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“Where are we going?” I ask, teeth chattering. I want to point out how nuts it is that a reindeer-pulled sleigh was his preferred escape vehicle over a car, but Sulo is really picking up the pace and we’re gliding along deeper into the pine forest. I look over my shoulder at the hotel and I barely make out the lights at all. I certainly don’t hear or see either of them. I’m just heading off into the darkness with a stranger and a reindeer.
“You guys lied? You lied?! Well, fuck you both,” Lovia snarls at us, pulling out her sword. “Have at them then.”
“She’s here,” he says dourly. From his tone I know that whoever she is isn’t good. “Loviatar?” I ask, almost hopefully. I actually liked the deer skull daughter of Death. You know, before she wanted to kill us.
“Oh my god,” I exclaim. “Is he…getting a blow job from a mermaid?”
“What the hell is your problem?” I ask. “Me?” “Getting your dick sucked by a mermaid,” I sneer at him, stomping through the snow to my sword. “Right in front of me, I might add.” He shrugs, looking pleased as punch. “What do you care?” I roll my eyes, my hand tightening around the sword’s handle. “I care that I didn’t want to see that. If I had an annoying younger brother, I could imagine it would be the same.” He frowns, his lip curling in a snarl. “I’m older than you.” “It’s hard to tell sometimes.”
“No one has ever lost their belief in Death.” I wrap my arms around my knees, hugging them tight. “Have you ever met him?” He shakes his head. “No. I’ve heard stories, of course. That he always has to wear gloves because if he touches you, you’ll die. And that his face is a skull and he wears a cloak and he eats babies for breakfast.”
“There you are,” Death booms. His voice is unlike any I’ve heard before, rich and baritone, like the low bass behind a gloomy melody, and yet there’s a rasp to it, a huskiness that would sound sexy on anyone else but him.
I can’t even see his eyes but I know that he sees every single thing that I’m doing. I’m wondering if he’s like Rasmus, and can hear my thoughts as well. Fuck you, you fucking fuck, I think, hoping he can.
I knew from the beginning that if my father was in this situation, where he was taken by Death and still alive, that I would trade my life for his. I would trade my soul. I would take his place and let Death do his worst to me.
“I promise you, I will do anything you want. I will endure anything you wish. I will cook you meals and clean your house, or you can chain me up in your basement, keep me in a cage, you can torture me, have your way with me, give me to others, make me your bride, treat me like a dog, beat me, spit on me, I don’t care. I will do it all, if you just let him go.”
Then he walks over to me, balancing gracefully on the web. He looms over my body, his figure larger than life, his cape black and flowing behind him, hate burning in the depths of his unseen eyes, and I realize that perhaps it would have been better had the spider ended me. I’m about to find myself on another web, Death lurking in the shadows, waiting for me to tremble.
“Now,” he goes on, reaching into a pocket inside his hood, “that we’ve made an agreement, struck a bargain, we still have to get you back to my home at Shadow’s End.” “Is this the place you bathe in bat’s blood?” “Where I what?” he asks. Pauses. “Yes. As will you.” He pulls out an iron collar from his coat, attached to a long chain. I have no idea where he’s keeping all these things, it’s like Mary Poppins’ purse in there.
He will do anything to stop you from making this trade, but it’s already done. You can call me Death. And I will call you mine.”
“I’m not complaining,” I manage to eke out, pulling the collar away from my throat so I can swallow. “I’m just surprised that we’re walking to your shadow castle or whatever. Shouldn’t you be riding your unicorn? Shouldn’t you have a chariot made of bones, pulled by five black stallions that breathe fire?”
“Never trust the living. Never trust a God. And never trust a redhead.” He glances at me. “I’m afraid you’ve already done all three.”
“The Liekkiö,” he says. “Spirits of murdered children.” I stare at him aghast. He glances at me. “I didn’t murder them, if that’s what you’re wondering,”
“As much as I love the sight of you chained and on all fours, ass toward me, I think it’s time to show you to your room.”
What could possibly be on Death’s agenda? A little torture at eleven a.m.? A funeral at lunch? Spend the afternoon holding a job fair in Hell?
So, while I appreciate Bell’s belief in me, I know that’s not in the cards. If I can’t make a mortal dudebro fall in love with me, then I certainly can’t make the God of Death fall in love with me.
“Good morning, fairy girl,” he says in a booming voice that carries across the room. “How are you planning on annoying me today?”
“You think I just need to fuck you in order to find out,” he says, the word jarring me, sending an inappropriate flare of heat through my legs. “That’s funny, that was my idea too.” Holy shit, he doesn’t mess around!
“I was just taking stock of my new possession, that’s all. Seeing all you have to offer.” He looks me over once more. “You’re more exquisite than I could have imagined, little bird.”
“Well, that’s not fair,” I tell her as she continues to massage what I’m assuming is shampoo into my head. “I saw the Deadhands with my father. They were skeletons. Why are the Deadmaidens covered up and the Deadhands aren’t? Seems kind of sexist to me.”
I have no choice but to just commit to being totally naked in front of strangers again. By the time this day is over, I think I could handle a nudist camp.
“It’s the one you decapitated,” Lovia says to me brightly. “I was going to have Pyry cook the head too but decided that might be a bit much for you.”
Well, if I’m going to keep being reminded of how shitty my life is going to be for eternity, I guess I can always stay drunk for eternity.
But Death, of course he’s been watching me. Studying me. The hair at the back of my neck begins to rise, as if his gaze is getting more intense, then heat starts to build between my legs, making me squeeze my thighs together. Holy shit. What was that? I look away from Death and down at the wine. He couldn’t have made me feel that just by looking at me, could he have? There it is again. A sharp ache where all the blood is rushing to my core and I’m shifting in my seat, trying to get rid of this very unwanted rush of desire.
Don’t succumb to Death, I tell myself. It’s counteractive to living.
His eyes are dangerously beautiful.
“Like it or not, you’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice thick and husky and brimming of promise. “But if you choose to like it, you might even love it.”
Tonight, Death showed a charming side of him. To see the way he interacts with his daughter was heartening, and I really could see the love between them. I know he would do anything for her, and even if all she wants to do is run away, I know she looks up to him greatly. And the way he came to my defense whenever Surma said anything was both appreciated and surprising.
“You are always sticking up for him. After all he’s done to you.” Her little face falls and I immediately feel bad. Shit. She’s in love with him, isn’t she? The horny little mermaid is in love with Death.
“And if you don’t get out of here,” Bell goes on, “it’s because Death would have yeeted you out of here. That’s the word, right? Yeeted? Even Lovia wasn’t sure.”
Oh, fuck. I’m dead aren’t I? I’m getting yeeted by his hand.
