Death goes to the Circus.
“You’re making that face again.”
I look up from where I’m sprawled across the sofa on my stomach and absently scrolling through my phone, not surprised or even remotely alarmed that my eons-old supernatural lover, Death, has materialised in the middle of my living room yet again. I’ve seriously given up on trying to get him to use a doorbell.
“What face?” I ask.
“The one where you stick your bottom lip out.”
I stare at him.
“I’ve learned this means you are displeased,” he says as he studies me.
Sighing, I push myself up and toss my phone on the coffee table. Then I tuck my legs under me and curl up at one end of the sofa so he can sit next to me, which he does stiffly. I unfold my legs and rest my feet on his lap, wiggling my freshly painted toenails.
“What ails you?” he asks as he traces one fingertip over the glossy purple of my nails, seemingly fascinated.
“Last night.” I huff in frustration and let my head fall back against the cushions.
“I thought you enjoyed yourself last night?” He turns to look at me in bafflement, his dark brows drawn together. “You were certainly very repetitive with your vocal affirmations when I had my mouth on your–”
“I meant before that,” I interrupt.
“Was the lubricant flavour not to your taste? I suppose I could–”
I sigh. “Before that.”
“Is this about the handcuffs?”
I blink at him.
He frowns. “I do not understand.”
I raise my brows.
“Do you mean the inquisition?”
“The quiz night,” I correct. “The couples quiz night.”
“You organised it,” Death points out. “Did you not enjoy it? You seemed to.”
“No, I mean yes. It was fun to try something new. I love that Ari is letting me branch out at The Rainbow Room and put on more events. Plus, you know I love spending time with Tris and Danny and the others.”
“I am failing to see the problem.”
“The problem.” I lift my head to stare at him. “You do realise we didn’t get one single question right?”
“I still don’t understand.”
I groan and sit up. “D, Harrison and Sam got more questions right than us, and they’re not even a couple.”
So they say. I add under my breath.
“I believe you are not considering the fact that one of them is a witch and the other receives psychic readings just by touching objects,” Death points out.
“So you’re saying they cheated?” I brighten slightly and he gives an elegant shrug. I consider this for a moment. “Nope.” I slump back against the sofa as his palm strokes my bare leg. “It still doesn’t make me feel better.”
“Then what is causing you distress?”
“It’s just that…” I blow out an annoyed breath. “I expected Danny and Tris to win. I mean, they pretty much know everything about each other from their inside leg measurement to their favourite childhood memories and Pringles flavour preference.”
“So?”
“So.” I study his handsome face, which I know isn’t his actual face, just the form he’s chosen to take, but that doesn’t bother me in the slightest. “We’ve spent the last several months together and I was determined to show you what it means to be human but–”
“But?” he prompts.
“I’ve spent so much time doing human stuff with you that I feel I don’t know the real you at all. I don’t know anything about you really, except for the fact you like to buy your tea stirrers from Ann Summers and you collect souls like some people collect Pokémon.”
“I do not collect souls.” He sighs. “I reap them.”
“Fine. You’re an unpaid bus conductor who ferries souls to the afterlife.”
“That’s so inaccurate I don’t even know where to begin.”
“My point is that,” I murmur, “even after everything we’ve done, I feel like I don’t really know you at all. I mean, what do you like to do? Where do you like to go? Do you have any hobbies? I just want to know you. Surely in the last millions or so years of existence you’ve picked up some preferences and opinions.”
He leans forward and cradles my face, as if I’m the most precious thing in the world to him.
“I am still learning what I like. I know this must seem very unusual for you. After all, you are human, and your mind is designed to think in linear terms. To you, millions of years is a long time, so long that it is almost meaningless. To me, it is also meaningless, but for very different reasons. There is no beginning and no end. I exist at all points in time because it is all happening simultaneously.”
“Is this like Santa being able to visit all the children in the world in just one night?” I wrinkle my nose.
“The entity you refer to as Santa is not real.” His mouth twitches. “But the concept is similar, I suppose. I am infinite. Ever since I came into existence, I have had only one driving force and that is to maintain the balance. I watched humanity from a distance, but it didn’t mean anything to me. It was simply the purpose for which I was created.”
“Then everything we’ve done,” I mutter, feeling a deep ache in my chest, “did none of it mean anything to you?”
He sighs and grips my face a little tighter. “I am not very good at articulating my thoughts.” His vivid blue eyes search my face. “I existed for one purpose alone, and I was content. But everything is different now. I am different. Because of you.”
“D,” I whisper.
“I see you,” he says softly. “This physical form you wear is very pleasing to me, but I see your soul.” He leans in, his lips hovering above mine as my heart trembles. “And it is so beautiful, it is blinding. I cannot help but gravitate towards it even though I don’t know why.”
