"Gods, Miss Rowena! You look awful!!" cried Myra as I strolled through my front door. I arrived exactly six minutes before noon. It may have been later than expected, but it was still technically within when I had promised to be back. Zachariah sat the the kitchen table, looking as if he fought the Battle of the Fire Meadows singlehandedly. Myra sat across from him, an assortment of laces and fabric in front of her.

A bride on the eve of her wedding.

I ignored her, striding right toward the old wine cabinet. I wrenched the door open, using my teeth to yank the cork out of the closest bottle. I tipped it back, draining half of it before I came up for air.

"Mentally, physically, spiritually, or emotionally?" I asked, tipping the bottle back again.

"Does that distinction actually matter?" Myra asked sardonically, lifting a brow.

"No," I growled, sinking into the plush chair by the fire. I shook my hair, allowing the last of the ice crystals to fall to the floor as my bones gradually heated. I held the wine bottle by its neck, not bothering with a glass. Silence fell in the room, though I could picture the looks Mya and Zachariah were sharing. I heard Ash pad out of one of my side rooms, her steps cautious. I had completely forgotten she was here. Gods damn it all, was I running a boarding house?

I glanced at the Puma girl, and decided I didn't have the energy to deal with her now. I just wanted to sleep, and forget about last night for a few precious hours. I sighed, resting my eyes as I sunk into the chair more comfortably and kicked my feet up. I had been awake entirely too long, and my body was reaching its limit. I just wanted some peace for a while. My only plan was to sit here, drink, and contemplate my next move. Eventually.

And, as usual, I was interrupted.

The heat of the fire was blocked as Myra stood in front of me, hands on her hips and looking thunderous.

"Explain yourself, Miss Rowena! Why do you look like you lost a fight with a Nephilim? And why were you gone all night?" Myra asked, a few rebellious locks of hair pulling free from the stylish bun on her head.

I played with the bottle in my hands, lolling the liquid within from side to side as I considered how to answer her. Myra and I may have been approaching something like a friendship, but there was still so much she didn't understand about me. And I didn't have the energy to explain it all to her right now.

"What's the matter? Did little miss MyraBelle miss me?" I replied dryly, lifting the bottle to my lips again.

It was wrenched from my grip by a lace-gloved hand. I was on my feet in a second, somehow managing to not stagger. Myra didn't back down, going nose to nose with me. We glared at one another as the seconds stretched out. I reached for the bottle again, but she held it out of my reach.

Why you ungrateful little bitch, growled the black voice in my head.

"Do you even know what the cost of protecting you has been?" I said in a voice that was only barely human.

She yelped as my arms moved of their own accord, my fingers twisting in the fabric of her dress. I could feel that power ebbing and flowing beneath my skin with a life of it's own. A starving animal begging for a piece of meat. A thing that thrived off despair and rage, and desperate for more. The fabric of Myra's dress complained as my grip tightened, and I managed to lift her a few inches off the floor.

A hand landed on my arm.

I turned, seeing Zachariah's eyes boring into me. Stop, they said.

Just like that, the wind went out of my sails. Cold went through me as I gazed into the green depths of his eyes, their unerring calm breaking through the madness. The walls I had spent three years making were dangerously thin now. Gods only knew what would happen if they eroded altogether.

I suddenly realized I holding a woman I had sworn to protect in a less-than-friendly position, my hands clawing into her in an iron grip. I also realized she wasn't wrong. From her perspective, I had just run off last night without so much as a goodbye. A measure of sanity returned to me as I came back to myself.

She gazed at me with terrified eyes, her hands pulling at my arms. She looked at me like I was...like I was...

Like I was a monster.

Her heels tapped on the floor as I set her down. I backed away from her, gazing at my own hands in shock. Say what you wanted about me, but the one thing I took pride in was that I never harmed an innocent person if I could help it. Myra may be a pampered pain in the ass on the surface, but I was finding out there was more to her than that. And I had just threatened her for no other reason than taking away my booze.

"I'm sorry," I breathed, lowering my hands and meeting her eyes.

To her credit, Myra was already settling her dress back into place with expert hands. She even looked in the window to catch her reflection, primped her hair, and resettled her glare on me.

"You'd better be," she muttered, gesturing to the small tears in her dress, "This was Silvein Silk from the the Reach mountains, I'll have you know. And you didn't answer my question, Bullet Queen. Where were you last night?"

A brave face, but I didn't miss the slight shake in her voice.

Something shifted in her eyes as she looked at me, and I knew that somehow she had forgiven my loss of control. Leave it to Myra to simultaneously be this mature and immature.

