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            "Siri, I'm not going to tell you again. Find me souls."

            "Behold!" Siri brought up a Wikipedia page again for Death.

           "You little..." Death glared at the results and growled. He fought the urge to crush the miniature device in his hand like a bug. Pressing a button again, he spoke into the i-Phone in a much more nastier tone. "Siri, find me Mason Hanes."

            "I found fifteen Masons a little ways from you."

            Death scrolled down the page, his cloak whipping wildly around as the wind howled. From Siri's results, the Grim Reaper found a bunch of construction organizations and crappy restaurants he would never go to.

            "Fuck you, Siri. If this is your way of getting me back for the whole Steve Jobs incident, then I hope you like flying." Death chucked his phone off the roof of the building, watching it dissapear thousands and thousands of feet away into a busy street. "I'll just do this the old fashioned way."

            Death held his massive scythe out in front of him and energy immediately surged from the tip of the blade, shooting out with a sonic boom, and blanketing the city of Chicago in a thin layer of blue light that only Death could see.

            "Find me Mason Hanes!" Death snarled. The wind kicked up, sending him soft whistles from all directions. Souls. He concentrated on their sounds, plucking out the weakest links. His power was complex enough to pinpoint where each and every soul was located in Chicago.

            Including Mason Hanes.

            His scythe began to glow and heat up, buzzing loudly.

            “Good girl, Scytherella,” Death whispered affectionately, caressing his scythe with a free hand. Thunder cracked the barriers of the sky and the blue beam of light over the city was rapidly sucked back into Death's scythe all at once. "Who needs that bitch Siri when I have my sexy, sharp, and kinky blade." He kissed his scythe, adding a bit of tongue. "It's time to have a little fun now, baby.."

            Death sprinted foward and dove off the building as if diving into a pool, massive black wings unleashing from his back to soften the landing, arms and legs bent slightly for impact. He dropped, and dropped, and dropped, then landed on the empty pavement below on all fours, the ground trembling wildly beneath his weight.

            Had he been allowed to fly, Death would have just flown to his destination, but instead, he had to take his motorcycle like a pathetic human.

            He even had to climb up the building in order to evilly loom over the city and then drop down like a badass.

            He hated being grounded by Lucifer.

            Death kicked off from the curb with his motorcycle, blending in with the night as he rode through the streets of Chicago, weaving quickly between cars, loudly revving the black beast between his muscular legs.

              A few houses away from his destination, he pulled the motorcycle to the side of the street. The crisp, cold autumn air blanketed him, making him only a mere shadow that would be overlooked amongst his surroundings.

            Just the way he liked it.

            Death's mismatched eyes grazed over the pizza boy leaving the front door of Mason Hanes' house, counting his money greedily. He whistled as he walked. Death didn't think twice, he moved rapidly towards the guy, broad muscles shifting as he stalked like a giant black panther.

            Heavy combat boots silent against the pavement, body hidden with shadows, Death's enormous body neared the human. Poor guy didn't have a chance. Death moved like a killer: quick and silent.

            But as he reached for his car door, as if sensing Death behind him, the pizza man turned sharply around. But it was too late.

            It was always too late for his victims.

            Death gripped the man by the throat, constricting his airway, muting any feeble attempts of screaming. Shark-like fangs unleashed from the Fallen's gums. With a cold-blooded howl, Death sharply inhaled at the pizza guy's mouth, vacuuming up the most luscious part of a human. The human's throat and body convulsed as Death fed, eyes wide in horror, hands helplessly stuck at his sides. A brilliant blue sphere of light transferred from the pizza guy's mouth to Death's, illuminating Death's with its vivid color, momentarily transforming the Fallen's  eyes from their normal variation of green to two clear sapphires.

            Death let his prey crumple to the ground like a worthless crushed can.

            He then let out a low moan, mouth parted in ecstasy. He went through a short burst of euphoria, bracing his obsidian leather gloves on the car in front of him and nearly flipping the vehicle over in the process, breathing raggedly. Heat slid down his body to his groin, making his pants feel tight and painfully confining.

              He took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. Calm.

            Death's eyes slowly morphed back to their normal shades, fangs retracting, sexual craving diminishing, but the ache for the next kill still stirred in the most primal part of him.

            He was never full.

            Ever.

