Death's Rulebook

Chapter 9: Blue eyes black

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I mumbled, staring at the decrepit warehouse Obscene graffiti covered every inch of the facade, the wood underneath the paint slowly rotting. But the eeriest part of all was the windows—they stood like gaping holes for the wind to howl through. The wailing of the wind reminded me of a kind of scream that echoed the horrible stuff that had happened inside. Which, judging by the sore-riddled gang that threw bottles at Mason's car on our way here, definitely involved violence and a lot of drugs

"Hey, get off my back, it's the best I could do on such short notice," Mason grumbled and slowly dragged himself out of his Ford to stand beside me under the street light. "Be thankful it's at least empty."

I grunted and rolled my eyes. "Yeah, until your Heisenberg comes back from his drug farm down in Mexico!"

"You got a better idea?!" He bellowed, his amber eyes aflame. I flinched at the hardness in his voice, and my earlier frustration subsided. He was still mad.

"Didn't think so. It's all I got at the moment. Sorry for not having a convenient bunker where I can stash your Frankenstein's monster. So unless you have something good to add, shut up and relax."

-I don't need to relax. I need to scream.

I was actually pretty damn close to breaking, and the fact he'd decided to bring us to a less than nice part of Brooklyn (in the dead of night, as if we couldn't possibly get any dumber) was not helping my mental state in the least.

"Mason, I know you're pissed..."

"Really? No, what could have possibly given you that idea?!"

"... but you can't freak out right now."

He turned to me, the same fury from back at the Kowalski house pooling in his eyes.

"Freak out? I lost my damn notebook, Violet. The Death Ledger, the one thing that Kevin specifically stated you can't lose, to someone else. I think I'm way past the point of freaking out."

I stood firmly rooted in my place, my limbs liquid.

"I thought you said you didn't want to talk about it."

He snickered, lighting a cigarette with shaky fingers.

"Talking or not talking about it won't make much of a difference. I'm still screwed."

I gritted my teeth, heat stinging my eyes.

"Okay," I murmured. "Okay. Let's just... let's just get Logan inside."

He glared at the cloudy night sky for the longest time, his eyes distant. I thought he hadn't heard me when he put the cigarette out, and begrudgingly dragged himself back to the car.

-He's beaten.

It was written all over his face. It had been ever since I'd shown him the writing on the first page. He'd tried to rationalize it, deny it, saying how the book I was clutching couldn't possibly be his, since his was tucked safely in his pocket. But when his round of panicked frisking yielded no book, reality began setting in.

The final nail in the coffin was when he tried to take the notebook from me. No sooner had his fingertips brushed the leathery covers that he was thrown back, an electric jolt knocking him right on his ass. I'd stared at his flushed face in horror.

-Holy crap.

The book was behaving as if Mason was trying to steal it. Another thing clearly outlined in Kevin's famous 'Dos&Don't's' chapter of the manual was the fact that no matter how much we wished, the Ledger couldn't be stolen or forcibly taken from us. It had a built-in defense mechanism, a kind of laser zap that would burn anyone trying to claim it without its Reaper's express permission. At that point, there was no denying it anymore.