A Day In The Life

Soren

The day has fucking dragged.

Ninety percent of the people I had to pluck from this world today decided that now of all days they wanted to repent and beg for their lives.

Honestly. It’s fucking pathetic.

If you’ve made it to where I myself have to come reap your soul, then you’re the worst of the worst.

A few of them were common criminals, but most of them were walking pieces of shit.

My reapers always complain when it comes to reaping those souls, so I’ve grown accustomed to taking over.

I’m currently on my last soul, one ~Geraldo Burtini~, who I currently have strapped down to his dining room table with his own clothing, which is laced with vervain.

“Now tell me, Geraldo, where did you get this gaudy-ass thing? I mean, good God man, why do you need so much gold in one ugly-ass table?”

I can’t help but splutter at the damn thing, my eyes ready to bleed out from the shine of it. His groans of pain, which ring through the house, have me chuckling.

“Oh, you poor baby, does it hurt to talk without your fangs?” I grab hold of his face, my eyes solid black while hellfire literally burns through them.

The sight is far beyond demonic and has every fear this fucking punk-ass vamp could ever have flowing through his demented mind.

“Hmm, don’t feel like answering me, I guess. It’s only fitting since my next move was to remove your tongue.”

Squeezing his cheeks hard to get my point across has him crying out.

“You know, Geraldo, there are people in this world who would have killed to have your abilities. Humans in this world who would give up anything for the chance to be what you are!”

Shoving his face over, he spits up the blood that has filled his mouth.

“And you know what? They wouldn’t have turned out even half as bad as you.”

“Trafficking humans as blood bags wasn’t very smart when you have Silas Moretti running point on stopping the spread of human mistreatment.”

Walking around the table, I slowly run my hands—now more claws than actual hands—around his body, my nails tearing through flesh the whole way.

“I mean, who do you think tipped us off to what you were up to? The Brotherhood and my reapers work hand in hand.”

Making my full loop around, I grab hold of his right hand.

“Speaking of hands.” I snap it back quickly before ripping it from his body.

His screams of pain continue for several hours, my wolf’s anger from not fully marking our mate seeping through into the torture of this pathetic vamp.

A noise behind me has me turning around to see my other brothers, Craven and Zennen.

Craven’s face holds a giant smirk.

Which is not surprising since Craven and I have always leaned more toward the torture aspect of our job, whereas Devlin and Zennen prefer a cleaner approach.

And while they don’t handle souls on Earth very often like I do, they do like to check in on me periodically.

“I know you’re Death and all that, Soren, but isn’t that a little overkill?” Zennen’s voice is deep but filled with humor.

“I don’t know. Pestilence is it?” Zennen scowls at me, while Craven and I chuckle.

“Devlin is going to start a war if we don’t make it to dinner. Apparently Analeese has been cooking all day.”

Turning back toward the table, I shove my hand through Geraldo’s chest, ripping his heart out before squeezing it and dropping it to the floor, permanently ending his miserable life.

Walking out of the room, I spot one of my reapers waiting for me. “Clean this up, and then you’re free for the day.”

“Yes, sir, thank you.” He grabs my hands, wiping them clean before walking around me and into the room I just abandoned.

Following behind my brothers, I make my way to the foyer. Standing there in his typical black-on-red suit is Silas Moretti himself, along with his beautiful wife Milani.

“Silas,” I say while shaking his hand, leaning over and kissing Milani on the forehead. Behind us Zennen and Craven are summoning the portal to Purgatory.

Once it’s open, I nod my head at them before following my brothers in. They will take over the cleanup of the surviving human slaves, while my reapers clean up the supernatural mess.

The portal opens up, effectively placing us right in Devlin’s living room. He’s sitting on the couch, repeating over and over: “Say ‘Daddy,’ Gracie, come on, say ‘Daddy.’”

His desperation has me cracking up. Someone as powerful as War shouldn’t be begging for anything, yet here he is, begging the little beauty in the pink tutu just to say one word.

When my voice carries over to her little ears, Gracie’s head almost snaps off her shoulders with how fast she turns it, her little eyes locking in on mine before she squeals at the top of her lungs.

Running to me full force, she’s chanting over and over: “SoSo, SoSo!!! SoSo!”

Squatting down, I open my arms for her, but her path is blocked by Craven, who tries to pick her up. He’s met with a firm slap to the hand and a loud unpleasant grunt from the little half-breed.

Devlin, Zennen, and I laugh at the rejection she just gave one—now shamefaced—Famine.

She runs the rest of the way into my arms, and I chuckle at her happy squeal before tossing her up in the air. “There’s my beautiful princess!”

I continue doing it, drawing out as many cute little giggles as I can, each giggle laced with my name.

“Soren, what have I told you about tossing her like that!” Analeese’s voice rings out behind me.

Catching Gracie, I place her on my hip, her little face bright red and her little arm grasping my shirt for dear life.

“SoSo,” she tells her mother, who just laughs before telling us all to come sit down for dinner.

When my stress gets too high, I’m grateful for days like this, for the opportunity to sit around the dinner table like this.

With my family.

There’s just one person missing. Looking over at Devlin, Ana, and Grace, I can’t help but feel the longing I feel when I see what they have.

My brother truly is the luckiest man in the world.