Death is a Bitch

by Masters, Cate

  After slamming the door, he held up the bracelet he’d pilfered from her. “Excellent craftsmanship. And so clever.”

  What the hell was he doing? She snatched at it. “Give it back.”

  He held it out of reach. “Sorry. We’ll need a few of your tools.”

  We? “No one else can use them,” she lied.

  His low chuckle fired her anger. “Nice try.”

  The door hinges creaked, and her heart leapt. Let it be the Prince!

  To her horror, Sisyphus entered.

  “What are you….” She glanced from Sisyphus to Damien. Of course. Conspiracy and treachery hung thick in the air. “You son of a bitch.” Fingers arched like claws, she flew at Damien, wanting to rake his pretty face. Her marks would be a permanent reminder to him, inerasable scars.

  He jerked back just as Sisyphus’ arm locked around her waist.

  She glared at Damien. “How could you? The Prince will have your head if he learns you’ve helped Sisyphus avoid his parole hearing.”

  Sisyphus’s grasp relaxed and he laughed. “What? Is that what you told her?”

  “So it was all a lie?” Of course.

  “Do it now, Damien,” Sisyphus croaked.

  With a leering smile, Damien touched a finger to the tiny silver cage.

  She gasped, bracing for its sticky filaments to envelop her like a spider web, and drag her inside.

  Nothing happened.

  Frowning, Damien poked at it. “Come on,” he grumbled.

  Still nothing. Relief washed over her.

  “Put it on.” Damien thrust it at Sisyphus.

  “What? No.” Disgust twisted Sisyphus’s features.

  Heaving a sigh, Damien opened his palm. “Give it back.”

  As soon as Sisyphus held out the bracelet, Death lunged for it. Her arms stretched longer than Damien’s, and her fingers itched to feel its silver against her skin once more.

  Damien snatched it out of the air. “Hold her.”

  “She’s very strong. Damn your long limbs.” Sisyphus grunted, reaching for her, but she evaded recapture by jerking from his grasp.

  “Wait.” Damien slid the bracelet across his wrist, latched it and then flipped through the charms. “It must be here somewhere.”

  Death’s eyes flew wide. He’s searching for the chain.

  Dumb luck granted Damien his wish. The silver chain shot from the bracelet in a long stream, then hung in the air uncertainly.

  He aimed it at Death. “Out of the way, Sisyphus.”

  The other man yelped in surprise and hurled himself backward as the chain spun around her in a whirlwind. The coldness of its delicate strands wound around her ankles, up her legs and torso, binding her arms to her sides. Though its restraint was light, she knew better than to attempt an escape. Any movement would trigger the chain to slice into her.

  Through clenched teeth, she said, “This is below even you, Damien.”

  He laughed and strolled closer. “Oh, D. I would have preferred you saw my side of things. We’d have made a kickass pair.”

  “Do you really think I’d stoop so low as to sleep with you?”

  “Sleeping never entered my mind.” He trailed a finger between her breasts. “Any chance you’ll reconsider?”

  An involuntary shudder accompanied her grimace. “Get your fucking hands off me.” She couldn’t stand the sight of him wearing the bracelet.

  His lips grazed her ear. “I’d love to fuck you. Fingers, fist, or any way you want. Once you feel me inside you, you’ll never want anyone else. Do you want to hear what my cock can do?”

  His husky whisper filled her stomach with acid. Oh, she knew. She’d heard the stories. How demon penises could split like snake tongues to dance flitting tongues inside a woman. Or the skin on the shaft could pebble to various textures to increase the sensation, or thicken, or lengthen, driving their partners to near madness with pleasure.

  Parlor tricks. She’d rather have Azrael any day.

  She turned her head, pinning her chin to her shoulder. The only movement that wouldn’t trigger a reaction in the chain. “Touch me again and you’ll pay dearly.”

  His lips thinned as he pressed them together. “Mm, I doubt it. Azrael won’t avenge you, if that’s your hope.”

  She gasped. Had Damien captured Azrael, too? “Is he all right?”

