*Death's cloak snaps around Kat as she REVEALS she has returned*

NOT ME SAYING I'D UPDATE FOUR HOURS AGO AND LITERALLY WORKING THIS CHAPTER THAT ENTIRE TIME CUZ IT TOOK MORE WORK THAN I THOUGHT ROFLLLLL

We found Victorian Death huddled in the corner of his washroom with his knees to his chest and his head bowed so that his damp black wavy hair curtained over his face.

The light from waning candles cast shadows all over the room, but like his windowless bedroom, they supplied enough light to still see the details in the room and the details were depressingly minimum. With a dark, dreary coloring scheme and a bathtub with golden claws for feet that could have passed for a pool for an elephant.

"Too late to turn back now..." The deep timber of Death's voice purred out like soft velvet, but his words held a dangerous edge of insanity as he rocked on the floor. "Don't open the door. We were so innocent, and there was so much blood. Too late to turn back now. I don't have that power, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. It follows me wherever I go, whoever I touch it stains. Decayed, decayed..."

"Alexandru?" When Ace stepped further into the room, Death's head snapped up, his eyes so black no whites showed. "Are you okay?"

I watched as a splotch of black skin across his jaw faded into the illusion of his beautiful tan face. I pictured the hellish dark monster with horns and wings beneath this human-like façade and could practically see it trying to claw its way out of him.

"He was here," Death said, blackness dripping from the corners of his trembling mouth. His eyes were distant now, like his mind was somewhere else. "He was here, he was standing over me."

Ace touched my forearm like he wanted to stay behind him and edged into the room. Death's head tilted up as Ace came closer, his eyes unblinking. His jaw was shaking slightly, the chattering of his teeth heard from all the way where I stood.

"What more could he want?" Death's voice suddenly turned shrill with rage, with madness. "What could he want with me?"

"Malphas is gone," Ace said, carefully keeping his distance from the shadows leaking across the floor from Death. He was keeping his cool, but I could see the slight tremble in his hand as he light another candle with his fingertips. Clearly reliving this memory was having an effect on him, too. "You killed him, Alex. You're having hallucinations."

"Malphas? I wasn't talking about Malphas..." Death dropped his chin to his chest, his nostrils flaring as he took in his clothes. "Why have you not called for a maid to draw me a bath? You must despise me to leave me soiled in this...substance. What is this I'm covered in?"

"The substance is the demon blood you drank," Ace said with distain in his voice. "We can't have anybody else in here, you're unstable."

Death absorbed all of this in a face of stone. "I'd rather die of fucking stink than have you sponge me down."

Ace made a disgusted face. "Like I'd ever offer to do that. As long as your arms work, you'll bathe yourself."

Death sneered with arrogance, his eyelids closing like he was too exhausted to hold them open. "Do I look like a commoner to you? I'm a prince of Hell." He rubbed his stomach in slow circles with his one hand. "Are there any cookies out there on my nightstand? I'm starving..."

"I'll help clean him up," I spoke up.

Ace looked sharply over his shoulder at me like I'd said the wrong thing.

Death's head tilted lazily to one side, the dark slashes of his brows bending in. I could tell his eyes shifted to me because a crescent of white showed in an eerie way. He stared and he stared at me. Something brushed my shoulder, and I yelped as I realized one of his shadows was reaching for me from the wall. They were crawling up my gown too and I frantically shook them off.

"Death," Ace seethed.

The shadows peeled back, retracting into Death's body. He blinked once and gave a small, drunken chuckle. "She'll do," he said with a dark smile. "Skittish enough not to steal any valuables in my bedroom."

There was a loud knocking noise.

Death arched a brow. "That could be the event planners," he murmured, and I watched as one of the cats strutted into the room and released a few mews. It was almost like it was talking to him. "Mm, not an event planner." Death rested his head on the wall behind him, his throat bobbing as he swallowed tiredly. "There appears there's been a fatality."

"A fatality?" Ace asked. "Who?"

"Haven't the slightest clue. I have no energy to handle this mess." Death made a small motion with his hand like he was dismissing the whole ordeal. "Kalace, go get the door. Oh, and while you're at it, tell the cook I want only cookies for tomorrow. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And if there's anything green, I shall fry his brain like a fucking vegetable and feed it to my shadows."

Ace visibly despised being bossed around as such. He nodded to me. "Come with me a moment, Faith."

