Death is My Frenemy Rewritten (Book 3 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 19: Breathtaking Lies

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 I stepped through the doorway into a dark, cavernous room. I knew it was large because of the way my shoes echoed on the floor and the shadowy outlines of tall structures ahead of me. I inhaled a woodsy, almost smoky scent, and it felt vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn't pinpoint what it reminded me of.

"Death?"

Gold flame erupted along a giant chandelier above, candles igniting along the walls in rapid succession like a chain reaction. I could now see the shadows of tall structures ahead of me were shelves. Bookshelves, as a cavernous library unfurled ahead of me.

The floor was all black marble in here, reflecting the golden light from the chandelier above in a hellish glow. The bookshelves seemed to go on and on forever in all directions with intricate golden designs along the shelves. But what really fascinated me was the large circular portion of the ceiling above the massive chandelier. It imitated a perfect stary night. A night without any city lights, the stars so clear and beautiful it was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. 

I felt the sensation of eyes on the side of my face and turned my head, realizing Death was standing off to my right. He watched me with a steady gaze, his facial features unreadable. He almost looked lifeless, like a statue, if not for the slight glow to his catlike eyes in the dim room.

"Your thoughts are impossible to deceiver," Death said at last, his head tilting slightly, revealing he was in fact not made of stone. "Tell me what you think of my library."

"I think it's beautiful," I decided, still taking it all in with awe. "And kind of scary..."

Just like you.

He said nothing. When I glanced over at him, his eyes had darkened marginally, his face still like stone, and I could tell he didn't like my answer.

"Are these books all yours?" I asked, trying to break the odd tension I had caused.

"Many of them." He clasped his hands behind his back, the panels of his face still hard as steel. "I've been collecting literature all of my existence."

"How long has that been?"

Death strode toward me, his posture nimrod straight and his black royal cape making him look dangerous and powerful. "Never ask death its age," he said.

"Sorry," I muttered.

His mouth turned up on one side, and I realized he'd been teasing me in his own emotionally detached way. "I've been collecting books for over thirteen-hundred years."

I waited for him to say more, when I realized he was waiting for a reaction out of me.

Oh, right. He doesn't know I know he's ancient as fuck.

I mustered up a laugh. "Thirteen hundred years, now that's funny." I gave him a double take. "Wait...you're serious? Wow. I mean––wow."

I hoped I'd sounded shocked enough that my whole rouse about being an actress he'd hand-selected for his court might have been a good cover after all. But alas, Death was so uninterested in my horrible performance that he was picking lint off his shirt.