For the love of Death

War

Xavier POV
It was almost time. I peered out the window at the growing twilight. A few of the streetlights clicked on while I watched. Some flickered pathetically, trying to illuminate the darkening streets below, but others had already given up. I was dressed in black jeans and boots, with a blood red shirt. I had a black rucksack on that contained my blades and some roses, along with the paint and sketch of the offering. This gift would be perfect. This time, I would get her to notice me. I would try to initiate a conversation. I needed to lay the foundations for a possible relationship.

My stomach growled. When was the last time I ate? I stood and crossed the shabby carpet to the fridge. I pulled the door open and peered in. A wrinkly and limp pepper, a furry piece of cheese. Nothing there. I opened the freezer. There was nothing but ice cream. I didn't know how long it had dwelled there, but it was frozen solid. I opened the tub and got out a spoon, chipping at the frozen liquid and eating it without tasting it. By the time I had finished, it was dark out. I re shouldered my backpack and left, carefully locking the door behind me. I knew where I was going to kill.

I kept my head down, ignoring the crisp autumn air as I weaved through the city. This time, I wasn't heading into the rich part of town, but to the opposite, the poor side of the city. The road became riddled with potholes, rubbish piled on the pavement and the buildings became smoke stained, the windows so filthy I could barely see the threadbare, stained curtains that hung just beyond them. I searched the corners. The whores were usually crawling all over this place, so where were they now?

"Hey sugar, looking for a good time?" A feminine purr rang out behind me. I smiled to myself before turning around.
"Hang on, are you legal?" The prostitute said, looking me up and down. I did look rather young. I nodded, jerking my head towards the alley. Most people would call her pretty, with brown glossy hair, brown eyes and a prettily made up face. She was wearing revealing clothes that showed off her curvy figure. But to me, she was repulsive. Everyone was when compared to my darling angel of death. When the tall walls of the alley obscured us from prying eyes, she turned to me and sashayed towards me. I reached behind my back and pulled out the knife. I went to embrace her, but I kept my lips an inch from hers as I reached around her and buried my knife in her back. The whore whimpered in pain as I tugged the knife back out and laid her on the ground at the side of the alley.

I pulled out the sketch and the paint, spraying a pentagram in the center of the alley. It was perfect, but I didn't have much longer. I picked up the whore and dragged her into the center, laying her neatly down. Most of her blood was pooled at the side of the alley. I closed her eyes, placed the roses on her chest, crossed her arms over her chest, and stood back. Any second now.

A minute passed with nothing happening. My heart seemed to sink in my chest. She wasn't coming. I sat on the ground, leaning my head against the dirty wall. A tear slipped out and trickled down my face. Then the air filled with static. I sat up straight. Yes, she was in her way. She materialised, a bored look on her face. She raised her scythe, but then paused. Death skipped over the body, crouched and reached out to the roses, a hesitant look on her face. Her pointer finger brushed one of the perfect, crimson petals, and they withered and died, turning black. So she can't touch flowers without them dying. Interesting. A look of heartbreaking disappointment twisted her features. She stood abruptly, raised her scythe, and in one fell swoop, harvested the soul. She was going to leave. No.

"Wait! Death, please!" I called out, reaching for her. She turned to me shocked.
"You, you can see me? Impossible!" She almost looked frightened for a moment, and then she vanished. But she had noticed me. It was a start.

Death's POV
"Wait! Death, please!" Someone called out before me. But how? Was it a lost soul? I turned to them. To my surprise, it wasn't a lost soul at all, it was a human. But humans weren't supposed to see me. A few psychics over the years had pulled it off, but one look told me he wasn't a psychic.
"You, you can see me? Impossible!" I stuttered. This man, he frightened me. I grasped my scythe and traversed the worlds, retreating to the safety of the land of the dead.

Yet again, I materialised miles off where I should be. I whistled for my mount and began to ride. What was going on with me? Why could that man see me? With a war on the horizon, I didn't have the time to deal with this! And my powers were dulling at the worst possible moment. I let out a scream, a sound of pure anger. I didn't even understand why I was being summoned to those reapings. Usually I was only meant to reap strong souls, those that wouldn't go down without a fight, or those who were likely to get lost on their way to the land of the dead. The two people he had killed were neither strong nor likely to get lost. And I had this niggling feeling that I had seen him before. I racked my brain, trying to remember.

