Chapter 14 #2
“What kind of way is it, then?” Chan says dryly.
He winces. “I think it’s more of an I like you and I have zero social skills kind of way.”
“Tris, that’s not really much better,” she replies in confusion.
This whole situation is so utterly bizarre and yet I have to admit I’m really starting to enjoy Tristan, Dusty, and Chan’s company. It’s certainly never dull.
“Um, I think they’re meant to be…like…uh...I don’t know…love gifts?” Tristan says.
“Love gifts?” she repeats. “A death shroud from a second-century Tibetan corpse is a love gift?”
He shrugs and her eyes narrow. “Do you know who it is?”
“You don’t like my gifts?” says a deep voice behind us.
I jolt and take an involuntary step back as Death appears from thin air and is standing calmly next to the TV across the room.
“YOU!” Chan’s eyes flash. “You’re the one who’s been leaving all this stuff?”
“They’re gifts,” he replies, as if he doesn’t understand what the problem is. “Is it not how you mortals demonstrate your regard?”
“Not with grand larceny, no,” Chan answers in complete disbelief. “You could’ve just got me a box of Maltesers and a Pandora gift card.”
Death’s eyes flick to the painting. “I always liked this painting, even if Guido was an insufferable bore.”
She stares at him. “You knew the artist of this three-hundred-year-old painting?”
“I’m far older than that,” he answers easily.
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Chan waves her hand and rolls her eyes. “You’ve spent forever, like, collecting people’s souls or whatever.”
“I reap souls, I don’t collect them,” he corrects without a hint of offence.
“But that’s not all I do. I’ve always enjoyed watching mortal history unfold.
” He crosses the room until he stands in front of Chan, leaning in but not crowding her space.
“I’ve seen things you couldn’t possibly imagine.
I witnessed the destruction of Pompeii, saw the great fire reduce London to ash.
I stood within the walls of Constantinople at the fall of the Byzantine Empire…
actually, that was a very busy day for me. ”
“I’m sensing a theme here.” Chan stares up into his eyes and taps her foot impatiently. “One that still doesn’t explain why all this old stuff is currently in my living room.”
“Because you are the first to interest me in eons,” he says, frowning. “I wanted to gift you items that were worthy of you. They are priceless beyond human comprehension and filled with ancient magic.”
“Oh,” Chan replies in surprise, her features softening slightly as she studies him, her perfectly painted lips pursing in consideration. “You do know I’m a boy in a dress?”
“Classic To Wong Foo,” Dusty whispers beside Tristan.
“What’s a Wong Foo?” Death turns to Dusty with a frown and I must admit I’m completely at a loss too.
Dusty opens her mouth, but Tristan shoots her a look. “No,” he mouths.
Chan snaps her fingers to draw Death’s attention back to her. “Death, focus please.” She watches him speculatively when he complies. “What do you want from me?” she asks curiously.
“I would have thought that obvious. I want to engage in a mutually enjoyable outing where we can interact in a pleasant manner.”
She blinks slowly three times. “You…want to take me on…a date?”
“Is that not a mortal custom?” he replies, bewildered.
“Um, Chan?” Tristan gives a little wave to get her attention. “A word, please.”
Her eyes remain on Death for a few more seconds, her expression unreadable, before she turns and sashays her way over to Tristan, and I move closer.
Seriously, once you get over the initial shock of being in the presence of an ancient and powerful supernatural entity, the interaction between him and Chan is marvellously entertaining.
“Before you answer,” Tristan whispers to Chan as Dusty leans in to hear better, “uh, maybe you could consider going on a date with him.”
“What?” Dusty hisses, but Tristan ignores her.
“It’s just that this is the perfect opportunity. He seems uncharacteristically chatty with you. Whenever I ask him a question, he flat-out avoids answering, but maybe this is a chance to get some information from him.”
“Oh my god.” Chan says incredulously. “Did you seriously just ask me to. Take. One. For. The. Team?”
“Um…yes?”
I glance over to see Death studying the painting like it’s the first time he’s seeing it and not that he’s half-inched it from the Louvre.
“You want me to go on a date? With Death?” Chan says slowly, drawing my attention back to the conversation.
“No?” Tristan winces. “Maybe…just...just think about it, okay? We could use all the help we can get right now.”
“What, like a spy? A femme fatalé?” she muses. “I can work with that.”
“No,” he sighs. “I just thought…never mind, you don’t have to.”
Chan lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes.
She sashays over to Death, one hand on her hip as she flips her hair over her shoulder and levels him with a dry stare that would’ve withered a lesser man. “Fine,” she says haughtily. Death’s mouth curves slightly. “But just so you know, I don’t put out on the first date.”
“Liar,” Dusty coughs into her fist.
“But first you need to do something with all of this.” She waves her hand at the pile of gifts. “And for the love of ballroom dancing, put that bloody painting back before you give the French police a collective aneurysm.”
“Okay?” He tilts his head as he studies her.
“I have to be at The Rainbow Room in an hour.” She spins on her heel and heads toward her bedroom, and Death follows along behind her like a puppy.
When she reaches her door, she turns and points a finger at him.
“No more leaving weird presents lying about, no more just appearing in my flat. You will arrive tomorrow at 8 p.m. on the dot, on the other side of my front door, and you will knock like a normal person.”
“Okay,” he replies, his mouth curving.
“Good. I expect flowers. Fully assembled, colourful ones would be nice, not just petals strewn everywhere. They may be considered romantic, but all they do is clog up my hoover. Wine is optional.” She slams the door in his face.
“AND YOU GUYS, LOCK THE DOOR ON YOUR WAY OUT,” she yells through the door.
Death snorts quietly and turns to give us one last look before he disappears, taking the huge painting and the other items with him.
I have the incredible urge to laugh. “I have a feeling my life is never going to be boring with you around, Tristan.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing, boo.” Dusty’s brows rise pointedly as she stares at Tristan in concern.
“Chan will be perfectly safe with Death,” Tristan replies, then he pauses and frowns as if just realising the sheer insanity of that sentence. “Fucking hell, this is weird,” he mutters.
“I’d be more worried about Death at this point,” I murmur. “Chan may be pretty, but she’s like a glittery tornado.”
“You have no idea,” Dusty replies. “You’re sure she’ll be safe?”
“You’re not seeing it, are you?” I say to Dusty.
“Seeing what?”
“Almost every gift Death has given Chan is intended to protect.”
“He’s protecting her?” Dusty’s mouth falls open.
“And not just with the gifts he’s given her, but with her home too.” I look around. “I felt it as soon as I walked in. It’s like warding, but not quite. If we’re right about Chaos and what he’s doing, Death knows he’s trying to manipulate people and circumstances on this side.”
“He’s going out of his way to make sure his evil twin doesn’t fuck with Chan?” Dusty’s eyes widen in surprise. She pouts for a moment before adding, “Well. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it though.”
“She’ll be fine, Dusty,” Tristan assures her, and for some reason, I get the feeling he’s right.
Dusty turns to him with her arms folded across her chest. “I hope you’re right, boo, because you just set my bestie up on a blind date with the Grim Reaper.”