Angel of Death

It was finally that time of the year. A smile tugged at my lips as I sheath my knife to my thigh. I look up at my reflection, picked up my eyeliner, and applied it to my eyes. When I lean back, my smile overtakes my face. Perfect. I stepped back from the mirror, smoothed down my corset top, and turned to the side, admiring my sleek black jeans. My eyes shimmer as I look over my wings, black as night. I hear footsteps and turn as the bathroom door opens. A head with slicked-back hair pops in, with eyes clear as the ocean and a smile wicked as sin. He pushes the door all the way open and, leaning against the doorframe, crosses his arms. I smile as I lean against the counter, mirroring him.

“All set?”

I arch a brow. “I feel I should be asking you that, considering this is your busiest night of the year.”

He shrugs, his shirt straining with the movement. It catches my eye. My gaze travels hungrily across his chest. Man, he's perfect.

“I’ve been doing this for a long time. It doesn’t faze me anymore. But this will only be your second time.”

I copy him and shrug as I push off the counter and come to stand in front of him, placing a hand on his chest.

“I was trained by the best.” I raise my eyes to meet his. “I have nothing to worry about.”

He smirks as he uncrosses his arms and reaches out, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me in until I’m flush with him. My wings ruffle out and then tuck back in. His eyes catch sight of and sparkle at the movement before he shifts his gaze back on me.

“I’m not worried about your abilities. I’m concerned with the other stuff.”

I snort as I wrap my arms around his neck. “If you mean my mental and emotional state, I guess you’ll just have to check in later tonight.”

“Is that so?”

I lean up so my lips are a breath away from his, yet he's too tall and just out of reach. “That’s what I’m saying, Mr. Grim Reaper.”

I lean back as he lowers his head and gives me a soft kiss.

“Be smart, my angel.”

I sigh as I pull away and  walk past him to the front door. My hand on the knob, I turn around.

“I always am, my love.”

***

The music from the party beats into my bones. I scan the room. Bodies are everywhere, squirming and slithering against one another. The scent of sex and tension weighs heavy in the air like a suffocating blanket. I feel eyes on me. I turn my head. My gaze collides with that of a pale-looking man, his eyes bloodshot. I internally groan as he makes his way across the floor to where I stand. I lean back against the wall, my wings tucked in and a cup in my hand. He saddles up to my side, and I give him a side-look.

“What’s a girl like you doing at a party like this?”

His voice slurs as he speaks. I roll my eyes. “I thought vampires couldn’t get drunk.”

His eyes flash, and he relaxes next to me against the wall.

“You’re one of them.”

I don’t respond as I continue to scan the room. “You aren’t going to make any trouble, are you?”

He shifts, and I look over to see his hands in his pockets.

I arch a brow and turn to lean against the wall facing him, my knife hidden from his view.

“You know if you do, I have full range to take you out.” I watch his reaction. He’s young, not just in physical appearance but in his mentality as well.

“You’re recent.”

He grimaces and turns away.

“A week ago," he reluctantly admits. "Some girl came out of nowhere. Next thing I knew, I woke up…different.”

I watch him, his body language, his face. I nod. “Have you registered?”

He arches a brow at me.

“Registered with who?”

I raise my cup to my lips and take a drink before answering. “The Ministry of the Undead.”

His lips twist and pucker as he tries to hold in his laughter, his chest caving until it bursts forth. I blink as he finally manages to stop.

“You’re kidding, right? That sounds like something out of Harry Potter!”

I turn and put my cup on the table beside me before turning back to him.

“How do you think so many of us can coexist without killing each other? Besides, do you really think I want to be here tonight, surrounded by drunk college kids and creepy old men? No. I’m here to do a job.”

His eyes grow larger as my words sink in.

I sigh and pat his arm.

“Come to Café Debinior tomorrow afternoon, and I’ll walk you through it.”

My eyes catch on a figure who's just walked into the room, and my senses kick in. The guy must have sensed it, because he turns toward the figure as I take a step to walk away. Just before I’m out of sight, I turn back to him.

“Try not to bite anyone tonight,” I say with a wink. With that I disappear into the crowd, following the back of the figure.

I make my way slowly, keeping the figure within eyesight but staying far enough back it can't be detected I am following. I blend in with the shadows, using the blaring of the music and the strobing of the lights to my advantage. I pause once the figure enters a room. After a careful check to see if anyone follow him, I cross the distance and slip into the room as quiet as a ghost.

