Hey guys! So basically, my cable keeps going in and out from hurricane Sandy, so I'm just going to drop this off here. I can't seem to find the cover for the story right now, but I'll have it soon! I'll also add  music and pictures. :D

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 I was blinded by a vibrant blue hue, which hovered directly in front of my face. It was a light that was becoming an insurmountable issue for my attentiveness, my eyes entirely trained on orb as it moved back and forth, tauntingly... trapping my vision wholly and consuming my every thought. I was incapable of moving.

            I was frozen, unable to speak or cry out as the blue orb neared. Was it a soul? No, it was cold. Empty. The sensation of terror I was feeling was not only current, it was within the moment. A moment I had forgotten.

            I had never witnessed such a vivid, pure blue.

            Or had I?

              That color...it reminded me of the ring that was on Malphas' finger in the Unknown. The strange skull ring that Malphas had passed onto his son, Death, and then supposedly Death to me. The ring signified a pact and became invisible when it wasn't in use.

              To me it had still signified an utter mystery.

              A dark silhouette of a man exited from the obscurity of the atramentous room, instantly directing my attention away from the blue orb. I would have normally barely differentiated them from the dark wall, but my eyes were strangely of an owl's. I could see him perfectly. Their frame consisted of at least 6'7 feet of concrete muscle, strapping shoulders, and a narrow waist of a swimmers, paired with long legs and arms. It was undoubtably a man. They held their posture upright, displaying their authority in the room...their dominance.

              His words were a dark whisper. "Obedientes eritis mihi in sempiternum, Faith Williams. Nisi meo iussu meis et interficiet te iussit. Ego occidam, panton vos diligamus quoniam amor est, quo adfert sui oblitterationem ad omnes qui impium est. Mando tibi imperium meum occiderit an amnia interficiam, quia amor facit quod ipsa omnia quae delet profani." The translation automatically came to me since I was capable of understanding Latin when Death became my Guardian. 'You will be obedient to me for an eternity, Faith Williams. You will kill from my command and my command only or I will kill everything you love, because love is what brings self obliteration to all that is unholy.'

              "You will remember this shortly after you receive your...cloak," the deep voice of the shadow continued. He sounded intelligent; wise, as if he knew what he was going to say well before he even said it. "The day your soul was sold to myself and Lucifer, I knew I had gained a vital move on a long abandoned chess board. The Fallen have been caged on earth far too long. I am no help to the Fallen when I must feed constantly. Therefore, your blood, handled carefully with my black magic, will ultimately break my curse. Lucky; what a strange word to describe your resurrection now. You were brought back to life, to die under my hands." A soft snicker slipped from his shadowy face. "Things have changed. From here on out, you will have to swallow back the dread which comes with your future. I will no longer hold up any illusions when we are alone, there is no need to. Perhaps I will give you one last barrier between our faces when you awake."

              He pushed a strand of hair out of my face. It appeared to be an act of generosity, when strangely enough, he began brushing his middle finger in a specific line down the center of my forehead, swooping down to the end of my left eyebrow.

              "I find it humorous the Devil is who held me back from killing you. You'd expect him to be completely evil. No, he has his moments when he cares for the humans. I wonder if he wants to even be one of them. He's just a typical guy with a Colgate smile, anger management problems...and horns. " Death let out a humorless laugh. "When I first came out of the Unknown, before I even came to you, I could have wiped out all of Chicago, with the consuming amount of hunger and anger I had. I prefer woman when I am in need of good ol' feast. Don't look so jealous. Think of it this way: it's really your fault I had to ravish all of those woman and rid of their body like trash in a garbage can--"

              There was a knock at the door. The monster beside me grew cold.

              "Come in," Death growled.

              "Master, Lucifer wants you to get back on schedule after she receives the cloak," a man said. He smelled like burning wood.

              "Tell him to quit worrying about me. I'm fine." Death didn't say anything else for a while, and the man hadn't even attempted to fill in the gap. "She's a nineteen-year-old. Lock her in the room with a magazine, get her a fruity girl drink, and put the television on. If she escapes, call me immediately."

