“Adieu, Pallor. Don't eat all the grass in the field, now,” he said to his steed, stroking its mane as Death's feet hit the ground running. The horse set about consuming the field like a lawn mower. Corpseboy gained velocity. The lead grew taut. He fanned his wings and suddenly, we were airborne.
Wind rushed past me as he pumped his pinions. I sat back, mortified, and watched the world pass like a dream. The field rolled into forest, forest into stream, to fern-riddled glens and meadow ringed by trees. It was beautiful beyond compare, with the multi-hued stars and Milky Way like a river. Corpseboy himself looked like an angel of the night. His hair snaked behind him in a dusky halo and his skin, pale as starlight, glowed like polished stone.
“You'll freeze, little fool, and then I really will have a body to put in the hearse,” he said.
I refused to answer, longing for
Samael smiled indulgently. “Calm yourself, little mortal. And Michael- was Joan of Arc not nineteen when she led the French Army to victory? You've chosen women before whose talents and wisdom belie their age. Give me the same freedom- I see something in this mortal. She's spunky, and that's what I like.”“Those women were born leaders. They were fated to be great,” Michael said, eying me. “Of what use could she be to you?”“Fated!” Samael scoffed. “There is no destiny for mortals- they choose their own fates. It's easy for us to forget that when we're immortal. And this girl, why, she comes from the great land of America.” He motioned grandly. “There are few I am willing to work with. Scanty candidates that match my style. She has the freedom to be whatever she desires.”“If you insist, Samael,” Michae
Solomon raised his brows as I trudged into the dining room, bleary-eyed. He was scarfing down an omelet. Bits of cheese clung to his stubble.And he looked at me critically.“Well, Callie,” he snickered, “you take the 'beauty' out of beauty sleep.”“Maybe if you didn't snore like a foghorn, I'd get a bit more rest,” I retorted, wandering into the kitchen to fix myself a bowl of oatmeal. “Did dad already leave? And did he take the comics?”“Yes and yes.”“Darn it.”“And mom?”“Sleeping, obviously. She'd sleep through the Apocalypse. Wish I was an artist, then I could set my own hours...” he yawned, then gazed at me oddly. “What's that on your shoulder, eh, Callie?”Groggy, I glanced down at what I was wearing. The usual sweatpants and baggy t-shirt.
“I need a mortal assistant. The rewards for your service will be great- I can give you anything you desire. Just say the word, Callie. Promise to serve me.”The gravity of the situation hit me full on like an asteroid. I felt the blood drain from my cheeks as I stared out across the thinning countryside, giving way to suburbs. Against my will or not, I'd made a pact with the Devil-“No, I'm not. I'm much worse.”His malicious laughter rang through my head and I groaned, surrendering as reality shattered before me. Eva faded into the background as I watched a dirty milk truck barrel past. I stared grimly at the grinning cow on its side. A deli's neon lights flashed and dayworkers loitered around, hoping against hope for a day job, anything at all.“Yeah, I'm feeling a bit woozy...” I said faintly, noticing Eva's strained face.“
“What, would you like to be demoted to slave? Perhaps concubine?”“No. I want my normal life back, devoid of psychotic evil overlords, thank you very much,” I said, deflecting his hands. I stomped away. “And don't even think about following me.”“Psychotic evil overlord, eh? Hmm, I kind of like that- how about just 'Overlord'?”“Don't you have a job to do? Someone dies every second- go, Fido, fetch the bone!” I said caustically, turning the corner to see Morocco slumped over the gutter, his head skimming the bushes. “Rocco?” I cried out. “You did this to him!”“What? I just put him to sleep so he wouldn't interfere. We have important matters to attend to, you and I.”“I won't just leave him here. I'm driving back to his place And you are. Not. I
“Like your disposition,” I spat. “You already stole my frappacino, and now you're getting after me for not drinking coffee the way you like it?” I asked incredulously. “I don't want it back! Not after your clammy hands touched it.”“Clammy?” His lips curled in irritation.“Just like a corpse.”“Keep insulting me, dear maggot, and you'll be cold as a cadaver. Remember, I'm your boss.”“You coerced me into working for you.”“Quit whining,” Samael said, relaxing on the couch and making himself at home. His nostrils flared. “Holy hell, something smells rank in here. It must be adolescent male.”“Probably all the brimstone you tracked in.”“Eau de Tartarus. But in all seriousness, Callie, I have some questions to ask you. There's been some shady bu
“Fine,” I sighed heavily. “But can't you just, oh, I don't know, snap your fingers and take us somewhere?”His head shot backwards in rip-roaring laughter. “Snap my fingers? Toying with the fabric of reality is exhausting, maggot. There's only so much energy I can expend at a given time. And I prefer to keep mine reserved for less trivial matters.”“So you can't teleport?”“I can 'teleport' all I want, I'm a spiritual being. But you're trillions upon trillions of atoms large and far too heavy to be transported through reality's seams with ease. Which is why we ride.”“You're calling me fat.”“No, I'm calling you material. Now get on, lamb- here's a helmet,” he said, tossing it to me. I strapped it on, muttering darkly as I straddled the bike behind him. His outfit had mysteriously changed to faded
“Bait?” I cried out in indignation. “You're using me as bait?”Samael lazed in his armchair. He grinned lopsidedly. “Amongst other purposes, maggot. I also expect you to do laundry, cook, and make sandwiches- that was my nose, whelp!” he snapped as I hurled a glass at his face. He caught it and set it on the table. “Your treachery knows no bounds. Please learn to take jokes.”“Treachery? You want to use me as monster chow. And I would never feed you.”“But that BLT was delicious...” he said, forlorn. “Fine. I can do without domestic services. What I do need, however, is something underworlders find appetizing: namely, nubile young women-”“-Nubile? Did you really just say that?-”“-like yourself. You're young, harmless, and easily taken ad
I gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, chest heaving. “Don't scare me like that,” I said hoarsely.“Expect the unexpected, worm. I'm always unexpected.”“Please get out of my car.”He ignored me, fishing my purse from the space between seats and rummaging through it. “Phone- no. Lip gloss- nooo. Ah, here it is,” he crooned, taking out the blue vial. “Now, little mortal, have you tried it yet?”“What? No!-”“-close your eyes,” he ordered, about to poke my eyes out. I shut them reflexively, and he dabbed the liquid onto my lids. “There,” he said, satisfied. I blinked back tears as my vision refocused. The night beyond my car burst into color, everything that had once been darkness was now muted colors, like the world seen through tinted glass. Will-'o-the-w