Death is a Bitch

by Masters, Cate

  “You need a break.” Hypnos yawned.

  “Oh no, you don’t. You’re not falling asleep on me. Not now.” She grabbed her sister’s hand and tugged her to the dance floor.

  The heavy beat penetrated her skin, sank into her limbs, unwinding her tension with each sway and swish.

  Hypnos leaned in. “Hey, there’s Azrael.”

  Death followed her twin’s gaze across the room. “I don’t see….” The flash of a great wing caught her eye, drawing it upward. Yes, there he was, dancing in mid-air. His wings hid his partner, but revealed the slow movement of his hips, apparently grinding against her.

  “Who’s he with?” Hypnos peered in fascination.

  Good question. “Who cares?”

  Hypnos twirled like a little girl, cradling her drink. “You do, or you wouldn’t be shooting her the evil eye.”

  Death forced her attention away. “The only one I’m mad at is myself.”

  Her sister leaned near. “For falling for him?”

  “No, for wasting any time on him.” At least with Damien, she knew up front he was an asshole.

  ***

  Lights swirled around Azrael. The deep beat pounded into his brain. “My head hurts.”

  “Aw, poor baby.” Soft fingers caressed his temples, entangled in his hair. “I’ll make you feel better.” Moist, warm lips brushed his, teasing. Tantalizing.

  “Death.” Tight arms locked her in an embrace. She wouldn’t get away again.

  She squealed, pushing at his shoulders. “Sorry, honey. I’m Simka. Remember?” Her tone turned harsh.

  Simka? “No.” Then where was Death? He struggled to open his eyes, but the lids felt weighted. The fluttering of his wings faltered, and they dropped too close to the heads of those below. Gasps and shouts of surprise hardly penetrated the thick haze he couldn’t shake. “Where am I?”

  “It’s too crowded here, isn’t it? Come with me.” She slid her hand inside his.

  He let her lead him like a child. Straining against the spotlights, he stumbled. Righting himself, he jerked up his head and the stare of his beloved halted him. “Death.”

  At a stronger tug on his hand, he shook himself free. “Let go. Who are you?”

  She giggled and attached herself to his side. “You’re going to give a girl a complex. Simka, sweetie.” Her lips trailed his cheek to his ear.

  Trying to free himself of her was like escaping an octopus. “Leave me alone.”

  He lurched from her clutches, but despair cut short his pursuit. Death wound through the crowd, heading for the great archway outside. Her sister glanced back, her large eyes filled with sympathy. She shrugged and followed Death out the door.

  “No.” His knees buckled. Gravity seemed to push him to the floor, its cold hard surface the last thing that registered in his consciousness.

  ***

  When he awoke, the soft strains of a piano filtered into his brain. His eyes fluttered against even the dim light. Footfalls padded near. “Death?”

  Someone sat beside him. “I may have to tattoo my name on your arm so you’ll remember,” Simka said.

  He blinked hard to focus. “Where am I?”

  “You passed out. Too much angel dust, I think.”

  “I never touch it.” Or had he? At least, he never had before. Pushing himself upright made his skull threaten to crack. “I have to go.”

  “Rest first. Abandon me after you recover. You don’t even have to promise me another date. Just drop by for another fuck anytime.” She pecked his cheek.

  Another? “I didn’t, we didn’t.” He couldn’t have. He clutched the sheet against his skin. Naked skin.

  Her brow arched. “You sure did. We definitely did. More times than you should’ve been able, in your condition.”

  He dropped his head to the pillow and stared at the ceiling, a gaudy mix of glittering stars, girlish unicorns, and flowers in bright, giddy colors. Impossible.

  A dim memory lingered in a haze. “Was Death there?”

  Simka giggled. “Not here. She may have been at the club.”

  No ‘may have been’ about it. Her piercing glare pinned him all over again, even in vague recollection. “This is awful.”

  She walked her fingers down his bare chest. “I wouldn’t say that, unless I added words like amazing.”