              The man let out a short laugh. "The girl will not escape again. There are many men on duty--"

              "Apollo, do not underestimate someone who landed a blow on me with a cross, and knocked you out. You're lucky I didn't rip you in half for the incident at the hotel. You will not touch her if she tries to escape. She's in a fragile, unknown state, and until I know what exactly is going on with her, she could very well loose her humanity at any given time," Death snarled, subconsciously playing with the mark on my abdomen. "Follow her wherever she goes and take the Hellhounds in combat training on level 3, Blade and Spike. Tranquilize her if she tries to kill anyone. I've given her a list of orders that she will read, along with punishments if she ignores them."

              "She got lucky--"

              "As far as I'm concerned, the only thing she didn't do to you is force a tampon down your throat."

              "Message received, sir," Apollo grumbled.

              Death cursed. "You're still breathing my air, Apollo."

              Apollo cleared his throat. "I apologize, but, what kind of fruity drink will the girl want?"

              "Shirley Temple with two cherries. Get me one with three." Death radiated heat. "Now, leave my office immediately." He must have given Apollo one hell of a look, because right after that I knew it was just the two of us again.

               I still felt his hand on my mark, which lingered up my chest to my neckline, swopped to my jaw, and then played with my hair, leaving a trail of fire behind. I wanted to flick it off, yet at the same time, enjoyed his full and utter attention.

              Death's voice was now soft, controlled. Maybe a little too friendly for my liking. "When the time comes, you will kill for me, Faith Williams-- harvest, to put it lightly. You are not an infant, I will not coddle you and supply you souls. I will do it once, and then I will treat you as my other Reapers. Pray, you are not like me, and more like them. If you refuse this transition in your life, I will punish you until you feed, or you will die a shameful death trying to resist me. And fear not , I will destroy everything that you kept close to your precious heart even when you are gone."

              I cry stifled in my throat as the shadow grew a gloved hand, which had been wrapped around my own hand the entire time. I feel the warmth radiating from his skin to mine as if I was truly there. His temperature always felt feverish against my skin. "After you receive the cloak, check the second drawer down, on the right side of my desk." As usual, Death had prearranged what "gifts" from him I would discover when I woke up from some sort of overwhelming feint. "There will be a note inside. A very special note. I want you to read it over and over again until it sticks nice and firm onto your little, tiny brain."

               I realized that the blue orb that had appeared early was coming from my hand as Death held the back of my hand up to my eyes. A ring. The skull ring he gave me.

He slipped his fingers between my limp ones and chuckled. "You're off the hook about the whole Unknown thing." He  waved a hand absently in the air, paused, then unleashed a laugh that cynical it should have been illegal. "I kid. I can't wait to punish you. I'm thinking sneak attack? Gosh, I've already thought of so many delicious ideas." Death purred like a pleased cat, vibrating our tightly intertwined hands. Death strapped my hand against the table and secured it tightly. "But I must say, this new you is virtually a punishment in itself, being it is probably going to benefit my own sadistic, cruel pleasure...that I usually get out of your agony." I felt his lips teasingly close to my own as he added, "Double win for me, cupcake. Now, how about we find some scrumptious food for my little half-naked Reaper?"

            I snapped out of the recollection gasping for air, curled in the middle of David Star's thick carpet like a dead animal in the road. The office was brightly lit, so I instantly knew who wasn't in the room.

            Death. He left you.

            At first I couldn't breathe. My hands were dug in my hair, rubbing at my throbbing scalp. My hair was chaotic and sprayed out amongst the floor in tangled weeds. I felt as if my skull was about to explode, my gums were getting injected with millions of needles, and my eyes felt unbelievably sore. My nails felt like I had pulled a hang nail from every single one, and it had peeled away skin. And my lips...my lips...

            Your lips are satisfyingly swollen from his kisses, my inner self answered.

            My cheeks flushed. My hands clawed uncomfortably at the carpet underneath me like a disturbed cat. Was I in Chicago in the middle of Autumn, or in Miami in the middle of Summer? Suddenly I couldn't tell the difference, I was sweating so much.

            There it was again. Random rage began boiling underneath my skin.

            What's happening to me.

