Page 97 of Death is My BFF
As I soaked in the tub, my eyes fell closed, and for a fleeting, blissful moment, my racing thoughts stopped. Until I thought of the deadly power that had shot out from my hands. How it had feltgood.
How it hadn’t saved Thomas.
I leaned my head back against a rolled-up wet rag and wondered if there was a way for me to activate these powers on command.
Maybe my blinding laser beam, or whatever it was, could come in handy the next time I faced off with Death.
Holding my breath, I sunk beneath the water. In the tranquility of complete silence, I squeezed my eyes shut, willing something to happen with my bizarre abilities. Vaguely, I remembered picturing Death.
Coldness washed down the back of my neck.
You’re dead. A deep, velvety voice slid into my skull.
I came up for air with a gasp and turned my head to the side.
Black shadows slinked beneath the door of the bathroom and crawled toward me. Snapping into alertness, I tried to lift myself up from the tub, but the shadows lurched at me. A force gripped my shoulders and shoved me down. The darkness held me beneath the water, gripping my skin like steel claws as I submerged to the bottom of the tub. My legs thrashed. Water was carried away, spilling over the rim of the bathtub and flooding the floor. Blindly reaching out, my hands sought one of the shadows and I latched onto it, wringing it out with my hand.
Images flashed in my mind. Ominous skies with a gaping hole at the center, where lightning struck, and clouds spun in a vicious vortex as if God were spitting back a monster into the world. A massive form split the sky, plummeting to the earth on fire and crashing into the black depths of an ocean. Beneath the murky water, the object uncoiled and revealed a body, a man with obsidian-colored markings paving every inch of his skin. Thick gashes marred his back in a gruesome V, where dark ribbons of blood surrounding him as the water swallowed him whole . . .
Yanked from the vision, my nails scraped the porcelain sides of the tub, and with one final heave, I resurfaced, gasping for air. I shoved my hands under the water and yanked the drain stopper free, rapidly scanning the bathroom as my breaths shot in and out. I was alone. The shadows were gone.
I don’t know how long I sat there, gripping the sides of the tub, until the water drained completely. Death had sent his shadows to kill me, or this was a warning. Either way, I’d fought back and witnessedanotherforbidden piece to his past.
Yep. I wassodead.
Fear rattled in my bones. My parents.
I leapt from the tub and dashed across the tiled floor to my folded pajamas on the counter, almost slipping in the process. I yanked on a plain oversized navy sweatshirt and pajama pants with cartoon sheep.
When I sprinted into my bedroom, the small television next to my vanity was on at high volume. Skittles sat on my bed beside Mr.
Wiggles, posed like a calm Egyptian feline goddess and fixated on a loose piece of string on my comforter.
I hurried into the hallway to peer into my parent’s bedroom, instantly reassured to find them safe and sound asleep beneath their comforter.
My sopping wet hair dripped all over the floor as I paced the width of my bedroom back and forth. Unable to think straight with my whirling thoughts, I lunged to turn the TV off.
I could fix this. Maybe I just had to apologize to Death. No, what was I thinking? He wasn’t the type to forgive, and I was not sorry for what I’d done. Which meant I’d have to stand up to him.
All I knew was Ace had seemed to know more about Death and his limitations than I did, and I couldn’t stay here. Not with my parents in harm’s way. I had to go back to the warlock; I had to see if he could—
The television clicked back on by itself and displayed loud black-and-white static, and I nearly had a heart attack. As I watched the screen with widening eyes, it began rapidly changing channels, stopping on the 1978 version ofHalloween. The final scene of panic and horror with Jamie Lee Curtis hiding in a closet and fighting off Michael Myers.
“It’s just a scary coincidence,” I said to myself. “It’s just a scary coincidence.”
Black-and-white static snow flashed over the screen again and the television blared a screeching noise.
Faith, the same unmistakable voice of Death purred through the static.Come out and play, Faith.
With my heart in my throat, I scrambled for the remote on my nightstand to turn the TV off. Outside, a blast of thunder crashed.
The lights surged in and out with a hum. Armed with only the television remote, I pressed against the wall behind me, praying the power would stay on, but the room plunged into darkness. I remembered there was a tiny portable flashlight in my underwear drawer and tore open my dresser, fishing through it until I found it.
The flashlight illuminated a narrow beam. Skittles’s eyes flashed under the light. She had hopped onto the edge of my bed, ears flat against her head, just like the frightened jaguars in the gladiator arena. She let out a startling hiss at nothing.
The flashlight’s beam went in and out, in and out. “Come on, comeon!” With shaking hands, I smacked the battery pack in an attempt to fix it. Skittles’s fur brushed my pant leg as she weaved anxiously between my legs, and I almost screamed. The flashlight slipped from my fingers, clattered to the floor, and went out.
A bitter cold chill slid down my back. Across the bedroom, standing beside my window, stood a massive figure blacker than night.