The Daughter of Death- *RAYOR*

Chapter 8: Problems and a Black Eye

"Wake up. You're going to miss breakfast." I felt a poke to my ribs. "Wake up."

I opened my eyes sleepily and saw Willow. "That's a nicer way to wake up."

"Don't count on it." Willow stalked off.

Time, I reminded myself. These things take time. Then I mentally slapped myself. Me, trying to socialise?

I washed my face and rinsed my mouth. Aster was there when I went downstairs.

"Cereal?" he asked, pouring me cornflakes before I answered and adding milk. He pushed it towards me.

"Thanks," I said doubtfully. I held the spoon carefully, trying to scoop up the soggy cereal before realising that it was sliding off because I had the spoon upside down. Aster sniggered. I gave him a grumpy look. I took a bite. New flavours danced across my mouth. "It's slimy," I said in answer to Aster's listening expression.

He let out a bark of a laugh. "Listen. The Grim Reaper is not happy."

"Why?"

"He's wondering how I can afford to go back to the Underworld every night and you not. I think he misses you."

"Puh! He doesn't miss anyone."

"This is serious. He is an-gry. He says it's... Gabriel all over again." Aster finished the sentence reluctantly.

"Don't talk to me about him," I said angrily. Gabriel had been something once. But not anymore. He left Father, he left Aster. He left me.

"Calm down, Bee," said Aster. "The point is-"

"I know. I know." I looked downwards, pushing the soggy cereal around the plate.

"So, what do we do?"

"You can hardly take me to him like this! And what would happen? If I enter the Underworld, I may die."

"What do we do?"

"Wait," I said. "Death hasn't gone to earth, not in years."

"This is his daughter. And his only child he considers his own. He went back to look for Gabriel."

"Couldn't find him," I said. "But I can't risk Arielle getting hurt, she may know something."

"What about Willow?"

"What about him." I looked up from my dismal breakfast.

"He may hurt you."

I sniffed. "Don't pretend you care about that. Oh god... I think I'm catching a cold."

"Why?" said Aster. I didn't know whether he was talking about why I didn't think he cared, or why I was catching a cold. I went with the latter.

"Courtesy of Willow dumping water on me."

"So that's why you were wet," said Aster.

"It wasn't even funny. He was just sour." I let out a huff of indignation.

"You hurt a lot of people. Even me," said Aster, uncharacteristically quiet. "Don't pretend you don't care."

"It's hard to convince myself I do. I am Death's daughter."

"At least he's a grumpy old grouch instead of a moody teen," teased Aster.

"I suppose so. But a moody teen wouldn't care as much for her daughter," I shot back. Aster paled.

Willow sauntered into the room, looking at me suspiciously. "What were you talking about?"

"Grumpy men and moody teens and the effect they can have on their children," answered Aster promptly. "Don't suppose you'd know, you're- what, fourteen?"