The Kiss of Death

by Auryn Hadley

The more life something had, the more brilliantly it was colored. Death's skin might be pale, but it was almost iridescent. His black robe was the same, rippling with midnight blue in its shadows. The cactus on my windowsill glowed in a neon shade of green. The plastic clock, however, was completely boring and grey. Under it, my wood night table held only a hint of color, proving that once it had been alive, but no longer.

  Unfortunately, my inspection didn't impress Death. He scowled in frustration as he finished the strange letter he was drawing. I couldn't see it, not really. It was like a heat trail or the afterglow from a sparkler. The sigil hung for a moment, then faded, but the feeling of it remained. So did Death's anger.

  "I said you couldn't be here," he growled, turning to glare.

  He made another gesture and I felt a pull, tugging me into myself, but I fought it. I wasn't leaving. I didn't care who or what he was, he couldn't get rid of me that easy. I had questions, I wanted answers, and I wasn't giving up until I got at least one.

  "You can't make me go," I warned him. "I will just keep coming back over and over if you try."

  His jaw was clenched, the formless robe hiding the tension I knew would be coursing through his shoulders. "You felt that wind? Without my wards, it would blow you through the corridor until your soul was ripped apart. Are you that ready to die? Are you that desperate for my attention?"

  "No. Yes." I tried to answer both questions in the order they were asked. "Death!" I crawled to the end of the bed, but he pointed back to the pillows.

  "Sleep," he ordered. "Stay on Earth. Do not cross the damned veil again!"

  Obviously, he didn't know me very well. His words didn't even slow me down. I knew I was barely dressed but didn't care. He'd seen me dying, so a t-shirt and panties wasn't a big deal at all. I kept going, crawling off the bed and storming to him with a purpose. I would not leave, not without seeing his face. I had to. I had to know what held those stars. It had become an obsession.

  As I reached him, Death met me, ready to throw me back to whatever hell I'd started in. Fine, let him try, but first... I grabbed the side of his hood and pulled, trying to yank it back.

  His cheek shone in the dimness, but the cloth caught on something. I tried to tug again, but he caught my arm, pulling my hand away. "Please," I begged. When I tried with the other, he intercepted that one too, his strong fingers imprisoning my wrists. "Please," I said again. "I have to see you. I've spent four years wondering who you are. Just show me a glimpse and I'll go back."

  "You don't want to see my face," he insisted.

  "Yes, I do!"

  I pulled an arm free, but he pushed me back. Gently. Everything Death did with me was gentle, as if he was terrified I'd break. That's the only reason I managed to reach for his hood again, the back of my fingers grazing something hard – and he flinched away.

  "Don't," he begged. "Don't look at my face. Please. I'm not human."

  "I know." Once more, I lifted my hand, but this time it wasn't to pull at his hood. Feeling solid ridges hidden under the cloth, I breathed, "You have horns."

  He froze. Stars peered at me from the darkness, but he didn't pull away from my touch. "Please," he whispered. "Leave me this one thing, Sienna. There's a reason I wear a hood, because what's under it isn't pretty."

  "I didn't know angels had horns."

  He took a breath, the air sliding through his barely parted lips as if he was bracing for the worst. "I'm not an angel."

  "The Angel of Death."

  "No. I'm not an angel." His fingers tightened on my shoulder. "I'm not divine. When humans see me, they call me a monster, so I wear the hood. Ask me for anything else, but not my face."

  Standing there like that, with his cheek in my hand and my wrist in his, we were at a standoff. I could feel the vulnerability. This strong, impossible creature had one single weakness. What he couldn't fathom was that I didn't care. I didn't want him to be pretty. I just wanted to know the man who'd made miracles happen to protect me, to put a face to all the dreams I'd had over the years. I needed something to fill the gap in my mind where his identity should have been.

  "Do you at least have a name?"

  The corner of his lip twitched in a hint of a smile. "A few. Death is one, and I like it when you call me that."

  I huffed in frustration. "No face, no name, and you want me to be happy with that?"

