THE CREATOR IS HERE.

Something new and exciting is happening for my Reapers... I wish I could tell you guys!!!! ;)

PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AS YOU READ! <333333

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There's a type of tension where you evaluate the space between you and someone else and crave more proximity. You feel hot and flustered when they look at you. You become terrified when you're looking and they're not. You can feel their existence when they're standing somewhere behind you. Whenever that person so much as brushes up against you, there's a flutter in your chest.

Then there's another type of tension: when two powerful supernatural beings loathe each other so strongly that it's excruciatingly awkward to be standing in a room with them.

In Ace's room of books, quirky gadgets, and jars of peculiar things and herbs, the tension between Death and Ace leaned towards the latter.

"Death," Ace said shortly.

"Warlock," Death clipped.

They prolonged their staring contest.

"You asked us to come here?" I reminded Ace, hoping he'd be the bigger person and relieve the discomfort in the room. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought Ace was expecting an apology. Wouldn't have surprised me. Possessing someone's body and humiliating them was worthy of at least a polite 'it won't happen again'.

"That I did," Ace answered and scanned me from head to toe. Considering my oversized clothes and his impeccable taste in fashion, I was relieved he didn't grimace. "I summoned both of you. A mistake on my part, now that I see that your divine companion is severely underfed." He flicked his violet gaze to Death. "It's rather careless of you to bring her along when you're so weak."

"Weak, not so much. Hungry, very." Death remained melted in the shadows between two bookshelves, eerily still, like a predator hiding in tall grass. Even his mismatched eyes were dimmer, as if he was contemplating an attack. A spark of fire slightly lit the Grim Reaper's shadowy hideout as he flicked his lighter. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

Ace grew visibly irritated. "Yes, I do mind."

"I wasn't asking you." To Ace, Death's voice was a cold knife navigating throughout the room, but when addressing me, I realized it was more of a velvet purr. "Princess Narc gets her panties in a twist whenever I light up."

Heat crawled up my neck. "I'll twist something on you, alright," I muttered under my breath.

The Grim Reaper chuckled, a low, carnal sound that made me hotter than the flame as he lit his cigarette. Damn you, hormones! "Alright, Warlock," he said. "Let's acknowledge the numerous chubby elephants in the room. You don't like me right now–"

"I never liked you," Ace corrected sharply.

"And I had to possess your body when I was trapped in Limbo," Death continued without pause. "It was my only option at the time and you can't do anything about it, unless you want all of Hell to reign shit fire down on you, and lose your middle-of-the-road position between good and evil. I can do that, you know. Reign shit fire down on you, I mean." He shifted his tune. "I have souls to reap, an ancient being to stick back in a cloak, and a regularly scheduled catnap at five. So tell me, why are we here?"

"Because you and Faith were both in my vision," Ace said bluntly.

Death was now silent. I just stared at Ace with wide eyes, remembering the angel identical to Devin, Gabriel, and his message. Your warlock will use his vision to guide you to your solution.

"When you exorcised yourself back into your corpse," Ace continued, "something happened to me. My soul went somewhere else. Someplace...blissful. It was only for a moment...and it wasn't any place in particular. I was just...somewhere. And then I was shown a vision. It wasn't from the Spirits. It wasn't from a demon, either. It was an entity with more power than I've ever encountered.... Pésence de Dieu. "

Death stalked away from his hidden spot between the bookshelves, a toxic presence of muscle and sharp, exotic features. The hood of his black cowell neck sweatshirt was torn from the Slur at the Quick Check. He stopped at the palm-reading table at the center of the room and stared at Ace a long moment, before glancing back at me. I tried not to fidget or squirm under his gaze and failed miserably. His eyes were trapped somewhere between a cat and a serpent. His face was a beautiful Novocain of sharp features, stubble, and piercings.

He flicked his gaze back to Ace. "You want me to believe...that you, a black magic wielder, was in the presence of God? Did you see a Unicorn too, on cloud 9?"

