Water dripped down my face as I came to. I blinked past a thick haze, a headache stabbing at my temples. Moving in slow motion my brain struggled to register what my eyes captured. Shadows fell from crates and packing materials stacked all the way up to an immense factory ceiling with glass windows painted black to block out the light.
Wind echoed through the cavernous space, hitting my bare skin like ice.
A dark mass shifted to my right, and I flinched, breathing raggedly. I was tied to a workbench, my arms and legs strapped tight with rope. My head was a boulder as I lifted it up. Blood. There was blood all over me, streaking my jersey. Bile climbed up my throat at the sight of my right forearm, the gruesome aftermath of a shark bite, torn muscle and bone sticking out. The sweatpants David had given me were absent, exposing the cheeky lilac panties Iâd worn underneath. My right leg was mauled by two deep slashes. Panic drove me into a frenzy, and I tugged at the restraints, releasing a cry.
Two massive hands pressed my shoulders back down.
âI wouldnât move if I were you.â Deathâs hooded head bent over me. Nothing could hide the pure wrath in his voice. He was pissed.
âYouâve been poisoned. I slowed it temporarily from entering your heart, but you wonât last much longer if you flail around. I have to remove the rest of the venom.â He stuffed a wad of cloth between my lips. âThis will hurt. Stay awake.â
His head lowered over the wound on my arm. Horrified, I understood what was next and let out a strangled scream against the gag. His teeth were like razor blades piercing into my skin as his hot mouth clamped down onto my flesh. Breathing raggedly through my nose, I tried to sit up, but his powerful arm splayed across my chest and gripped the edge of the table. He drank hard and fast.
The pain throughout my body was indescribable, knives picking me apart. I longed for it to end, begged to be put out of my misery as the torment peaked and unleashed its fury.
Something warm and wet ran across my wound. His tongue.
The pain that demanded to be felt faded to a dull ache. Through half-opened eyes, I watched my forearm stitch itself together, leaving only a small trace of blood behind. Drained of energy, my head thumped back against the workbench. Dizziness hit me like a baseball to the face and everything spun into splotchy, distorted images, like the carousel from the carnival, except with creeping shadows closing in to consume the horses. Life ebbed away with the promise of peace, only to flood back in with a sharp shake into awareness.
âHey!
â As if Deathâs thunderous voice wasnât enough, his hands were shaking my shoulders. âWake up!â He grasped both sides of my skull. âOpen your eyes, Faith. Open them now. Come back to me.â
.
âNo, not five more minutes! It is not time to sleep!â Death barked, as frantic as a creature with so much control in his voice could sound. âFaith, listen to me. You need to stay awake. Youâre dying on me, stupid human. Not tonight.â
He gave my jaw one last firm shake and yanked the cloth out of my mouth. I managed to pry my eyes open.
âYou came for me,â I croaked.
Liquid fire dripped onto my cold lips. Blood. His wrist bled profusely, blood as black as the demonâs. He pushed his skin against my mouth, but I clamped my lips shut and thrashed my head to the side.
âYouâre drinking it. All of it. Youâve lost too much blood.â He pried my jaw open with his gloved fingers, forcing the liquid down my dry throat until I choked it down. It wasnât coppery like normal blood, but instead thin, and it tasted almost . . . sweet, the perfect candy. Suddenly, I needed more. I drank vigorously, fighting back a moan as the taste of his blood transformed into a charge of heat that licked down my spine. I could feel myself becoming stronger.
My mouth filled with one more swallow, when he pulled his wrist sharply away. Realizing what Iâd been doing, I tried to spit out the remains of the black substance, but he clamped his hand over my mouth, holding me against his steel frame.
âSwallow it, or youâll die,â Death snarled. Then he muttered the unthinkable, âPlease, Faith.â
The blood slid down my throat like warm sugar.
Death released me and shifted a step back, as if I were about to explode. Shadows crawled over me as invisible hands undid the rope knotted at my wrists and feet.
