Micah stood up and raked a frustrated hand through his short blond hair. I'm hoping I can leave this part out in the report, he thought to himself. 

The plan in his head was terribly childish, he'd admit. But as with most things, perhaps the children are not all wrong.  Some things, despite the low level of maturity, has it's place in the grand scheme of things and may be proven quite effective.

Walking off to the back, towards the kitchen, he ventured through the silver double doors unseen to all into a bustling kitchen. Chefs galore at gathering as they stood conjuring delicious foods with flame and grill along with helpers dishing meals and of course busy, busy wait staff shuttling plates and drinks. Right on the table next to the doors laid a couple of aprons. Off to a corner past the wall of lockers, Micah felt the warmth of his body intensify as he willed himself visible on the mortal coil. Without a hitch, he grabbed one of the black waist aprons and tied it around him.  It blended well with his black button down shirt and slacks that was his typical work clothes on the mortal plane. No one seemed too invested in observing their surroundings as everyone was running double time from the dinner rush. Taking full advantage of that, Micah saw his chance to grab a tray of three pasta dishes and balance it on his shoulder as he walked out into the house area.

"Yep, this will do nicely", he said aloud to himself.  Walking to the other row of tables, he eyed the table where his mark and her date sat.  He was able to see Mark's face as he laughed and ate his food. Micah felt a weird pang in his gut watching Mark drool all over Briseis, but couldn't figure out why. The guy just irked him--and he wondered if it was this nagging annoyance which inspired this little plan. Either that or he just desperately wanted to go back home.

Moving closer to their table, he knew he had to act fact so no one from the staff really questioned him. He needed to get to it and get back invisible, where he could continue his recon of her in peace. Almost panting, Micah picked up speed and right when Mark reached a zenith in his laughter, Micah tripped, sending the tray of food sliding down and two meals crashing down in Mark's lap. The loud crashing of plates and food were blended by the surprised screeches from Bree and other women who watched. The ambiance of the lovely Italian restaurant was tainted by awkward silence of patrons as they witnessed the disaster.

Mark, hissing a curse, immediately stood up as the hot pasta and sauce ran down his button down shirt yelping at the mess all over him. Cheese, rich red sauce and pasta pieces adorned his clothing.

Micah's mouth gaped opened in shock and couldn't tell how much of the shock was genuine. Wow, a direct hit!  

"I'm so, so sorry!" Micah apologizing profusely. His face innocent and bathed in light.  "Are you alright?"

Mark's face, however, was beet red and body stiff as he glared at Micah. He knocked Micah's hand away as he tried to pull pasta off him. "What the hell are you doing, man?! I've got shit all over me! Why don't you watch what the hell you're doing!"

His explosion was so threatening, Micah saw Briseis flinch. If Micah didn't know any better, he would think Mr. Clueless wanted to take a swing at him for this embarrassment. Besides the food being a little hot, he was sure there was no physical damage.  He'd imagine the only thing hurt was his pride.

Briseis stood up, leaning over to assist with her napkin. "Mark, it's going to be ok--." As she said that, her eyes caught Micah's presence, steadfast and unexpectedly. His stark blue eyes held her for a moment, suspending her somewhere far away from where they were now. There was something haunting and also strangely thrilling to her behind those ocean eyes. Her mouth dry, she suddenly became aware of her staring at the handsome, clean shaven face and tried to blink. Good heavens on earth, who was this guy?

Micah stilled at her eyes looking into him. Her pale turquiose eyes were bright, beautiful and fixed on him.  He couldn't place her facial expression, but in any case, something about her gaze made him feel trapped--uncomfortable even, as if she saw something in him he wanted to keep secret. Damn witches, that must be it.

"Bree!" Mark called to Briseis through her haze.

Briseis suddenly squinted her eyes shut and shook her head.  She finally opened her eyes to see an angry Mark standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder. "Huh?"

Mark's angry face, turned to puzzled. "Are you alright? You ready to leave this fucking place?"