  “He’s fine. Ecstatic, maybe. I couldn’t have done this without him.”

  Shock froze her. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I thought we’d blown it when you caught us at the Nethers.”

  Could it be true? Was that why Azrael glared at her so? “No.”

  “Sorry, babe.” Damien sighed. “You disappointed him a bit too much. He decided he needed a team player, one who’d implement his orders without argument. You didn’t quite fit the role, Miss Independent. Frankly, you made him look bad, doing it all yourself, but that’s just me musing.”

  “No.” Anger surged up. “Liar. Azrael would never—”

  “Never what? Toss you aside? Really. Immortals do it all the time. Since firing you was out of the question, he asked me to deal with you. He knew I had a soft spot for you. Eternal imprisonment won’t be so terrible, D. I’ll always be there for you.”

  Through gritted teeth, she hissed.

  “You might change your mind about me,” he said, “after a few centuries. Shall I check back with you then?”

  She laughed bitterly. “Do you honestly think no one will find me here before then?” Fool. She couldn’t even tell them to go to Hell. They were already at its border.

  He shrugged. “They might look here. But you’ll be long gone.”

  Her head snapped up. “What?”

  Slowly raising the bracelet, he touched the cage again. Delight filled his face when the silver door opened. Out floated the five souls she’d caught earlier.

  “No,” she whispered. Her plea couldn’t halt the wispy shroud from slinking around her. Binding her. It lifted her as if she were nothing but smoke, and drew her through its portal, a one-way trip into the charm.

  Azrael! Her cry echoed into nothingness as the door clanged shut.

  Chapter Six

  The depths of the void surrounding Death seemed vaster than infinity. She floated in emptiness, somewhere between darkness and light. She’d have welcomed the darkness heralding her father Erebos’ presence. If he knew she was trapped, he’d come to her rescue.

  Her cries melted into the space cushioning her, suffocating her, imprisoning her.

  In my own bracelet! The thought crushed her once more, devastation layered upon heartbreak.

  He doesn’t want you. Damien’s voice twined through her head like heated wisps of breath, fetid with jealousy.

  Could it be true? If so, it went against everything she’d felt that night. The threads binding her to him might have been her veins flowing into his, their blood co-mingling. Those moments they’d shared, so precious to her before, glittered like fool’s gold in the cavern of her despair.

  No measure of time existed. Like a deep dungeon with no trap door, the torture was designed to drive her to madness. Flashes of memory mocked her. The brief happiness she’d shared with Azrael withered like a flower giving in to death.

  What a joke. She was Death. Heartless, supposedly. A bitch.

  Now she knew what it meant to die, to give herself over to the great beyond, shedding all layers of herself without hesitation. Memories once treasured grew too heavy with sadness, so she let them loose to flutter away like dried leaves in the wind.

  Her only anchor was the tattoo. It grew heavier, burdened with thousands of unclaimed souls, and more appearing. With no means to harvest them, humans were now immortal. Soon, the weight of the tattoo would become unbearable.

  Azrael should be the first to notice. Would he sound an alarm, send his team to search for her? Or had he truly intended to dispose of her?

  The remnants of her spirit shattered and floated like dust motes seeking a shaft of su
nlight. But only utter blankness existed.

  One memory lingered like a smoldering ember: Azrael’s face etched in her mind. She clung to it, her only life thread. It suspended her above her despair and surrounded her like a protective shield from her heartbreak.

  Ironic that Azrael should be my downfall yet also my salvation. I will have my revenge.

  Yet, she couldn’t conceive of Azrael betraying her. Not in this manner. If he’d wanted to end their relationship, he’d have stood before her and told her face-to-face. With honor.

  The pervasive silence allowed her to examine the situation bit by bit. She had no reason to suspect Azrael, and every reason to believe Damien concocted the plan with Sisyphus. Since the night Azrael last intervened with Damien, Death had sensed the demon’s bitterness.

  How foolish she had been to fall so easily into his trap. Even Sisyphus wouldn’t destroy the universe to gain his freedom, but when doubt had niggled at her, she’d neatly ignored it. She alone was to blame for this entrapment.