I swung my bare legs over the edge of the table, adrenaline rushing in my veins. My senses were tremendously intensified, and I struggled to adjust to the new world around me. Blood, dust, and mold overpowered the air. Rain struck the roof of the warehouse, louder and louder, hammers striking the inside of my skull with each pattering drop. Pressing my palms against my ears, I suctioned out the noise with a wince.
âIs the rain extremely loud or is it just me?â
âYouâre shouting.â I couldnât see him, but I knew he hung back in the darkness somewhere behind me.
An uncomfortable amount of energy buzzed through me, and I could no longer stay in one place. Taking off in a hurtling sprint, I raced around the warehouse, the world blurring around me. I leapt over wooden crates, weaved between construction material, and smashed my fists into a sheet of metal, denting it without any pain.
I soared up a spiral of stairs to the high platform above and braced myself on a railing at the top, looking down at the hooded man below. He stood in the same spot like a statue.
âHoly crud, this is !â I exclaimed. âAre you seeing how fast Iâm running? Iâm like a cheetah!â
âGet back down here!â Death barked, the fury in his voice startling enough to form goose bumps all over my arms. âYou are , not invincible. If you hurt yourself, I will not heal you again.â
I shimmied my shoulders to the music in my head, giggling.
âSomebodyâs grouchy!â
âIâm warning you, Faith.â
âIf you want me,â I purred with a smile, bracing my hands on the rusted railing, âyouâll have to catch meââ My stomach floated up into my throat as the railing broke and gave way. I tumbled over the side of the platform with a scream. The cement floor zoomed in, and I braced for a deadly impact that never occurred. Death had moved across the warehouse in a blink of an eye, cradling my fall with his arms before I hit the ground. I stared up at him in shock, hard muscles surrounding me like steel.
âI knew you liked me,â I said and bit down on my lip to suppress another delirious giggle.
Death set me down with a foreign curse, crowding my space with his intimidating size. I could feel the effects of his blood wearing off as the euphoric humor of the situation slipped away. I finally had the good sense to try to put distance between me and him and took a step back, when Deathâs large paw of a hand shot out, gripping the fabric of my jersey, and plucking me a foot off the ground. My gaze leveled with his veiled eyes, and I stiffened.
âDo you have any idea,â Death grated in his thickened accent, âhow close you came to getting yourself killed tonight?â His usual velvet tone had yet to show up, replaced by that feral growl that carried through the storehouse with ease. âAll because you provoked that demon. And now you have the gall to try and provoke ?â
I struggled to focus on what he was saying since his scent was so intoxicating it engulfed my senses. Leather, cherries, a yummy cologne with traces ofâ
Sobering up, I tried to tear myself free from his fingers.
âGet your hands off me. Would you have rather seen them take me away?â
âYou are a !â he roared. âA little monstrosity in emo clothes!
Things could have ended much worse for you in that alleyway!â
âI wonât apologize for defending myself!â
He dropped me to the ground, and I landed awkwardly on my butt. âPut your pants back on.â
A single step forward. Thatâs all he had to do to put me on edge.
His body language was lethal, a raging force of nature aimed to fire.
I crab-walked a few inches back, cold concrete rubbing against my bare legs. I scrambled to my soggy socked feet and backpedaled into the workbench, snatching my discarded sweatpants from the floor, while also making sure the Chicago Bears jersey didnât ride up and expose my ass cheeks more than it already had. The sweatpants were torn at the leg and saturated with rain and blood.
My brain suddenly revisited the alleyway, when Death splattered my world red. He didnât have to use weapons. With only his mind and his talons, he could have slain all of creatures. Heâd chosen to use a blade because it was messier, because it was in his nature to destroy.
.
Leaning back against a row of shelves, I shimmied the cold wet fabric up my legs the best I could and tightened the drawstring at my waist. The effects of his blood had faded, replaced by fatigue and fear.
âYou saved my life,â I trembled out. It was all I could manage to say with the blistering sensation of Deathâs hidden gaze.