"She stays," Death said. There was a finality in his words that seemed to have power over even Ace. "I need a maid. Go handle the door, Kalace. I don't want anyone seeing me like this." Any lucidity in his expression melted away as he turned his head to stare blankly at the wall beside him.

"I've got this," I whispered to Ace. "He's high as a kite." Something furry weaved between my calves, and I didn't startle this time, as I knew it was another cat. There were so many out in his bedroom, lurking in the shadows and leaping from tall places. And in just his washroom alone there were two, watching me with bright eyes.

"I should see to whoever is at the door," Ace said, conceding to Death's wishes. "Will you be okay here for a moment, or will you do something stupid?"

"I don't want those damn wafers," Death mumbled to himself, appearing to go in and out of nodding off. "Stuff them up your own ass."

"Even laden with tranquilizing medicine, I fear what I will return to," Ace said, handing me a rag. "I need to go handle what happened...downstairs as well." Clearly, he was talking about Kalace, who we'd left behind barrels. "Don't do anything...ethereal while I'm gone. Is that clear?"

Death was leaning his head at an awkward angle against the wall, his eyes closed as he murmured to himself. One of the cats, a white one I'd seen before in the castle, hopped right onto Death's shoulder like a parrot and lifted its paws to massage them back and forth onto Death's head, mewing incessantly.

"Get off of me," Death groaned. "Get off of me, Circe. I'm trying to nap. Finally some rest..."

The cat leapt off of him, it's head turning up to watch me as it retreated out of the bathroom. Ringing out my hands, a bit the bullet and shuffled closer to his tub. When I turned the knob of what I zoomed was the faucet, nothing came out.

"There's no running water in here, "death said, as of talking to an idiot. "You have to draw of the water out."

"Oh." I stared at the faucet and pulled at my bottom lip with my teeth. "Oh, duh. I knew that. I definitely know how to do that..." I made a small gesture with my hand like Ace did, feeling Death's heavy judgement on every moment. 

I turned so that he couldn't see my face. "Alakazam aqua appear-o?" I mouthed.

"This is excruciatingly painful to witness." Death smacked a hand on the wall beside him, my gaze shifting to the pointed black tips of his nails as blackness seemed to stain the wall beneath his hand. Shadows darted from his fingertips and stretched out across the wall, before leaping onto the closest edge of the tub. They poured into the massive, cavernous tub, and my eyes widened as the bathtub began to fill with water from nothing.

I desperately trying to hold my surprise, the band worth of Death's capabilities I just expanded another dangerous margin.

Death shrugged out of his shirt and tore it in the process, shadows peeling down the silky fabric as if they were assisting him. As his shirt hit the floor, the darkness fanning out around him seem to diminish somewhat, and death released a ragged breath, before slouching the wall again.

"Half your job is finished already. Now are you just going to stand there in awe of my bath or are you going to get these damn clothes off of me?"

I could feel my temperature rising again. "I'm sorry?"

"Must I do everything myself?" Death heaved himself up, visibly struggling to get his immense frame off the ground. He noisily shuffled across the bathroom in a very unlike-himself way, holding himself up by the wall. He made it about six feet, when he suddenly turned around and fell to his knees on the floor, tossing up a mouthful of blackness into what appeared to be dirty laundry. I lunged forward out of instinct to help him, when his palm lifted toward me like a warning to keep back.

"Fucking hell," he huffed, wiping at his drenched face as he caught his breath. "This vomit....is endless At least it's not coming out my ass." He sat back on his heels, appearing to try and gather more energy. He grabbed a bottle off a shelf at his eye level and preceded to swish it around his mouth and spit into the laundry basket until the whole bottle was gone. The minty smell permeating the air told me it was some sort of mouthwash.

Setting the empty glass down, Death's head turned toward me, his half open gaze skimming the skirt of my dress in a distant way. "This is what I get for calling on a friend who hates everything I am. I don't blame him. I never listen to his advice." He pointed to one ear and then the other in a wonky gesture. "Out one in the other. To be fair, Kalace's speeches get quite long-winded."

I wet the rag in my hands in the tub, planning on bringing it to him. Instead, I cast the rag on the side of the tub and strode forward, done with being scared of this Death. I grabbed the sinewy muscle of his bicep, the temperature of his skin unbelievably hot. It nearly scalded my hand. Pulling him up was not needed, touching him alone appeared to be enough to get him moving as he shakily rose up onto his feet stood on his own once more.

