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

Chapter 32: Chinese Finger Trap

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The Reapers took me to the "Academy's" gym, which was larger than Death's private gym and thankfully didn't have the Graveyard obstacle course set up. Instead, there were various stations that the boys had apparently prepared for my arrival.

Denim, Gunner, and Flash's station was first. I wasn't at all surprised that it was sword training practice and target practice with throwing knives. Blade certainly got his name for a reason. Dressed in all black, like the rest of the Reapers, Blade wore a belt around his waist that held various knives. I'd soon find out he knew his way around handling the sword Death had given me. Denim officially had the aim of Deadshot. The man never missed, even when he wasn't looking. And Flash...well, he might have been sleepy but he had faster reflexes than all of us combined.

"You three must have a knack for this violence stuff. Because I'm throwing like a girl over here and I played varsity softball." I threw the knife at the target and it weakly bounced off the board and hit the ground. "I mean, come on, that's just embarrassing."

"You're improving," Denim said mercifully in his baritone voice, patiently handing me another dagger. "Remember, you're aiming for only one turnover before it hits the board."

"Or you can just focus on not hitting me," teased Flash as he quickly collected the discarded daggers on the floor beneath the board. "That would be nice."

"Sorry about that again," I muttered shamefully. "How's your...area, by the way?"

Flash pulled his sweatpants out to peer down his pants and smirked. "Everything seems to be in tact."

"Yeah, all two inches of it," quipped Wolf.

Denim chuckled and bumped knuckles with Wolf.

"She's not channeling the Barracuda," Blade hissed from behind me, ruining the playful mood. "I thought Death said she could channel the Barracuda."

"I'm standing right here, you don't have to talk to him like I'm not," I said. "I was under the impression the Barracuda worked by itself."

Blade laughed, running a hand down his ruggedly handsome face. "No, lassie, you must have been unconsciously accessing the power. Have you not been mediating between your slouster sessions with Death?"

I had a snarky response, but the dude with all the knives in his belt and the deadly seventh sin of anger was the last person I wanted to piss off at the moment.

"Death meditated with me once, to try and channel my power." I threw the next dagger that Denim handed me harder than ever before. My face felt hot. Did the Reapers really think I was Death's whore? And shit, I really should have been meditating more.

"And how did that go?" Blade asked condescendingly.

I thought back to our mediation. How I'd ogled Death like a piece of meat and then somehow ended with me straddling Death's lap. "Meditation is hard, okay?"

"I bet it is, a sheòid. I bet it is."

"Blade," Denim growled. "Calm down."