âSaved?â His laughter was low, sinister. âWhat a polite way to put what I did. I slaughtered every last one of those demons. Tore and cut them to pieces.â Tendrils of darkness curled outward from his massive frame, as if they wanted to attach to the shadows behind him, or maybe, I feared, attach to me. âYouâre not much better off than you were in that alleyway. Now youâre alone. With me.â
My knees wobbled at the hunger laced in his cryptic words.
âWhat you?â I asked. âA vampire? A werewolf? Demon?â
âA nightmare.â
He slunk closer, taking his sweet time. Behind my back, my hand fanned for a weaponâanything I could get my hands on. I gripped something cold and heavy. A pipe of some sort. It immediately vanished from my hand.
âToo slow, cheetah,â he mused dryly.
We were in a blocked-off area in the warehouse. I had nowhere to run. Nobody would hear my screams. Death crowded my vision, claiming my space like night suffocating day, until I was overcome by his toxic presence. Heat shelled off his enormous frame; the sweet aroma of cherries fragranced the air like a lure.
âThe creature I conversed with,â he said gruffly. âThe raven demigod. Have you seen him before?â
âNo,â I choked out. Just thinking about that thing made my skin crawl. âThankfully.â
âHave you painted him? Seen him in a dream? Think hard.â
âIâve never seen him before in my life.â
Deathâs hooded face peered down at me. I fidgeted under his gaze, sweating like a whore in church.
âWho is he to you?â I asked when the silence became too painful. âI sensed a bit of hostility.â
Leather creaked as he clenched his hands. âThatâs none of your goddamn business.â
. âSilly me, I thought we were having a conversation.â
âYou were wrong.â
I maneuvered away from the table, distancing myself from him.
Sucking in through my teeth, I said, âYouâre right, it is none of my goddamn business. That demon didnât show any interest in me at all.â
Deathâs body remained static, a cobra in the grass about to strike.
I didnât even think he was breathing, which was incredibly unnerving.
, he didnât have to say.
, I didnât respond.
His spine straightened. Had he heard me?
Death took a few unhurried strides, circling me like a predator.
I rotated my body, never giving him my back. He feigned a lunge, causing me to screech. Booming laughter reverberated off the warehouse as he moved in a blur, emerging from an aura of shadows to my left.
âWhoâs the male?â Death asked, the words rasped at the back of his throat.
I blinked a few times and tried to come down from the heart attack he almost gave me. âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
âThe male you were at the carnival with.â More circling.
. This time, I let him stalk somewhere behind me.
A mistake, I realized, when his hot breath tickled my ear. âThe boyfriend.â
I imagined those hidden fangs ripping into my neck and whirled around. Heâd already straightened to his full height. âMy private life is none of your business. Besides, you wonât answer any of my questions. Why should I answer yours?â
âMe-ow,â he purred, circling again. He didnât walk. He glided with a pantherine grace. âYouâre rather bold, for a human.â
The way he said settled uneasily in my stomach. It confirmed my assumption that he was playing with his food. He flipped my hair with a gloved finger, and I released a shaky breath.
âIâll be more careful next time,â I said. âPlease, can you take me home? I need to be home.â
âNo.â
âNo?â
âYes,â he said, cocking his head like an animal as he often did.
It was time to change the subject. Fast.
âWhatâwhat are you going to do with me?â I stammered, as he corralled me backward.
. âI donât have much meat on me. I rarely eat vegetables and junk food is my favorite food group, so I definitely donât taste goodââ
Death pinned me to a row of steel shelves with a single finger to my chest. A deliberate gesture of dominance, a movement he clearly enjoyed making, but something had changed since the last time. My fear took a step to the side as I ignited beneath his touch. I was attuned to the sinewy muscle rippling the edges of his silhouetteâthe leather of his right pant leg grazing my bare skin through a hole in my sweatpants, and the glowering burn of his veiled stare fueling the anticipation of his next calculated move.
âIf I were you,â he purred out slowly, intensifying the sweep of heat down my front, âI wouldnât mention your taste again, .
And I wouldnât fuck with me.â
. I must have looked like a pop-eyed toy.
He held that gloved finger on my chest a moment longer, before removing it.
