker.

Yet, even now, as I peruse the aisles of this dimly lit human store, my shadows operate of their own accord, plucking nonsense from the shelves and dropping it into the flimsy basket in my grasp.

I scowl down at the latest offering—a box with garish colors and too many fonts.

“What in all seven hells is a granola bar?” I snarl, holding it between two fingers like it might rot me on contact. “She needs sustenance. Real food. Not… boxed horse feed wrapped in deceit.”

But my protests may as well be spoken to empty air; the shadows persist, defiantly tossing more items in—water bottles, canned fruit, crackers—each clinking sound another grating reminder of their rebellion.

I grumble my discontent, stalking forward in search of something specific—an item I have witnessed Parker use before. An offering. Not a gift—no, something to trade for my own gain.

Spotting the familiar bottle on a shelf, I reach to inspect it, sniffing curiously at its soapy scent. My shadows, however, are faster and immediately toss it into the basket along with five identical bottles.

“Ridiculous, useless—” I start, but a sharp tug at my chest interrupts me, pulling my attention elsewhere.

A presence—familiar and immense—fills the small store, its cosmic power rippling outward, pressing against my own. My shadows freeze mid-spree and stretch defensively around me, bristling in retaliation.

A second familiar aura quickly joins the first—chaotic, boisterous, unmistakably irritating—and a dark chuckle rumbles behind me. It’s enough to make me grit my teeth and slowly turn around.

“Well, well, Steorfan,” the bulky, red-skinned demon drawls, an insufferable smirk stretched wide across his face. “Never imagined I’d seeyougrocery shopping for a mortal.”

A threatening growl vibrates from deep within my chest, spreading outward until my shadows engulf the entire aisle. The bull demon merely laughs, unbothered by the warning. Beside him, his companion—a dark silhouette filled with shimmering constellations—remains eerily still, eyes luminous and unblinking.

Their power is potent—monsters tremble beneath it. But I am not most monsters.

“I suppose even Death tires of its usual diet,” the red demon continues, folding thick, muscular arms across his chest, tail swishing lazily. “Must get dreadfully bland after an eternity.”

Eyeing them up and down, I decide that I’ve been absent from Parker long enough. Grabbing the basket and gathering my shadows closer, I turn away, fully intent on abandoning these nuisances to their cosmic mischief.

Yet another, stronger tug jerks painfully at my chest and I gasp in surprise.

“We came to warn you,” the constellation demon finally speaks, his voice like a whisper from the spaces between stars. “The Evergloom’s new queen needs you.”

The new queen?

Another rumble starts within my chest but abruptly dies as his words sink in. Disbelief and possessiveness spike like twin lightning strikes behind my ribs.

“New queen?” I ask, my voice a low, dangerous rasp, barely coherent beneath the primal growl accompanying it. The cosmic demon remains impassive, his stare unwavering.

“The human you covet has tamed the Gloom itself, Death Devourer. But she is still mortal, and the power threatens to overwhelm her.”

Before I can demand clarity from their riddles, another painful tug rends through me, a raw, anguished scream echoing distantly—one I recognize instantly.

Parker.

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