Part 34 (1/2)

”I supposed that's my G.o.dd.a.m.n fault, too,” Death grumped. ”So f.u.c.king shoot me.”

H2 made a finger gun and slowly levelled it at Death. Lucy swatted him across the back of the head for even thinking it. She then looked at Death with very serious, pleading eyes.

”Why don't you just go back, Frankie? You know how bad it's getting out there. Exponentially.”

But Death did not acknowledge her. He kept his silence, studying how the tiny bubbles in his beer rose to the foamy surface of his mug. His party mood was dying out faster than he wanted. He was no longer h.o.r.n.y. He searched the faces of those sitting around him and saw their anxious expressions. There was a balance to be kept, and his friends were trying really hard to persuade him to go back to his trade.

And this Tony wasn't such a bad guy...

”I'll think about it,” he granted them all.

Given the circ.u.mstances and the time and knowing him personally, it was a step in the right direction. They gave a collective sigh at Death's swaying in the right direction.

”I think,” Death suddenly announced, ”that a test is in order. Yeah. A test. That'll do it.”

”A... test?” Lucy asked uncertainly. ”Why the h.e.l.l do you have to have a test?”

”Hey,” Death pointed at her, ”if leprechauns can demand a person to guess their names, I sure as h.e.l.l can ask for a test. Let's get that straight right f.u.c.king now. I don't exactly take the garbage out once a day, you might remember.”

Tony returned, swaying as he went. Death felt the ring of his own bladder again and indicated that he wanted out from the table. Lucy and H2 both moved.

”Again?” H asked him as he went.

”Yes, again, G.o.ddammit,” Death snapped. ”Not my G.o.dd.a.m.n fault I p.i.s.s every five minutes. It's either there or all over you, so I guess there won't be an argument?”

Both of H2's hands went up, ”Go p.i.s.s.”

”Thank you, I will.”

The Mundane and Ent.i.ty eyed each other, one arriving and one leaving. Death winked at the man, and Tony instinctively nodded back. It wasn't until he sat down he realized that Death had just winked at him.

That was f.u.c.ked up.

Paradise was f.u.c.ked up.

He sat down heavily next to H. ”How am I doing?” he asked.

There was a long pause from them all. It was H that finally spoke. ”At least you ain't swearing at him anymore.”

Chapter 39.

Death stopped in front of the wall-length mirror opposite the stalls and urinals. There was a big guy standing by the condom dispenser. Over his shoulder, Death could read the words ”Works! Got laid!” scratched on the wall above the dispenser. He went to the urinal and began his business. He wrinkled up his nose at the p.i.s.sy smell in the air. Death heard a flush from nearby and immediately forgot about it. He was in another world, thinking about people, Tony, and the lay of the land.

And the right big t.i.ts on that last bar wench.

The stall door opened and a Mundane stepped out. Except it wasn't a Mundane. In the reflection of the gla.s.s, the man's eyes were black. At the same moment, the big guy inspecting the condoms swivelled and placed himself in front of the washroom door, barring any exit. The Mundane coming out of the stall wore a huge pair of heavy winter gloves; the industrial, deep cold kind that scientists probably wore in the North or South poles or on the surface of the moon. He adjusted them as he came closer to Death.

The trap was sprung, Death thought, and smiled.

”Toilets are overflowing, I see,” Death said to them.

”You're coming with us,” said the man with the gloves. He had an exceptionally dark complexion as if he had been trapped in a tanning bed for too long. The big one blocking the door merely stared. If Death had been closer, he might've have heard the growl. Regardless, he was feeling c.o.c.ky at the moment. He realized who these ”men” were. It had been a long time since he had to deliver any of their ilk to the other side, and when he did, they struggled tooth and nail. But they died all the same, just like anyone else, and instilled no fear in Death.

”And what if I don't?”

The man with the gloves gently placed his hands on Death's person, turned them into fists as he clenched cloth and leather and, without a change in his expression, lifted Death off his feet. Death's expression went from drunken defiance to surprise. He had forgotten how strong they could be. And this was the little one.

Peters brought Death in close, smiling as if he had just bagged the prize of the millennium. ”We burn it.”

Death screwed up his face. He could tell a p.r.i.c.k when he heard one.

Peters waited for a smart-a.s.s remark. He might just torch Paradise anyway. It would be an easy thing to do this close to Armageddon. Nothing fancy for this place. Just a plain old firebomb to herald in the Burning Ages. The more he thought about it, the more it appealed to him. Why wait the week? Why not just f.u.c.king start right now?

But Death only sighed, as if tired of it all. ”Okay,” he muttered. ”Let's go.”

Peters' smile faltered, and Death struggled to keep from smiling himself. Like handling old dynamite, these Minions, but he would manage until he did not want to anymore.

Peters set him down on the floor.

”But no hitting me as we're heading out,” Death warned both of them with a finger. ”I don't go for that s.h.i.+t. Understood?”

Peters and Bull Wash exchanged evil looks of amus.e.m.e.nt.

”Old man,” Peters breathed, ”you'll go out in a f.u.c.king s...o...b..x if I say so.”

Yes, this one was a p.r.i.c.k. Death sighed. Captured by p.r.i.c.ks. He had sunk low this day. It was a good thing he was drunk. Old man, his a.s.s. He specifically made sure he looked late thirties.

Bull Wash moved aside and opened the door. He stepped out first. Peters motioned Death to follow. ”Do anything I don't like, and I'll send this place up like a fireball.”

Death did as he was told, half because he was drunk and half because of the novelty of it all.

Peters did not like the way the boatman was stalling, so he shoved him from behind.

”Listen,” Death said mildly, his eyes downcast, ”I'm telling you again. Keep... your G.o.dd.a.m.n hands off me... Okay?”

The thing in a man's skin smiled, showing fearsome teeth. ”Get going,” it said and shoved Death towards the door again.

Death didn't like to be manhandled, and slowly shook his head with drunken contempt.

They just didn't know who they were f.u.c.king with.

Chapter 40.