  "No," he said softly, stepping closer as he released my wrist. "I want you to rage at me like a woman, curse me to eternity, and then stay on your side of the veil."

  Oh, I heard what he was saying, but everything he did disagreed. So I called him on it. "Bullshit. I'm not sure what you want, but stop lying to me. I think you owe me that at least."

  "Oh? Do I now? Dove, in case you forgot, it's you that owes me. I kept you from killing that stupid boy at the gas station because I knew the guilt would destroy you. I put your soul back together last night so you could graduate college, just like you asked. Tell me, what is it you've done for me?"

  "Yeah, see, I'm not quite sure, but there's a reason you wanted my kiss. There's a reason you keep coming back. I may not know what it is, but don't treat me like I'm an idiot. You expect me to just obey your orders but give me no reason why. Well, in case you missed it, I'm not that kind of girl, so start talking, or I'll become the biggest pain in your ass you've ever seen."

  He was supposed to be cowed, or at least chastised. Instead, Death was grinning at me like I'd just performed some adorable little trick. In frustration, I jerked away from him and turned back to my bed. I didn't make it a step before he caught my wrist.

  "Sia..."

  "Look, if you won't tell me anything else, at least tell me what you are."

  He tugged me around so I faced him. "That's not any better."

  "Ok, then where are we? Can you answer that?"

  He dipped his head slightly. "This is the corridor. It exists in parallel to the reality you know, but it's not the same. It's where souls go to disperse when they die."

  "Ghosts?" I asked.

  He canted his head as if I was close but not quite right. "They can be interpreted that way. It's complicated, little dove, and I'm not sure I could make you understand. Your science hasn't gotten that far."

  "Ok," I sighed, aware I wasn't getting much out of him. "Can you at least tell me what you were doing to my window?"

  "Wards." For once, he made no attempt to avoid the question. "Twice now, you've almost made it through the veil without help." Then he tipped his head at me. "And once you've succeeded. The problem is that you have no idea how to deal with the winds. The walls wouldn't keep you from blowing away because they aren't really here. None of this is, but the corridor is thin enough to try to mimic the reality you know. So I used the structure as a foundation for a shield. So long as you're in your house, if you accidentally slip through without me around, you won't be torn apart."

  "And killed?"

  "And killed," he agreed. "It would be easiest if you forgot all about this place, but I'm not an idiot either. I know you will poke at the pieces until you think you've found an answer, and for you, that means trying to reach this place again. I'm trying to make sure you live long enough to realize that's a very bad idea."

  I didn't like what he was saying. Not at all. "So what am I supposed to do, Death?"

  "Make art. Inspire others. Create fantastical things and feed the fabric of life." Then he chuckled. "Well, that's what you were supposed to do, but I think your art has been winning."

  The pencil. He had to know about the pencil that had fallen off the page. "Have you been watching me?"

  His finger brushed the inside of my wrist soothingly where he held it. "Watching over you. It sounds a little less offensive like that. And no, I'm not always hovering around you. I'm trying very hard to leave you alone, but you have no idea what you've been doing, and it's like a beacon to those who want to make problems."

  "Like that creepy guy in my Creative Writing class?"

  His mou
th split into a grin and he ducked his hood trying to hide it. "I like how you assume I know everyone around you. Just so it's clear, I don't."

  "Ok." Evidently, I was on the wrong track. "So why can I even do this? Is this something that anyone can do if they knew this place existed?"

  "You're special."

  "Are we talking like short bus kinda special here?"

  The laugh I got was the most amazing thing ever. If I tried to imagine what people said angels sounded like, it would be the same as his laugh, all deep, rich, and harmonious. "No," he assured me. "Most humans haven't evolved the mental awareness to traverse the planes of existence. You have. That kind of special."

  "Are there others like me?"

  His mouth opened, the smile faded, then it closed without a word. Slowly, he shook his head. "Not humans, no."

  I tried to keep the accusation out of my voice for the next question. "Is that why you're watching over me?" I didn't want to be some kind of specimen.

  He took a half step closer, ducking his head to look at me from under that heavy cowl. "It's why I noticed you. It's not why I watch. I just want to give you the chance to grow up and master your art. I want to see you shine so brightly."

