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    Break, I thought, focusing on the golden vase on the marble platform in front of me. My arm was outstretched toward the object, but there wasn't an inkling of any power releasing from my fingertips. Ace and I were in an extension of his library, a large, cylindrical area with bookshelves as high as I could see and balconies with doors leading into other secret rooms. We were on the bottom floor, where Ace had moved furniture against the walls to give us space. Break. Break, damn it.

"Relax your expression, ma chére," Ace instructed, twisting the various rings around his fingers. Ace stood about ten feet to my right, leaning against a bookcase with his golden staff propped beside him. "You're tensing your face, which means the rest of you is tense as well. Try to visualize your light becoming a weapon, such as a fireball, or a bullet, or a knife. Whatever you prefer to wield. That might help you."

I tried to visualize a knife. Nothing. A gun. Nadda. One of those Medieval spike ball things with a chain. No dice. I dropped my hand and heaved in a deep breath, wiping sweat from my forehead. "I thought we were getting Taco Bell. This is just putting me in a worse mood than I already was."

"We'll get Taco Bell once you break the vase," Ace promised, just like he'd said over and over again for the past hour. At least he was a lot more patient than Coach Grim Asshole, who'd be making me do pushups by now for giving lip.

I brought my head back in frustration and looked at the ceiling. "Can't we do something else? Nothing is progressing. Nothing is happening. Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting the same result––"

"Leads to discipline," Ace finished.

"No, no that's not where I was going with that," I laughed out derisively. "At some point, you throw the towel in. Or the light beam. Or lack thereof, in this case. You know what I mean."

"Again," Ace said, his violet eyes calm and steady but his voice firm enough to jar me into alertness. "You can do this. Don't give up because you are struggling. To learn is to try and to fail. Things can't come easy in this life, or else they aren't worth anything at all."

My anger didn't stem from disagreeing with him, because I didn't. Ace was right. But I so sick and tired of not growing with my mysterious powers and so sick of this goddamn drill.

Rolling off the tension in my shoulders, I shook a cramp out of my wrist and raised my hand toward the vase. In the silence of concentration, all I could think about was Death. I kept imagining our same exact lesson with the vase, how he had stood behind me and all I could focus on was him. The turmoil of emotions I kept trying to push down resurfaced and my vision blurred. My fingers trembled before I dropped my arm with a curse.

"Again," Ace instructed.

I turned my glare onto the warlock. "What is up with you people and breaking fucking fine china?" I demanded. "I'm done for today. I really am."

Ace leaned back against the shelf behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. "Then give up."

"You don't get it. All this training was supposed to prepare to enter the portal with Death. There's no point of any of it now. He'll be dead, and it's not like I can save the day all by myself." Even saying that out loud made me anxious. Good lord, how did Wonder Woman kickass without getting a panic attack before? "Unless there's a bathroom involved, then I might be able to explode a toilet in the nick of time."

The warlock decided not to respond to me. Stalking away from him, I started toward the staircase from which we came.

"If you leave, know that you are no different than this fine china," Ace taunted with a click of his tongue. "Weak and breakable."

I stopped in my tracks, tapped my fingers on the handrail, and struggled to keep my anger at bay. Taking a deep breath, I slowly turned back to the warlock and descended the steps.

"I don't want to do this anymore, Ace."

"Either give me your all, ma chére," he said in that calming, accented voice of his, "or give up. Because a half-way effort tomorrow night will get you killed just as quickly as no effort at all. And I will not grieve this pusillanimous girl who crumbles in the face of death, when you've been right beside him all this time."

I scrubbed a hand over my face. "I can't give up."

"Why?" he required. "Why can't you give up? Tell me."

"Because," I said, pulling my attention on a single book on the shelf across the room, "I have to be able to protect myself."

"Why," he pressed firmer, without a question mark.

"To protect him," I hissed out, speaking through my teeth with forced restraint. "I don't know what the hell is going through his head, but I'm sure as hell not aiding any suicide mission. And I don't care if that's selfish."

"But that's not your primary job, to protect him. You have your own life to protect, a family back home who loves you and would want you to survive. You don't even know what you're up against. Neither does he."

