After Death tried to get an answer out of me for the next hour, and after we almost got caught in the room filled with weapons, we wandered the streets of a small village. Cows dotted the hillsides, both brown cows and the black and white ones you normally see in children's books. Death stared at them with a small grin on his face. Meanwhile, my hand was wrapped around the antique weapon in my pocket.

A small thread tugged at my body, leading off in six different directions. I stopped. "It shouldn't be this hard to find this guy," I said. The string had been relatively easy to follow up until now, with only one other time where my path branched. If there was a way to skip ahead and look at where each path would take me before I decided to follow one, well, I would live my afterlife like a choose your own adventure book.

Death broke his attention away from the cows. "Well, if you would give me the gun then I could track him. Because I actually know how to do it."

"I have to learn sometime. What happens if there's another immortal, and I have to find them without you?"

"Kid, younger immortals are a lot easier to track down. They don't know how to hide their energy, how do you think I found you when you were getting beat up by a five year old?"

"I was not getting beat up by her."

Death rolled his eyes. "If I hadn't shown up I would've been down an apprentice, and she did hit you. If I remember correctly, you didn't land a single blow on her." He wasn't wrong, but that didn't mean I was happy about it.

"She was five," I said, looking at him. "I know you're immortal and don't care, but beating up little kids is highly frowned on. Beating up a kid in the same grade as you might get you suspended, but beating up a kindergartener will get you expelled."

"And you know this how?"

I shrugged. "There are stories." My fingers hovered over the barrel of the gun. "You hear a lot of rumors and stuff. Like teachers cheating on their husbands, coaches forcing injured kids to keep running, who does drugs, stuff like that."

He didn't say anything after that, and neither did I. The only exception was when I decided the best way to move forward was to do Eeinie Meanie Minie Moe. After that, and a comment from Death about how I did the second part, we continued on in silence. We found a bus stop and waited, also in silence. Death tapped his foot and checked his watch.

"It's late," he said.

"Have you ever met a bus that's on time?"

"Do I look like I ride the bus a lot?" A loud yawn escaped him and he covered his mouth. "I should've slept that entire time."

"How did you wake up early?"

"Archangel or not, Uriel's powers don't hold much weight in my domain. The only way they have their intended affect is if Uriel stays and feeds his energy into them. I woke up almost as soon as you left. It took me a while to find you. Mainly because you forgot your scythe."

"Uh, where is the scythe?" I asked.

Death's eyes widened and he face palmed. "It's in the umbrella stand. I'm going to have to call someone. Hopefully, none of them try to charge me a lockout fee again."

Hopefully he was kidding, because I didn't feel like having my nonexistent pay docked because I forgot the scythe first. I leaned forward, looking down the road. The bus turned a corner and proceeded to crawl along the road even though there was no traffic. After several painfully slow moments, the bus's brakes squealed. Air hissed; the doors open.

Death climbed up the stairs and paid our fare. He walked as far back as possible before sitting down, I sat beside him.

"I hope this takes us in the right direction." My hand tightened around the smooth handle of the gun. The familiar weight made me feel better, even with the creepy guy looking at me from across the aisle. The six lines had consolidated into one singular strand, tugging me towards who knows where.

"You know I could teach you how to do this instantly, right?" Death asked, words coming off of his tongue in one of the many languages lost to time.

"I already used a shortcut for the languages." My own words mimicked his. "I want to do this myself.

"Would you have rather studied them all by yourself?"

"Nope, now shush. I'm trying to focus."

Death rolled his eyes. "Kid, as much as I trust you're doing your best I'm not jumping out of a bus for you."

"I never said you'd have to." I slouched in my seat, aware of the man's eyes still very much on me. "Do we have any ice cream at home?"

I didn't care if we did or not. I hoped if the guy thought Death was my dad or something he'd stop staring. Though if there was ice cream at home, I wouldn't turn it down.

"We might. Do you want to do a crossword?" Out of his cloak, Death pulled out a puzzle book. "There should be a couple that I haven't started in this one."

"What do you keep in that thing?"

"Paper, pencils, puzzle books, my list, a few things in case I forget someone's creation day or birthday, gum, candy, a pair of pajamas, a knife, money, a I wish I could kill them list."

"Wait, you have a hit list?"

"Uh, yeah. It's kinda part of my job."

I added another point to the 'things that make us sound like the bad guys' tally. I took the paperback from him, along with a pencil. Flipping through the book, I found Death didn't lie. There were two crosswords that hadn't been started, all of the other ones were completed. I tossed my legs over Death's lap, trying to get comfortable on the seat.

"Can I have the thing now?" Death grabbed my shoes and tried to move my legs. Everytime he did that, I would put my legs back up. After a while he gave up and sat there like a cat, vaguely annoyed. I hummed softly.

"Is that guy still looking at me?" I asked quietly.

"No, I think he found better things to do on his phone. Seventeen down is Rembrandt." He leaned over. "How often do girls have to deal with this?"