            I began to attempt to drag myself off the floor, moaning loudly. It was ridiculously hot in that room. Or did I have a fever again? A small twitch of my spin and my entire body went into a fit of tremors.  That had to be normal. I collapsed back onto the floor and looked down at the thick, soft black sleeve against my arm with half-open lids.

             I froze, remembering. Well, technically it spoke for itself.

            "Please refrain from any high pitched squeals," a snake-like voice said.Batibat. "You are in a very fragile state of your transition. I apologize for any further anxiety I have bestowed upon you, that brief reminiscence was one of the strict orders I was given by your angel. Being on the same page as him gives your angel a clear schedule..."

            It didn't matter what was wrong with me. Not at that moment. My pent up anger had exploded and I had cut in with, "He's not my angel! He's not my anything!"

            "But he has branded you, and you were intimate before our encounter. Every breath Death exhales, you inhale. Your pulse increased when I just mentioned his name. Does that not -"

            "Master? Master Death?" The combination tasted funny on my tongue. "But he's so..."

            Reckless? Unpredictable? Immature? My eyes grazed a Shirley Temple on David's desk with two cherries and a stack of magazines. I raised an eyebrow. My inner self was hitting the nail on the head. Yet.. professional when he has to be. You've seen the way David dresses. That mean's Death knows how to get nice and fancy when he has to. Not to mention, you've seen those rippling, sexy abs he's been hiding. I mean, you were literally right in the 'ab zone' the last time you saw him, you could have just felt them a little for me. Oh my lord... is he ''Master" material. Hell, I'd call him anything if he would just--

            I mentally slapped my inner hormonal girl.

            "He would not have to use much persuasion on you to sexually interact with you...nor anyone else."
            "What do you mean anyone else?" The words came out of my mouth before I even thought about it. "Tiara?"

            "Perhaps it will set your mind at ease, knowing what he specifically does--"

            "Wait a minute--"

            "--with woman while you are not around. Intimately, angels are sometimes intimately involved with multiple partners at a time--"

            "Whoa! Just stop right there, evil-spirited dictionary!" I expected the cloak to latch onto my body, instead it molded against my body. That just wouldn't do. Batibat's voice screeched in my ear. I vaguely remembered my claws retracting as I ripped the cloak straight off of me with a petrifying howl.

            Batibat skirted into the darkest corner and melted into its shallow depth. I stared down at my fingers in awe, feeling small tingles along the tips of my fingers. My nails had grown significantly in size and resembled razor-sharp pocket knives.

            "I felt it honorable to inform you that Master Death has sexual relations, so you do not get your hopes up. Quite frankly, he is far from celibate, and even if he did want to have sexual intercourse with you, it would be wise not to. A virgin is a pot of gold to a evil creature--" I reached for the nearest object and threw it at the cloak, as I had Death before. "That was extremely rude."

            "Stop talking to me!" I threw my hands over my ears, childishly blocking out the evil spirits words. Tears threatened to release when I felt my nails scrap against my scalp. I was a freak. "Just stop! You aren't suppose to talk! None of this is happening! Just go!"

            "You are already freeing me, Faith Williams?"

            "Go away!" I roared.

            "So be it. You'll be sorry when Master finds out you have freed me. You need me."

            "Hate to break it to you, Master Death has threatened me many times, and hasn't followed up on his word once. I've lived a life without help from a talking cloak thus far, and I plan on living the rest the same way."

            Her voice grew icy. "You know my name."

            Batibat left me before I could even ask what that meant. She just vanished.

            The first thing I did was run for the door. The first few strides I took felt odd, like it was my first time using my legs. It was the familiar feeling I had in the hotel with Apollo.

            Apollo. Is he outside the office?

            It didn't matter if he was. I had no idea if that thing would be back again, and I didn't want to be in a room alone with it, if or when it did. I yanked and I hauled at the cool handle, but it was absolutely no use. The glass door was as thick as a brick, and as heavy as a boulder. I even tried to throw myself against the door a few times and call for help. Nobody answered.

            I paced the room thinking someone would open the door at some point. I was a caged animal in a dark, cold office room, with scandalous magazines I would have normally read, a comfy couch to sleep on, an HD flat screen television, and a mini-fridge that would probably be stocked with food.

