The Deathless Novels & Stories

I answered curtly. "Brilliant." He grinned grimly, showcasing his rows of sharp teeth. Dazzlingly white and pointed. The blank piece of paper that sat on top of the briefcase began to bleed with words and formed sentences. "I, Death, agree to grant Reniella De Vega a single wish if she successfully collects the soul of Deshawn Cervantes within the time period," he read out from memory. Then, he fished a ballpoint pen from the inside of his suit jacket and placed it next to the paper.

No softness. This is Death as he stands when something matters. He speaks before I can. “I am here because an ending did not complete.” The words land with the weight of fact. Not accusation. Not curiosity. “A soul reached the threshold,” he continues, “and did not pass through it.” My breath stills. “There was no disruption,” he says. “No correction. No response. No trace.” His gaze fixes on me, not searching, not accusing. Measuring. “There was only absence.”

I stare at the lovely city of Manchester as I weigh my options. It’s either bankruptcy and death or marriage and coronation. I guess the latter isn’t much of a bad idea, only it is. Whatever the case, my father’s murders must pay. I have a secret after all, I can hardly die.

Original Death is watching with patience that feels like inevitability. And the clock is ticking toward extinction.

DEATH; DEATH IS an enchantress. Whether you’re young or old; rich or poor; there will come a day when be ensnared by it and succumb to the grave, eventually. The love could’ve been looming over your cotton-soft heart since your birth, or an acquired intimacy for it one day while sat in the wool; for as long as one had as ever trod shoe-leather.

It was something … unholy. “Good men must die, but death cannot kill their names.” The other version spoke. The gold in her eyes shined brighter at the sight in front of her. “Death has always been a part of the world, an occurs that called men back to the ground. But death was unhappy ruling over the still and silent. Death cheated itself and live and created those that should have never been. Death create the undead.” The other version spoke again. All Layla’s attention was on the words the other version spoke and the dept they carried.

Yeah everything looks all pristine and innocent during the day, but night time around the packhouse can be pretty fucking terrifying. And I’m the reaper himself. I have fourteen dead flies on my legs. Insects, yes, and definitely not sexy looking. But symbols of the males that tried to take me down and fuckin’ failed. But I know better than anyone, even my wolf… Flyers don’t live forever. We do our part to make this world a better place and try to leave it for those after us to prosper. Doze shakes his head and before he speaks, I already know why he’s pissed.

Mary lamented for their death as if they were her parents because they treated her like family when they were alive. Prince fainted. He never thought he would lose his parents on the same day. When he was revived, Mary and Collins consoled him. Their deaths wasn't an accident, it was an assassination from an enemy. They were both shot in the head. Prince felt how Rose's parents felt when they lost their precious daughter.

I didn’t imagine the voice. It was as clear as day, as loud as if she were standing right next to me. And even though my mind is doubting it, my heart knows for a fact that it was her. Except she’s dead. …Right? Or is she “dead” in the same way Headmaster Stroud suspects my father is dead? Meaning, alive somewhere. “Come on,” Alec whispers. He leads the way out of the bush, and we peek around the pool house’s corner. The coast is clear.

Isolde whispered, her words dripping with a chilling finality. Elder Noble’s strength waned, and his legs gave way beneath him. He crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath, his life slipping away with every passing second. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was Isolde’s cold, unfeeling eyes, a silent reminder that within the coven’s shadowed depths, secrets had a way of being silenced, no matter the cost.