  She again summoned Azrael’s image, conjuring from the depths of memory his fully formed figure beside her. Captured by his holographic gaze, she hovered in the netherspace. The sparkle in his eye connected her to the last glimmer of the world outside. Within that glimmer rested the final vestige of her sanity. She clung to it, focused on it with waning strength.

  Jealousy? Could Damien have sought revenge because she’d rebuffed his attentions?

  No, that would require Damien to have a heart.

  With a shock, the more crucial question shook her to the core. Was Azrael safe? Or had Damien plotted against him, too? Or her family?

  The space around her settled into unnerving static. Did it mean Damien had placed the bracelet somewhere? If so, he’d have been sure to leave it somewhere irretrievable, where no one would ever find it.

  I have to escape!

  A thought illuminated her mind. As a prisoner of the cage, it would not respond to her wishes, but she still had control over the five souls she’d carried. Still bound to the bracelet even though not captured within, they waited between realms because she hadn’t had a chance to deliver them to their destination. If she summoned them, they would obey.

  Concentrating on the five, she closed her eyes. “Come to me.”

  A distant fluttering sounded, like wings beating against the cage.

  “Open the door,” she ordered.

  The banging grew louder. If anyone could break in, these men could. The key lay in persistence and ingenuity. And possibly violence, at which they were highly skilled.

  Her breath caught when light sliced through an opening. “Yes. Keep going.”

  The shaft of light widened. They had to be pressing against it. Come on! Groaning punctuated each kick and thrust. After a loud crash, five figures stood framed within the light.

  One of the men asked, “You all right?”

  Not quite, but better now. “I need to get out of here. Fast.” If only she knew a way out of the silver binding.

  They swam through the nothingness and hovered beside her.

  “Get me out of here.” They’d have to carry her. Shouldn’t be a problem, unless Damien cast some black magic blocking her exit. They exchanged wary glances. One asked, “Why should we? You were taking us to our doom.”

  Stay calm. Make them see reason. “I’m only fulfilling my duty. You decided your own fate.”

  “We want payback,” one sneered.

  Gods, was everyone a mercenary? “What do you want?”

  The tallest one said, “Pardons. For all of us. And to go back home.”

  Seriously? Did he think their physical selves weren’t already riddled with decay? “I cannot guarantee anything. But I promise to recommend it.” The pardons, at least. Going back to their former lives wouldn’t be an option. None of her charms carried a miracle.

  When they again hesitated, she added, “Your assistance will weigh greatly in your favor. Without it, you are assured of an eternity of whatever previous fate awaited.” Most likely Hades, if she judged correctly.

  Their heads came together in a brief consultation, then they broke apart to hover in formation. The spirit closest to her nodded. “We’ll do our best.”

  Excellent. “Help me find someone in charge. Hurry.”

  They examined her chains. One asked, “How can we loosen it? Is there a lock?”

  If only things were so easy. “You can’t. But I know someone who will be able to help.” The only one who could provide assistance. Acragas, the silversmith who’d crafted the bracelet eons ago.

  Each of the men grasped the chain and floated her to the opening. Three of the men passed through in front of her, and the other two guided her past the gap to the outside.

  The stench greeting her made her gasp. Yes, they were still in the Underworld. Probably Hades. Someone would have recognized the bracelet had Damien continued to wear it. He must have hidden it in his quarters.

  Which meant they must be close to The Keep. Satan’s lair. Always a challenge, dealing with the Prince of Darkness, but her parents, Nyx and Erebos, were longtime associates of his. Death was no stranger to the Prince, but their relationship was strictly business. Deviously cunning, Satan could be charming or dangerous, depending.

  She hoped he was in a good mood today.

  ***

  Standing on the street of an unfamiliar city, Sisyphus couldn’t move. Long grey hair straggled to his shoulders, whooshing in the breeze created by the metal carriages zooming to and fro without horses. People crammed the sidewalks like vermin. The tall buildings overwhelmed him, as much as horns blaring the roar of the racing carriages, and passersby talking, either to one another or into strange little boxes they held in their hands. Some men wore suits similar to Damien’s, but others wore strange costumes in colors not found in nature. And they had the audacity to raise their brows at his tunic.