"Kalace cares about you, or he wouldn't be here," I said. "Seems like an opportunity to listen to him this time to me."

Victorian Death's eyes remained closed, but a small smile played on his lips. "It appears Kalace left me with a hopeful optimist. Another calculation to foil me, perhaps." We walked together the tub, and I could tell he wasn't baring all his weight onto me on purpose by the way his face was strained.

"Clearly you have no trouble foiling yourself," I said.

Death growled, though it seemed more like a wince of pain, by the way his features tightened. "Tread carefully, maid. I am in no condition to be sassed. To listen is to keep your own mouth shut and not respond."

Being talked to like that by him ignited a fire in my veins. "That's not listening, that's obedience. But I am not surprised you don't care about the difference."

Death's head turned down to me, our faces close. Sweat dripped down the short dark whiskers of his facial hair. I watched the exact moment he seemed to recognize me. How his pupils shrunk into slivers and his half-open eyes widened.

"You," Death said, shifting away from me and gripping the lip of the tub tight with a large hand, since he'd almost fallen over. The buttons of his shirt were torn almost halfway down, and I could see how pasty, sickly pale his skin was underneath in stark comparison to his black tattoos. "You're not a maid. You're that beastly little pest with the dick joke!"

"The one that made you laugh," I pointed out.

Death narrowed his eyes, raking them over the length of me. "Where's Kalace? It's better if Kalace is here when I'm in this state."

I was surprised he even cared. "He left to talk to someone about a fatality in your castle. You made him leave."

"I don't remember any of that. This is all hurting my head, I just want to wash this filth off." Death wiped a sheen layer of perspiration off his sweat and shrugged out of the shirt. Or maybe he didn't care about modesty. I tried not to stare at the thick corded muscle that shifted over his entire torso as he disregarded the item onto the floor. His fingers were holding the clasp of his trousers when he paused and looked over at me to catch me staring at his body.

I wanted to tuck my head into my neck like a turtle and quickly turned to pretend to leaf through the various glass bottles on a shelf in the bathroom. They smelled like different scents and there were also different bars of soaps. I started to take a random one off the shelf, when the hair lifted at the back of my nape.

I stilled at the sensation of him standing directly behind me.

"No need to act like there's options," Death said, his deep voice droning out like a purr at my ear. His arm reached around me and grabbed another bottle on a higher shelf, putting it next to the one in my hand. I felt his hand on the skirt of my gown, turning me toward him, and suddenly I was staring deep into his kaleidoscope green eyes. "You'll find like mortals, they're all the same."

My skin hummed at the closeness of him. His bare chest with all those intricate black markings. The heat pelting off his frame. My eyes had a mind of their own and wandered down his body and oh god. I felt my breath escape in a small, inhuman noise.

Death snatched both of the bottles from my hand and uncorked them both with one hand. As he showed me his backside to pour the contents into the water, I noticed him test the water with a fingertip. Then another finger on is other hand, and by then I could tell he was hesitating to go in unless it was the perfect temperature. My head turned toward the cat sitting in the doorway of the bathroom. It was the white one again, its bright blue eyes wide and curious as it watched me. A small smile lifted my lips.

The cat opened its mouth and mewed in my direction a few times. Death laughed under his breath from the tub, though it was weak and gruff and sounded a lot like, "I noticed."

"Did she say something to you?" I wondered.

Death cranked open one of his eyes, studying me briefly. "No."

Circe prowled over and was weaving around my legs now. When I bent down to pet her fur, it was silky soft. She started purring and mewing again, and I laughed at how vocal she was. I looked up to meet Death's unwavering stare. He had his head propped up in his hand with his elbow resting on the ledge of the tub and was shaking his head at us

"What?" I asked with a laugh.

"You're encouraging her," he said, and then he twirled his talon in the water in front of him. "She said you're pretty and intelligent, and I should therefore 'pull myself together'."

A deep blush heated my face, despite the compliment coming from a cat, and I laughed at that last part. "Well, you can tell her that she's a very cute matchmaker."

Death made a snorting noise. "Circe grows tired of my..." He tilted his head side to side, trying to fashion his next words. "...mistresses. She wants a mother."

Circe mewed at me again, rubbing her white furred head against my skirt.

Another smile lifted the corners of my mouth. "She thinks of you as her father, then."

"Of course, she does. I rescued her from Hell." For some reason, the small transparency into Victorian Death's rescued cats made him appear the tiniest sliver more approachable.