I close the distance between us, pressing my mouth to his. The kiss is slow and gentle as I tilt my head and part my lips. His tongue slips into my mouth lazily and I reach up, running my fingers through his silky black hair. He kisses me so thoroughly that my head begins to spin. Finally, he pulls back an inch, still close enough for me to feel his breath against my mouth.
“Chan,” he says quietly, “you may not know what my favourite flavour of Pringles is, which is mostly because I’ve never sampled the disgusting-looking things, but what exists between us is much deeper and more profound. It is changing me from the original purpose I was created for.”
“So you’re saying I’ve essentially rewritten the laws of the universe.” I smile against his lips.
“I do not know what it all means.” He frowns. “This… When I am with you–” He breaks off, seemingly frustrated at not being able to put into words something he is clearly struggling with.
“Hey.” I cup his face, feeling his smooth, flawless skin beneath my palm. “It’s okay. You don’t have to have all the answers.” I shake my head slowly. “I just want to feel close to you,” I admit.
He stares at me as if studying my face, thinking for a moment. “There is something.”
“What?”
“A place. There is somewhere I like to visit,” he says, almost embarrassed. “Not to retrieve souls. I find it… entertaining.”
“Well, now I’m intrigued.” I laugh as I climb into his lap and straddle his hips, humming happily. His hands snake under my loose t-shirt and cup my bum cheeks, and his fingertips skim the edge of my lacy knickers.
“Would you like me to take you there?” he asks shyly.
A warmth fills my chest. “That depends,” I tease. “Is it safe?”
“You’ll always be safe with me,” he promises.
“No, I meant is it safe for humans? You know, the whole needing oxygen to survive, et cetera.”
“It is here in your world.”
“Okay, then.” I wrap my arms around his neck and lean in to peck a kiss to his mouth. “I’d love to.”
“You need to get changed.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to go in my undies.” I pause and tilt my head, watching him curiously. “Unless it’s that sort of place?”
“Definitely not,” he replies. “Clothes are required.” His eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Although I doubt you will have anything suitable.”
“Honey, I have outfits for every occasion.”
“Not for this,” he muses.
“Now I really am intrigued.” I grin.
His arms tighten around me as the room disappears in a swirl of black smoke. When everything stops spinning, I’m standing in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom with Death behind me, looking over my shoulder at our reflections.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers in my ear, and I do, a small smile playing on my lips.
“What are you up to?”
“Sssh, I’m thinking.”
“I thought I could hear gears grinding.”
“Okay, open them,” he says.
I do and as I catch sight of my reflection, I blink in shock, my mouth falling open. I’m no longer wearing my oversized t-shirt with a sparkly rainbow unicorn that says, Ride this, motherf*****s! Instead, I’m wearing a Victorian gown. It’s a deep blue with the short coat splits at the back to accommodate the wide skirt and voluminous petticoats. As I breathe in, I can feel the tightly laced corset that makes my waist look impossibly tiny. My long black hair is swept back off my face and cascades down in a waterfall of tightly wound ringlets, and tiny jet earrings dangle elegantly from my ear lobes.
The nail polish is gone from my fingernails and my hands are now covered in delicately crocheted gloves. Reaching down, I grasp the huge skirt and lift it, revealing laced ankle boots with small curved heels and white woollen stockings which reach above my knees and are tied with ribbons.
“Holy Gone with the Wind.” I turn to Death, absolutely gobsmacked, but when my eyes land on him, I find myself doing a rather comical double take.
I’m totally used to his immaculately tailored suits but the one he’s wearing now is older, definitely with a Victorian Gothic feel to it. His hands are covered with gloves as they grip a shiny black cane with a silver pommel. A top hat is perched upon his head, and he’s also wearing a tiny pair of half-moon spectacles with tinted lenses.
“Is the gown suitable for you?” he asks, as if dressing up like we’re attending a steampunk festival is something we do every day.
“Are we going to Comic Con?”
He frowns. “What’s that?”
“Never mind.” I roll my eyes.
“The gown?” he repeats. “I know you favour more traditionally female clothing, but if you prefer, I could change it for a suit.”
“Don’t you dare, Gary Oldman,” I tell him and spin back to the mirror, doing a little twirl and watching my skirts swish. “Oh my god! I look just like Winona Ryder in Bram Stoker’s Dracula. This is epic!” I turn to glance at him. “You do know I’m totally keeping the dress.”
“You can keep the gown.” He offers me his arm.
“Where are we going?” I slip my hand into the crook of his elbow.
“Not where,” he replies, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips “When.”