  Unable to gain his bearings, Sisyphus wondered aloud, “Where am I?”

  A man leaning against a wall became visible through the crowd, though he appeared shadowlike in his dark glasses, black t-shirt, and trousers. “New York City, dude. Where else?”

  Stomping up to Damien, Sisyphus glared. “I have no wish to be in modern times. Take me to my wife.”

  Damien shrugged himself up. “No. It’s the first place they’d look.” His teeth flashed in an overly white smile as he lowered the glasses on the bridge of his nose. “If you’re dissatisfied, take it up with another demon. Plenty of them here. So you see, I brought you to the right place after all.”

  Frustration overwhelmed Sisyphus. “But where am I to go? What am I to do?”

  With a roll of his eyes, Damien sighed. “I can’t think of everything. I got you out, and trapped her. That was the deal.”

  Some deal. He should have known better than to trust a demon. “I have no means to live in such a place. Or time. They will know there’s something strange about me.”

  Damien chuckled. “Everyone in New York City’s strange. That’s what makes it perfect. You blend into the mix, man. I thought about leaving you in Jersey, but…” He winced. “No one wants to go there.”

  The mix? What did this idiot mean? “How am I to live?” Already, his belly growled for food.

  The demon clucked his tongue. “Get a job. Panhandle. Sing on a street corner. Up to you. Just keep a low profile.”

  Flustered with too many questions to ask, and too much he didn’t understand, Sisyphus merely gawked.

  “I gotta go.” Damien pushed the sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose and turned to the wall. The next moment, only a smudge of black remained on the bricks.

  Sisyphus’s eye twitched. How dare he!

  A young man approached and shoved a flyer into Sisyphus’s hand. “Looks like you could use this.”

  Strange hieroglyphs covered the paper. “What is this?”

  “Oh, can’t read, huh? No worries. Go two blocks and hang a left, another block and hang a right. You’ll see the sign ab
out midway down the street.”

  “Hang a right?” Did everyone in this city babble nonsense?

  “Yeah, for the mission. You can get a hot meal. Take a shower.” The young man backed away, pointedly scanning Sisyphus’s body.

  Yes, Sisyphus needed no reminder that he needed to bathe. A hot meal would be wonderful, too. Clutching the pamphlet, he trudged in the direction the youth pointed.

  ***

  Once outside the charm, Death instructed the five souls to bring the bracelet to her. “Please place the charm shaped like a hearth into my hand.” Beneath the silver binding, she opened her palm.

  One of them laid it gently atop her hand.

  Closing her eyes, she held the hearth. Ironic that the symbol of home should be the opposite of her parents — a tool to bring light, when her mother and father brought darkness and night.

  She summoned her father, Erebos.

  A wall of sheer blackness appeared and thickened. From its center, an archway opened. A tall, wide-shouldered man clad all in black stepped through.

  She touched the star charm on her bracelet to shed some light. Her father’s short hair, dark as ebony, glistened. Too much product again. His ego apparently lasted for infinity, too.

  “Thank you for coming, Father.”

  Concern sharpened his classic features as he scanned her chain-clad form. “What’s happened, daughter?”

  “Sisyphus.” Though she’d aimed to hide it, shame slipped into her tone.

  “Again?” Erebos clucked his tongue, a wry smile softening his handsome face.

  Spare me, Father. How many family gatherings had she endured teasing about Sisyphus’s trickery? “Damien used him to plot against me. I have to find them both, and make sure no harm has come to Azrael.” She choked on his name. Saying it revived the heartbreak of Damien’s claim.

  She had the rest of eternity to deal with that. For now, she had to deal with Sisyphus. “Satan will be angry that Sisyphus escaped his realm.” And that one of his demons assisted the escape. Then again, Satan might congratulate Damien, just before torturing him.

  “Undoubtedly. The sooner we face the Prince, the sooner we can plan Sisyphus’s recapture.”