I sighed. "More than we should." I slapped Death's hand as he tried to take the gun from me. "I can do this."

"Fine, but if we get lost, you're the one asking for directions."

"That's how you get sex trafficked, Death whatever your last name is."

"No one's allowed to get sex trafficed until after Thursday."

"Technically it's always after Thursday."

"Which is why people are still being sex trafficked. Wonder how much I'd have to bribe God to get him to put out a thing so I can kill all of the traffickers?"

"Are we including candy traffickers? Because there's a couple of those I know and the entire school would probably fight you."

"Why? Did your school ban candy?" Sarcasm dripped from his voice, and if I hadn't heard it his eyeroll would've given away he thought it was a joke.

"Yeah. They said it was distracting, just like shoulders."

I continued working on the crossword, despite being able to feel Death staring at me. He couldn't tell if I was joking or not. Unfortunately, I wasn't. Candy, deemed a distraction, was banned from classrooms and the hallways leading to an intricate system of candy smugglers and dealers. It quickly passed the panini trade.

After an hour on the bus, the strings pull strengthened. The next stop we rolled into, I stood up and walked off. Death followed behind me. I looked down the road.

"This way," I said. My fingers tingled as I walked.

"And why do you think it's that way, kid? Is it the sign that says evil lair this way?"

I looked back at him. "There's no-" He pointed; I looked where his finger was aimed. My face twisted into an expression of confusion. "Why? Why would you have that?"

"I'm pretty sure it's a tourism thing. There's a sign over there for a superhero base." He gestured to a sign pointing the opposite direction. "Either it's a tourist trap thing or they actually do have a superhero here. I don't get how they could with Jacob calling the shots, but you never know."

I looked back down the road. Nothing that way screamed immortal guy living here. The thin strand of energy seemed to grow smaller by the second and doubt began to fill my mind.

"So is that the right way or not?" I asked.

"I dont know, you tell me miss navigatrix."

"What?"

"Navigator is masculine. Navigatrix is feminine."

"That's weird. Just call me a navigator."

"I would," Death said, "but you're not doing a very good job of it, now are you?"

I scowled. "Shut up."

"Oh, so are you sassing me again? I could destroy you, you know." If his tone had been a touch darker, I might've shut up myself. I probably would've handed him the gun and followed after him wherever he headed. Lucky for me, he was teasing me.

"You haven't yet, so I doubt it."

A loud groan left Death's lips. "Why are you mortals like this?" He threw his hands in the air, before running one through his hair. I started walking, trying to keep my grip on that energy.

"I don't know, ask God."

"Maybe I will." Death's sneakers were a lot quieter on the paved sidewalks than they were on gravel, and they were much quieter than his boots or heels.

"No you won't." I glanced back at him, smiling. My grin quickly faded as a question rose to my mind. I waited until we walked for a little bit, and until Death had caught up to walk by my side, to ask. "Hey, what happened at that Christmas party?"

Even out of the corner of my eye, I could see him bristle. His steps faltered and he almost tripped on a piece of broken sidewalk. "What Christmas party?"

"The one Uriel told me about. The reason why you stopped having them."

"Nothing."

"Death." I stopped. "What happened?"

"I said it was nothing, kid." He messed with his gloves. His eyes caught mine. "Just leave it alone."

"I'm not going-"

"Kid. Leave. It. Alone," he growled. I swallowed and nodded. As soon as the signal changed, I hurried across the street; Death walked.

The streets weren't crowded, despite it being nearly noon. I commented on it, not paying too much attention as I went to cross another street. I was yanked backward. A car flew by, turning the corner on two wheels.

"Be careful, kid. I shouldn't have to say that."

"It's not like it could kill me," I said, despite knowing my heart would be racing if I were alive.

"No, but do you want to explain how you survived getting hit by a car going eight miles per hour? It would be like explaining how you're surviving a hundred degrees in a sweatshirt and jeans."

"Is that why no one's outside?"

"Duh. This is almost too much for me."

"You're fine in Hell."

"Hell's different." Death said. He took off his cloak and tied it around his waist, the same way he had when we went after Ivy. Unfortunately, when he was folding his cloak so it wouldn't drag, I caught sight of something I should've never seen. Some sort of distressed noise left my throat and I covered my eyes.

"What's wrong, kid?"

"Why are you wearing booty shorts?" The image was burned into my mind and a few tears fell down my face. "No. No. Why?"

"Stop being so dramatic. I look fabulous."

My response was another set of distressed noises. I don't know if I kept crying or not, but it was warranted.

"Hey, when you have to pretend to be a girl in certain countries then you can judge."

"A, I'm a girl. Two, why do you have to pretend? It's not like they'll go tell every living person that you're a guy who just likes wearing dresses and makeup."

"I never claimed to enjoy it." Death said, snagging the gun from me. "It's more or less I lost a bet a few millenia ago and I'm stuck doing this. You'd think I'd be able to beat Lucifer in a simple game of chess, but no. The guy likes playing Hell chess."

