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

Chapter 22: The Two of Us (HUGE ANNOUNCEMENT!!!)

ATTENTION ALL CUPCAKES!

HUGE ANNOUNCEMENT AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER!!!!! NO SPOILERS, BUT DROP A "FADE FORVER" IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S UP LMFAOOOOOO.

I crept further into the witchy room, a sense of nostalgia rushing over me.

Death was laying down that stone slab table, which made him look like a human sacrifice, or whatever the hell he was. He managed to somehow make the table look comfy with his lazy, sprawled out position on his back. One arm was propped behind his head and a folded towel covered his eyes and forehead, like he was at a spa. His black shirt had was unbuttoned to make it a deep low V neckline and that showed much of his broad chest and the black intricate markings ornamenting his tanned skin.

Contrasting his dark attire, a stark white cat was curled up on his stomach, sleeping peacefully as Death whistled what sounded a lot like a lullaby to it.

I slowly lowered myself behind a barrel, every nerve in my body on high alert, like I was waiting to see any sign that he could sense that I was there. Into the room I carried a buried anger that seemed to surface from the moment I saw him, that sense of betrayal that twisted my gut.

"Aren't you supposed to be deep breathing?" Kalace asked, and my attention switched to the warlock. I hadn't even considered him a threat and had yet to even look in his direction. I could see he was by the fireplace like he had been before when I was in this room, working on something in an iron pot over the flame.

Death scoffed. "Breathing is for the ugly."

"Gods, you've always been so stubborn." Kalace pushed one of the fire logs in the massive fireplace to keep the heat on the pot he was working with. "Even over the simplest of things. One would hope you would grow from that by now, but I digress. Breathing techniques are an important tool for those who wield power."

"Sounds like a bunch of noise to me." Death writhed a little bit on the table like he was suddenly uncomfortable, a droplet of sweat sliding down the side of his face. The cat on his lap lifted its head and stared up at him like it was concerned, its fluffy ears flicking.

Death reached up and ripped off the towel from his eyes and wiped at the slickness along his forehead, before tossing it to the side. Then he made a clicking noise with his tongue. The cat in his lap jumped off the table and scurried a few feet away, slowing to a meandering sway right by barrel. It turned its head in my direction before it left the room and paused, its tail swaying side to side.

My eyes flicked to Death, and I froze. He happened to turn his head toward the feline, his catlike eyes training on her as he seemed to wait to see what she was looking at. I thought for sure I'd been caught, until just then, a small rodent went racing out from behind the storage space and briefly under my dress, before soaring out the door. I bit down on my lip and forced myself not to react. The cat darted out of the room to chase it, and Death lost interest and slowly turned his head away.

"Whatever you injected into my arm is not working, Kalace," Death said, and I released the tiniest breath of relief. "At this rate, I'll never get any sleep. I'm sweating my goddamn pipe off."

"Thank you for that wonderful visual." Kalace warmed his hands by the fire. "The sedative will take time. The breathing will help. Your blood and your body––"

"Absorbs things differently," Death finished in irritation. "Yes, I am fully aware. Takes me five barrels of wine to get drunk."

"That's an extreme amount of alcohol."