I glared at him. "And what, you do?" I released a humorless laugh. "Let me guess, telling me would have great consequences."

Ace turned his head away from me with only a small tightening of his jaw exposing his frustration. "Maybe some of us can't afford saving others anymore," he muttered, but I was too blind with anger to listen.

"I bet you get a sick satisfaction out of hiding information from people, just like Death."

"I have felt no joy out of this."

"Then either help me with my power, or don't talk to me. I don't need your reverse psychology or cryptic hints of what's going down tomorrow. Protect your precious Fate."

Ace gave me a nod that I didn't quite understand and began a slow walk around the marble platform until he stood on the other side of the vase as me. "Your power is energy," he said. "That energy is moved by your will. Death started to control his powers with this same drill, and so will you."

My mouth fell open at a realization. "I should have known it was you who taught him this stupid vase breaking drill."

"This isn't about breaking the vase, Faith. And it isn't about Death. It's about you having authority over yourself."

There was something in his tone that ticked me off further. "Maybe you haven't noticed, Ace, but I don't have authority over myself. Not anymore. I signed that away the moment I pressed that bloody finger down on a contract and signed my soul away."

"Break the vase, ma chére," Ace maintained, ignoring my argument entirely. "You're nattering."

"Excuse you––"

"Break. The vase."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "No."

He smiled, staring intensely at me with those violet eyes. I felt as if he were seeing through me and the warlock was about to witness a sudden break down from me. "Tell me, ma ange. Do you think this drill is useless, or do you think your power is useless?"

Thinking about how sporadic my power was made me feel useless. I swallowed back a lump in my throat and raised my chin. "Both."

"Explain."

"We're running out of time," I blurted out. "I don't have enough time. I don't have enough time to learn how to control anything before tomorrow."

"No offence, but if I have questions about paintbrushes or want to know the exact shade of purple of my eyes, then I will heed your artistic advice," Ace said, and my jaw almost fell open and slammed against the ground in shock. "Let the experts worry about how long it takes somebody to learn to control their supernatural abilities and focus on listening and improving your poor attitude. If I were the enemy, I'd go straight for the pathetic whiner who refuses not to pity herself. She's weak, and she's the easy target. I have no sympathy for whoever this girl because she is not you. Now, are we done moping?"

My fists tighten as I lifted my eyes to his. "Yes."

"Then break the vase, Faith," Ace said, power vibrating his voice and pulsing in his violet eyes like white electricity. The golden urn levitated off the marble platform. "Or else the vase will break you."

The vase fired toward me. Snapping into action, I dodged it before it shattered against the book shelves behind me. I whirled around, and another vase identical to the golden one was halfway toward me. I had little time to react, when my hand shot out of instinct and I fired an orb of light at the vase and annihilated it.

When looked over at him, there were army lines of multiple marble platforms. I turned in a slow circle and realized I was surrounded.

"Outstanding," Ace said with a feral grin. "But what if there's more than one enemy?"

Ace's magic swelled around me and the air thickened with energy. Vases thumped rhythmically against their platforms, until the cylindrical room filled with their drumming. I shut my eyes and tuned it all out, tuned everything out, and pulled all of my focus into my light. Something within me charge back to life, ready for anything.

The urns soared toward me. I snapped into action, smashing two on either side of me with quick movement of my hands and picked my foot up onto one the marble ledge of one of the platforms, roundhouse kicking two others. The combinations Death made me practice tirelessly clicked in like second nature, orbs of light firing out of my fists and attacking each vase one by one.

Suddenly the vases transformed, becoming people. Faceless enemies coming at me with weapons and fists. I imagined a sword in my hand, a blazing sword similar to the one Death had given me. I whispered it to manifest and the light listened as a blade molded from energy into my hand. Books ripped from their shelves and levitated like stones in the air. I climbed them as I battled the faceless enemies, balancing like a cat on each book as the enemies manifested from nothing, flying in the air

Suddenly, I faced off with the largest enemy yet and the sword was knocked from my hand. It landed somewhere on the second balcony of the cylindrical library.