âYou didnât have to save me,â I said softly.
He threw off heat like blazing coals. âMy, my, your heart is racing.â
My breath hitched. With a cool expression, I stared into the endless shadow of Deathâs face. âDid you expect anything different?â
âOf course not,â he said rather silkily. âThough, I know itâs not entirely from fear.â His laugh was low and seductive as sin. âYou mortal women and your strange fetishes for mysterious, psycho-pathic men. Itâs sick, really.â
A shameful blush warmed my cheeks. Couldnât defend myself there.
âIâll tell you a secret, Faith.â He leaned in, and I battled with the urge to move away. âI always get what I want.â
âNot this time,â I snapped.
âWeâll see about that.â
Although he was practically purring again with that deliciously velvet voice, there was a lethal undertone to his words, which I couldnât overlook.
âFrom the memory I saw in the fun house,â I began, âI am going to assume you want my soul because itâs special.â
âCorrect.â It was obvious heâd held back a snarky remark.
âIâm going to take a wild guess and say you donât plan on telling me why you want it.â
âGet to your point.â
âYouâre doing a pretty shitty job of convincing me to trust you,â
I said, fighting the slight tremble in my words. âThatâs what you want me to do, right? Trust you, so that you can do whatever it is you want to do with me?â
He flexed his fingers at his side, as if wanting to unleash his claws.
âYou canât make me come with you, can you?â I challenged.
âYou canât force me.â
I could his glare. âItâs in your best interest to come with me.â
âAnd that best interest is?â
He clasped his hands behind his back. âYou ask far too many questions.â
âBecause youâre vague and speak in riddles! This is the longest conversation Iâve had with you, and you donât even want to have it!â
âDo you want what happened tonight to happen again?â Death inquired, in a dangerously calm voice. âBecause thatâs exactly what will happen without my protection. Once rumor spreads of your existence, monsters you couldnât conjure up in your worst nightmares will come after you. Theyâre drawn to your soul.â
âLike you?â
Silence.
âWhy me? Whatâs so special about my soul?â
âI wonât convince you to trust me,â he said, disregarding the rest.
âIâm your only option.â
âI donât know who you are! I donât know what you are!â
âDeal with it.â
My jaw tightened. âYou saved my life to strike a deal with a little girl. You took advantage of me, and for what? What kind of person takes advantage of a childâs fear?â I was breathing hard, burning with fury. âOr hides his face beneath a hood!â
A low growl vibrated his throat and rolled out like a roar. âYou owe me your soul, regardless of my character. This is a dangerous game youâre playing, Faith. I will not play nice forever.â
âOh, great, this is you being âniceâ!â My arms rose and slumped to my sides. âWell, whatâs the plan now? Why are we talking if youâre not going to give me any answers?â
âGood point.â He jabbed a finger at the workbench. âStay. Iâll be back, eventually.â
âEventually! Youâre just going to leave me in here? Did you not see those things in the alleyway?â
âThis warehouse is a safe haven for you.â At that, Death stalked away with long, powerful strides. I struggled to keep up. âI made sure of it.â
âWait!
â
He blended into the shadows, waning away. I lunged forward and gripped the thick material of his cloak. The fabric filled with heat and shadows lurched from him like hands trying to grab me. I tore my hand free from the cloak, the tendrils of darkness surrounding Death still snapping at me like snakes.
In a blur, Deathâs gloved hand shot out and clutched my throat in a vise grip. His massive frame resurfaced from the shadows, and the snakes evaporated.
he snarled in a merciless hiss, fingers crushing into my neck. âNever touch me!â
But I couldnât process a single thought, except the instinct to stay alive. I grabbed onto his wrist to free myself and touched a gap of his uncovered skin.
A sharp jolt of energy went through me. Grief hit me in a cruel wave. The loss, it was endless. I was . Pain. Crushing, suffocating pain. Everything in my body compacting together, constricting in raw torment and wrathful hunger . . .