Briseis looked around. The two waiters on the floor and table were not the man she saw a second ago. But she was staring right at him. Where did he go? "Wa-what happened to the waiter?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically timid.  "The one who spilled the food?"

Mark grabbed her coat and scoffed. "Oh, that asshole? He ran to the back to get some rags and never came back. Didn't you see? He spilled food all over me and can't face me! Even the damn manager can't seem to find the guy!" His clothes were finally free from fragments of food, but the ghastly stains remained. The red sauce soaked through, clinging to his skin.

Briseis was thoroughly confused. When did the manager get involved? She didn't remember him nor the waiters show up. Where was the blue-eyed waiter? An uneasy shiver ran down her spine. It felt like she was experiencing a black out. It was bizarre and unnerving to say the least. She looked up at Mark, her frustrated and humiliated date and felt even worse. Poor guy. Perhaps it was best to call it a night. "I'm so sorry, Mark. This is terrible. Yes, let's go."

Mark sighed. "Good. I'm gonna call the manager tomorrow and make sure he keeps his promise to pay for my dry cleaning.  That and comping the meal was the very least they could do." He began to propel her towards the exit. "That and hire better fucking help!" Mark amplified his voice, ensuring the restaurant heard.

Briseis walked out of the restaurant and faced him. "Mark, it was just an accident. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Yeah, I got that. Which is why I didn't pummel the stupid guy after spilling hot food all over me.  What if he had something from the oven? Or heaven forbid...soup?"

Briseis stopped in her tracks and folded her arms, a scowl deep on her face. "Wait a minute. You were going to hit him?"

Mark shook his head. "Of course not, Bree. I was just lashing out. Please don't look at me like that."

Her frown deepened. "Like what?"

"Like I'm an asshole and you're gonna kick my ass." Mark stretched his neck in frustrated and sighed again. "Look, I've waited tables in college, but I never made a shitty mistake like that, alright. I'm just angry. Please don't take it to heart."

She felt the beginnings of a headache and wanted to forgive his aggressive demeanor. The date was okay in the beginning, even though he wasn't a casual sex kinda guy. He was fun, but tonight is showing too much of his bad side and she had work in the morning. "It's alright. It's late, Mark so I'm gonna call it a night. I'm sorry our first date was disastrous."

Defeated, Mark nodded and closed in for a hug, wrapping his arms around her. Then he gently squeezed her hips, making a tender gesture that he desperately wanted out of the friend zone. Perhaps it was too subtle, as Briseis gave him a quaint kiss on the cheek and backed away.

Taking her keys out of her purse, she offered him a small smile. "Have a good night, Mark."

"Goodnight Bree."

Micah stood by the parking meter and watched the stained Mr. Clueless quietly walk to his car opposite of Briseis, who was heading to the garage the other way. Alone. The plan appeared to have worked.  He originally had no intention of her seeing him as human. Micah only wanted her to see him as terror, as he fully intend to give her the horror. Micah waited till Mark drove away before he turned to watch his mark turn the corner towards the parking garage.  It was time to go to work.

The chilly autumn night stirred only the street trash as there was no one around. The quiet left Briseis uneasy as she walked into the stairwell of the garage, keeping her keys clutched in her hand. All that was her company was the echoes of her shoes hitting the steel steps up to level three. Opening the stairwell door, she was washed with the bright florescent garage lighting. Walking to her black Toyota, those eyes belonging to that dreamy waiter popped into her thoughts. She couldn't really remember his face now, just bits and pieces, but those eyes were the only concrete image to show she didn't imagine him. 

Poor guy, he just made a mistake and hoped it didn't cost him his job. 

As she got closer to her car, the gentle hum of the florescent lights suddenly stopped. Her body stilled as she looked back and saw the rows of lights began to slowly dim, one after the other as the eerie wave of gradual darkness began to follow her. And the chill...it was blowing deeper, colder.  Briseis shivered and blew out a clouded breath. Something wicked lurked in the night, and it crawled up her spine, paralyzing her.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Bree stood still, her keys clutched so tight they dug into her skin. 