The books I stood on trembled beneath me, and I nearly toppled before leaping for a balcony beside me to latch onto the top of the handrail. I dangled there, holding on for dear life. As my fingers twisted desperately to get a better grip on the slippery railing, I craned my neck down, spotting my sword on the second balcony. Sliding down the railing, I flung my legs back and then forward and swung into the second floor balcony with an ungraceful landing that popped something in my shoulder. As more enemies manifested around me, I pushed aside the throbs of pain in my body. My breaths heaved in fast and sweat poured down my face. Muscles I didn't know I had burned, and the room ignited with white as strained to pushed myself harder, eviscerating every last one of them.

I landed on solid ground on the first floor and blew a strand of hair out of my face. I looked down at my bare feet gripping the edges of the marble platform, balancing where the first vase once sat. Surrounding me was a graveyard of thousands of golden vases.

The veins beneath my pale skin vibrated with power, my fingertips submerged in white flames. Both of my arms were consumed with light. And I wasn't afraid. I was in full control. Performing a small dance in place, I shimmied my shoulders and threw my ass out. Pausing, it dawned on me to turn my right arm over, to find the barracuda mark was no longer there.

"Ace?" I grabbed the spot on my arm, pulling the skin toward me as I craned my neck to check if I was just missing it. "Ace, the barracuda mark! It's gone! Does that mean I did that all by myself?"

Ace was nowhere to be seen.

Something smashed into my back and I went flying across the room, landing haphazardly on a couch.

"That was fantastique, ma chére!" Ace said cheerfully from a great distance. "But always stay humble. And look behind you."

I rolled stiffly off the couch and landed on my stomach on the floor. Unbearable pain stabbed relentlessly in my lower back, and I couldn't feel my legs. "Suck...my light beam," I managed to groan.

Air gusted beneath me and I was back on my feet. The warlock wrapped a strong arm around my waist from behind and squeezed me against him. My eyes widened as he lifted me off the ground, cracked something in my spine back in place, and then set me back onto the floor.

"Did you just... casually break my spine and then casually unbreak it?"

Sighing, Ace pulled up his suit jacket to check an expensive watch around his wrist. "Do you still want Taco Bell?"

"Yes, please."

***

"Romeo also gave me this really cool backpack," I was telling Ace, after we tossed our empty Taco Bell bags and wrappers and began walking around his library loudly slurping our frozen drinks. My mood had miraculously picked up after my epic kickass moment in the cylindrical book room, and I'll admit I was a little hangry. "It's straight out of Mary Poppins, I swear. You can fit anything in it, it's weightless, and it's Gucci. The hot pink part is not my favorite, but oh well."

Ace 'hmm'd,' pausing to motion at a book shelf to his right. A single book slid out and flew into his hand. He shifted his weight onto his cane as he propped the book open on his right forearm and flipped to a bookmarked page without any touch. "Sounds like he gave you what warlocks call a frothy satchel."

I propped a foot up on the shelf beside him and wiggled my eyebrows. "Frothy."

Ace frowned down at me, as if I was crazy. "Frothy satchels are said to be crafted by actual bubbles. Hence, the weightlessness.

"Interesting. Kinda want a frothy coffee from Starbucks now."

The corners of his mouth tipped upward. "How on earth do you have room for Starbucks? We just ate our weight in crunchwrap supremes and cinnamon twists. If I inhale too much, my stomach will with upmost certainly combust."

"If you knew how I've eaten the past few weeks, you'd understand how I make room."

"No kidding. He's been starving you?"

"Death Kill My Fun Boot Camp has nearly taken all of the joy out of junk food for me. Have you ever seen him do a sit up? Neither have I, and he has a fourteen pack. His physique is outrageous. It haunts me. If I close my eyes, I can almost hear his stupid, velvety, condescending voice whispering over my shoulder, asking me if I deserve that unhealthy carbohydrate. I do deserve that unhealthy carbohydrate. So, I ask––no––I command you to give me a food baby before I leave here."

Ace shut his book with a thwack. "Merde," he cursed with a shake of his head. "You are going to get me in trouble. If you get a brain freeze, I'm not fixing it this time."

He snapped his fingers and a colorful Starbucks drink replaced the half-empty frozen Taco Bell drink in my hand.

"Yippie!" I cried.

