Water rushed around my ankles, soaking my shoes and socks. I stared at Death with my arms crossed. Squatting in the creek, he poked the rocky bottom with a stick. Half of his cloak floated in the stream, making me glad that mine barely reaches my mid-thigh.

"Care to explain why we're standing in the middle of this creek? Or are you just going to ignore me?"

"Ignoring you seems like a safe option," Death said. He continued to turn over rocks and move around leaves.

"Death."

He stood and looked at me, tossing the stick downstream. "Remember what I said about the people who Life made immortal?"

"The fact that she does that or that it's hard for you to track them down?"

"Both." He sighed. "This is the last place I found one of them. It was over a century ago, but there might be some trace of her. Something I can use to find her."

"And we care about her why?"

Death rolled his eyes. "First of all, I get to kill them. That will help the balance get back to normal. Second, Life keeps wards around her dimension and she gave a key to one of her immortals. We can't get my scarf back without that key."

"What about your scythe?" I asked as I tightened my grip on mine. Everytime we would need to travel somewhere, Death would have my scythe in his hand before I could blink, and I would be left holding a hoe or a rake. Death said he could spare a little energy and give them the power to reap souls. I would raise an eyebrow and whack him with whatever I was holding.

"Yeah, that too." He flippantly waved a hand. "For now, we need to track down one Miss Harper Evans. That lady's been alive since the fourteenth century. And she's not even the oldest one."

I couldn't imagine how horrible the lady would have to look, being almost, if not at least, seven hundred years old. Her body would have had to be some sort of living skeleton. Her eyes would be sunken, her hair would be thin, and her skin would be sagging. She was probably being kept on display at a museum, roaming the hallways at night.

Death bent back down, and he reached his hand into the water. I stood there, watching as he dug through years and years of buildup. When he pulled his hand out, a worn, muddy ribbon dangled from it.

I thought he would've been happy. Even after he rinsed it off in the stream, the ribbon looked ancient. One end was in complete tatters, frayed and faded, while the other end was intact and held a rich, saturated blue.

Instead he sighed. The ribbon disappeared into one of his cloak's countless interior pockets. "I need a coffee."

"Do I need to remind you that you forced me to crawl through a cat door to make you coffee?"

"You spilled it. Besides, I need some good coffee." Once again my scythe was in his hand. I growled high in my throat and started hitting him with the rusty hoe in my hand.

"Stop stealing and just ask!"

"Why do you keep hitting me with garden utensils?!"

"Why do you keep giving me garden utensils?"

Death dodged my next strike. He lunged forward, his gloved hand latching onto the edge of my cloak, and he swung the scythe.

Booths lined the walls and high tables were scattered around the floor. An elderly couple sat across from each other, the husband tapping his spoon against the rim of his mug. The scent of coffee and baked goods swelled around me. A smile settled over my face. It was almost like the one across from the movie theater, but with more of a small town vibe.

"Hey, Derrick," the waitress slipped her notepad into her apron. "It's been a couple days, thought you'd forgotten about us."

"You know I could never do that. The coffee here is the best I've had. It couldn't be better, even if angels had brewed it." Death's cloak disappeared. He walked over to a booth and slid the scythe underneath. It shouldn't have fit, but somehow it did. "Faye, this is Ardia. She helps me with my landscaping business."

"Nice to meet you, Ardia." Faye's eyes scanned over me. If she noticed my lack of color, she didn't show it. Within a moment, her deep brown eyes flicked back to Death. "You finally got someone to help you plant things? The last time my aunt hired you, you nearly killed her entire yard."

"I warned you that I wasn't the best at my job."

"Never in my life would I have expected for someone with a black thumb as bad as yours to go into landscaping. Honestly, it's just absurd. Do you want anything to drink, honey?" Faye looked at me, her notepad back in her hand. I hadn't seen her pull it out.

"Uh, sure. Whatever he's having." I gestured at Death.