She slid some of the keys between her fingers, turning them into makeshift weapons.  Her other hand shuffled through her bag until it wrapped around the pepper spray.  She wanted to move. She needed to move, but her feet wouldn't work. The chilly air began to smell like roses and jasmine throughout the garage. Briseis continued to watch the lights dim until a figure appeared in front of her, enveloped in darkness. The presence so close, she stumbled back to the cement floor. The dark figure appeared human. She saw the shadow of arms and legs and a hooded face. But that's where the human component ended, as behind it was a full span of black wings, like that of a raven. Two wings arched and crested behind the being in all black, and she would have thought impossible except as the ice cold wind blew through the garage, a black feather blew onto her leg. Its face hooded and only a pale, almost white chin was all that was visible. 

Whatever stood before her was definitely not human.

She gasped. "Who are you?"

Micah began to take a step forward, when she scrambled back, hastily trying to stand up. Her once turquoise eyes where now almost back as her pupils were large, dilated with fear. "I'm here for the witch, Briseis Devareaux." a deep voice responded, echoing through the garage. "Do you deny your identity?"

Briseis found herself panting, trying to catch her breath. The chill bled into her bones and her body ached. Whatever it was, it had came for her, and she was smart enough to know that denying would be a foolish mistake. She straightened her body and stood firm. "No. I am Briseis. What do you want?"

Micah took another step towards her, encroaching on her space. "To warn you.  For far too long you have walked in the steps of Death, Briseis. Bringing back souls from the dead, souls that Death has already claimed." He took another step towards, and she stood still. "You have insulted and upset the balance of life, and this is not a small infraction, mortal." Micah continued walking until he stood a foot away from her, seeing the slight shakiness in her stance, even as she stood facing him. "You are forbidden from necromancing, Briseis Devareaux," he continued. "You are not to bring any more lives back from Death. Ever. Do you vow to desist?"

Briseis shook her head. Her mom warned her of this, many times. 'Someday, Death himself may come for you', mama warned her when she was a teen. She shrugged it off then as a silly little boogeyman tactic, her mama used to do. But this was real. She may have had nightmares about it all before, but this being standing before her was real. But it wasn't right. Why should she be bullied to not use a gift given to her? Maybe she believed a sliver of the threat in her youth, but she didn't have a plan to protect herself should that day come. "I've done nothing wrong. They deserved to live."

Micah shook his head slow and ominous. "It isn't your right, mortal."

She frowned. Says who?, she yelled to herself. "And if I refuse?" Briseis took a step back after making such a bold statement.

Micah clenched his teeth and began to growl, when in reality he was floored at the ballsy protest the witch hit him with. He'd imagine her stubborn, but clearly not in the face of death. Literally. You've got to be kidding me. Ohhh no, you're not! You're going to submit and live to like it!  And I'm going home to enjoy my vacation!

Losing control, Micah's anger got the better of him and he grabbed her shoulders, trying to make a point. The garage lights flickered a bit, but it was the shaking of the concrete beneath her feet that made her scream.  Still screaming, she tried to break free from him, but it was no use. His grip was strong and the frost of his white hands chilled her skin.

"If you refuse, Death will come for you Briseis and it will not be quick. It will not be merciful. It will be a culmination of your worst fears and pain, and tear your soul asunder. Is that what you want?" His voice was deep, cold without so much as a shred of remorse.  She needed to understand that Azrael did not screw around and this warning was a walk in the park compared to what Death would have done to her. "So, again I ask you." Micah pulled her closer to him, enough to see more of his face. "Do you vow to desist?"

Briseis froze in horror as she realized the paleness of his face was not due to his skin.

Because he had no skin.

