Textbooks were never my favorite thing, all of those words staring up at you, telling you to study. Of course, I'd put the book aside until the last minute and then read three chapters in one night, desperately trying to get a good grade so I could get into a good college.

Luckily, there are no colleges when you're dead. Textbooks though, they were piled so high on the table I thought they'd either fall or that the table would fall apart like a branch left on the ground for a month then swung around by a ten year old.

Death looked through each book's table of contents. There was supposed to be two piles, but all of the books had something that he wanted to look at. Occasionally, he would pause and flip to one of the chapters before deciding he wanted to look through it further.

Meanwhile, I sat next to Uriel. I was in the midst of fighting him, hitting him repeatedly with a pot.

"You know, I'm disappointed that you don't main Pit," I said, watching as Little Mac fell off the screen. Again. The results screen came up, revealing an excited Isabelle.

"I'm disappointed in myself for losing to a mortal. You want to play, Michael?"

"I'm helping Death."

"You're hanging from the chandelier," Death said.

"No, I'm helping."

I sighed and stood up. Tossing the controller gently onto the couch, not wanting it to use the cushion as a trampoline and go through a window, I walked over to Death's pile of books.

Not one of them was written in English and I could feel a headache building as the words on the covers instantly translated. It was like having Google Translate in my head, reading everything out loud in that weird, stilted voice.

I grabbed the top book and flipped open the cover. As I scanned the table of contents, I asked the angels a question. "Why do you guys have so many books on this?"

"Got to give scientists something to study. One time they tried to get our dad to let them dissect us." Michael dropped from the crystal chandelier, landing on top of the stack of books. My nonexistent heart stopped and I stared up at him.

"What do you mean tried?" Ribbons wrapped around Michael and lowered him to the floor. I looked at Uriel as the light disappeared back into him. "As I remember, I was dissected. Not fun when you're dead and doubly so when you're alive."

"How would you know? You've never been dead." A small grin appeared on Death's face.

"Same way I know that more mortals can use Heaven's Grace. Divine intuition."

"Wait. I thought Michael said only angels and saints can use it?" My eyebrows drew together. The angels were contradicting each other, and. as far as I was aware, they couldn't lie.

Uriel tilted his hand from side to side. "Sorta. It has to do with the final battle between us and the others. Remember being dead just means life gets more confusing."

"Wow, that was helpful," I sighed. "Death, did you find anything that's more useful than these two?"

"Probably not going to. Those two have been around longer than I have. And all of these books are generally functions and tactics. I'm not going to stop you if you want to read them, but I'm not doing that. Nope. I had enough studying during the Renaissance."

"You're just upset all the good literature was religious." Michael grinned. "I enjoyed the Renaissance. Especially Michaelangelo's work. Never thought a guy named after me would have the guts to do half the stuff he did."

The conversation turned, and they started talking about art and statues and the 'super hot' depictions of Luci. The thing that concerned me the most wasn't that I knew which statues they were talking about and it wasn't that those statues were pretty accurate. No, what concerned me the most was that it was Uriel who said that.

"What kind of Alabama nonsense is this?" I mumbled. None of them heard me. They continued debating which biblical statue was the best, until Gabriel walked in.

A blanket hung around his shoulders, dragging on the floor behind him. As he rubbed his eyes, I caught some of what the writing around his wrists said.

I am Gabriel, one of the archangels who stands in the glorious presence of the Lord, ready to serve him.

There was more than that, but his arms dissapeared beneath his blanket before I could read the rest. That was the most I've seen of the symbols around their wrists since the archangels discovered I could read their language. All four of them slipped on jackets, blankets, or in Uriel's case, a shawl.

Gabriel offered a half-wave to me. Stumbling further into the library, he vanished into the rows of shelves. Perry walked in, looked around, and, when he couldn't find Gabriel, curled up on the floor.

"Whose turn is it?" Death asked.

"Raphael's." Michael collapsed onto the couch, arm draped dramatically over his face. "Thank God. Don't think I could survive another month."

"What's so hard about watching a platypus? It's not like they do much." I looked at the group. None of them responded right away. Actually, none of them ever answered my question.

"So, Death, how do you plan on getting your scythe back?" Uriel smoothed the fabric of his plain yellow robe. His eyes, as blue as his brothers, didn't rise to meet Death's.

Death shifted, discomfort flashing across his face. He reached up. When his hand hit his throat instead of yarn, he tensed. It was weird seeing him without the scarf, like seeing a friend not wearing their glasses.

Without missing a beat, Death pulled up his hood. The shadow prevented any of us from seeing his face, while small shadowy particles seemed to detach themselves from the cloak and float in the air around Death. That was new to me, and I looked at Uriel. I raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

"Just because he doesn't have his scythe doesn't mean he's powerless," he said.

"Yeah, kinda know that." I rubbed the back of my head, the still fresh memory of the shelf rose in my mind, bringing pain with it. "Doesn't explain the shadowy stuff though."

Death forced himself to chuckle. "Kid, you know how I heal you with the energy radiating from me? This is the same thing, just in confetti form. Horrible at parties, but a blast for me."

"Hello, focus." Michael waved his arms. "How are you getting your scythe back from your psycho sister?"

"She's not psycho."

"She chucked you from here down through Earth and into the boiler room of Hell. She's psycho."

I probably would've found that funny, if I hadn't seen how much Life wanted Death out of the picture. And if I didn't know how much those razor frisbees hurt.

Death sighed and shook his head. "That's the thing. She knows what she's doing is wrong. She knows why it's wrong. But she still does it. I don't know what made her this way, she used to be so nice."

"It doesn't matter that she used to be nice," I said. "What matters is what she's doing now. You can't let the good people do cover up the bad stuff. I know the whole thing with free will is letting people change and grow, but we don't or if we do it's usually not in a good way. If we don't go after Life now, things will just get worse."

"She's got a point, Death. You know as much as we do, that mortals are set in  their ways. They have the ability to change, but they've been stuck in a cycle of killing each other for thousands of years. Once ideas are rooted in their heads, you can't get them out." Tossing a flame between his hands, Uriel looked at us. "When behavior and beliefs conflict, the beliefs will change. If you think stealing is wrong and then you steal, you'll start to think that stealing is okay. It's hard to come back from that change. Imagine what thoughts run through your sister's mind. None of them are going to be good."

"Why do you sound like the know-it-all at my school?" I raised an eyebrow, resisting the urge to deck him.

"I read a lot. And please check that teenage rage. You'll need that later."

"It's not rage. It's annoyance."

"Either way, put it in a doggie bag and take it with you," Uriel said with a small frown. "If I were you, Death, I'd find your scythe as soon as possible. You can't reap as effectively without it, something Life has to know. We can't help you, not directly, but know our doors are open and we'll pull Ardia out if things get too dangerous."

Death nodded. "Thanks." He walked over to me. The confetti of destruction dissipated, but not before rotting through a table leg. A snap cut the silence. Dozens of books hit the ground with loud thuds. Michael fove to catch one before it hit Perry. He caught it, with his face.

I started laughing, and I was still laughing when Death and I disappeared into thin air.

Chapter: 1,560

Book: 21,884

(Word count changes due to edits)

So...uh...

I tossed in some stuff I learned from psych.

See yah