Page 41 of Obsession

I cast a circle and have Azrael hold a mirror in one hand and the magnet in the other. “Visualize your scythe in the mirror. Once you can see it, hold up the magnet and imagine it’s being pulled to you.”

Lighting an orange candle and carving the word Scythe into the wax, I chant:

By the light of the flame give us a peek.

Azrael’s scythe is what we seek.

The mirror fogs and we can’t see anything, and then it cracks.

“Well, that was a bust,” he announces.

“Hey, you stole my pun!”

“I assume that’s not what you wanted to happen?”

“No, it was not.” A small part of me wonders if Todd misjudged my magical capabilities when he tried to steal my power, but quickly I delete that negative self-talk as I spin around three times, tossing a pinch of salt with my right hand over my shoulder. Seven years of bad luck I can do without. “Let's give it a few days and we’ll try again under a waxing moon. Where are you staying?” I ask.

“I haven’t found a house yet, so I’ll be at the Peabody Hotel if you need me. Seriously though, stay out of the fountain.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say dryly.

He nods. “Welp, I best be gettin’ on down the road.”

“Now you’re trying too hard,” I inform him.

“Shoot! Why is a southern accent so hard?” He sighs dramatically and disappears.

Chapter 18

I invite the Angel of Death with me and Aunt Callie to yoga. He’s dressed in a white linen shirt and pants, and has his long hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Are you an experienced yogi?” Aunt Callie asks.

“Nah, I just like to look the part of whatever I’m playing.”

We roll out our yoga mats in the back of the studio. Class begins and I look over to see Azrael making all the advanced poses look easy as pie. The instructor leads us into the fallen angel pose and I laugh at the Universe’s excellent sense of humor. It’s an advanced pose, and I struggle to remain in position. “Is this supposed to be difficult?” Azrael whispers to me while maintaining perfect form.

We finish class with corpse pose. Unable to relax, I keep eyeing Azrael, lest he get any ideas. We roll up our mats and return them to the bin. “I’ve never done yoga before; that was fun. Why is she drinking green slime?” He points to Aunt Callie’s green smoothie.

“Good question.” I order Azrael and me each a mango pineapple smoothie. In other words, a smoothie that’s drinkable.

Aunt Callie gets caught in a conversation with our instructor and she waves us on, so Azrael and I take it back to the apartment. “What are you doing today?” he asks as he makes a loud slurping sound.

“Working. There’s not much we can do on your case until the lab report comes back.”

“Let me shadow you.”

“What do you mean ‘shadow me?’ Is that an angelic term?”

“I mean follow you around for the day like an intern. All I see is death in my job; show me what’s so great about living. Please? I’m bored.”

I take a moment to really ponder it—of course I’m just messing with this poor Yankee. Besides, a bored Azrael is a dangerous Azrael. “Okay, but I need to take inventory this morning, and then I’ve got to do some cleaning around the shop. You wouldn’t want to help me clean the customer restroom, would you?”

“I’m not that bored,” he says. Figured as much but it was worth a shot.

I lead Azrael upstairs to the living room and excuse myself, quickly getting ready for work. When I emerge from my bedroom, I find Grandma and Azrael conspiring like long lost friends. Nothing good can come of this. “I’d describe it more as a glitter glue type consistency than dust,” he tells her.

I loudly clear my throat. “You’ve met Azrael, I take it?”

“Morning, sugar pie. There’s no stranger I haven’t met.” Truer words have never been spoken. “You two want breakfast?”

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