  He grabbed her hand before it traveled south of his hips, inside the sheet. No matter what she said, he didn’t, couldn’t have, made love to her. “No more.”

  “Maybe later?”

  “Who put you up to this?” He already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it.

  “You’re babbling.” She slid her hand away.

  He clamped harder and squeezed. “Damien. Say it.”

  Her expression soured. “You should go.”

  “Tell me the truth. If you’re capable.”

  “You’re a real charmer, huh. Leave now.” Her eyes flared red.

  Heat seared his palm. He dropped his hold, grabbed his tunic and dragged himself toward the door. “Gladly.” He wouldn’t get any information from her, and with her was the last place he wanted to be.

  ***

  Light edged the horizon, a blue glow rising to the indigo vault of the heavens. Soon the sun would infuse the sky with its rays, kiss the clouds with golden hues. For a moment, Death took it all in, imagining the sorrow of the mortal she carried in not seeing this dawn, or any other. Then her tattoo tingled with a new soul.

  It took all her resolve to tear herself away. For the first time in her existence, she longed for a change. I’ll speak to Mother. Maybe she’ll have an idea.

  Death rose into the heavens, but veered into the part of Earth still in shadows, where Nyx held court. “Mother?”

  A womanly form took shape in the deepest night. Nyx stepped forth, sumptuous in her gown of deep purple, the color of shadow. Even the sheen highlighting her long black hair had a darkness to it. “Death, darling. How nice of you to visit.” She held out her arms.

  Death slipped into her embrace and rested her head against her mother’s shoulder. “I’m lost,” she whispered.

  “What’s wrong, dear?”

  She searched Nyx’s eyes. “Is it possible to step aside?” No further explanation was needed. Her mother would know, though she may not understand.

  The surprise in her mother’s face softened. “You’ve had a terrible time recently. But we carry on, bound to the privilege of our duty.”

  ‘Privilege.’ Death heard from the beginning about it. Never had she resented it. “I’ve thought of this a long time, Mother. I have met my privilege with honor. But I need a break.” She stopped short of saying she couldn’t continue for infinity, though now she understood how Sisyphus felt, carrying out his curse time after time. “Is there no way to pass it along to another?”

  Her mother smoothed Death’s hair. “Yes.”

  Hope churned up. “How?”

  “To your child.”

  Despair erased hope, and she slumped.

  Nyx touched her finger to Death’s chin and lifted. “Many would gladly become your mate.”

  Yes, though none appealed to Death except the one who didn’t want her. “Maybe someday.”

  “I love the bracelet Acragas fashioned for you. How exquisite.”

  “Yes, I love it as much as the old one. It’s been a huge help. Acragas is a master craftsman.”

  “Not the only master craftsman in the universe, sweetie.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Nyx gave a delicate shrug. “It’s been forever since Malean tattooed you. Perhaps you might want to visit him.”

  Yes, if Acragas could update the bracelet’s functions, perhaps Malean could do the same for the tattoo. “I will. Thank you, Mother.”

  Her mother’s smile radiated love. “Everything will work out. You’ll see.”

  Somehow, when Nyx said it, it sounded true.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eyes hot and gritty as desert sand, Azrael hovered outside
the funeral home, immune to the sniffles of those inside even though now he could relate to their sadness, the irretrievable loss.

  Denial hit him hard. Well-acquainted with the stages of grief, he had never thought to experience them firsthand, but that’s what missing Death had come to resemble. Trips to the bar, he expected to see her there. Returning to the heavens, he looked for her in passing.

  Forget her. Move on.

  A man stood in the parking lot below with a woman. “Forget him. Move on.”

  The woman wailed. “How can you say that? It’s been less than a week!”

  Damn. The thought must have carried through. To counter it, Azrael issued soothing thoughts to replace them, but the only thing he felt when the last person drove off and the funeral home went dark was relief.