             The cloaked monster slowly licked his lips, taking the shape of the pizza guy with ease. He sniffed the air. Whistling, Death popped open a cardboard box in the back of the dead guy's car and scarfed down three slices of pepperoni.

            "That crust sucked," Death said, whipping the rest of his crust at the dead guy's head. "Have fun in Jesus Land up in the clouds. Say hi for me."

            He snapped his fingers and the dead guy was no longer in the driveway.

            Snickering in a sinister way under his breath, Death then made his way towards the front door, carefully monitoring his surroundings for any changes. Would Malphas have guarded Mason, knowing that Death would come after him? Death guessed not. His father wanted Death to participate in his little game of trying to figure out how and why the hell he had found out about Faith Williams. Or, better yet, how he had come back to life.

            Because Death knew more than anyone that death was typically permanent.

             Death didn't know what to expect when he saw the human.  Mason hadn't looked too good the last time he had seen him, and was most likely transitioning into a demon. It didn't surprise him that his father would offer Mason immortality in return for helping him. His father loved ruining people's lives and manipulating humans, that was for sure.

            Death knew that only Mason was home.

            He rang the doorbell.

            An older demon would have been able to see through Death's illusion of the pizza guy, straight down to Death's true Fallen appearance. A newborn on the other hand...not so much. Newborns had to be taught to see past a powerful illusion.

            The lanky black haired boy finally threw open the front door, leaning a bit heavily against it. The kid looked like crap. To a human, Mason would have looked like he had the flu. To Death, Mason was going through the transition from human to demon, and he could tell from the kid's scent, sunken in eyes, and skin color.

            "What's up?" Mason said unenthusiastically, easily falling for Death's pretend facade just as a human would. He reached into his sweatpants for his wallet. "Did I not give you enough for the pizza, man?"

            "Nah, you're good," Death said, his voice not his own. "I normally don't do this on the job, but I actually wanted to know if I could possibly use your bathroom? I had an extra large sprite on the way over here, and I don't know if I'll make it to the next gas station..." He laughed a little. "Small bladder. Could I maybe just quickly..."

            "Um..."Mason scratched the back of his head. It hadn't even crossed Death's mind that Mason knew about the rule of letting demons into the house. "I would, but I think the toilet's actually clogged..."

            Mason knew.

             He knew not to invite anyone into the house.

            With one final act of desperation, the Grim Reaper locked eyes with Mason. If Mason still had most of his humanity, which Death assumed that he did because a demonic transition from human to demon was very slow, then Death could still manipulate the kid into letting him into the house. Manipulating a demon proved to be more difficult and less effective. Having Mason's full undivided attention, Death unblinkingly added, "I would really appreciate it if you would let me in, Mason."

            Mason stared at Death, jaw slowly going slack. "Sure..."

            "Excellent."

            Death dropped his illusion of the pizza guy, exposing his true appearance.

            Mason's eyes slowly went wide with horror. "What...the...fuck?" He took in the creature in front of him with disbelief, unable to move or even breath, he was so terrified. Mason seemed to lean in closer to The Angel of Death inquiringly, as most humans did when they saw his true form. When they were about to die. In Mason's case, he was dying, slowly leaving his human life and transitioning into a demon.

             "You're...you're Death," Mason stuttered, eyes still filled dread. He quickly took out an inhaler and inhaled sharply. "He--he said you would come for me." Mason reached up and subconsciously touched his face, gaping at Death. "Malphas...he said that your face was--but I never...."

            "Awkward. Did he seriously tell you that I'm a sex god with a scythe? It's kind of getting weird that my own father keeps telling people that, but I'll take it." The monster now exposed in front of Mason grinned darkly, sniggering. " I've got major killer looks, there's a lot to brag about. See what I did there? Killer? As in, attractive, but also as in... I kill people. That's called irony, a literary term."

            Mason was at a loss for words.

            Death frowned. "If you have to explain the joke, it's dead."

            Mason was turning green.