            It was cruel, really.

            I thought about what I would do once I escaped Devin & Son. There was nothing more that I wanted to do then expose David Star for what he really was. But it would have been simply moronic to do so. He wasn't human, nor was he freshly aware of the fact that I could expose him to the public. He knew that I could--and knew that I couldn't. Who would believe me? I had no proof, and even if I did, Death would probably destroy it before I got it out.

            There seemed to be only one option: get to my apartment, gather my belongings, and get out of Chicago as soon as possible, hoping that if I left Death wouldn't do anything to my parents.

            I ventured to David's/Death's desk, I snatched the Shirley Temple on his desk, gave it a cautious sniff, a sip, then chugged it down with a blissful sigh. I was really thirsty. It was just what I wanted. It irked me that my mortal enemy knew not only one of my favorite "girly drinks," but the specific amount of cherries I was extremely OCD about being inside the cup.

            My legs ached. As I sat down in his chair and tingles went up my spine. I felt small sitting in a powerful persons chair. The chair smelled strongly of leather, soap, and everything else that was Death. I instantly regretted ever sitting in the damn thing. I looked over my shoulder and stared at the closed blinds. The swivel desk chair felt more like a throne, knowing it was the Angel of Death's choice of cushion, the Angel of Death's perfect view over the city. He was virtually a king, overlooking his people.

            A king that eats his people's souls... Typical.

            I shook myself from my thoughts and went back to the drawer. A few of them he had left open before. They weren't anything crazy, just a drawer of Twinkies, and a whole lot of messiness. One time I had even found a note on the inside of one of the unlocked drawers that said, 'If you're reading this, get the hell out of my stuff.' The second drawer, the one that Death had told me to open, was absolutely new to me. And all it contained was a note.

            Here goes nothing.

            I was welcomed by neat, fuming cursive as I unfolded the letter. I leaned back in Death's chair, kicked my bare feet up on his desk, and read.

            Ms. Nuisance,

            I've decided to keep it short and simple, because when I go into detail, you tend to not follow any of my instructions... Regardless, I'll say it again: we are going to have a nice long chat, face to face, me and you, whether you like it or not. It all depends on when I have a few hours in my schedule free. If you leave Devin & Son, or even the state for that matter, I willfind you, and I will be cranky, especially if it takes me more than five flips of my wings to get there.  My advice is don't be a bad girl. Your punishment list will not be in this note, but I assure you it's in my back pocket and ready to use. That reminds me, do you like chainsaws or bear traps?

            Have a splendid day.

            -D

            P.S- You are only wearing panties and a bra. Say hi to the camera.

             By the end of the letter I was pale and expressionless. Like Death's personality, the letter had its 'Playful Death' moments, then swiftly transitioned swiftly to 'Frightening Death'. Death knew I was going to try and run away. It was also one of the few times I was aware that Death had wings. He was well more than capable of dropping me from tall buildings, and by the strange way he had been acting around me since the Unknown, I honestly had no idea if he would actually do it. But what real irked me more than anything in the letter, was the fact that next to 'Have a splendid day,' he drew a cute little smiley... with an evident Mohawk and fangs. It definitely gave me images I didn't want to face yet.

            I looked back at the note. Say hi to the camera.

            I frowned.

            Say hi to the camera? I slowly pivoted in my chair towards the corner of the room. On cue, the surveillance camera in the room twitched in my direction. I say up like a deer in headlights. "That bastard," I muttered under my breath.

            As the camera maneuvered to the right, a light bulb went on in my brain. I shifted in Death's large swivel chair, and faced the two leather chairs in front of his desk.

 I got up and sat on the edge of one of them, my eyes glazed over as I stared at that large, empty swivel chair across the desk. I already felt small; terrifyingly small, and helpless, just by switching my seats.

            Those had to the chairs that he put his victimsin.

            Whenever David--Death, called in his clients into his office, I was always asked to leave. I would go into the empty office right next to his and do whatever paperwork he had asked me to complete. What I never even thought about, because Death hadn't let me, was what he did with those clients.

            Why I never saw them leave his office.