Anger slid over Ace's sculpted, pale features. "Believe me, or don't, the vision remains the same." And you have no right to mock my capabilities. At least I didn't get my ass handed to me by a hand-me-down cloak. I won't mention the girl's power over you because that's nothing new, is it? But, I will mention that you're three times her size in ego alone."

My mouth hung open and a laugh blew out. Death's lip curled in a small snarl. He appeared to fight back a wave of uncontrollable anger. The anger won. He bowed his head slightly, and then began to stalk forward in long fluid strides, like a hungry black jaguar; showering our surroundings with ice with every step he took.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Ace smirked and Death paused. "There's a Glare Wall right beyond the palm-reading table."

Death narrowed his eyes. Curious, he reached out over the palm-reading table and poked a gloved finger in the air. Blinding white bolts illuminated in front of him like a spider web and latched onto him like hooks, electrifying ever inch of him. His muscles stiffened and his jaw locked closed. Eventually the force released him, and he relaxed as if nothing had even happened. His pupils were tight vertical slits again and both his rage and his famishment ere no longer visible in his expression.

"Impressive." Death stretched his neck to one side with a crack, shivered a little, as if he'd felt an after wave shock. He flashed an evil leer. "But there's a reason I don't get the zappy cage when Lucifer is tired of my shit. I like a little sting in my cereal."

Bearing the shocks stinging his flesh raw, the Grim Reaper glided forward, striding through the Wall of Glare.

"Piece of cake," Death said and winked back at me.

Ace took out a spray bottle and sprayed Death from a distance.

"FU–!" In the blink of an eye, Death darted to the other side of the Glare Wall, once again wedging his big body back between the shadows of the two bookcases. He let out a series of low, chilling hisses from the darkness.

"What did you just spray him with?" I demanded. Perhaps I sounded concerned, but really I wanted to know the secret recipe to get moody Death off my back.

"Water," Ace said with a sly smile.

Genius!

Ace hooked the spray bottle onto his slacks. "Death, I expected you of all immortals not to doubt my visions and their source. Your mother was a powerful witch and clairvoyant, and so you know the pact we take from a young age. What I see must be given to those who it is meant for. We were supposed to gather here right now, and my premonition was destined for both of you."

"So you're just going to overlook me possessing your body to tell me about some magic prophecy you have to share with the class?" Death asked. "For some reason, I find that very hard to believe."

"I am overlooking our differences to see this vision through," Ace responded. "There is too much at stake here to make deals or hold grudges. What I saw and heard last night could very well be the beginning of the end."

The weight of Ace's words made me feel ill, and fear turned my blood to ice. The end. I inhaled a shaky breath and stuffed my hands into the pockets of my oversized sweatshirt. In that moment, neither Death nor I appeared to distrust Ace.

Death once again stepped away from his hidden spot between the bookshelves, slitting his eyes against the light from the chandelier. He stopped to right next to me, which strangely comforted my anxiety. Then he crossed his thick arms over his chest, stretching his leather jacket over his muscles. "We're listening," he said.

Ace's irises momentary flashed with a white glow. "Ahrimad is opening portals between our world and others, allowing creatures to escape into the human realm. If he is not contained, the balance between good and evil will tilt significantly towards evil."

Death raised his eyebrows, as if to say and I supposed to care because...?

"You might not care now," Ace interjected, "but you will care when cults of demons pile into this world and try to dominate hell. You will care when there are no humans left for you to feed on. When they've all been torn apart and eaten by creatures from other worlds, and you're slowly, painfully, pitifully withering away to a mummified corpse."

Death's jaw tightened and he was silent for a long moment. It was as if he were thinking about a million different things and trying to some sort of internal conclusion.

My heart skipped a beat. The balance between good and evil? "If he's opening portals, would that explain the Quick Check incident?" I asked Death, but he remained quiet.

Ace's violet eyes flickered with interest. "The Quick Check across from my club?"

