The Last Peverell

Chapter 53

Chapter 53

Jasmine had ended up speaking with Blaise and Theo fairly late into the night. It wasn't often that they got to speak face to face and every moment mattered. Though, around one in the morning, they figured they should call it quits, there was no point in being exhausted in the morning, for whatever Mikhail had planned for them. Not to mention that she didn't want her guardians catching her alone with two boys in her room. That would cause a bit too much trouble for her tastes.

It wasn't long after Jasmine closed her eyes, did she wake to the feeling of ice-cold fingers caressing her face. It only took a moment for her vision to adjust to the dimly lit street lamps in this nondescript park and for Death's hooded figure leaning over her to come into focus. Both of her eyes were working here, her hands ran through her hair, it was cut short, how she had always kept it as Harriet Potter.

She was dreaming or convulsing in her bed, either one was a distinct possibility.

Death had come to speak with her personally. What a great way to spend her night.

The Deity had a candle in one hand that he held out towards her face. There was no cake underneath, it was just a plain, melting, white wax candle.

The gesture clearly signaled 'blow it out' especially when Death nearly stuck the bloody thing under her nose. There was no heat to it, there wasn't a moment where Jasmine was worried she'd be burned, signaling that she was, indeed, dreaming.

She let out a quick sigh, snuffing the flame out. The candle disappeared into the void a moment later. Death was satisfied with her response, for the moment.

How kind of him to remember her birthday.

"Humans usually bring a cake along with the candle," she reminded him, sitting up on the bench she had been laid out on. Death's cloaked figure remined a looming presence next to her.

"I've been to enough birthday parties to know how they're supposed to look. Though, no one is smiling when I'm in attendance. There is usually a lot of screaming and crying," Death replied, their tone was flat and held room for no arguments.

She let out a small huff of a laugh. "How morbid of you. Is there a reason you brought me a candle? You've never done it before."

There was a barely perceivable shrug, just the barest of movements in their shoulders. "I wanted to congratulate you on saving at least thirty family lines in a year. It is an impressive feat considering what you are up against."

Straight to business then. "Ah, so you're giving me a candle for something I've been doing for nine other lives?" She asked, her bottom lip protruding in a put-out pout.

"You've never done your job well enough to warrant a gift of any kind, such is my failure of a master."

She shot forward, finger pointed at the Deity's chest. There was a lot Death could have insulted her with, but her work ethic was top notch. As Harriet she had tired over and over again to save as many people as possible and, granted, it didn't work because of the short time frame, she did not deserve that kind of talk from Death.

"You and I both know that's a bunch of shit. Now, explain why you called me here," She snapped, as she stretched her arms over her head and away from the unmoving Deity. Her sixteenth birthday was always a special one. Most witches and wizards are presented with their family's magical history and responsibilities. There's usually some kind of rite of passage ritual from the head of the family to the heir. Though, families lucky enough to have a Deity involved with their family affairs have a slightly different version of this rite.