Death is My BFFLAD Rewritten (Book 2 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 20: Reprehensible

HAPPY BELATED HALLOWEEN, CUPCAKES!!! I AM CURRENTLY EATING TACO BELL. COULDN'T UPDATE ON THE 31ST BECAUSE OF COLLEGE BUT I WANTED TO GET SOMETHING UP! LOVE MY BABY CUPCAKES! <3

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            Since I left Ace's library, the feeling that I was being followed clung to my spine. It was uncomfortable but also electrifying in the sense I was now fully equipped to defend myself. I turned over my shoulder and sure enough, shadows by the hundreds were racing after me. They were a swarm, dashing between cars and civilians. They ran like dogs on their hands and feet and were cloaked with invisibility, but it flickered in and out like strobe lights, revealing a mix of beautiful faces, cold faces, pale, empty expressions and gapping mouths with yellow and black rotted teeth. They kept their distance behind me, never quite on my heels but close enough that I was running as fast as I could.

Death's demonsss.

I ran with my emotions and my heart could barely keep up. I felt betrayed and angry but that was as deep as my feelings went. That was as deep as a force within me would allow. I felt an inner turmoil between hating him and hurting him, and hating him and being hurt myself. The hate was being fed and whenever I resisted the hate, it grew stronger, like a plague with its own agenda.

Death had no right to rip away my memories of him and the supernatural world. It was heartless and cruel. He'd dropped me in the blink of an eye and left me alone and vulnerable instead of helping me get stronger. He could have trained me harder. Pushed to help me defend myself. He was a selfish bastard. I was just a possession to him. To him, I had no say in my own life, when to him, it was all his. But that was all just a sliver of the rage within me. The rest of it was raw and had no particular source.

I wasn't the only one who was mad. They were. The voice. The pendant.

I felt myself getting warmer with rage and sprinted in any direction. I decided to get off the ground and scale up a building by using a fire escape. I sprang onto a dumpster, pushed off, and hoisted myself up the fire escape like an acrobat. I scaled the fire escape with an upper body strength I once lacked. My arms burned, my fingers ached, and my heart hurt, resting the burst of energy within me. But my body kept adjusting, pushing forward, as if the barracuda around my bicep was feeding me an endless, impossible amount of strength. Strangely enough, the shadows didn't follow me up there. And, I noticed, when I looked down past the railing of the metal stairs, whatever shadows still lingered below, darted away into puffs of smoke, as a harsh wind blew my hair to the side and the moon bowed behind a large black cloud.

I turned and hurled myself up onto the roof from and dropped down from a short wall. My feet slapped against the tar material on the ground and I took off. Not out of fear, but out of a bizarre delight of being chased again. I ignored the tightness in my throat and the icy air burning my face and raced forward. I reached the end of a roof, climbed up onto the short brick wall on the other side, vaulted off it with adrenalin charged in my veins. I struck the concrete of the adjacent building's roof and rolled forward to soften the blow. My hands trembled and stung from the impact, bleeding from the pieces of skin had peeled back from my palms. They were healing at a leisure pace.

A distinct sound darted my gaze away from my hands. It was a low, taunting whistle.

I followed the noise and walked to the ledge of the roof, gripping the dagger that I'd stolen from Trixie's belt. I looked down into the ally below, a vicious grin rocking the corners of my lips.