"Let me get you up to speed," I said, loosing a slow breath, "The Chosen sent me another letter last night in my Gods damned Ghost Thistle during the festival."

Zachariah scowled, leaning against the fireplace as I paused. Myra sank into the chair beside me, taking the time to put the bottle back into the cabinet. Ash sat at the kitchen table, maintaining her silence as she listened.

"Then, I found Yared mostly tortured to death. While I was trying to save him, the Chosen showed up and tore his soul apart while I watched,"

A hand came to Myra's mouth, and her eyes turned glassy. Zachariah hung his head, a low growl escaping his throat. Ash alone remained calm. I knew Stone would have told them about Yared's murder. But based on their reactions he obviously didn't tell them everything.

"After that, I...I lost control. I almost had him, but then his fucking God showed up and banished me from that part of purgatory," I explained, my voice rough as I fought down the lump in my throat. I took a few moments to describe the creature I had become in the depths of my rage. I told them more about how the God of Knowing had saved his Chosen's ass, and about his motives for killing the Deified. In a way, I was grateful to the God of Knowing for stopping me. I didn't know what would have happened if I had returned to my body in that state.

No, scratch that. I knew exactly what would have happened.

Grimwater.

"And then I went to Gears End to deal with a new gang. They were a pack of sociopathic scientists named Black Pegasus. They were making these and experimenting on Elemancers," I went on, pulling the Perdita Stone out of my duster coat pocket. I held it up for everyone to see.

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"So yes. It's been a Hells of a night," I said as they processed my story.

Zachariah surprised me by stepping forward, gently taking the stone from my outstretched palm. He glanced from the stone to the Elemancy gun sitting on the kitchen table. It was still where we had last left it, as if touching it would cause an Elemancer to jump out and burn us all alive.

I sighed through my nose, meeting Zachariah's gaze.

"You said they were making them, McAlister. Not that they are. What did you do to them?" Ash asked suddenly. I looked her before locking eyes with Zachariah again. Finally, I confirmed what they already suspected,

"I killed a lot of people last night."

Zachariah shifted in his seat, reaching to set the Perdita Stone next to the gun. The sound of it hitting the wood was heavier than it should have been.

"How many?" he asked simply, his tone matter-of-fact.

A morbid chuckle escaped me as I stood, reaching into my satchel. Opening it, I pulled out a cloth bag and untied it.

"Well around five guards plus..." I said, trailing off as I upended the bag on the table.

Ring after bloody ring fell out of the filthy bag, the metal clanging noisily off the wood. There were more than thirty by the time the time the last one tumbled out.

"Plus around that many."

Zachariah looked at the pile of rings calmly, his eyes counting each one. Myra just stared at them, mouth agape and her face pale. Ash had already picked one up, using the edge of her shirt to clean off the dried blood. She began to hum a small song, though I recognized the melody immediately.

Come all ye sinners,

Don't bother to hide,

Death's reaper has come,

You've had your last rights,

What is that claims your life?

We call her the Blight,

"What now?" Zachariah asked, interrupting Ash's song. I looked at him, truly seeing him for the first time since coming home this morning. Here was one of my oldest friends seeing the very worst of me. And he was still here, ready to help. It meant more than words could describe. But, as normal with Zachariah, one look in his eyes said it all.

"Well first I need a nap," I said, answering his question with a smirk.

"Then I need to try something, and somebody to try it on," I explained, but Zachariah was already nodding his consent.

"And for this plan to work," I said more significantly as I glanced at Myra, who slitted her eyes in response.

"I need a distraction."

*******

"Wait just a second. I'm bait?" Myra asked, curling her hands around a glass of wine. Her hair was unbound now, a few curls falling into her eyes. I was learning to like those curls that refused to be restrained by pins, especially as Myra blew them out of her face irritably.

"Well, you're the bride-to-be. So yes," I said bluntly, standing in front of Zachariah with water still dripping from my hair.

"You have bollocks of steel, Lady Rowena," Dash said, chuckling low in his throat. Levi sat by Myra, a deep scowl etched into his face.

"It's mad. That's what it is," Levi growled, his fingers tightening on Myra's hand. We all had to leave for the Beafoutonte estate soon for the rehearsal dinner. Everyone had to be sure in their roles for tomorrow. Everything had to be perfect. Their margin of error was minimal at best.

And mine was none at all. I had to succeed this time. All or nothing.

I had slept for four precious hours and still had enough time to wash. They all collectively looked at me like I was an abyssal beast as I explained my plan to them. Myra had sent word to Levi to come and meet at my house before the rehearsal dinner while I slept, only for me to explain what the plan was to everybody once I wasn't mind-numbingly exhausted.