Ace shook his head at me with a bemused smile and another book magically exited the shelf above us and dropped into his hand.

"So, what's the deal?" I asked, flipping through a random book I plucked off the shelf as we walked. It wasn't in English, but at least there were pictures. "With you and Death."

Ace took a sip the remaining frozen drink in his cup and tossed it in an elegant trash can. "You're going to have to be more specific. Which deal?"

"No, not that type of deal. I mean, what's your history with Death? As much as he says he doesn't trust you and you two quarrel and insult each other, we always seem to end up at your door when we need help the most."

Suddenly Ace was very fascinated by a piece of lint on his sleeve. "Due to moral clashing between magic users and humans in this realm, there aren't many neutral warlocks anymore. See, in my business, the good guys won't get their hands dirty for creatures like him, and the bad guys, they're too careless to get the job done right. Therefore, I am one of the finest, most convenient option, for the both of you."

"Ah, I see," I smiled into my straw as I sipped my Starbucks, "that you're evading yet another question I've asked you the past thirty minutes."

"For your own good. You must know that."

I felt my playfulness slip away at his words. "Why does everybody insist on keeping things even the littlest things from me for my own good? What good has it brought us yet? I don't want to be censored anymore. I mean, shit, tomorrow, Death might..." I rubbed at my temples. "Which means who knows what will happen to me or hell, the universe, once the Grim Reaper is gone. The least you can do is give me some of that hot gossip before crap hits the fan."

"Ma chére, I'm sorry you have to go through all of this. I am more than happy to answer any questions about wielding your power. Other than that, there are some stones better left unturned."

"Oh, come on!" I shouted in playful annoyance. "You can't lay down a cryptic answer like that and then leave me hanging!"

Ace stopped walking, pivoted toward me, and leaned onto his cane with an exasperated look. "Why does it matter so much to you?"

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but Death doesn't exactly enjoy talking about his past."

"And neither do I," Ace said and ran a hand through his colorful hair. "I'm not afraid of Death, but I'm also not about to piss him off in his current volatile state because I told you something I wasn't supposed to. Let him tell you things yourself, even if it takes a very long time. Getting him to trust you, let alone open up––

"Is like pulling fangs. Yeah, I know. Listen, nobody's got time for that, and I have nobody to tell your secrets to. Literally. I have no friends, and I'm in the dark with you people. Before, when Death was here, when I told him everything I saw in that projection, you knew a lot more about his family than I thought you did. I'm curious, is all. And there's the fact that you subtly told me you helped him control his power..."

"You're going to keep circling back to this the rest of the time you are here, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Ace squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine, I'll tell you things. But you'll keep everything I say from now on between you and me. Or else, Faith."

I saluted the half-eaten taco shell in my hand. "Scouts honor."

Ace lead us to an arrangement of furniture and selected a velvet cushioned chair, adjusting his suit vest. I sat in a chair beside him and sunk into old leather.

"My father was a praised healer in Rome," he began. "Back then, warlocks had much more freedom than they do today. They would claim they were specialists in health and use herbs and whatnot to help their patients and nobody would bat an eyelash about magic."

"If you were born in the Roman era, then why the heavy French accent?"

"It adds to my mystique," he answered in a perfect English accent. With a sly smile, Ace propped his head up on the armrest with his thumb and his pointer finger. "But, in all seriousness, I migrated to France and lived there for almost two-hundred and twenty years. Such a beautiful language, French. It's engrained into me."

"It suits you," I decided.

"When Death enrolled into a high circle of Gladiator fighters all those years ago," Ace continued with a casual wave of his hand, "I was one of his assigned healers. I became one of his closest friends."

My jaw fell open. "You're kidding."

"Needless to say, that was a long time ago. We are different people now. But yes, we used to be friends, when he was half-mortal."

"What happened between you two that made you...?"