I watched as his face went distant again, his eyelids drooping closed as he leaned against the lip of the tub with a low groan. I could hear his fangs clicking together, his jaw quavering like he had chills again. Death jolted up suddenly with a gasp, startling me. Water spilled over the sides of the tub. "Trapped. Trapped in a nightmare. All I see is her face..."

Fear raked down my spine at Death's usual dialogue toward me. Biting back the anxiety in my chest, I decided to interrogate him. "Who's face?"

Death's eyes opened halfway, confusing knitting his brows as he blinked past the sweat dripping down his eyebrows. He sat up a little, his façade molding back into granite and that arrogant prince-like tone returning. "What are you staring at? Make yourself useful and fetch me some clean clothes. Trousers and any shirt will do." Then he sunk into the milky colored water of the tub until his head plunged completely underneath.

I decided I should probably keep up my 'helper' front and decided to search for something for him to wear. Wandering into his bedroom, I looked around the cold, dark space of his bedroom and tilted my head up to look up the towering space above his bed. There were railings up there and bookshelves, but no ladder or stairs in sight.

Searching his room, I saw he even had a collection of knives on a table.

"You'd make an awful maid."

I spun with a gasp, finding Death leaning a hand against a bookshelf twenty paces away. He wore only trousers, and they were only halfway clasped together. Leaving very little to the imagination as I followed the trial of dark hair disappearing into them.

"This is mighty disappointing," Victorian Death continued, slinking toward me. Although his hair was damp, I could tell the glistening to his forehead was not water. He was fevered again. "I thought the next assassin would at least be sneakier about it. Different. Keeps things fun when I torture them. You know?"

"What are you even talking about?"
Death moved to me in a blur and pulled me against him, as if we were to dance. "Shhh," he shushed against my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck and sending heat down my front. "No more lies. I know a beautiful temptress when I see one. I only wonder, who sent you? Was it Lucifer?" He shook his head with a smirk. "That old devil is always keeping me on my toes... Or could it be Kalace?" He feigned upset, perspiration sliding down his jaw. "My black heart."

Death pinned me to a table with one hand and something clattered. My fingers fanned behind me, gripping a blade that I quickly pressed against his throat.

"Get your hand off of me," I seethed.

"Mm, I really shouldn't have left those out in the open. Can you let me clean that one first? Honest, I have a thing about dirty blades." My heart was an orchestra in my ears, his mismatched eyes too calm, too empty as I kept the knife poised at his throat. "Do it," he said, a crazed look rolling over his eyes as he twirled me away from the dresser, our bodies turning ever so slightly, as if he were dancing with me. "Kill me with it. We'll dance over my blood."

I just stared up at him with wide eyes. "You're insane."

"Aren't I?" His mouth curved, his eyes psychotic, gone with whatever demonic drugs were still washing out of his system. "You're a terrible dancer, too. A pity. Can you at least kiss?"

My breath came out in pants, my heart rebounding off his hard chest.

Death rolled his eyes at me and pressed the knife tighter against his throat, his lips peeling back, baring the tips of his fangs. "Don't back out now. Do it. Slit my fucking throat. I'm letting you do it, pest. We can see what happens. Together."

My hand was trembling against him. "Please, stop."
Death's mouth parted, and his sultry laugh laughter filled the room. "Coward," he purred. His hand moving in a small, flicking gesture that shoved me back with a mighty force. I nearly tripped over myself, and my stomach hurt from the might of his power. "An assassin who hesitates. Such a waste of pretty flesh and bone."

I shoved my hands into his chest, my power vibrating beneath my hands as they shoved him back. He stumbled back three steps into a patch of darkness in the room and slammed into a bookshelf, nearly toppling over as he grabbed onto a piece of furniture behind him. His almond shaped broadened, glowing amongst the black of the shadows that brushed across his face.

"I'm not an assassin," I said, my voice unwavering despite the shake in my hands from adrenaline. "I'm here to help your horrible ass. But you're too pathetic to even help yourself, so you make everyone around you feel small and feeble."

Death's fangs gleamed white, a slow provocative smirk. "Those are indeed fighting words, pest."

He took a step out of the dark, a silken, calculated step. I countered his step and moved to the side, and suddenly we were circling each other. My fists raised just as Victorian Death sprang toward me with small strike, his weak state hardly hindering the lithe speed of his supernatural frame. I managed to evade the attack, but not without stumbling over my stupid Victorian shoes.