Then there was light, beams of sun spreading out in front of my fastened eyelids. The pungent smell of manure and aged straw permeated the humid air. Flowery weeds brushed my cheek as I peeled my eyes open. I sat up and blood drained from my face.
A farm. I was on a farm, but it wasnât a farm from my century.
The fields were manned by men who wore outdated beige tunics, baggy shirts, and worn-out trousers. They plowed into the dirt as if it was all they knew, melting beneath the sweltering heat of the sun. Past rows and rows of olive trees stood a proud Romanesque villa built of stone, surrounded by various leafy fruit trees, flowers, and shrubbery. Fountains rippled in an exquisite, enchanting garden straight out of a storybook.
Movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. My eyes darted to a boy sitting a mere ten paces away from me. He was squatting under the shade of a blooming tree, which draped over us both with its long, emerald green arms. The boy wore a baggy toga tied at his waist that exposed tan skin. His athletic build suggested he was older at first, though his profile was soft, childlike, marking him around twelve or thirteen. Curly golden ringlets of hair fell into his eyes, concealing them in shade. As I noticed the blade the boy held in his hand, he suddenly turned his head over his shoulder in my direction, those mud-streaked locks curtaining over his features.
Could he see me?
A smooth, feminine voice spoke out in a foreign language from behind me. A young woman looked right through me with gentle emerald eyes, and only then did I know for sure I was invisible in this world. She was around my Aunt Sarahâs age and the most beautiful woman Iâd ever seen. Soft features cradled by unblemished olive-toned skin and mermaid liquid-gold waves cascading to a narrow waist.
This time, when she spoke, I oddly understood her. âI was picking olives for a snack, when I saw you racing down the rows like the farm dogs were nipping at your bottom.â
I twisted around for the strange boyâs response and leapt back.
The boy! It was ! Death! Or, at least, the trick heâd used to approach me as a child. Iâd know those mismatched green eyes anywhere. Except this version of him was different, which made me question exactly where I was. His hair, for starters, wasnât black. His expression wasnât cold and void of emotion. Heâd yet to show any terrifying animalistic characteristics or flash any fangs. And although he scared the crap out of me at first, I currently didnât have the overwhelming urge to hurl myself behind the woman and use her as a human shield.
His features were boyish, soft, undeveloped, and yet a haunting maturity hardened his expression. Sun damage freckles splattered a Roman nose, and the large vertical scar that slashed across his lighter green eye was pinker than the boyâs scar in the fun house, as if the wound had only recently transpired and mended together to form a permanent mark.
The woman walked through me like a ghost. My mind raced as their conversation continued, pieces to a puzzle falling into place. Iâd been here before.
. But how?
The boy took off toward the woods. âAlexandru,â his mother yelled, âNot too late!â
. . .
Iâd been so absorbed in the scene Iâd forgotten I was standing here. Then again, everything about this strange place made me feel detached. Compelled to follow, I dashed after the boy with the mismatched eyes.
We came to an opening near a stream with flat moss, where a massive, enchanting willow tree anchored its roots beneath a haloing light. Long weeping branches with oval leaves curved over the ground like wings of an archangel, swaying in the gentle wind.
Alexandru grabbed a cluster of vines at the trunk of the willow and wrenched free a blanket of camouflage. This revealed an aging mirror made of silver instead of glass. It blended into the bark of the trunk as though they were merged into one. The mirror had a chipped frame, the silver scarred with imperfections and growths on the surface.
What transpired next between the boy and the willow tree unfolded like the beginning of a dark, twisted tale, etching into my soul. I would never forget it.
With a sudden jolt of pain, I warped back into the warehouse.
Death breathed raggedly, his strong hand wrapped around my throat like a vise. The air was so cold my rapid breaths clung to it.
âGet out of my head!â Death barked. He clutched my throat tighter.
I wanted to delve further into this world, feel more from this tainted heart, but our connection was fragmenting bit by bit. I couldnât let go; I didnât know . A phantom hand reached into my chest and squeezed as a great weight pressed against my lungs.
His power vibrated through me, released from my eyes in a torrent of tears.
The link severed. And the black veil fell.