"Not be friends?" Ace asked with a bit of a sad smile. His eyes went distant as he started reliving what he was conjuring up from memory. "Well, like Death, I too was enslaved to the Gladiating game, although I was an esteemed doctor for the fighters. His father, Malphas, knew of my family's paranormal background and hired me as a private medic to tend only to Alexandru's injuries. Since he was half-mortal at the time and healed differently than the normal mortals. His mother, Phoebe, had taught Death at an early age how to cast black magic, but he wanted to know more about my own medicinal practices and spells, so I began teaching him what I knew. And in return, well..." He shifted in his seat and coughed into his fist. "If you can imagine, I spent most of my boyhood painfully shy and awkward with les femmes. Alexandru helped me––er––"

I choked on my spit. "Oh my god, ew! Ew. Death helped promote you from nerdy wizardly esteemed doctor to proficient Gynecologist, didn't he?"

Ace turned bright red. "Ma chére!"

I shrank back in my seat with repulsive thoughts of Death having vast knowledge and experience in how to seduce women. "Once upon a time, the Harbinger of Doom was your wingman. Wow. I'm so disturbed and yet somehow so amused at the same time."

"You're one to talk, virgin," Ace teased back. "I'll have you know, I was much younger than you when I lost mine."

"You seem embarrassed," I said and playfully placed my hand over his as if to console him. "He must have had no swagger, either. Made you memorize Roman pickup lines, didn't he?" I looked dramatically into space. "Are you Medusa? Because looking at you makes me hard as stone."

Ace ripped his hand out from underneath mine and leaned his elbow against the other side of the armchair, shielded his eyes from me and cursing underneath his breath in French. "I should have never opened my fucking mouth..."

"I'll stop," I said, biting back another laugh. "Please do continue, esteemed doctor?"

The warlock ran his hand over his face, narrowed his eyes, and glowered at me from the corners of his eyes.

"Everything changed once he lost everything he loved," Ace eventually decided to continue, and I was absorbed back into this story. "His father had evaporated into thin air, too, and Death was left with nobody. By the time I'd heard the news of the murders and his father, Alexandru had already abandoned his childhood home and enrolled himself full-time into the highest division of the Gladiating game. A game I'd soon discover ended against Ahrimad, who, as you know, is the first soul eater to ever walk the human realm and owed Death a shot at his life. Obviously, Alex won that match. He and I wouldn't cross paths again for years after his final fight as a gladiator. He'd changed drastically by then. He'd lost all of his humanity and wielded all of Ahrimad's powers. He was soul-thirsty with no will to live, and he couldn't even end his own life. He begged me to help him, but I was young, naïve, and I was grieving my own father's murder by a cult that hunted warlocks. I was terrified of what he'd had become. To see him in his true form like that...he was unlike any creature I'd ever studied in my father's books."

Ace's fingers fisted on the table. "He vowed to destroy the men who had killed my father if I helped him, so I did. There were spells for me to help curb his hunger, and I was determined to find a way around his curse. But deep down, I knew all hope was lost for him completely reversing these abilities. I could see the truth of his curse. His soul... was marked by Dis Pater. Hades, God of the Underworld. Maker of Ahrimad."

"Holy shit," I whispered.

"Even though I'd failed Death, he kept to his promise and brought me the head of the man who executed my father. Then he was gone, and Heaven recruited him. When all I saw was a friend, who had become a monster, they saw a warrior. They recruited Death to use his powers for good, and I didn't hear from him for over four-hundred years after that. By then, he'd already fallen from grace. He never told me why. But I knew, I knew he'd done it on purpose. I knew after years of torturous training and Gladiating with little freedom, the last thing Death wanted to do was have a rigid structure as Guardian of the Gate. It was never in his nature to be caged. He risked everything, the trust and respect of God himself, to lead a new life. So, you see, he's not anywhere near the same person I befriended all those years ago. He's transformed himself a thousand different ways. He's taken more hits from this life than anybody I've ever known, and he's so entrenched in demise that he's become Death himself."

"Don't get me wrong," Ace added to the silence, his violet gaze clinging to mine. "I haven't remained the same, either. I've lost twice as much as I've won, and I've suffered the consequences of my own appetite for power. But I wonder, wouldn't you, too? Wouldn't anybody?"

We contemplated this in the silence that fell afterward. Hearing such an remarkable story from Ace's perspective was fascinating to me, and I wished I had been there to see how Death used to interact with Ace. The fact that they'd been friends, or that Death had any friends for that matter, boggled my mind. He made a blatant point of closing himself off from the rest of the world.

