Caged by Damnation (Caged #2)(78)

I felt pulled towards Death’s door by the electrically charged air. Embers of light streamed through the slightly open doorways, tempting me with its honeyed essence. Leaning forward to peek through the ajar doors, my curiosity won out against my self-preservation. After all, I doubted the punishment for spying on Death was something I wanted to endure. Besides, he had given me permission to call him by his true name, Kai. That was hardly the name of someone who would consider my actions a capital offense, right?

Death sat in a chair, his head bowed as he looked at the music box I had found on his balcony. My heart contracted when I observed a tear skitter forth and plummet to the surface of the box.

I gasped and Death lifted his gaze to mine. His narrowed as he shot out of his chair, stalking me, while I responded by quickly backing away. His eyes were a blazing hearth, which, compared to the one in the common room, were decidedly more intense.

He approached, revealing a new level to his appearance. His charcoal gray pants displayed a ripped seam and the electric blue cotton shirt was torn to shreds. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, allowing me a glimpse at some grotesque bruising one of his forearms. Noticing my gaze, he immediately unrolled the shirt and crossed to the fireplace to face me.

Though the fire caused lights to dance along the walls and myself, Death's back was to the light, leaving his form obscured.

Deep with impatience, Death spoke. "What are you doing here?"

I moved closer until a single step would result in a collision. "I came to check on Nyx, the Slow Loris that Ivy gave me..." My words trailed into nothingness, as I observed his festering wound, slicing across his exposed chest.

He glanced down, as if he had forgotten his injury, and avoided my gaze. "The perks of the job."

Though his shirt was mostly unbuttoned, I wondered if there was more to the angry wound. Grasping the collar, I tore forcefully yet gently to get a better view. "This doesn't look good."

Shouldn't Death, of all beings, be able to heal? The inflamed, puckered skin worried me and countered my inaccurate assumptions. When I pressed the swollen flesh, pus oozed out.

"You need to see a healer or doctor, this is really bad."

A forced smile crossed his lips and he closed the shirt to the best of his ability. "It will be fine. The one constant in my life is that I endure against all odds." His voice altered as he spoke, becoming vaguely menacing, but he shrugged it away, banishing all traces of such an emotion.

"Do you at least have a first aid kit?" That sentence earned me a trip to assumed Looneyville, as if I were insane for thinking he might have such humane trinkets of healing. "Never mind, of course you don't. Lucky me, I'm not very good at healing or I would close this right up." I pouted, feeling childish, but irritated with my own limitations.

My pity party must have amused Death, because it resulted in a genuine grin. "It will be gone by morning, I heal quickly. I think you have more important people to take care of."

The urge to scold him grew, but I bit my tongue and sat on the sofa, staring at the writhing flames of the fire. "I thought..." Looking up from the fire, I made sure I had Death's attention. "Aren't Hellhounds supposed to be powerful?" He nodded in assent. "Then why do the others seem just as weak, as I have always been. Other than the freaky thing I did with that snake demon, and running as a pack... I don't feel any different either."

"Snake demon?" Holding up his hand, he signaled to hold back the explanation. He seemed pensive; carefully laying out my questions and sorting through the ways to address them. "Your sisters are weak from the ritual. You won't see their true power for at least a week. As for you, you're an entirely new kind of Hellhound. Rather than being created, you were born with a soul. You won't learn your capabilities until you have matured, and to do that, you need to accept your Hellhound nature. It calls to you, yet you ignore it or don't hear it yet. You are my Fury. When you and her become one, you'll become who you were always meant to be."

"Give it time and I will become this Fury that is supposed to be who I really am? Oh, I'm furious, but not in the way you mean for me to be. I'm a weakling!" I snorted in disbelief, considering fleeing from this confrontation, but I had engaged it. I could sense the tightness in my skin, as it tingled in the way it always did before I cried.

Death sank into the cushion beside me. "You are not weak." He caressed the side of my face, lingering at my temple before gently turning it to face him. "You are not weak!" He repeated. "Your strength comes from your soul, and I envy you for it. Think of yourself as a newborn child. They aren't born with the ability to do much in the beginning, but the potential to age into someone great is within them."

"I don't want to wait. My friends need me now."

He sighed, clearly exasperated with my insistence. "Things like this don't happen overnight. Look at Savannah and Izzy, they're growing more powerful each day." I remained stoic and Death grunted in defeat. "There is one way to change now. You won't like it."

Throwing myself into his arms, I nearly knocked him off the sofa. Then I pulled back to look at him with my arms still locked around his neck and me still half seated on his lap. "What is it?"

"Come with me."





CHAPTER 18