The deal

"Why are you here?" he asked, the black hood covering his face. Cecilia didn't bother to try to answer, knowing what the full hood held.

A boy, looking the age of sixteen or seventeen, though he claimed to be ageless. He had silver white hair that looked akin to the coloring of the moon and the palest shade of blood-red eyes she had ever seen. Not many could find him, but Cecilia had always been persistent; she had walked through countless cemeteries, looking for the one in the black hood, and the scythe strapped to his back.

This certain cemetery was in the outskirts of her town; headstones littered as far as the eye could see, and the center of it was different from the rest. A small building had been destroyed for unknown purposes, revealing hidden tunnels. No one had traveled through, especially once the gnarled roots of dead trees began to grow over the entrance.

But Cecilia was no quitter; she brought a sharpened hatchet and made her way down, traveling by light of an oil lamp she had found. It was strange; the object had been placed there as if the person who had put it down knew she would need it.

Cecilia felt goosebumps run up and down her arms, and she chalked it up to the weather; though it was summer in Ovylian, down in the tunnels was much cooler. She walked on, the smell of dust and water strong in the air.

When she made it to the end of the tunnel, two entrances awaited her. Both looked the same, and Cecilia chewed on her lower lip, wondering which one was the correct one.

Deciding to go to the left, she shielded her face as a blast of cold air hit her, almost taking out the oil lamp from her hands.

Please let this be the right one, she thought, trudging on forward as her flats kicked up small pebbles, and they bounced around making echo noises. Though the oil lamp offered light, it was very limited; it was just a bit around her, the rest of the tunnels in inky darkness.

Cecilia had her hand on the wall of the tunnel as a bit of balance and guidance. Something grazed her palm, and she let out a curse, shining the lamp down on it. A cut that ran from the end of her palm to in between her first two fingers formed on her right hand, and a small trickle of blood dripped out. Disgusted, Cecilia set down the oil lamp and ripped a strand off her long skirt, wrapping it tightly to stop the bleeding.

Although Cecilia wasn't fond of long skirts or poof dresses, she would admit they were handy when she would cut herself up by accident in her many adventures. She knew the family's seamstress was going to give her an earful for this, but to be honest, there were more pressing matters at hand.

When she looked up, there he was. It was his hair that brought her attention to him; there must have been the faintest of light somewhere, yet it reflected on his silver white hair. Faint red eyes stared at her bored before drawing up his hood to cover his face. If this was Death, he was quite pretty; sharp cheekbones, elegant long nose, and lips that looked like they were kissed by roses.

"Why are you here?" he had asked, and as he moved, Cecilia saw the faintest glint of metal. His scythe that he kept strapped to his back. She had never known if he ever used it as a weapon; Cecilia had gathered very little information about him whilst searching for ways to find Death without dying. "I want to make an easy deal with you." she said, pulling out a rolled up piece of paper with straggles of ink on it. Death walked to her, his steps silent as he took the rolled up paper and read through it. When he looked back at her, the hood fell off, and he looked slightly amused. "You said the shaman decreed this?" he asked.

"That's what the paper says." she replied, taking a step back.

"But you're a full-blooded human." Death said, looking like he wanted to say something else but decided against it.

"I know my true mate is this person, though. Even the shaman saw it." Cecilia replied, standing up straight and tall.

"For enough money, you can get the humans to say whatever you want to hear." he said, sounding like he was suppressing laughter. Cecilia glared at Death; how dare he say such a thing at true love?

And sure, it was strange love; her being human and mundane in every way possible, and the person she wanted to wed, and marry with was the alpha of the southern wolf pack.

She knew deep in her heart though it was meant to be, the moment she laid eyes on him three years ago. At the time, she hadn't known who he was, as she was just a fifteen year old girl who tried to fight off the maids from dressing her in silly gowns.

Her father was a very wealthy and respected Duke; both her and her older brother had to be presentable for the times the family was invited to the ball.

Which was almost all the time.

This certain ball she had wandered off to the side of the castle building towards the woods, watching a pack of boys wander off from the ball and into the woods.

They turned into wolves, a bit bigger than dogs, and disappeared into the night. Cecilia, although aware that werewolves existed, she had never seen one so up close.

One of them caught her eye; the boy with the golden eyes, that was the only thing that stayed the same when he shifted into a wolf.

"He's the one." Cecilia had said when she was fifteen.

"He's the one." she repeated, now at eighteen.

Death sighed, but he smiled. "So what's the deal?"

"My father believes that I'm making a mistake into agreeing to arrange marriage between me and Mason. I want to prove him wrong." she started, but Death held up a hand, staring at her as if she was crazy.

"I'm not sure what you want me to do there. A mutual death between lovers? Because I'm not Cupid; I can't make him fall in love with you." he said, and Cecilia tried not to look too disappointed.

"No. I know you can revive someone, though. And that's what I'm most interested in. If I'm wrong, I want a do-over." she said, and Death arched an eyebrow.

"For that to work, you'd have to lose your own life." he said, and Cecilia waved off that worry.

"Let me handle that. Do we have a deal?" she asked, holding out her hand.

"I'll accept the deal if you agree that when I bring you back, I get to choose the time frame. And you'll go on from there." he said, reaching for her hand.

Cecilia didn't pull back, but she did think it through. In a way, this was better than him asking for her soul. But at the same time, there was a chance she'd come back as age eleven or a fetus, and that was way far back.

"I agree to the terms." she said as she shook his hand.

"I look forward to seeing if I'll be a guest at the wedding or at your funeral." he answered, disappearing from sight.