Death Becomes Us

Chapter Eleven (Pt. 3)

My racing thoughts come to a sudden and jarring halt and round completely on the angel. He watches me with wide, silvery eyes, silently imploring me to listen, but I can't anymore.

"Who is he?" I question slowly.

Marcus blinks once and then shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. He doesn't answer me and casts his gaze to the ground. I don't need him to say anymore. I know who he is talking about; Donovan.

"Weren't you the one reminding me how Donovan can get inside my head?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks up momentarily and I study the fringe of iris around his dilated pupils, searching for the mark of Donovan's servants, the Fallen. So far as I can tell his color is still pure and I relax clenched hands.

"He only told me to see what happens after this is over," Marcus says earnestly.

"And you listened," I say with irritation. "You were so worried about me being around him and here you are doing exactly what you told me not to do. How are you different, Marcus? How do you think you're safer with him than I am?"

"Well one, I wasn't looking to get in a fight with him," he snaps. "He came to me—I had no control over it."

"Just as I have no control over Elizabeth Barrow," I say loudly.

"Yes you do," He takes a step closer and I tense as he reaches a hand out, empty, waiting. "You can leave and give her a normal life. Become Death again, James. It's the only way to prevent things from getting worse. He can't win if you come back. Don't you see it's the right thing—"

"Then why haven't you done it already?" I yell, my face burning. "Why haven't you taken it upon yourself to return me to my fate—unless," The answer suddenly dawns on me in the face of his insistence, his desperation for me to agree, "Unless you can't. You can't change me back against my will. I'm right, aren't I? Tell me!"

"Yes," he whispers, his slim frame beginning to shake again. "You're right. I can't make you turn back."

"And I will never turn back."

I am halfway to the hotel doors when Marcus fractures in front of me, twisting around to gain his footing and attempting to block my path. I easily side step him and he again appears a few feet ahead and to the side, disturbing a couple walking arm in arm.

"Please, you have to understand," he says, snatching at my arm. "I'm not strong enough—"

With more force than I originally intended, I throw Marcus off me and push through the rotating doors into the hotel. Gleaming tile floors open up beneath my feet as I cross the well-lit lobby and approach the oak front desk sitting in the middle. A man dressed in a grey suit and purple tie stands behind the desk, staring languidly ahead and spinning a pen in front of him. The moment he catches sight of me he stands upright and straightens his tie, fixing a pair of black rimmed glasses on his nose.

"Welcome to the Holiday Inn," he greets, suppressing a yawn. "Is there anything I can do for you tonight?"

"A standard room, if one is available," I say, pulling out the wad of money left in my back pocket.

"Things have changed," Marcus says, appearing behind the employee. "There are more lives involved, more than your soul that's at stake."

I ignore him, giving the man my information.

"How long will you be staying with us, Mr. Watson?" the hotel clerk asks.

"Just for the night," I reply. "Maybe tomorrow night as well. Not sure where things will take me."