            I eyed the surveillance camera again, and stepped behind Death's desk with a glaring gaze, my nails starting to retract. It didn't matter if Death could multiply himself, and had Reapers to help him collect soul. He was evil. Collecting wasn't enough. He had to create an environment that would appeal to the human eye, make them feel warm inside. Leather couches, mini-fridge, a flat screen television, and a man behind a desk with perfect disheveled hair and puppy dog eyes.

            Everything fell into place.

            The elevator I had been taking every day for work had always given me the Hebe-jives. I had felt as if I was walking to an oven every time the doors opened. Maybe that was because it wasn't just an elevator. Maybe that was because I wasn't going to work to face a pretty boy with brown hair and brown eyes. It was because I was going to work to face a seven foot tall, green- eyed con artist in an Armani suit. An evil, conniving, intelligent creature that received delight from people's torture, who had teamed up with the symbol of all anguish on the planet. The Devil.

            This building is the gateway to Hell.

            I silent chill crept up my spine. To make matters worse, there was only one evident reason why anyone as sick as Death would keep a  surveillance camera in his office. Would keep a button under his desk. I slid my fingers under his desk, my long, razor-sharp nail easily finding a raised part underneath. I pressed it.

            Directly after, something buzzed on his desk. Startled, I let out a hiss, smacking an area on his desk. It was a pile of papers with a raised middle. I realized how strange that initial reaction was and tried to shake it off. It never even happened. I removed the top piece of paper and stared down at the buzzing device. It didn't look much like a phone. It was extremely thin remote with a touch screen. I tapped the screen once.

            The large HD flat screen on the far wall flickered on. I fell into my Death's black leather throne, my head tilting in curiosity. When the television didn't do anything further, I looked down at the remote. It had options listed on the screen.

            Computer...Current tape...Television...Recorded tape...Saved...

            To be honest, I tapped 'Recorded tape,' thinking it was some sort of insane, Rated-X footage. It was a devilish afterthought, such as a child's motive to stick their hand in the cookie jar, directly after their mother said not to. I couldn't help myself.

            It was too late to back now. Since I had pressed my option, the remotes' menu screen had grown five times more complicated, with twelve-too-many options for me to choose from.

            I could barely work my own cell phone, or for that matter, knew where it was!

             This was it: I had pressed the ominous button underneath David Stars' desk, aka the Angel of Dishonesty, and then I had pressed another button in a wierd looking device. I prepared for the worst. My hand became slightly moist against the remote and my eyes nervously fleeted between to the door of David's office and the desk. I was being a bad girl.

             The room seemed to darken like a movie theater as the television screen flickered to white, then flashed to another screen.

             My mouth started to fall open. It was David's office on the television screen, from the surveillance tapes position. There was a date in the corner of the screen. It was from two weeks before.

             Suddenly, as a tall, arrogant, brown-haired man strolled into the office on the television screen looking straight off a magazine. The television appeared to be mute, so he silently argued with an overworked, pretty dang-good looking girl with black hair and blue eyes, trailing at a few feet behind him. She finally gave up trying to get his full attention and left the room.

             It was strange to see myself on camera. To see how I looked when I spoke to David. I didn't appear to look nervous or anxious, like I truly felt each and every time I was in his presence. I looked mature, and a whole lot healthier on that television then I did the last time I had looked in the mirror. I held myself pretty well. Like my mother.

            David walked over to his desk, fiddled with some papers, lifted his head to the door, paused, strolled over and peeked through the blinds on his office door to see if I was gone, then started to rapidly take off his tie.

            Within seconds of checking the blinds, there was an obvious change in the man. His posture became perfectly straight, he stalked like a tiger back to his desk, and his expression grew dangerously blank. 'David' picked up the phone on his desk, dialed a number, and slid his unknotted tie from his neck.

            I looked down at the remote in my hands and managed to turn the volume up.

            "Caroline, don't expect me to be in for two hours," David said, his voice becoming deeper as he spoke. I have a few issues to take care of with a new demonic clan."

            Suddenly, I knew I would soon find the proof I had been looking for. And it was definitely was going to be the worst way to find it.

            It was honestly just the typical life of Faith Williams.