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

Chapter 54: Faded

YOUR SPOOKY KWEEN IS BACK! 

*Death shakes his butt in the background*

SHOW YOUR LOVE ON THE FINAL DEATH IS MY BFFLAD CHAPTER BY VOTING AND LEAVING LOTS OF LOVELY COMMENTS FOR LIL OL' ME! SHARE IT WITH YOUR SPOOKY FRIENDS FOR EXTRA CUPCAKE POINTS! 

            A face emerged, rivulets of blood gliding past a feminine face, as a woman's figure slowly levitated from the marble container. Layla. Her limp figure hovered above the tub in mid-air, like a rope was pulling her chest up from the ceiling, with her head limply back and her arms dangling at her sides.

Blood spilled off of her skin as her body drifted away from the coffin, puddling red on the clean marble floors. Suddenly her body dropped, bare feet straddling the narrowest two marble ledges of the bin. Although she somehow stayed upright, her head remained sagged backwards at an awkward angle, and I feared it would decapitate from the weight as the gruesome gash across her throat split the skin further. Her fingers twitched, her hands animating. They slowly reached up and clutched her skull, tilting it upright. Black wisps of smoke expelled from her mouth in a low croak as the skin of her throat knit together.

Layla's eyes flipped open, consumed by blackness. Her hand dragged down her throat as she absorbed every detail in the room, narrowing in on Malphas motionless corpse across the room. Her hand slowly outstretched, an unnerving sensation washing over me, and perhaps the entire room, as her palm sharply turned upwards, Layla's talon-like nails extending toward the ceiling.

"Evoco."

Malphas jolted upwards, reviving with a harsh gasp. He lurched to his feet as though panicked, his head bowing as he looked down at himself. He gazed at the gory wound darkening his torn black silken shirt, pressing his pale palm to the surface. Warrior braids curtained over pale handsome features as his black eyes lifted to Layla, lingering.

"Phoebe," Malphas said.

"Not quite," Layla replied, a seductive serpentine voice layered over hers.

A windstorm unlike any other hurled around the room, nearly knocking me off the stage. Layla stepped down from the marble coffin, her body transforming in the midst of a twisting airstream. Her identity shifted as the ruminants of blood dripped away from every inch of her skin. A woman with soft features, unblemished olive toned skin, hair like liquid gold stepped out of the vortex unscathed, her eyes consumed by a black storm.

Death's own radiant eyes, bright against the black night of his half-form skin, widened to their full expanse. "Mom?"

Phoebe's head turned slowly toward Death, taking in his midnight half-form, chained to two high-level demons. Recognition flickered in her narrowing gaze, old remembrances peeling away from her ancient eyes, as a distant emerald glimmered through her black irises. "Alexandru..."

"I'd hate to interrupt this precious family reunion," Ahrimad said, his voice carrying in the cavernous room. "But you aren't on the guest list."

Ahrimad's scythe appeared at his side, intricate lines glowing along the staff. The mighty blade drew a cut into the air. A sinister amorphous mass appeared from thin air, a high-level demon charging at Phoebe.

Phoebe launched up into the air at the last second, twisting out of its path. The creature came to a halt and recalibrated, before charging again. Levitating, Phoebe's body twirled again around the high-level demon in a skilled maneuver. Foreign words expelled from her mouth, before she landed perfectly balanced on the ground. Suddenly the demon's body arched with an inhuman sound, like nails on chalkboard. Phoebe clenched her fist and the creature exploded internally, guts spilling out.