"You're the only human left who remembers who he used to be," I said finally, drawing the warlock's full attention back to me. "When he was Alexandru. I think that means a lot to him."

Ace sunk back in his chair, reeling that over for a moment. "You're quite clever, ma chére." With a smile playing on his lips, the warlock leaned forward on the side table between us. "But you give me far too much credit. You would have been a much better friend to him than I have all these years. You're the one who has faith in him now, when he considers himself the worst version of himself. With your help, who knows what transformation he could make next."

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and stood up, unable to sit still anymore.

"You say optimistic things like that," I said, standing over the warlock's chair the sickening churn of anxiety in my stomach, "and I want to believe you. But ever since I met him, our lives have gone to the dogs. I lost possession of my soul and my family and any chance of a normal life." I released a self-deprecating laugh. "Well, I wasn't exactly normal before all of this, but I was me. I had dreams and aspirations. I wanted to go to college and pursue art. I never imagined my life would turn out this way. I mean, what kind of life is this, anyway? I'm afraid. I'm always afraid. My future is more daunting and unclear than ever before. Everyone around me are sinners or villains to an unfathomable degree. The scariest part is, the line between what I thought was good and what I know is bad has blurred, and I don't know what the hell that makes me."

Ace stared at me for a long moment. "Would you go back, then?"

My body suddenly felt cold. "To my normal life?"

"Oui," he whispered, sitting up straighter so that we were closer. "A normal life without demons, monsters, gods. No epic light beams. No Angel of Death." A shrewd smile curved his mouth. "Would you go back right this very second?"

I inhaled an unfulfilling breath, oddly struggling to answer him. And then a frown knit my eyebrows. "What kind of life is the one I lead now?" I countered. "I have no freedom."

"Then take it back," Ace said simply.

"There you are," said a baritone voice from behind us. "I need a map next time I try to navigate this place. Nasty wards and magical traps every around every turn." I turned over my shoulder, to see Leo, Death's head Reaper, walking toward us. He wore a casual grey t-shirt, which drew my attention to a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm and black jeans.

As he stood before us, his dark eyes drifted to Ace as he fisted his cane rose out of his armchair. The two men them exchanged a 'bro nod' hello and shook hands.

"Bienvenue dans ma maison, Léon," Ace greeted. "Cela fait combien de temps depuis notre dernière rencontre?"

"Same," I said, narrowing my eyes at Leo.

"Quelle ravissante demeure vous avez," Leo answered to Ace, and then turned his amused expression to Ace. "He said, welcome to my home, which I think was sarcastic, and then asked how many years it's been since I last saw him." Leo regarded the warlock again with a hearty laugh. "It's only been a hundred years or so, I believe. Hardly recognized you with that shoulder-length, multicolored hair."

"I hardly recognized you without that ghastly rat on your face you once called a mustache," Ace fired back with a wide grin.

"You just had to go there." Leo grinned, and then slid his coal gaze to mine. "I don't know if you knew this, but this man was notorious in the supernatural world for his hair. I'm talking long, lustrous hair down to his ass and a different woman on his arm each time you saw him."

I burst into laughter. "I hate that I can picture that."

"Ladies loved the hair," Ace added and winked at me.

"They still do," I said good-humoredly. "I'm just wondering how you got so suave with the ladies. It couldn't just be the hair?"

Leo seemed a little confused by the inside joke, whereas Ace gave me the evil eye and discreetly whacked the back of my leg with his staff.

"Well I'm guessing you're my ride home," I said to Leo, trying to maintain my nonchalant facade. Leo nodded once, a somber look in his eyes. On the inside, I couldn't help but feel incredible hurt the moment I saw Leo. Because that meant Death hadn't come for me.

Ace turned to me with a sigh. "Until next time, I must say adieu, ma chére."

"Adieu," I said and smiled timidly. "Thank you, for everything. I mean it." Not knowing if we were at the hugging stage of our friendship, I raised my hand awkwardly for a high-five.

Rolling his eyes, Ace leaned in to kiss my cheek, and then drifted his lips to my ear. "Remember what I told you," he whispered, "about walking through fire."

* * *

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