  He launched into the sky, and headed for the Nethers. “I need a drink.” Companionship would be nice, if he could bear another woman’s presence.

  Apprehension slowed his entrance. When he caught sight of Death, his wings vibrated, instinctively wanting to enfold her in their depths. She looked as beautiful as always, maybe more so.

  The thought clawed at his own heart, and deepened when she glanced over and held his gaze. The air seemed too thin. He’d have to talk to her sooner or later. Might as well get it over with.

  He forced himself to approach her. “Congratulations on capturing both traitors. You will be praised for all eternity.” He signaled a server, who fetched him a beer.

  Her mouth twitched, the slightest twinge of disappointment. “Not by humanity.”

  Of course. Much as she’d love to have a little admiration from them, they’d have no clue about her honorable actions. “No, by those who love and respect you.”

  “Unfortunately not the right kind of love.” The hardness in her voice masked the sadness in her eyes.

  “Is there a right kind of love?” Once, he’d believed they might share it. Now he had no idea if it really existed.

  “Yes. And I’m not going to settle for less.”

  Gods, anger only enhanced her beauty. Too bad she wasted herself with vermin like Damien. He kept talking to keep her there. “I’ve decided you need to head up a team to harvest souls.”

  “There’s no longer a backlog. I’m caught up now.”

  “But the situation served as a reminder why you need assistance. It’s evident things could turn nasty if anything should happen to you.”

  “Nothing will happen to me. Rest assured.”

  Azrael gulped his drink. “I’m not saying it’s likely. Only that you can’t rule it out. Or something similar.”

  Death’s eyes widened. “Thanks for the advice. I have to go.”

  “Right. Souls to harvest, I know.” He couldn’t delay her. “At least think about it.”

  “Is that an order?”

  “Not yet.” He gave a weak smile.

  “Farewell.” Death whirled away, glided to the archway, and took to the skies.

  ***

  Death’s sob angered her, and she couldn’t bear to let anyone see her so weak. When her tattoo tingled, she flicked the remote and flew off. Time to visit Malean. She’d put it off, equally afraid he might have no solution, or if he did, it would involve enduring the needle again.

  Nor was she thrilled to travel to his shop, in a seedy district of the Middle Plane between Heaven and the Underworld. The bell above the door tinkled as she entered, and the buzz of the needle sounded from the back room. It paused and Malean leaned back in his office chair to peer out.

  “Death, nice to see you. Be with you in a sec.” He waved the needle and scooted his chair out of sight.

  “No hurry.” She browsed through the shop. So many new tattoos, beautiful in their design, and amazing in function, more innovative apps than any modern cell phone. No wonder Malean enjoyed such high demand.

  Soon, a female demon sauntered from the back. “Too cool, Malean. I love it.”

  Malean followed. “It looks good on you, babe.”

  She rocked her hips to show off the design spanning her lower back. “What do I owe you?”

  Malean trudged to the register to finish the transaction. The demon kissed his cheek and rushed off, laughing.

  A burly male, Malean’s sheepish grin gave him a boyish appearance. “I love my work.”

  Death couldn’t help but giggle. “And your work loves you.”

  “One of the perks. What can I do for you, love?”

  Death took a fortifying breath and gave him as much detail as he needed.

  He listened and nodded. “Easy peasey. All I have to do is modify the butterfly you already have.”

  “Seriously? That sounds too simple.”

  “Nothing I do is simple, babe. I just make it look that way.” He examined her tattoo as he went on to explain how adding receptors to the existing design would allow Death to monitor any number of team members. Each node would reveal exactly which soul would be harvested by which team member, in addition to how and when, allowing her to maintain quality control.

  “Ingenious.” Such a relief, if it worked.

  Straightening to his full height, he grinned. “Did you expect anything less?”

  “No. You’re amazing.”

  “It’s why I earn the big bucks.”

  Good point. “Will it take long?”

  “In relation to what, eternity?” He chuckled. “It’s time well spent.”