His face was that of bone--a skull with no eyes. Just dark, abysmal pits in his eye sockets. He looked like the epitome of death itself. The darkness he milled around her was palpable, cold and Briseis couldn't stop seeing that nightmare of a face, even when she closed her eyes. She swallowed hard and nodded in agreement frantically. Whatever to make this vision go away. Her head started to grow woozy and ached, hoping her vision may have been playing tricks on her.

Micah's otherworldly voice rumbled the walls impatiently. "Say it!"

"Yes!" Briseis belted out with spite. "I desist! Now let me go!"

"Death will give no more warnings to you, Briseis Devareaux." Micah shook his head. "He will come for you and take your soul personally if you betray him...don't ever betray him."

Briseis felt her eyes fade to black, as if someone shut off a switch in her brain, and Micah caught her body as she promptly passed out, falling into a slump between his arms.

Finally breathing a sigh of relief, Micah changed back to himself and the garage lights slowly brightened, revealing a fainted witch in his arms. He bent down and scooped her up her legs, bringing her head to rest on his chest. Micah found himself staring at the serene plains of her face. She had smooth, high cheekbones and full pink lips. Curious, he moved a bit of her dark brown hair to better see her face up close. He never understood why witches tended to be so beguiling and this one in his arms was no different. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism to keep entities from wanting to hurt them, he thought to himself. Well, regardless, her gentle face did not and would not save her from the wrath reapers had for her. He hoped she was wise and did not poke the bear, so to speak. But she looked pretty terrified, and whether she'd try to rationalize what really happened tonight, deep down, she'll never forget what she saw. She'd never forget his words. The horror of his face. This wasn't some coy warning in her nightmare like Abe did. 

He was the nightmare.

Micah spoke quietly to her unconscious face. "They'll be no more raising the dead for you." 

He shifted her in his arms and walked to her car. Stopping at the driver side, he paused. He could just leave her in the car and have her wake up there. In fact, reapers usually just left the mark where they were, unconscious or not because they were supposed to minimize interaction with mortals as such as possible. However, considering Mr. Clueless didn't even walk her to her car as she walked the streets of New Orleans, for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to just leave her there. Besides, Micah already broke the rules of engagement by his little role play earlier.

He looked down at her and sighed. Why break precedent, Micah? You're already on a roll.

Micah shifted her body, hoisting her over his shoulder like a fireman's carry. He walked around to the passenger's side, and with free hands, opened the door. He cringed as he heard the lock snap, totally forgetting to unlock with the keys. Screw it, she can get new locks, he thought to himself in justification. He plopped her in the passenger seat, making sure her arms, legs and bag were inside before closing the door. He loped to the driver's side and opening it, snapped the other lock. Plopping into the driver's seat, Micah blew out a frustrated sigh. There were simply too many details to this world for him. Or maybe he was just burnt out, he couldn't say for sure. But this was truly not his best work. 

Micah glanced at Briseis, and the keys clutched in her hands. He gently reached over to pull them out, when she grabbed his hand, tightening her grip while unconscious. Micah froze as Briseis clutched his hand and muttered in her sleep.

"Please hold on to me mama!" she cried out with closed eyes. "Don't let go of me, please!" Urgency and fear hung on every word she said, still holding on to Micah's hand as if her life depended on it.

Micah was sure she was in the throes of a nightmare concerning her deceased mother , but didn't know what to do as waking her now was definitely not great timing. As foreign as it felt to him, he patiently held her hand, feeling the warmth of it until her mutters subsided, and her grip softly loosened as she fell quiet once again.

Breathing a soft sigh as he pulled his hand back, Micah proceeded to take her home. A lot of rules were broken tonight, but he knew Azrael. He only cared about the end game...and with another mission accomplished, so did Micah.  Another harbinger mission completed and freedom to get some peace awaited him. 

He again looked to the resting necromancer at his side and couldn't remember the last time a mortal had piqued his curiosity. She didn't behave like a normal witch, but then again what's normal?  He just hoped she listened.

###

What do you think? Will Bree take heed and listen to Micah's warning?  Do you think Micah's rule breaking and curiosity the start of something... interesting?