"Well, he is the devil, and you like playing chess? Nerd."

"Oh, like you aren't? I saw how you were acting in that weapon room." My breath caught in my chest. "You were about ready to nerd out with all of those things. I bet you could tell me about what these guns were-"

"Queen Anne pistols became popular in England during the time of Queen Anne. There are muzzle loaded versions and then the one we have which you'd have to remove the barrel to load. It's a flintlock pistol and there are smaller ones called muff pistols which ladies could hide in their hand muffs." I said, trying to prove his point. I didn't want him to know the real reason I was acting like I was there. I didn't want him to know that I knew exactly where we were.

"See? You have no right to call me a nerd. Although, I feel like you'd like playing reverse chess."

"Reverse chess?"

"I'll explain it later. This way." He turned down an alley. Several cats laid panting in the shadows. One of them hissed at Death, while another tried to rub against his ankles. Death bunny hopped back. "Maybe I should've worn actual pants."

"You think?" I rolled my eyes and picked up the tan and white cat. I rubbed under his chin. When he started purring, I pressed my head against his.

"Don't get scratched."

"Hey, I haven't had a single sneeze from allergies since I died. Let me enjoy cuddling with a random cat." I poked one of the cat's paws. "Aw, look at your little toe-beans. Death!"

"What?" He whirled around. He was met with my wide eyed stare.

"It has extra toes!"

"And?"

"Look how cute its feet are! It's wearing mittens. You are such a pretty boy, yes you are. Here you go. Go find your owner." I let the cat hop out of my arms. It disappeared through a cat flap. I turned and sprinted down to the end of the alley, where Death was waiting. "How much farther?"

"Well, I'm no expert on finding basically dictators, but I feel like the big fenced in compound is probably our best bet. Want to try going in the front door?" There was a glint in his eye, one I didn't like.

"Uh, sure?"

"Great!" Death grinned, but it was different than usual. No blinding, bright smiles, just a unsettling feral one. "But we'll need disguises."

We spent the next twenty minutes breaking into houses, stealing clothes, makeup, and ashes.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked, holding a baggie in my hands.

"Yeah. What are they going to do? Haunt me? Just pour it in my hair. Gray's better than white."

I stopped breathing and emptied the water soaked ashes over his head. His ran his fingers through it and worked it into the strands, making his hair look several shades darker.

"Did you get enough makeup?" I looked through the bag. About sixty bottles of foundation and concealer sat in the bottom, most of them different from each other.

"I'm going to mix those together. Go get changed into the outfit I got you. If I remember correctly, that should get us through the door.

I sighed and nodded. The clothes he had me put on were a bit more revealing than something I'd typically wear, with my entire stomach exposed. The pants were comfortable, and so were the shoes. Walking back to where I left Death, I saw him mixing all of the makeup together into a weird tanish color.

"Please tell me I don't have to flirt with the guy." I crossed my arms. Death's eyes flicked up to meet mine.

"Belly dancing isn't what you think it is. It only got that reputation because of some guy in America and that whole 'There's a place in France where the ladies come to dance' or however the song goes. Jacob likes it as an artform. We just need to get in the door," he said. "Though that won't be practical if we have to fight in close quarters, there's nothing for weapons to catch on."

I sat next to him and started painting the makeup on myself. Death handled the stuff on my face and back while I did the rest. He handed me a thing of lipstick. I put it on.

"Huh. You look not dead. That's good. But is this what you really looked like?"

I stared at the weird color of my skin. "I'm not sure anyone has this skin tone." There was a weird green tinted to it, and if it came from mixing the makeup or from something else I had no idea. "Can we get going before this starts rubbing off?"

Death nodded. We started towards the compound, with Death's cloak draped over my shoulders. Nobody stopped us as we neared the gate. It was only when we came across a gurd booth did someone say something.

"What business do you have here?" A lady asked. I pressed my lips together. I saw her picture in one of the houses we robbed.

"I discovered this young dancer during my travels and I wondered if our most supreme Excellency would care to become her patron so she may attend one of the prestigious schools in the city."

The woman's eyes scanned us. "Do you have your papers, sir?"

"Yes. Here you are." He slid her a laminated card. She studied it for a minute. The guy in the picture had black hair, but he had the same skin tone and his eyes were green.

"You look a bit older than you do in this, Jackson."

"It's Johnson. And traveling was less stressful when I left versus when I got there. Found myself sleeping in a village when it got raided. Enough to make my hair turn gray." Death smiled. "Are we good to go?"

She handed him back the card and pressed a button. The gate opened. "Go ahead, and don't forget to stop by the Supreme Excellency gift shop on the way out."

Chapter: 3,170

Book: 56,706

There's about eight more chapters to go!

Woo!

And uh...yeah. That sex trafficking line was actually a conversation that happened. I'm going to miss Scholar Challenge.

See yah