"Yes," Death finally answered, his voice rough and irritated. "Two demon rogues and a Slur. I killed two out of three. One of the demon rogues got away."

"Then you've already gotten a taste of what's to come," Ace said.

Death uncrossed his arms and began to pace, his gloved fingers twitching and flexing. "Ahrimad will want to make his soul and body one for eternity. He won't remain corporeal for much longer, especially if he were to lose my scythe. He'll want a solidifying spell."

"Ah, found only in the Book of the Dead," Ace said and tilted his head slightly, as if he were reading the Grim Reaper. "You have possession of it?"

"Of course not," Death answered smoothly. I assumed he was lying because apparently, my aunt had the Book of the Dead. "We have the red herring."

"Then why a war?" Ace asked, skepticism in his eyes.

"Well," Death started in a mocking tone," besides killing his wife, trapping his soul in a cloak bared to my booty coughs for two-thousand years, and using his identity for an alter ego, I simply don't know why the guy could hold that big of a grudge against me."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I can't believe you just said booty coughs."

"I can't believe that's all you got out of that, ma chère," Ace commented.

"She's just a little desensitized to my naughtiness." Death stopped pacing when he was directly behind me, and it was then that I felt his fingers dig into the flesh my ass. "Isn't that right, cupcake?"

"You did not just–!" I turned and slammed my fist into his hard bicep.

My hand vibrated with pain all the way up my arm. I kept a straight face.

"That was quite the sucker punch." Death flashed his fangs in a leering grin, snickering. "Hurt your little hand, pumpkin?"

"No, and my hand is average," I hissed out between tight teeth. I put space between us and discreetly rubbed my knuckles. "Without your scythe," I started, in hopes to change the subject, "what would happen to Ahrimad?"

Death's smile slackened somewhat and he scratched his stubbly jaw. "His form would eventually deteriorate to a vapor. Only his soul would remain. If he wasn't chosen to wield the scythe in the first place, he wouldn't have the ability to be flesh and bone at all." Then he growled, real deep and at the back of his throat. "Ahrimad is certainly not worthy of Scytherella's blade, nor her five-thousand year warranty whetstone."

"So we find Ahrimad," I said, "take the scythe from him, and say screw your solidifying spell, here's a dryer sheet instead. Problemo solved."

"Let me think about that," Death said. "No. I would need a guide, a way to track an open portal, and you would have to be able to consistently protect yourself if something went–"

"Two of those things I might be able to help you with," Ace interjected, drawing out attention back to him. "Bonjour! Oui, I am sill here, watching you two nearly PDA on my new carpet." He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "Tracking an open portal would take a glimpse into my crystal ball. I would not be able to guide you through the other worlds, but I know exactly how you can find a guide."

"The suspense is killing me," Death deadpanned.

"The Familiar," Ace said.

I looked between Death and Ace. "A Familiar?"

Death turned his attention to me. "Your pendant, stolen from me"–he briefly glared at Ace before looking back at me–"belong to my mother. Many of them have demons trapped within the pendant. Familiars. Escorts. They feed off of humans and most of them enslaved are to worlds reflected from ours. They can take the form of many things, in and out of dreams. A child, an old man, a dog"– he leaned in, pupils expanding slightly, voice dipping to a purr–"and even a cat."

"Cats: such irritable and fussy creatures," Ace noted.

Death offered him a sordid look. "Kind of like your mother in bed."

Ace's jaw tightened.

"If a Familiar takes the form of you and you see it, you burn in hell, while the Familiar takes your place," Death continued to tell me. "When it's free, a Familiar can physically shifts into their subject. Thousands of years ago, the Familiars were killing town after town, until witches came together and trapped their essence into pendants. When they're imprisoned in a pendant such as yours, all they can do is be summoned by their owner and slowly starve for an eternity."

My mind shifted to the memory of Death taking my form, in that strange messed up world he'd taken me to. Selective and protective. Sounded a lot like a big slab of muscle with catlike eyes.