  "Why?" I had to know. I couldn't help myself.

  Death reached up and cupped the side of my face. "Because I know what it's like to be trapped in a war you cannot win. Because there's this spark in your eye that challenges even me. Because in all of my very long life, I've never met anyone who can inspire me the way you do." Slowly, his hand slipped around to the back of my neck. "Because, my little dove, I love the sound of your laugh and can't get enough of that smile when you learn something new. I want to make sure you stay safe long enough to become the kind of person who won't resent what you've lost."

  "What am I going to lose?"

  "Everything," he said softly. "If you keep following me, you will lose anything and everything that matters to you. Maybe you'll gain more to replace it – I don't know – but playing with Death?" He offered a wry smile. "It's not a wise decision."

  He had a point. Hearing it spoken aloud made it even more blatant. "So you're saying I should stop looking for you?"

  Another half step put his chest almost against mine. "It would be the wise choice, but it's not the one I'm rooting for."

  "Then what are you rooting for?" I'd intended to make that a demand. Instead, it sounded more like I was pleading.

  He leaned closer. "A partner. A woman strong enough that she doesn't even fear Death."

  I lifted my chin – not in defiance, but to bare my lips to his. "I'm not scared of you. I've never been scared of you."

  "I know."

  "But I am addicted to you, and I don't know why."

  His thumb traced the line of my jaw. "Like calls to like, my little dove. You and I? We're not that dissimilar. Your tenacity is an addiction I can't get enough of."

  I didn't know what that meant, but he didn't give me the chance to ask. There, in the darkness of my bedroom, Death kissed me, forcing all of the insanity away. Closing my eyes, I leaned in, pressing my entire body against his. While our mouths tangled like long lost friends, I felt the lines of his body. The very human lines, carefully hidden beneath the heavy fabric of his robe. His chest was broad and flat. His waist was lean. Using my hands, I found one hell of a sexy man locked away from my eyes, but I didn't care. He'd all but said he wouldn't leave me.

  Chapter 10

  Iwoke to the alarm screaming at me. I slapped at it, silencing the thing, and nearly went back to sleep but paused. The last thing I remembered was Death pressing me back into the bed. I'd been kissing him, letting my hands run all over his body, and then... Nothing.

  "Damn you," I snarled, realizing what he'd done.

  The bastard had magicked me back to sleep! He'd kissed me to distract me, then forced me back to my side of the veil and into a deep enough sleep that I couldn't come back. The problem was that I kinda had to give him credit for that. I mean, I'd basically told him I wouldn't give up, so he'd proven that I couldn't stop him. Was there something wrong with me to think that was a little bit sexy?

  Probably.

  There was something even more wrong with the fact that I wasn't freaked out at the idea of his abilities being magic. They probably weren't. Somewhere, there had to be a rational explanation for all of this, but it didn't really matter. There was this famous quote about how sufficiently advanced technology would be indistinguishable from magic, and I had a funny feeling it applied. Humans had been seeing ghosts for long enough that we'd stopped believing in them, but what if the reality was a lot more mundane? I'd have to get Death to break it down a little more the next time we met.

  Wait. What if I was wrong? What if that hadn't been anything but a dream? The first time I'd seen Death was after getting smacked in the head with a gun and put on a pretty impressive dose of pain killers. Yesterday, I'd been diagnosed with a concussion and given some serious medication for the pain. Surely that was just a coincidence, right?

  I couldn't shake the feeling. No one else ever saw him. I had absolutely no evidence that he was anything but one very amazing hallucination. The first time it happened, the doctors told me I may have seen things I thought were real, but it didn't mean they were. Magic? A sexy man in a hood that saved my life not just once, but twice? If that wasn't the kind of thing my demented mind would make up on its own, then I couldn't think of what would be.

  I sat there in bed for a moment, trying to decide if I should call my old shrink. The problem was I couldn't afford her rates. Well, that's what I told myself. I also didn't want her to tell me I was losing my mind. Believing I was part of some bigger, super-special world? I liked that a whole lot more than thinking I was completely and totally nutso. So long as I kept it to myself, what difference did it make? I clearly hadn't gone all the way around the bend if I recognized this was insane. That meant I wasn't totally loopy, right?