I lean against the door, my wings cocooning around me to make me completely invisible in the dark. The person I’ve followed, a man, walks to the desk in the room, his posture drooped, his shoulders sagging, He loudly exhales as he sits in the chair. He turns on the desk lamp, which casts him in a soft glow. I study him. The shadows beneath his eyes, the paleness of his skin, the lines crisscrossing his face. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. When he pulls them away, he gasps.

I smile as I peel myself away from the comfort of the dark. He sits further back in his chair, putting distance between us. It's pitiful, really. He has nowhere to run. I move forward and rest my hands on the desk, my hair falling forward to frame my face. I arch a brow at him.

“Expecting someone?”

He shakes his head, but he doesn’t reach for the phone on the desk.

I cock my head as I watch his reaction. “Why are you not afraid?”

He smirks. His eyes twitch.

“Because I know why you’re here.”

My brows go up in surprise. I wasn't expecting that. “You do? Then please, tell me why I’m here.”

His gaze travels down my body, stopping for a moment on my chest, before his gaze locks again with mine.

“You want your grade raised in my class.”

Something must have flashed in my eyes, because he laughs softly.

“Don’t worry. You aren’t the first. Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous tonight.”

I push back from the desk, noting how he watches me. “Is it also normal for a professor to throw parties and promote underage drinking?”

He shrugs as he turns in his chair to face me as I round the desk.

“What better way to relate?”

I perch on the edge of the desk and cross my arms. “Or gain blackmail.”

His face becomes thoughtful at what I've said. I can see he is rethinking things. His eyes suddenly widen when they focus on the dagger strapped to my thigh.

“Who are you?”

I snort. “I thought I was a girl trying to raise her grade.”

His eyes snap to mine.

“Don’t play games. What do you want?”

I twirl a strand of hair with my finger as I look around the darkened room. “You took something that doesn’t belong to you.” I let my voice soften as I turn my gaze back to him. “I’ve come to retrieve it.”

His eyes stay blank, but his body stiffens.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I drop my hand and place it on the desk as I lean closer to him.

“Don’t you? I know what you’ve been doing at night…not very professor of you, now is it? Just return it, and maybe I can make the others forget the crimes you’ve committed.”

His body jerks as if to stand, but I push him back down in the chair, one hand on his shoulder and a foot on his thigh.

I tsk as I lean in, my lips next to his ear. “That’s not how this conversation will go. Where is it?”

“Why would I tell you? It’s safer with me. I understand it.”

I frown as I pull away. “That’s not the answer I'm looking for.”

Before he can blink, I’ve pulled out my dagger and sliced his shirt open. The medallion around his neck that was hidden beneath catches my eye. He tries to throw me off, but I stay steady.

“Now what do we have here?”

I reach out and pull the medallion away from his chest. He flinches.

“Listen you bitch—”

“Angel,” I correct him as I break the chain from his neck and hold the medallion under the lamp's light.

I can feel his agitation growing as I pocket the medallion. I turn my attention back to him, and I can tell fear has set in. He's aware there’s nothing to protect him.

“Now, what shall we do with you?”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t answer.

“Hmm. Not so talkative now, are we?”

I reach out with my dagger and run it down his throat, across his chest. He shivers. His eyes close, and I can see the nervous swallows in his throat.

“You know who sent me.” I say softly.

His eyes snap open. He nods.

“You know you cannot escape death…and yet you've tried to cheat your way out of it. In the process, you've committed so many, many crimes. How many people have you hurt to fulfill your need to live?”

He doesn’t answer, but his skin heats and his eyes harden.

I smile.

“Not feeling like confessing? That’s okay. You can confess later…once you’re dead.”

He snorts as I raise my dagger.

“You really think you can kill me? You’re just a girl.”

I pause.

“No. I’m the angel of death.”

With that, I swipe my dagger across his throat, his blood a warm spray against my skin. It fans out across the room. I hop off the desk and step away, twirling my hand to change the layout of the body. I wave my hand over the blood patterns, watch as they change to match my new layout, the death cut I'd given him changing to a burrowed furrow across his neck. Once I’m satisfied, I then conjure up a pistol to appear in his hand. I step back to examine my work, pleased. That should make it look like a suicide.

As I turn to leave, I take the medallion out of my pocket and look down at it.

“You didn’t really think we wouldn’t catch you, did you?”

I feel it begin to vibrate as I put it away. I grin as I leave the office and venture back into the party. Halloween has always been my favorite time of the year.