            "Sigh. I guess I'll just attack you now before you throw up." Death charged at the newborn, entering the house in a blur, throwing the skinny kid hard up against the wall. "Here's how this is going to go. You work for me now. You will tell me everything Malphas told you. Everything. You'll leave nothing out. Nothing in your life will be a secret anymore. When you breathe, it'll be because I told you to breathe. If you shit, I will know when you shit, and it'll be because you asked me first. If you so much as sniff without my permission, well, my name says it all. Forget everything Malphas has promised you, forget every threat he has made on your life and your families' lives; forget every second you spent afraid that he would kill you in your sleep, because now you are mine, and you will not waste another moment thinking your life is in danger, unless it is me you are visualizing ripping you to pieces. If you need more detail, so help you God, if you defy me in any way, shape, or form from here on out, I will eat your family alive while you watch, and then I will eat you. You are all food to me. Newborns are all insignificant and frail. I will floss my teeth with some of your skinny ass bones and make a ginger bread house out of the rest of them. Christmas isn't one of my favorite holidays, but believe me, I'll celebrate it in your pitiable memory, you worthless piece of newborn demonic shit. Are we clear?"

            "Yes," Mason squeaked.

            "Yes, what?" Death snarled. "Yes, my Lord? Or yes, I'm a worthless piece of shit who sold my life to a demon because I'm useless? Or maybe both?"

            Mason was border-line urinating himself, but still intelligent enough to know the right answer. "Both, my Lord! Both!"

            Death let go of Mason's throat, letting the kid crumple to the ground in violent trembles of fear. The Grim Reaper walked further into the house, knocking things to the ground, picking up pictures and shattering them. He came across one photo that made him pause.

            Death turned slowly towards Mason, smirking in that cold way he loved so dearly.

            Mason quickly reached for his inhaler and inhaled sharply. 

            "Do you see this girl in the photo?" The Grim Reaper slowly made his way back over to Mason, combat boots creaking the wooden floor boards. He squatted down to the newborn's level on the ground, presenting the framed photo. "ANSWER ME!" Death barked.

            "I see her!" Mason cried.

            "You know her quite well, don't you?" Death leaned in closer to Mason, intimidating him. He spoke slowly and callously. "Don't you? You're friends with Faith Williams? Pals?" Death inclined his head to the side. "Or maybe she's something else to you? Have you kissed her? Other things?" His expression went abosolutely blank. "You better hope you haven't, kid."

            "It's not like that! I swear, it's not!"

            "When's the next time you're going to see her?" Death demanded, temper fluctuating, features sharpening and becoming more alien and exotic than their normal shape.

            Mason swallowed hard. "Our family's are c-close, I might see her the day before her birthday--"

            "The day before her birthday?" Death inquired kind of tenderly, poking one of his jagged fangs with the tip of his tongue. "October 30th?"

            "Yes, we--we should be coming over her house." Mason was visibly sweating. "Her mother usually plans a family party the day before her birthday."

            Death's smile was wicked. "How...convenient. Thank you for this information, new pet." He feigned kindness in his voice, starting to get up, when something hit him, and he squatted back down in front of Mason. "Oh, and one last thing before you spill your guts out about Malphas, and perhaps I make you cry and beg for your life..." Death gripped Mason so hard by the jaw with his gloved hand that the kid looked like he was finally going to throw up. "Aren't you going to ask me what I have to say, newborn?"

            "What do you have to say, my Lord?" Mason gasped out.

            Death's voice morphed into something more rough, possessive, and malicious. "Faith Williams is mine."

            * * *

           It was deceivingly dark as night outside; the grey clouds above letting  in little to no light from the sun. My phone said it was only five in the afternoon. The weather had brutal for days now: cold, windy and rainy. Bleh.

            I still hadn't replied to any of David's messages he had sent me days before. I was too afraid of getting close to him. According to Death, he was already prepared to kill my family, my friends, and everyone around me.

            As much as I found myself missing him, I didn't want David to be just another victim because of me, so I kept my distance. It was the right thing to do, right? Ignore him?

            "I'm disappointed, Miss Williams. This isn't like you," Mr. Howard had muttered under his breath earlier that day as he handed back our math exams. I was once Mr. Howard's Go To Gal in class. I wouldn't exactly raise mu hand all the time, but I would confidently go up to the board and finish a problem that nobody else could do. Math came naturally to me. But now, as I looked down at the graded test on my desk, I saw a someone else's work that had nonsense answers and hopeless explanations with misshapen hearts over the I's.

            A very distracted, misplaced version of myself had taken this test.

            I was losing it.

            "Rad! I got the same grade!" Marcy shouted at my side, holding up her test as proof and offering me a hand five. Then, after realizing something, she leaned in closer to me. "Oh, we're skipping last period by the way. Kay-Jay's is having a sale right after school, and I've been eyeing this pair of heels..."