Everyone hated Plan A.

They liked Plan B even less.

And Plan C even less.

And so on.

There was the usual endless torrent of questions, but I found that I had an answer to them all. They just weren't the ones they were hoping for. Mainly because half my answers were the same phrase.

"Well, I guess I'll die then."

Everyone scowled, but eventually agreed this was our best option. The Chosen was going to resume killing Deified as soon as Levi and Myra were married. That left us a day to make sure he was dead before that happened.

And I'll deal with Death's punishment after, I thought with a shiver down my spine. Zachariah alone was aware of Death's "suggestion" for me to let these people, including Myra, die. He hadn't told anyone what he knew, but I knew he was thinking about it.

But the die was cast. There was just one more thing we needed to practice. I needed to take someone to Purgatory.

Zachariah and I stood facing one another, faces grim. Gulping, I reached a hand toward his neck where Death's Mark had been. The remainder of the Earth energy he had absorbed was still present in flowing lines on his skin, the piercing red color stark against the network of scars patterning him. Taking a slow breath, he nodded encouragingly at me.

I trust you, his eyes said. I lifted a brow at him in silent reply.

That makes one of us.

Frowning, I closed my eyes as felt the energy of the world around me. I allowed the fractured parts of my soul to come alive. The parts of me that were bound to Death. At first nothing happened. There was just the darkness behind my eyelids and the sound of the others holding their breath.

Slowly, I started to burn one of my Marks. The radiant energy flowed through me, but I kept my eyes closed. Kept focusing. Suddenly, I saw the others. I could see the light of their souls imprisoned in their bodies. They looked like flames behind the foggy glass of a lantern. Shifting my attention, I focused on Zachariah. My hand was connected to his soul energy with a feint thread of light. It trailed from my hand, to his neck, and then to the searing light within.

That's when I felt it.

I felt the distant calm of the Night Garden. Death's Garden. It pulled at me from the sky above, as if welcoming us in. I felt lighter, my soul drawn to the beauty of that place I had come to hate. Looking down, I saw a black thread extending from my body to it. I was the only connection, my soul as black as the sky of Purgatory.

All that was left to do was to pull on that thread.

"Let's hope I don't accidently take up to the Hells," I muttered as I focused on that distant place.

"What?" Zachariah asked, a shard of doubt entering his voice before I pulled us both from our bodies.

*******

It was terror and unholy bliss. I didn't need the thread binding me to purgatory. I soared straight toward it, pulling Zachariah's soul behind me.

My bare feet landed on soft grass with glowing dew several seconds before Zachariah. I felt euphoric, as if some well in my soul had turned out to be a vast ocean. It felt oddly primordial and powerful in a way I hadn't experienced yet. It was soaring through the sky without care or worry. Like the world was nothing more than a prison. I was my own master as I flew up, barely feeling the weight of Zachariah's soul behind me.

It was God-like.

I took a deep breath as Zachariah came into view behind me. Death was thankfully nowhere in sight, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Well, I had done it. And we weren't accidentally in the Hells.

Zachariah swayed on his feet as he looked around, frowning. He was pale, and a small tremor went through his hands . His scowl deepened as he looked at his arm. I gasped when I saw what he was looking at.

"Your Elemancy tattoos," I said quietly as he traced the curving lines, "They're white."

It was true. The normal crimson red of Elemancy had given way to a pure white. They glowed on his skin, bending and flexing with each of his movements. Zachariah held up a hand, and I went silent. His face was contemplative as he turned his palm up and murmured a few words in Kaze.

A ball of flame blazed to life in his palms. With a wave of his hand, a gust of wind blew through the garden. Another wave, and the ground beneath our feet shifted. The tattoos changed shape with each element, but remained that blazing white.

Zachariah lifted his eyes, grinning like a child on his birthday. I was grinning too.

"So Elemancy magic changes in Purgatory. Good to know."

Zachariah chuckled, summoning another flame to his hand again in answer.

Suddenly, his scowled returned as he glared at something I couldn't see. I whipped around, already summoning shadows with half a thought.

Two figures floated above the ocean that lead to the Far Shore. One was a male form, while the other was female. Both of them had huge and beautiful wings made of deepest black. They simply stared at us from their vantage point over the water, unmoving as if someone had painted them on the horizon. A feint feminine laugh was carried on the wind toward us as the female form lifted a hand in greeting, twin short shorts glinting at her back.

With a sharp breath, I realized who they were.

Lera the Bane and Lorian the Blade. Death's twin angels.

"I didn't know they were real," I whispered, readying myself for anything.

In a blink of an eye, they were gone.