Death is My BFFLAD Rewritten (Book 2 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 6: Hot Poison

The sun was setting, casting an orange glow on Ace's club. Over the entrance of the club was a bright red sign that read "Spade"–Ace of Spades, how ingenious–and was wedged between two thin buildings, just as his bookstore was. As small at it appeared on the outside, I had a feeling that looks were deceiving, and it would be enormous on the inside. People were lined up down the block to get inside, dressed in skimpy Halloween costumes, cramped together, and chatting excitedly.

Then there was Death and I, quiet as the night and aloof from civilization. We stood on the opposite side of the road from the club in the shadows, slight right of a Quick Check with fluorescents so bright they singed my retinas.

I looked over at Death, who had one foot propped up on a brick wall, melting into the shadows as if he was born into them. To a passing person, the orange glow of his cigarette would be the only indication that he was standing there.

"Are we going in the club?" I asked.

"I'm enjoying a cig," he said in an obvious tone. "Regretting inviting yourself on this little adventure, are we?"

"Not at all," I said coolly, and averted my gaze from him.

"Pookie, nobody knows what fear looks like more than me. You're scared shitless of a supernatural club."

"Just finish your cancer stick." I ran my hands nervously down the sweatshirt that he'd added to my new ensemble. There was an intimacy involved with wearing his clothes. They smelled like him and I fought the urge to bring his plain cotton sweatshirt to my nose and inhale. I tried not to think about how silly I looked. The Chicago Bears jersey alone was so big that the hem nearly hit my knees. One could imagine how the sweatpants fit me.

"You look like a participant in one of those weight-loss commercials," Death commented in a low, emotionless voice, "where they smile and hold up a pair of their old jeans, and it's twice the size of their entire body." He chuckled deeply and inhaled from his cigarette. "Or an aspiring rapper. When does your mix tape drop, DJ Strawberry XXX Cupcake?"

I flipped him off. A breeze kicked up, loosening stray strands of hair from my thick braid. I could see my breath as I exhaled and yet I couldn't feel the cold. Ever since Death had put his bloody tongue in my mouth, which I was really trying not to think about, I'd felt strange warmth within me, like an invisible heating pad lined all of my skin. I probably needed to get that checked out. Asking him about that would have gotten me yet another clever dodge from the answer on his part.

Death glanced over at me. "Devil's horns, you're shaking like a maraca on Dia de los Muertos." He briefly acted out the maraca playing. "The last thing we need is for you to be fidgeting left and right and attracting every single creature's attention in that club."

"I think I've proven to you that I can protect myself," I argued dryly.

"Alright, Super Girl. But if your pew-pew powers don't work, remember that it's up to me to save your ass. And I'm not feeling the hero gig today, so take a few deep breaths and chill, or whatever." He then casually turned away from me and leaned against a street sign pole. To anyone else, it would have looked like he was looking at the sunset. But I knew something was wrong. If I didn't know any better, he seemed to be pushing at his stomach.

Ever since the D & S party disaster, I'd noticed many things off about Death. Physically, he still seemed to be leaner than he normally was. Weaker. I'd been so accustomed to him moving a slightly inhumanly fast that I was noticing now that he was moving slower, too. He appeared to be acting more mechanical around me as well, as if he was constantly correcting himself, in order to perform a certain way. And most importantly, I couldn't shake this horrible feeling I'd had since he was back in own body. I was tense and hyper-aware of his presence. I'd started to get used to Death, and ironically, safer around him, but now? Now I was in a constant state on edge around him because I feared–I knew– his beast was still famished, and prowling just beneath the surface, watching me.