  Right.

  Having mostly convinced myself, I tossed back the blankets and began my day. The strange thing was that I no longer ached all over. It seemed as if taking an extended nap was just what the doctor ordered, or should have. Unfortunately, that didn't get back my stuff from my car. On the upside, I had Creative Writing this morning and then Calculus. Everything I needed for those was in my backpack. Hopefully, Nick would be able to give me a ride over to the police station when we got out of class so I could pick up the rest.

  I hated the idea of asking him. Even worse, I didn't know what I'd do if he had another of those meetings he kept running off for. Ask Sam? Probably not the best idea. After he'd been so sweet to me yesterday, I almost felt like I'd done something wrong, like I should tell Nick about it. We weren't officially dating or anything, but I sure didn't want to make him think he couldn't trust me.

  Granted, what I'd done last night with Death? Yeah... I was going to write that off as a wild fantasy. I mean, it wasn't cheating if it wasn't real, right? Since no one else would believe me, and I wasn't actually dating Nick, it didn't count. Besides, admitting it would be so bad. The only way that would end would be with me in a white, self-hugging jacket.

  Trying not to worry about it, I gathered my things and headed into the kitchen to fill my massive mug of go-juice. I was halfway there when I remembered that I'd never made it to the store. Not only was I missing my new art supplies, I still didn't have the one thing I couldn't live without. Just one problem; I could smell a nice fresh brew.

  Peering around the corner into the kitchen, I saw the coffee pot pulled to the edge of the counter, the carafe half full of amazing brown fluid, and a bright red plastic tub sitting beside it. The light for the automatic brew was on, which meant it had been set up sometime yesterday. I hadn't done it, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out someone had. But who?

  Did Death make coffee? Sam? Had Nick stopped over while I was in the hospital? None of that made any sense! Death didn't live on my plane of existence. Sam hadn't left my s
ight the whole time he was here. No one else had keys to get in, and the door had been locked. Did I do it and just forgot?

  Seriously, what the fuck?

  I filled my mug anyway, adding a nice dose of creamer and sugar for that extra added boost, then turned the pot off and slid it back into the corner where it belonged. When I reached for the container of coffee, something blue caught my eye. Not royal blue, but moonlit – the exact color of Death's skin. Laying there beside the sink was a posy of wildflowers. The stem of one had been wound around the others, holding them together, but I couldn't take my eyes off those dainty little petals. The color was perfect. I had no idea what they were, but if I had to guess, I'd say forget-me-nots. They looked right, but it would take a Google search to be sure.

  On a whim, I pulled down a glass, put a little water in it, and used it as a vase for my bouquet. They had to be from Death. I didn't see Nick as the flower kind of guy, and Sam? He would've gone for roses. Death was the type of man to handpick flowers and leave them where I'd stumble across them. The bigger question, though, was how?

  I figured that out the moment I walked into the living room. Stacked by my door were both of my backpacks. Mixed among them was every single thing that had been in my car. My portfolio and art case were carefully leaned against the wall. A handful of books had been set beside it with two hoodies, both folded nicely and set on top of them. For a moment I just gaped in astonishment. First, because I no longer needed to beg a ride to the police station. Second? Well, it seemed the line between my world and Death's was a very fluid one. No one else could have done this but him.

  Third, I wasn't crazy.

  Death was real. He wasn't a figment of my imagination, I wasn't going insane, and those things he'd said hadn't been just wish fulfillment. I really was special, and for the first time in my life, I didn't have to doubt it. Shrugging my backpack over my shoulder, I left the house with a smile on my face. Everything was going to be ok. My dream guy was real. Things were finally looking up.

  The smile stayed until I stepped inside the Language building. That's when Luke met me at the stairs, coming in from another hall. The groan that came out of my mouth was not intentional, but it was loud enough that he heard. Unfortunately, it wasn't loud enough to stop him from falling in at my side.