"Your funeral," she mumbled. Without another word, she walked to the counter. Her pink dress hung to her knees, and the ends of her apron strings hung from neat bow they tied. A ponytail held her frizzy hair out of her face.

"What is this place?" My eyes may have been trained on Faye, but the question wasn't for her. I caught Death moving out of the corner of my eye. He slouched in his seat until he could comfortably rest his feet on the seat next to me.

"Vice and Virtue Cafe. It's somewhere in America. Don't ask where because I usually only come here after not sleeping for a week."

"I wasn't aware that you actually slept."

"Kid, do you think I look this good without beauty sleep?" Death grinned. The smile near instantly fell and he ducked his head. "I don't usually sleep, I can go a lot longer than Michael and the others without it. But even I need sleep eventually. Coffee just kinda shoves that off. And Faye here makes coffee that would kill a horse with how much caffeine is in it."

"And yet you're somehow still alive." She placed two steaming mugs in front of us. "I put the normal amount in hers, if that's okay. Putting what I put in yours could get me in enough trouble already. Killing a teen would give us even worse of a reputation."

"Worse?" I raised an eyebrow.

"We had a customer die here about a decade ago. A rumor got out there that we poisoned him and, despite the fact the autopsy said it was a heart attack, buisness has never been as good. Though that Starbucks hasn't been helping."

"You have to admit they have hood coffee," the cashier said.

Faye turned and glared. "Cassie, you traitor! How dare you-" She burst out laughing. "I'm sorry I can't. God, you'd think I'd be better at this."

I picked up the mug and took a sip. The hot coffee filled my mouth, instantly scalding my tongue. Ignoring the burning pain and numbness, I chugged the entire mug.

"Jeez, kid, were you really that thirsty?" Death chuckled, taking a drink. He had no reaction, though a lot more steam rose from his mug.

"I burnt my tongue."

"Then eat a spoonful of sugar. And that doesn't explain why you chugged it."

"It's not like I'd be able to taste anything if I waited. Why can't I feel heat on my skin but the moment I take a drink or eat something, my brains like 'Time to end this girl's whole career'?"

"Burnt tastebuds don't keep you from swinging a scythe."

"Yeah, well, what if I was a taste tester? What then?"

"Then you'd have to wait until you can taste things again. Here." He handed me a spoon. "Stick this in your mouth. Maybe it'll help."

"I'm not doing that."

"If you do, I'll buy you a muffin."

"Chocolate." I snatched the spoon from his hand and shoved it in my mouth. Death looked under the table. He moved his leg. A loud thud cut through the clink of silverware and plates.

"Keep an eye underneath the table. If he tried to come back, kick him in the face." Death slid out of the worn red booth and walked up to Cassie.

I had no idea why he told me to do that, but I shrugged and looked under the table. Crumbs and wrappers littered the tile. Nothing seemed out of place, except for the scythe. Looking at it didn't help me understand how it fit underneath the table. As I tried to come up with an explanation, I stumbled across the answer to why Death wanted me to watch under the table.

A glowing portal appeared. Blue light bathed the previously shadowed area. Horns rose, and along with those horns came a head topped by soot covered hair. Luci's entire head emerged from his portal and his smiled at me, revealing his small fangs.

"Hey, I think we tracked in a spider. What do you want me to do?" I tore my gaze from Luci and looked at Death, who was walking over with a large double chocolate muffin.

He stopped. His lips pressed together in a hard line before he responded. "Go ahead and step on it, kid. That way it can't hurt anyone."

"Kay." I looked back under the table.

Luci had set his expression in a firm glare. "Don't you think abo-"

He was interrupted as I planted my foot firmly on his face and pushed him back into Hell.

"So," I said, grabbing my muffin from Death. "What do we do now?"

He reached like he was going to pull something from his cloak, before  remembering he didn't have it on. Dropping his hand, he shoved both of them in his pockets. A spark appeared in his eyes, along with a genuine smile on his face. "Murder."

Chapter: 1,671

Book: 23,555

Well I had an exam today and the essay part was on Greece and my hand still hurts

See yah