|[ DEATH'S APPRENTICE ]|

[Chapter Three]

I looked at Malik who didn't say anything. His grey eyes just watched me carefully, waiting for my decision to be made. I blinked, eyes darting back between Death and him. I wanted to help, I wanted a life in which I was important, where people sought out my help. A life in which I wasn't the girl no one loved or cared about. But the terms of that life... that I might have to claim other lives... the thought scared me, and even if I was presented with the opportunity, would I be able to kill someone? Kill someone out of cold blood? I realised my hands were shaking and hastily curled them into fists, my nails biting into my palms – no need to already appear weak before the boy I might find myself working with. I sucked in a deep breath, hoping it would settle my nerves, but it did nothing but make my chest feel tighter.

Malik seemed to be losing interest in me with every minute that passed, his grey eyes falling from my face to his hand, where he examined it with mild curiosity. Perhaps he secretly hoped that I would turn Death down, would move on and he would be asked to go and greet another participant. Perhaps he wanted a different girl to work with, one who wasn't as small and breakable as me. And again I felt the fury flare up inside me at the thought that even now I was still the unwanted girl. Hot anger pounded through me, replacing my absent heartbeat, and I caught his eye in a glare as I opened my mouth, an answer already on my tongue.

"I've made up my mind." I said as firmly as I could manage, though my voice slightly shook. Malik's brow rose, the grey in his eyes lightening as his interest peaked. What would I say? Even I wasn't too sure.

I could almost hear his thoughts, wanting me to turn the offer down and to disappear again. Say no, say no. I knew I was being paranoid, but I couldn't help it, and nor did I care.

And what is your choice? Death asked smoothly. There was no impatience in his voice, for which I was thankful. I closed my eyes as I answered. If I couldn't see, perhaps it would feel less real. Perhaps I was still asleep and everything that was happening was a bizarre dream. The idea put some of my nerves at ease and the constrictions in my chest released. I was still at the brothel, in a living hell but at least I was living. It made the deal less binding, like the moment I opened my eyes I could take back any answer I gave.

"I will... Take your offer... and become your apprentice." I opened my eyes to stare at Malik, dead in the eyes, "Alongside Malik." I didn't know whether I expected him to react in some way, or whether I had even hoped he would. But he just continued to watch me with his dark curiosity. There was no disappointment on his face, but there was no excitement either. It made me feel almost scared, like he was evaluating me. Everything cold and calculating. And that deep, dark sadness, always swirling in those stormy eyes.

Then take this, as a mark of your allegiance to me. Death said and I felt a sharp burn on the inside of my left wrist. I gasped in pain and looked down to see black lines ink across the skin, leaving me with the symbol of three overlapping triangles and the design of black wings in the middle. It was like a brand, burned straight into my skin. The pain faded as quickly as it had come and I felt the area, expecting to feel the mark under my skin, like a strange welt. But it was as smooth as ever, like there was nothing there. But even though I couldn't feel it, I could still see it. It was a dangerous symbol, I knew, and I could almost feel its power thrumming through my veins. I looked at Malik and he grinned, baring his own left wrist and Mark. It was a replica of mine, if not slightly larger to accommodate his broader wrist.

"It's useful, trust Me." he winked and I felt my skin crawl. Too many times had men winked at me during all my years, and never had any good come of it. I averted my eyes and wrung my hands awkwardly. I heard him sigh and my peripheral vision showed him drop his arm back to his side, hand sliding casually into the pockets of his hooded jumper.