Death's Bargain

The cold hit first. Not the gentle chill of winter, but the absolute absence of warmth that only death could bring. I tried to open my eyes, but darkness pressed against them like a heavy velvet curtain.

"Isabella Romano." The voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere. "Or should I say, Isabella Constantine?"

"Who's there?" My words came out as whispers in the void.

"You know who I am." Candlelight came to life around the edges, illuminating a towering figure clad in an ornate black dress. Where a face should have been, there was a skull that wore a grin at me; marigolds decorated their brow. "You prayed to me as you died."

"Santa Muerte." The name dropped from my lips like a prayer. "Then I really am.

"Dead?" She lifted an antique pocket watch, its face aglow with eldritch light. "For precisely three minutes and twenty-seven seconds."

The void stirred around us, memories drifting past like paper lanterns. I saw myself at my wedding, young and stupid in white. Then in Adrian's study, telling him about the baby. His smile as he handed me the poisoned drink.

"He killed me." The words were bitter ash. "My husband murdered me."

"And your father helped plan it." Santa Muerte's skeletal fingers danced in the air, tracing out for me visions of secret meetings and whispered conversations. "The Constantine family had to have you die to make their alliance with Judge Castillo's daughter."

"My baby." I reached for my stomach, feeling only emptiness.

"Your child's soul is safe with me." Her voice softened, if a skeleton's voice could be gentle. "The question is, what are you willing to do about it?"

"Anything." The word exploded from me. "Whatever it takes."

"Careful, child." Santa Muerte's laughter sounded like wind through dried flowers. "Such promises are dangerous with beings like me."

The darkness around us filled with floating candles, each flame dancing with a different soul's light. One caught my eye – burning brighter, newer than the others.

"Valentina Salvatore." Santa Muerte gestured to the bright flame. "Dead three minutes and fifteen seconds ago. Car accident, they say. Though we both know accidents are rare in your world."

"Salvatore?" My heart would have skipped if it still beat. "Nicolas Salvatore's wife?"

"Adrian's half-sister, though few know that truth." Santa Muerte wove her hand, and before me flashed a vision of Valentina finding papers about my murder, calling people, her car losing its brakes on some mountain road. "She died trying to expose your murder."

"What are you offering?"

"Two hundred days." The pocket watch seemed to tick loudly now. "I'll put your soul in Valentina's body. You have until it stops to make your choice."

"Choice?"

"Revenge or redemption." Santa Muerte's skull glimmered. "Kill those that killed you, or find a love pure enough to break death's hold. Yet, remember-you cannot reveal who you really are. Not to anyone."

"And if I fail?"

"Both your souls are mine. Forever." Her bony fingers reached for my face. "Do you accept?"

The void contracted, constricting, and suddenly flashes of Valentina's final moments crashed through me-her terror, her prayers, her thoughts of her twin daughters.

"The children," I gasped. "Valentina's daughters."

"Will become yours to protect." Santa Muerte produced an obsidian dagger, its blade glowing with ancient symbols. "Each kill must be marked with my symbol. Seven souls who orchestrated your death. Seven chances for vengeance."

"Or love?" I reached out and stroked the dagger's handle, its power humming.

"Nicolas Salvatore's heart could save you." Santa Muerte's laughter reverberated. "If you're willing to fall in love with your murderer's greatest enemy."

The candles abruptly turned black, their flames revealing faces within them – Adrian, my father, Judge Castillo, Elena, and others I didn't know.

"Why me?" I clutched the dagger more tightly. "Why offer me this chance?"

"Your daughter's innocent soul created an imbalance." Santa Muerte gestured to the darkness around us. "Hear them – all the mothers who lost children to men like your husband. Your choice will affect them all."

Weeping filled the void, a chorus of grief that made my nonexistent heart ache. As the sounds washed over me, my ghostly form began to take shape.

"Last chance to refuse, Isabella Romano." Santa Muerte pressed the burning sigil into my palm. "Once marked, there's no going back."

"I accept." The words felt like chains and wings at once.

The pocket watch's ticking grew thunderous. "Remember," Santa Muerte's voice faded as consciousness pulled at me. "Fail to complete your mission or stray from your targets.

The obsidian dagger pulsed against my ribs, nestled in my jacket. Two hundred days to choose between revenge and love.