  “Can we start now?” Better to get it over with.

  “Come on back, darling. We have a lot of catching up to do. I have some excellent wine. It will help you relax.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” All of it. And it would please Azrael, the best part.

  ***

  Azrael stood on the balcony outside his office, gazing out. His superiors had praised his job performance. The Division of Death and Dying had never operated so efficiently. He should be elated, but all he could feel was empty.

  “Azrael?” Death’s soft voice startled him.

  He whirled. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Your assistant said it would be all right. If you’re busy….” She turned to leave.

  “No, of course not. Is something wrong?”

  The faint trace of a smile lit her face. “The opposite, actually. I’m ready for a team now.”

  “You are?”

  “Thanks to Malean, the Master Inksman. He upgraded my tattoo. I can keep track of souls and team members, so I won’t have to worry. Nor will you.”

  “I only worried about you. You work so hard, Death. Harder than any immortal I know. I admire you so much for that. But you need to balance your existence.”

  “Balance.” She huffed. ”Right, maybe I’ll take up sailing.”

  “Yes.” Azrael softened his voice. “Balance. You can’t push yourself so hard. You need to enjoy your existence.”

  “Really. As my superior, I suppose you must concern yourself with your employees’ personal welfare.”

  “No one is your superior, Death.” He trailed his fingers lightly down her arm to her hand. Nostalgia made him ache for what he once thought they might have together.

  “I’d hoped you’d say that, but….” She ducked her head, averting her gaze.

  “Did you?”

  “I’d hoped for much more, actually.”

  Uncertainty warred with hope. “Not according to Damien.” Azrael’s fists clenched so hard, the muscles in his arms could’ve been a Da Vinci carving in marble.

  “Damien? You choose to believe that foul creature over me? Especially after what we shared?”

  “What we shared went to Hell faster than lightning, in case you forgot.” It all seemed a nightmare, but inerasable.

  “How can you blame me?” Tears welled in her eyes, but she set her mouth in a grim line.

  “For sleeping with me so I’d stop nagging you about work?” For laughing about it with the demon afterward?

  “You believed such nonsense?”

  Oh Gods, the demon had
lied. Azrael’s innate sense of trust failed him. No being had ever lied to him before, and he had no filter to detect it. Of course Damien wanted him to believe that. He wanted her for himself.

  “I’ve been a fool. Death, please forgive me.” He drew her into his arms. “Tell me what you need. I’ll do anything for you.”

  “I need your trust, Azrael. I need you.” Her sweet, soothing voice permeated the last of his doubt, and then her warm lips met his.

  He released all doubt, all thought. He needed this. He needed her.

  ***

  Excitement thrashed with worry inside Death. Azrael’s fingers tangled in her hair, his arms tightening around her, wanting more. It could end in a heartbeat. He could reject her again. Devastate her again.

  Desire burned through her head, took over her body. Guiding her legs to his waist, he thrust inside her. His gasp sent a surge through her, heightened by his forceful undulations. His wings fluttered, lifted them from the balcony, and then pumped them across the sky. She dug her heels into his legs, thighs clenching his sides, moving against him. Back arched, she sent them into a delirious tailspin, oblivious to the atmosphere until a jet caught them in its wake. Curling against her to protect her, he plummeted like a rocket to Earth, the wide blue water beneath them tinged with the golden rays of the setting sun.

  She steered them toward a posh high-rise hotel, and they crash-landed onto the bed. Unable to hold back any longer, she shuddered with the electric bliss washing over her. His panting told her he was almost there. Hips rolling over his, she brought him to a gasping finish.

  Wings folded under him, he collapsed onto his side and glanced around. “What’s this?”

  “A surprise.” She nipped his ear and draped a long leg over his waist.

  He slid his hand along her thigh and behind her rear as he pressed her down onto the bed. “I love it.”

  Her hair pooled around her, and he slid it aside to kiss her shoulder, just above the tattoo. “You must have read my mind.”