            I stared at my best friend's awaiting hand, dread building in my gut. "Marcy, there's something I have to tell you," I blurted.

            Marcy's expression morphed immediately concern. "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

            "I..." I carefully eyed the room, paranoid that someone was listening. "I can't tell you here..."

            "Is it about a guy? Is he hot?" She smiled. "Is it about David Star?"

            I squeezed the bridge of my nose. "Marcy," I exasperated. I had lied to her about David and I, telling her that our date at the carnival was horrible and we never had anything in common. Which was partially true given the whole clown situation...

            "I told you, it didn't work out with him." I drummed my pencil on my desk. Another nervous habit. "He's too conceited."

            You have to tell someone about Death, the nagging voice in my head said.

            Marcy rolled. "All guys are conceited, but not all of them are super successful super models, slash business men!"

            "Marcy, it just didn't work out! Ok? Drop it."

            "Girls," Mr. Howard warned from his desk. "Please keep your voice down."

            "Sorry," I muttered, pretending to do work again. I couldn't focus enough to do math. I couldn't focus enough to do anything anymore.

            Marcy zipped her lips with her fingers, giving him a thumbs up. She returned to her notebook.

            A few moments later, Mr. Howard was up at the board, teaching the class with his back to the class. Something  hit me in the head, knocking me from my brooding thoughts. I plucked a small piece of paper my desk, unfolding it. Spill. What's wrong?

            I looked up to find Marcy smiling at me naively.

            Eyeing the teacher, I passed the note back. You won't believe me, I wrote.

            The paper hit me in the head again. I glared at Marcy before reading. She wiggled her eyebrows.  You bad girl. You had sex!  Woooo! Finally! the note read with a very inappropriate drawing.

            Usually I would have at least laughed at Marcy's comments. Laughing and smiling didn't come easily lately. This is serious. Something really bad is about to happen to me. I know it. I need to tell you something, but I'm afraid of the consequences of telling you. I don't know what to do anymore, Marcy. I don't want to be alone in this...problem.

            Marcy's expression grew serious as she read over the note. She wrote something back and tossed it.

            Faith, you're my best friend. Of course I'll believe you. Screw the consequences. Since when do I care about consequences? I'm Marcy...

            When your life is on the line, you care about the consequences, I replied.

            Marcy gave me a long look after reading that one. I returned my attention to my notebook, inhaling deeply. I felt like I was going to throw up. Now she really knew something was up.

            A ball of paper rolled onto my desk.

             You're my best friend, my sister. We shared our chubby crayons when we were little, man. We still do... Whatever is bothering you, I want to help you feel better about it. I'll always help you. Plus, you've helped me so much in my own life, it's the least I could do.

            I had to tell her about Death. I had to. But I couldn't. I couldn't risk my best friend being killed because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. This was my battle against Death, and only mine.

            I never replied to her last note to me.

            I rushed out of class when the bell rang, quickly going to my next class before she could confront me. I had said too much to her. I knew I did, but I hadn't been thinking rationally ever since my last encounter with Death.

            My latest encounter with Death felt like a lifetime ago. His kiss replayed in my head over and over again as I lay wide awake a number of nights. His tongue brushing against my lips. The piercings. The press of a iron, masculine frame against mine. The warmth radiating of his body, the roughness of the stubble on his jaw. Strong hands sliding down my sides. That strange noise Death made once in a while; a mix between a growl and groan. And finally, the overall roughness of the kiss, like we were both starved for more.

             It was settled: Angel of Death was going to flunk me out of high school just by kissing me.

            Or maybe he was just going to flunk me out of life...

            Hashtag, deep.

            So needless to say, after the last eventful night with Death, I found myself anxious, and frequently absorbed in my own thoughts. I started biting my pencils and cracking my knuckles. I had swore long ago that it was far too disgusting to take on habits like that. But no. Now I was a beaver, filing down my pencils one by one, and practically snapping my fingers I was cracking my knuckles so much. I was now day dreaming in class, something I never did. I was a good student. Excellent, actually. Maybe a little too excellent. I didn't flaunt my grades or sit in the front of the class. I just wanted to do well in school. Now I was getting pretty close to failing every test and quiz that was put in front of me.

