Page 3 of Death is My BFF
“Of course, you don’t.” He looked her up and down. “What are you, five?”
“Eight.”
“Five, eight. Same thing.” He buried any sliver of pity behind a vacant expression.
“You don’t look much older than me,” Faith argued.
The boy snickered, as if he knew something she didn’t. “Right, you got me there.” He pushed off the wall and glided toward her. “I understand you’ve lost your way. I’m here to walk with you to the light.”
When the boy moved closer, a black aura hovered around his body. His shadow on the wall was one of a man, not a boy. Faith tried to retreat backward, and panic struck her as she realized she couldn’t move her feet. Her heart raced.
“No,” Faith said firmly. “I’m not leaving my mom!”
“I’m not real big on sympathy, kid. It’s time to come with me.
Now, if you will. I have a busy schedule.”
The boy reached to grab her hand, only the tips of his fingers brushing hers. He froze, surprise washing over his expression. Light filled the boy’s vision in an instant, paralysis locking every bone in his frame. Memories. Memories buried long ago, crawled from the deep graves of his wicked mind and flashed before his eyes like broken film. His mother, smiling down at him, haloed by the sun behind her. A willow tree with a mirror embedded in its old bark. An arena with blood-stained compacted sand and a gladiator falling to his knees with a silent roar of despair.
Shadows curled around the boy’s shoulders and tugged, jarring him to the present with the girl. It took him a moment to gather himself—those distant recollections promising to bury him alive alongside them.
Faith trembled with a small sob, their fingertips still touching.
Her soft, innocent features had lost all color. And the boy knew.Heknewshe had somehow seen those glimpses into his past too. He felt weakened—vulnerable in a way he could never allow.
He lurched away from the girl as if he’d been struck by lightning.
“What are you?” he hissed through tight teeth.
“What . . . what do you mean?”
The boy’s darkness pooled across the floor. The inky tendrils veered around Faith’s shoes, oil to water. His wicked gaze slowly lifted from this strange phenomenon, until he looked deep into her eyes. He regarded her curiously, as if just now noticing a peculiarity about her.
“Your soul. I have never encountered anything like it.” The boy tilted his head to one side as his face and eyes hardened. He looked frightening then, a snake primed to strike. Faith wanted to run far, far away from this boy. “Do you wish to see your family again,Faith?”
Faith nodded like a bobblehead; her words wedged in her throat.
“You’re in luck. I’ve got a deal for you.” She stared into his catlike vertical pupils as they dilated ever so slightly. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, you died. I will bring you back to life and to your mom, but I cannot do so without consequence. When you are eighteen, I will return to collect your soul. Ten years is a long time from now.
Would you not agree?”
“Yes,” she trembled out.
“Unless, of course,” the boy continued, feigning concern, “you want me to take you away now?” He clasped his hands behind his back and stalked a slow circle around her. “If that’s the case, you’ll never see your family again. Do you want the deal?”
“The deal . . . I want the deal.” Faith didn’t think twice. She would have done anything to get away from the frightening boy as soon as possible. “Please, bring me back to my mom.”
He stopped circling and stuck out his palm. Though he was wary of what would happen once they touched again, this could only be finalized one way. Faith looked down at his hand, hesitating, before clasping it fully with her own. He wasn’t as cold as she’d expected.
Without warning, the boy’s complexion changed. His hand clutched hers in a vise grip as his exposed skin developed intricate black markings. A shadowy matter expelled from his fingers, spiraling up Faith’s arm in black coils. She tracked the mist with wide eyes before the blackness launched itself into her chest. She inhaled sharply, held motionless, as his power marked her soul with a kiss of death.
The sunshine in her blond hair slowly drifted to midnight from the roots down.
“You will meet me again, Faith Williams.” This time, when the boy grinned, he had a mouthful of fangs. “When your luck runs out.”
Young Faith sat up in her bed with a jolt. A vague recollection of a nightmare left her heart hammering in her chest. A crash of thunder startled her. Her pink blinds weren’t drawn all the way, and outside, torrential rain pelted down from malevolent clouds in deafening strikes against the windowpanes. Faith swung her small legs off her bed and jumped. She hurried out of her bedroom with Mr. Wiggles’s little bear arm clutched in her hand, unaware of the shadows slinking up the hallway walls and clinging to the picture frames behind her. Within the frames, her golden-blond hair had darkened to a raven black.
She discovered her parents in the living room and sought their comfort. Their eyes were glued to the television screen. Climbing into her mother’s lap, Faith watched the report on the television too.