He had killed two people, but I knew it was more than that. Suddenly I flashed back to years ago. Another reaping that I found odd at the time. A man and a women, both dying from heart attacks simultaneously, even though they were only in their early forties. They had an adopted son who was there at the time. I hadn't paid him much mind, but if I aged him till he was around twenty, he looked like the man who killed the two girls. I scowled. From now on, I would ignore the calls. But that wasn't allowed. If I was summoned for a reaping, I had to go through with it. I groaned in frustration. What was I supposed to do?

I could ask War. He might take over my reapings for a while if I covered his. Although the thought of owing him another favour made me feel sick, we had swapped reapings before, usually when we both got bored. I altered my course slightly, making a beeline for War's castle. I reached the bottom and leapt of my horse, starting up the stairs at my top speed. I didn't even knock on the doors, I just burst straight in.
"War? War!" I yelled. A couple of his enslaved spirits looked at me, but swiftly returned to their jobs. Cherry, his butler, approached.
"May I help you, Madame Death?" Cherry asked with a small bow.
"Tell War I need to speak with him as a matter of utmost urgency. And tell him that if I don't see him in five minutes, I'll go to him."
"Certainly, Madame." Cherry scuttled off, looking for War. I waited for two minutes, tapping my foot impatiently on the red and black tile of the foyer.

Finally War descended the stairs in front of me, an annoyed smirk on his face. He strode towards me, stopping when he was mere inches from me. I looked him in the eye, unwavering. War would pry on your weaknesses faster than you could blink.
"You took your time." I said, making myself the very picture of confidence. His hand flashed out and wrapped around my throat, hoisting me off the ground. I didn't react. It wasn't like I needed to breathe.
"You storm into my house without on appointment, talk to my butler like trash, threaten me, and then have the gall to stand there and remark on my tardiness?" I could almost sense his anger, but I just stared at him unblinkingly. War grinned and dropped me.
"You've got guts. The other two don't. Shall we go to my study, Death dearest?" I nodded and followed him through the maze of corridors to the red painted study War dwelled in most of the time.

I sat down, but War poured two glasses of thick, blood red wine before sitting opposite me, handing me a delicate red tinted glass with a cordial smile. I didn't drink it. I never had enjoyed the blood wine.
"So, my dear, what is it that's gotten you so flustered? It's a rare sight indeed." That much was true.
"I want to swap reapings with you for a spell. Say a year or so." I proposed. War's eyes bored into me, trying to figure me out, read me like a book. I kept my face still and impassive.
"And why do you want to do that, dear?" I can't let him corner me.
"I'm bored, aren't you? It's a while since we last swapped." He ignored my question, a predatory smile forming on his lips.
"How about you tell me the truth, hmmm? Why you really want to swap?" I couldn't tell him about the man. I don't know why, I just thought it would be a mistake. But I knew War. He wouldn't be put off easily.
"How about I tell you something else instead?" I offered. I was desperate, grasping at straws. And War knew that. I could see the internal battle going on in his mind. By being so protective of the reason, I had lit a bonfire of curiosity. But he knew that whatever I knew, it would be juicy. He sat back and drained his glass, watching me intently.

"Go on then." He said finally, his eyes full of curious fire.
"There's a war coming, War." He snorted and waved his hand dismissively.
"I don't care about human wars, Death. It just means more work for me. I'm disappointed in you."
"Not a war between humans. A war between God and Satan." War sat up straight. Got him.
"Really? That will be interesting. I must tell the others at once."
"And the swap?"
"Sorry sweetie, I've changed my mind." The devious-
"That's not fair!" I yelled.
"Neither's life. Ta ta." The castle itself turned against me, the floor heaving up the throw me out the window.
"DAMN YOU TO THE DEEPEST PITS OF HADES WAR!" I screamed, turning and stomping away.

Hope you enjoyed part three of For the Love of Death!