            And sure, there was something abnormal about a mysterious man in a cloak coming after you (obviously), however, there was something even more abnormal about accessing someone's most private memories without their permission. Call it a sixth sense, but I was pretty sure Death was pissed at me (it was hard to tell, he was rarely not pissed), which meant he would come after me again, except this time, maybe his scythe would be freshly sharpened.

             If Mason had been correct, Death wouldn't risk bringing me to the brink of death to get me to sign the contract. But maybe Malphas was wrong. Or maybe Mason had given me the wrong information...

              Maybe Death was more unpredictable than anyone could ever imagine.

            My birthday was in T minus five days. Only five more days left until Death wouldn't be able to keep my mind, body, and soul. At least, that's what I was assuming from Mason's information about some "new law". I had four days to outsmart Death or else I was basically his. Fantastic, right? I loved being in the middle of a massive cliché. Who knew what he would do with me once I was his. Especially after our last bizarre encounter. I was definitely... unique. If I wasn't, Death would have certainly left me for dead as a child.

            The moment he had me for good, he would dissect me like an animal until he found out why I was unique. And the only visible tool he had to dissect me with was that scythe of his.

            I was up against an evil, pitiless, intimidating creature who was toying with me like I was his puppet and he was the puppeteer. He was one step ahead of me, I was constantly in defense. I had no idea how to avoid or get rid of this guy for good. If had any chance in winning this fight, battling for my freedom, I needed help. I needed someone meaner than me. Someone aggressive, with experience and success in the art of ass-whooping. I needed an ally, a partner in crime. And yes, maybe there would be consequences, but that was a chance I was willing to take. I couldn't go against the Grim Reaper alone.

            I lied to my dad over text, telling him I would be at Marcy's doing a huge project for English, and took a cab into the city after school--something I hadn't felt comfortable doing but I was so beyond desperate.

            Very desperate.

            So I figured: what the hell. I was doomed anyways, I might as well do something absolutely absurd to finally find answers.

            You have reached your destination, my phone read.

            I looked up at the two buildings in front of me and couldn't believe what I was about to do. I had been thinking about doing this for a while now, but something within me had always stopped me. Fear. Fear, that I did not want to know the answer to my questions.

            I had to begin facing my fears.

             "Consider my obstruction from your friend on the road part of the D & S benefit package. He's long gone now,"  Devin Star had told me the night I hit a deer and he had practically offered me a job. "Hates me, really..."

            My heart had skipped a beat. "He...?"

            Devin leaned in close. "Death."

           "Are you saying...?" I had started to feel dizzy, swaying on my feet. "That you know him? You hit my car on purpose? To let Death know you were there? Like, marking your territory? Is he afraid of you?"

            At that, Devin had grinned. "I'm not saying anything more on the matter. Questions will get you in trouble, you know."

              Of course it crossed my mind that Devin or David were somehow connected with Death. They both kept very private lives with clean, typical backgrounds. And I couldn't seem to shake the fact that David had appeared in the funhouse to save me right after my incident with Death. Maybe both of them were involved with what was going on in my life. But I had no proof besides Devin's vague words, and I hadn't had the guts to approach either of them on the matter until right then and there, standing outside of the D & S Towers, soaked head-to-toe by the pelting rain. Devin had been the one who had hinted his knowledge in the subject of Death. It was him who I had to approach first.

               Just then, someone screamed, and I watched an elderly woman fall to the ground on the curb, her umbrella flying out of her hands. "Oh my gosh!" I rushed to her side before anyone else, helping her up. "Are you alright? Do you need to go to the hospital?" I asked the old woman.

               "No, dear. I'm fine. Thank you so much." She shook her arms. "Nothing broken. That thing came out of nowhere and hit my umbrella! It put a hole in it!" I followed her finger as she jabbed it in the direction of a cracked i-Phone that lay in solitude next to a puddle. 

                I returned my attention to the woman. "I was just doing the right thing. Sorry you fell." I bent to pick up the i-Phone as the woman walked away, wiping at the droplets of water on the screen with my sleeve. The cell wouldn't turn on.

             Call it a hunch, but something told me to keep the dang thing so I tucked the broken phone away into my pocket, then pulled open the heavy glass doors of the building in front of me, entering the D & S Towers. 

              I was definitely in for a couple surprises.

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