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

Chapter 30: Reunited in the Dark (BIG ANNOUNCEMENT!)

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IT HATH BEEN A MIN.

Read until the end to see me holding A PHYSICAL ARC COPY of Death is My BFF!!! (Out for Pre-order now and releasing September 5th, 2023.) AHHHHH.

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 It could be worse," Ace said, sipping from the little tin cup in his cell as he watched me pace back and forth in the cell for the umpteenth time. "We could have no food at all."

I looked over at Ace, who was sipping his soup with ease like he was at a café instead of on death row.

"You know, the food service down here is not too shabby," Ace said. "This soup is decent. Flavorful, even."

"It's not soup!" shouted one of the prisoners with a hacking laugh that ended in a spit that clanked in the pot he'd aimed it at.

Ace set down his tin cup with a grimace. "Anyway..."

"I should have known from the moment Death dangled his pants by a single button that it was a distraction," I muttered to myself. "Why does he have to be so irresistible and...muscly... in every lifetime?"

"Is this rhetorical?" Ace wondered. "Because I'm slightly uncomfortable."

"We have to get out of here," I continued to mutter, walking back and forth. "This memory has screwed with us long enough. Here I was thinking it was actually getting us somewhere, but all it got me was right back to where I started. In a stinking cell. In a stinking dungeon. With a poop pot for whenever that "soup" hits me hard."

"Really, are you talking to me, ma chere?" Ace asked. "Because you're starting to look like a lunatic muttering at the floor like that."

"You know, not for nothing," I said, pivoting to face Ace, "but you're the ancient fart between us, and I'm really pulling all the weight here." Didn't he want to hightail it out the door of this dungeon as fast as possible?

"Come sit down," Ace said, stretching his legs out on his cot and motioning to my cot in my own cell. "You need to sit and be at peace with your thoughts."

"Agree to disagree, Ghandi," I said, watching one Death's shadow guard walk past our cell. I heard a little sneering snarl from its shadowy mouth, and I narrowed my eyes in distain right back at it.

"I've been trying to brainstorm too, you know." Ace held out his wrists with a clang of metal. "I can't do much of anything useful with these cuffs on."

I looked down at the cuffs on my own wrists. The cuffs that prevented my power from working that Victorian Death slapped onto my wrists before tossing me down here. Damn him.

"You have a brain, don't you?" I lashed out. "Maybe start using that, instead of being frustratingly meditative."

"The last thing we need right now is to be pulling our focus anywhere but....here..."

I stopped pacing and turned toward him, an imaginary beautiful lightbulb hovering beautifully over my head.

Ace smiled. "You have an idea."

"I have an idea." I rushed to the bars between us, speaking in hushed tones. "Every time I go in the in-between and communicate with Death's deep subconscious, things seem to progress. Whether it be in a bad way or a good way, but I think at this point that any way would be an improvement to where we are right now."