Page 127 of Eternally Rare
“I have a feeling they would have eaten me.”
“No, no offense. They don’t like Ice Elven. They like their meat warm.”
My brows raise. “I am not sure how to respond to that.”
“No need to, Cailian.”
I stumble away from him. “How do you know my name?”
“Apologies. I don’t mean to frighten you. This is a scary place, but this is a neutral area. The good creatures tend to stay inside Purgatory Pins.” He juts his chin to the building, and I turn to get a better look.
It is a huge log-style like cabin, but it’s black with a red roof, and a bit run down.
“Purgatory Pins?” I question.
There is a line of bikes parked out front and if I am seeing correctly, each bike is made of bones.
Noted.
Do not get on this creature’s bad side.
He holds out his hand, his arm stitched the same as his face is. “I’m Death.”
I blink at him. “I am sorry?”
“Death,” he repeats. “I am why you are here.” He pulls out a cigarette and holds the box out to me. “Want one?”
“No, thank you.” I am becoming more confused as this interaction goes on. “You are Death?”
He snaps his fingers and a flame flickers on his index finger to light the cigarette. “You know, Four Horsemen, blah blah blah.” He exhales smoke, giving me a sad smile. “I do not enjoy so many parts of my job. Some days it weighs on me. I can feel the love you keep for your mates—” he clears his throat, glancing away.
“Are you… are you crying, Death?”
He wipes his eyes. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous, Cailian. I am a Horsemen. I am Death, The Reaper of All Souls. I do not cry about love.”
He sniffles.
“Right,” I say slowly, narrowing my eyes. “Listen, I do not know why you brought me here, but I need to go back. It is not my time.”
He sighs, nodding. “It isn’t. You’re right. You are actually one of the few that I cannot kill. Any friends or mates of The Monreaux Coven are off limits. They must always live. Bosses rules.”
“And your boss is? I would like to speak to him because I am a mate of a Monreaux and yet I am here being chased by hellhounds.”
“Lucifer is my boss. He is booked out for the next three months. Sorry, he can’t squeeze you in. You are here because I need to speak to you while introducing you to somebody.” He wraps his arms around my shoulders. “Let’s go play a game.”
“Okay— wait— no!” I shrug out of his hold and point my finger at him. “I do not want to play a game. I want to go home. To my mates. They must be terrified.”
“They aren’t fucking well Cailian,” he shouts at me. “Their mate just died. They can barely breathe.” He flicks my forehead, and I rub the sore spot.
“Ow. No need for that.”
“You are here because you are friends with Anwyll, no? He is part of the Monreaux Coven.”
“Yes. Is he here too? I thought you said we were off-limits?”
“You all are but there are loopholes for everything.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and we start walking to the front door.
The steps creak from our weight and the man kicks the door open to reveal the inside. It is rundown with dull lighting. The floor is translucent. Fire brews and souls scream, pressing their faces against the barrier, moaning to get free.