Caged by Damnation (Caged #2)(40)

"In my defense, you did take me away from everything and everyone I have ever loved. You're planning to change me into a completely different species without giving me any specifics, and you are too arrogant for your own good."

Death's smile vanished, replaced with a thinning mouth which angled down at each end. "You're not very apt at apologies."

"You're not so great yourself. At least I know how to say I'm sorry. You just expect to be forgiven." With emphasis, I continued. "Oh wait, you're Death. You never need to apologize, use manners, or treat others as equals. I think your ego is inflated and you need a reality check. You are not lord and master of all. Maybe you should try treating everyone with more respect." Directing a sheepish look his way, I then began paying special attention to the pattern of the blanket I held in my clutches.

With a bluntness that I was forced to give him credit for, Death replied, "Respect is earned." Then, shockingly, he said, "I'm sorry that you have to be here. I'm sorry I made you choose and you had to give up everything. I'm sorry I gave you an ultimatum, but I'm not sorry that you're here. The world relies on the Hellhounds. They are all that stands between humanity and evil. We need you, and sometimes that means I have to ignore what a single girl wants to put everyone else first." His eyes became shaded. "I'm sorry you're stuck with someone like me, but don't take it out on your sisters. This is just as difficult for each of them."

Death turned, opening the doors in the common room, and left me gaping like a fish. My mouth was wide with so many apologies, but mostly with the realization that I had been selfish.

I twisted out of the blanket and tossed the pillow back onto the couch. When I reached the doors, I pulled without success. They wouldn't open. Stubbornly, I placed one foot against the wall as leverage and pulled harder. Still, the door remained fused shut, as if it had never opened.

"You're not going to get in that way." I turned to find Scrye watching me, her eyes hauntingly white.

"How do I get in then?" I blew a stray strand of hair away from my eyes. She laughed, moving forward to deftly place the hair back into the braid. "It's a door. How else am I supposed to get in?

Scrye furrowed her eyebrows, glancing warily at the doors, before addressing me. "The doors are more decorative than anything. We all have control over our domains. You only pass if he wants you to." She shrugged. "He doesn't like any of us being in there. I've never been invited – most of us haven't. I think he allowed Echo in once or twice, but only because she had a good reason."

"So, how exactly do I get permission?"

Scrye shook her head the way a mother would when asked a silly question. "You ask." She gestured to the door. "Have you ever had anyone visit your home? Don't they knock and speak through the door? Honestly, it may look different here, but many of the same rules apply."

She retreated the way she came. I looked at the door disdainfully and knew I was about to feel completely ridiculous for talking to a pair of doors. Especially when they looked too thick for sound to penetrate.

The cold of the iron doors swept past my skin to settle within me. I shivered, part of me feeling a sense of doom. I knocked, but the iron hurt my knuckles and I barely made a sound. "Can I come in?"

Moving around the common room, I looked for something I could knock on the doors with. I grabbed a candlestick, removed the melted wax of the candle and used the underside to knock on the door. The result was a hideous scratch on Death's door. I cringed, waiting for a reckoning at the desecration of his home, but nothing happened.

Resigned, I knocked again, and when no answer was given, I started banging on the exact same location while screaming, "Death! I'm not going anywhere until I talk to you! I can do this all night!" Suddenly the candlestick flew from my fingers to land on the shelf above the fireplace. The doors shook, but one opened enough for me to peer through. I grabbed the ring of the door and pulled with all my might. It took a few tries, but the door finally opened enough that I would be able to slip inside.

I backed away from the doors, the opening weighing on me with the fear of what I would find on the other side. This was Death's domain. What if Hell lay on the other side of the door? Would I be swallowed up in flames, doomed to be tortured for daring to talk back to him? Willing the notion from my mind, I reminded myself that he needed me.

My emotions were conflicted where Death came into play. One moment I hated him, thinking he was a priggish male with far too much time on his hands. Other times, I felt guilty that I viewed him in such a stale light. It seemed I wasn't immune to the crimson stamps others had labeled Death with. He was judged often, and yet those who did so had yet to meet him. How could a living, breathing person know who Death really was, when they didn’t know him on a personal level?

"Make up your mind." Death's voice carried through the opening in the doors. He sounded closer than I believed he could be. The inner sanctum behind the door was pitch black, hindering my eyesight and making me believe he couldn't be close enough to see me, but he was.

"I...." My voice trailed off in a sleepy rhythm that bespoke the reasoning behind my hesitance. I was embarrassed by the fear that had swallowed me whole. If there were such a thing as an aquarium filled to the brim with trepidation, and the annoying feeling that the walls were about to devour me, I was immersed in it. The icy waters of anxiety held me back from what I needed to do.