"You didn't use an illusion when you turned into that cat?" I asked Death. Or at least, I was assuming he didn't, since he shared so many qualities with a cat in his normal form. "What does that make you?"

Death glared down at me, as if I'd insulted him. "Familiars are despicable creatures that are well beneath me," he said. "If someone catches me taking his or her form, I'm using an illusion. Their image is much stronger on me when they're dead and I've taken in their soul. But whatever image I take on is not really there. Therefore, I am not a Familiar." He smirked a little. "Tooting my own horn. I'm notorious for having very vivid illusions. They call me Picasso in the Underworld."

"They also call you Asshøle in the Underworld," Ace muttered, pouring himself a bubbling drink at his corner of the room.

"But the cat wasn't an illusion," I continued to press on, since Death had skillfully avoided what I'd said. Frankly, I was getting tired of him doing that. "And if it was an illusion, then explain your pupils, the purring thing you do with your voice, and your weird cat aneurisms."

"Here's a fun game, small iced cake." Death leaned in and lowered his voice. "Let's play Shut Your Mouth and Let Daddy Do the Talking. You go first."

I leaned in too, disregarding the way my heart was thrashing against my ribs. "You are so messed up in so many ways."

"You have no idea. Happy Birthday, cupcake." A grin carved Death's mouth, framing his fangs. His catlike eyes dropped to the pendant dangling from my neck, before hitching across the room to Ace. "How would I use the Familiar?" Death inquired.

"A summoning trap," Ace said, bringing his drink to his lips. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he quickly downed the concoction. He winced at the taste, and slowly, his skin became less pale. "You have to face an open portal, summon the Familiar within Faith's necklace, and trap him under your ownership. It would be risky and the Familiar won't go down without ta fight, but nobody would track down Ahrimad quicker than a Familiar. They're like bloodhounds."

Death poked a fang with his tongue. "Does your...vision give me a time slot to find Ahrimad?" Clearly, he was still skeptical of the whole thing.

"No, and I see you've misunderstood me." Ace looked between us. "I asked both of you here for a legitimate reason. Together, you are to enter the portal and contain Ahrimad."

"I'll take that into consideration." Death's expression remained flat, but his jaw tightened. Well, that was a big fat 'not happening'. "So is that all, Warlock?"

"One last thing," Ace said. "I was notified there was a bit of a quarrel on your way through the club." His violet gaze flickered with lightheartedness as they fell on me. "I hope the.... atmosphere... in my club, didn't traumatize you too much, ma chère?"

"It wasn't too traumatizing," I laughed out, although my stomach was churning wildly from this whole ordeal. "Besides the frightening creatures and the random naked people..."

"Oh no, anything but nudity," Death muttered under his breath. "What did you expect at a demon club, princess? A cotton candy machine and a ball pit?"

"Oui, it is quite hard-core." Ace laughed and leaned back against a bookshelf. "But really, ma chère. Any time you want to visit me...I'll be here." Ace made a small gesture with his hand, and a poker card was now between my fingers. The one side of the card was the ace of spades, and the other read Qui vivra verra.

"Qui vivra verra. He or she who lives, shall see," Ace translated. "It is my lucky card."

"Thank you..." I looked over at Death, who stared ahead at the palm-reading table. I returned to Ace and held the card outward. "But I can't..."

"No, no, it's yours now." A smile framed his handsome face. "May it protect you when you through the portal."

I decided at least one of us would need a little luck and tucked the card into the pocket of my sweatshirt. And as I did so, I had the strangest feeling that there was something Ace had left out form his vision.

That's because he did, Death's voice slid into my skull, and grasped my upper arm with his gloved hand. And I don't think it's anything about you.

Then the room whirled around us, and we vanished.

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HehHEhehEHehHehehHEhehHEhehehHHehehhehHEhe.

Hugs and Knives,

D

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