"So graceful." Victorian Death snickered. "Shall we?" He poised this like it was a game, a fun little playtime.

Finish your enemy before he finishes you, Death's distant words from a memory unfurled itself.

When I didn't respond to his question, Victorian Death struck again, harder this time. Pure instinct snapping into place as I moved like water and dodged left and grabbed his wrist in a firm grasp beside my head.

We both froze. The moment my skin touched him; I could feel his power grab onto me. It was like a venom sitting on his skin at all times and now it was touching me, wickedly awaiting to seep into my skin. My eyes slid away from my hand clutching Death's wrist and traveled up his extended arm, until I met those mismatched eyes.

Death released his hold on me, his free hand striking the air and shadows pelting in my body. I was thrown back. My teeth clamped down on my lip as my back slammed into the stone wall.

"How many times have I told you not to hesitate? Again."

My head moved to the right, from which the voice came. The sight of Death's ghostly corpse standing directly beside me making the little hairs on my arms stand on end. He looked exactly like the last time I'd seen him, his golden hair washed out, his face so thin that I could see his sharp cheekbones, his mismatched eyes too dim. The stark shock of seeing him like a spear into my heart.

"She doesn't belong here," Victorian Death said, and I tore my gaze away from Death's corpse to see Victorian Death squeezing his skull. "She doesn't long here." His eyes were consumed in black, his body barreling toward me like a pawn on autopilot.

"Again!" Death's corpse shouted.

Everything seeming to move in slow motion as my whole-body curved into a vicious hook punch. Light sparking up the room as I made connection with Victorian Death's face, all of the deep-rooted emotions unleashing into a brutal blow that shook me to my very core. His burly frame stumbled back, and his shadows reeled off of him like a chaotic halo, their screams raking against my ear drums.

Victorian Death clutched his face, brushing the back of his seared cheek with his knuckles, and I watched as the skin blackened around the one side of his face, his inner monster unveiling itself in a slice of evil.

Again. 

Victorian Death and I fell into an all-too familiar dance, the exact tempo and pattern of Death's training combos engraved into my brain. He unfurled a series of hard, violent combos. Everything he'd taught me snapped into focus. 

A brief opening to attack him unveiled like a test. I went to slam my fist into his face again, but his hand caught mine, my power smothering my power in his palm. His head was angled to the side, an unexplainable expression rippling over his face.

"Don't let them see your light, Cupcake."

The room spun. Spun like a carrousel. Victorian Death seemed to fade away, until Death's corpse stood across from me with me amongst a madness of whirling color. The dead look in his eyes was like a vortex, his hands on my waist like a wicked fate as his mouth came down to touch mine in a fatal kiss.

Darkness plunged around us like an inky cloud, and I felt my body collapse to the ground.

The change happened in the blink of an eye. Light burst through the dark, momentarily blinding me. I jolted upwards. The smell of sweat and gym equipment brought on an instant feeling of nostalgia, and when my eyes adjusted, I realized the source of the bright lights were florescent gymnasium bulbs across the cavernous ceiling above.

Death's gym?

Hard rock music played through heavy bass speakers. My head turned; my heart hammered hysterically in my chest at the sight of him. Short hair on the sides of his skull lengthened to longer black curls toward the top in a modern fauxhawk. His long legs were clad in black sweatpants, propped up on a chair across from him with one ankle crossed over the other. 

There was a book in his lap, which had his full attention, and a silver whistle resting between his lips.

Without even glancing up at me, Death turned the page of his book and blew on the whistle so hard that I winced. "Again!"

***

SCREAM "OMD" AND SHARE THESE BOOKS WITH YOUR FRIENDS IF YOU WANT MORE!!! 

YO this book is about to get wild.

SPEAKING OF WILD #FADE.

An update on the Death is My BFF manuscript (to be released by W Books Fall 2023!): editing has been pushed back a little bit, so I'm POOPING MY PANTS thinking about this editorial letter I'm about to get. Editorial letters can be pretty nerve-wracking and already the book is going to be full-on New Adult, so changes minor changes need to be made to the plot just with that decision! 

BUT nervousness aside, I know this book is going to be everything I dreamed it would be and HOLY FUCK IT'S GOING TO BE IN YOUR HANDS SOON KWFEJIOFWEIOFIJOWEIJOFEWIOFIJOW. 

Until next time,

XOXO

Gossip Death