Death Walks With Love Read online

  Death Walks With Love

  By Clover Payne

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright © 2019 by Clover Payne

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Coming Soon

  Pixie’s Opening Show

  Copyright © 2019 by Clover Payne

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Clover Payne asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Clover Payne has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book has endorsed the book.

  First Edition

  Cover art by Dazed Designs

  Editing by Chanderella’s Editing Service

  Formatting by Rozie Marshall

  Dedication

  For my grandmother, who always told me to follow my dreams, no matter how ridiculous everyone says they are.

  Chapter 1

  The lights on the trees sparkle brightly through the windows of the homes as I walk past. The wind is harsh as it blows another flurry of snow in my face, making me huddle further into my stolen coat. The cold makes my muscles stiff and the bag holding all my possessions is heavier than it was when I started out. I stumble tiredly and feel a hand on my shoulder. Surprised and scared I turn quickly, ready to run if it’s my foster father. The figure is hidden by a full-length black robe but the vibes and hand on my shoulder are decidedly male.

  “It’s cold out here, would you like to be warm?” His voice is gentle and soothing to my chapped ears. Too tired to care about the fact I don’t know who the guy is, I nod. My eyes close when a swirling vortex of warmth surrounds me. The heat is welcome after the blistering cold, relaxing my muscles and making me feel strangely safe.

  When I open them again there’s no more snow or streets, instead, I’m standing in front of a large two-story home covered in twisted vines and blacked-out windows. The color of the house and lawn are drab. In fact, all the colors here are blurred and faded, making me depressed and drowsy. An arm wraps around my back, urging me to the gray front door that slowly yawns open as we near. A chill runs down my spine, not from cold but from a primal fear of the unknown. I peek at the man through my lashes, still unable to see anything under his black hood.

  My feet stutter on the landing and we stop, the interior so dark I can’t see what lies inside. My heart races and my vision starts to blur as my thoughts swirl in a fog. I feel myself falling before I’m lifted in strong arms and held against a warm chest. I sigh before I let go to be sucked under into unconsciousness.

  ?

  The smell of hot chocolate wakes me and I moan in yearning. It’s been years since I last had hot chocolate. I let my lashes drift open, praying that I’m not imagining the smell as I’ve done many times before. Seeing, smelling, and hearing things that aren’t there is a normal occurrence for me. At the moment everything is quiet, no apparitions or unexplained sounds are evident.

  Black and grey covers envelop me in an extra-large four-poster bed with black curtains hanging from two sides of the canopy. I can see myself reflected in a mirror that takes over the entire top of the bed’s frame. My long black hair is fanned out and tangled everywhere, bringing my pale face into sharp focus. My eyes are sunken and surrounded by dark rings as though I haven’t slept or got into a fight. Which is true on both counts.

  Still smelling chocolate, I look over to see a steaming mug on a gleaming silver tray. A small glass vase with a single black rose, the bud almost ready to open. I’m both happy and confused at the gesture. I go to sit up and realize that I’m naked except for my white undershirt, the silky softness of the bedding distracting me for a second from the erratic pounding of my heart. Not feeling any discomfort down below, I take a slow calming breath and reach for the cup of heaven.

  I close my eyes and breathe in the aroma, euphoria relaxing my body and mind as I take a small sip. The taste of chocolate and cinnamon, as well as cream, explodes on my tongue and I let my worries go momentarily. The sound of a door gently opening has my eyes flying open. An older lady wearing a butler’s uniform with her greying hair up in a bun peeks her head in through the open doorway. Smiling when she sees I’m awake, she makes her way over to me and introduces herself.

  “Good evening, Miss. I’m Cora, the butler, maid, all-around house person, at your service. How’re you feeling?” Her accent is British, making me smile. I’ve always had a thing for accents.

  Setting my mug down with a little disappointment at the interruption, I ask, “Where am I? The last thing I remember is…” The image of the cloaked figure intrudes on my thoughts and I shiver. Now that I’ve had some rest and am a little more coherent, I realize how dangerous things could have gotten. Instead, even though I’m minus a few articles of clothing, I appear to be okay here. My instincts aren’t screaming at me to run like they did when I ran out of the house just before Mister tall dark and cloaked appeared. Plus, there’s the added fact that I feel uncharacteristically calm and safe. Not things that I’m used to feeling, anywhere.

  “Oh, you’re in Master’s home. It was right strange to see Master walk in with a human in his arms, but I had you set up proper here. Since you’re awake, why don’t you get dressed and come down for dinner? We’re having a lovely spread tonight.” Giving a bow and a smile, she walks back out the door, closing it quickly.

  Blinking a few times at her words and abrupt departure, I pick the mug up again and take another sip before throwing the covers off and walking up to the dress I’d seen hanging by the door. It really is beautiful with its intricate pattern of roses and leaves embroidered down the skirt with clean black fabric on the bodice and sleeves. Figuring that I may go along with whatever this is, at least until I get some answers, I remove my white shirt and slip it on. I have no idea how they did it, but the dress fits perfectly, molding to my underfed frame.

  Behind the dress is a vanity with a large three-piece folding mirror and two drawers on either side. Opening one of the top ones, I find a brush and some ties to fix my hair with. Brushing it out quickly and putting it up in a ponytail, I take a quick look at my reflection. The dark color of the dress makes my face look whiter than usual, but somehow it looks ethereal rather than washed out. The circles around my brown eyes look like I’m wearing makeup instead of just being sleep deprived and stressed. Taking a deep breath an
d straightening my spine so I’m at my full five-foot-five height, I open the door to go to dinner.

  Chapter 2

  The flickering flames that light the hallway make eerie shadows play against the dark wooden walls as I walk towards what I hope is the kitchen. The black carpeting is soft on my bare feet, yet the silence of the house makes my skin prickle and the hairs on my arms stiffen. Pushing my nerves down, I powerwalk until I reach a balcony connected to double stairs like the ones in the Beast's castle from the Beauty and the Beast cartoon. Only before Belle saves the Beast and everything is bright and shiny. The only things bright in this place are the flickering flames, and even they are fighting to light the shadows.

  Careful not to look over the side since I’m scared to death of heights, I keep as close to the wall as possible as I descend the stairs. At the landing, I turn from the other set of steps in front of me, overwhelmed by the sheer size and gothic decor of the home. A chandelier with what looks like real candles hangs above my head, barely illuminating strange creatures in different poses and sizes. Everywhere I look the rooms are devoid of color, even the pale light coming through the small windows at the top of the door is gray and depressing. Something smooth glides over my foot and I scream, startled at the touch. Jumping back, I giggle in relief at the sight of a fluffy grey cat looking at me as though I’ve just insulted him.

  “Sorry kitty, I didn’t mean to scream at you. You’re such a pretty thing. What’s your name?” I lean back on my heels, pushing the slight puff of skirt away so he doesn’t get hair on it and hold my hand out. The cat looks from my hand to my face before standing and turning around sharply, his tail straight up and swaying in agitation.

  I watch him start to walk down the stairs until he turns around and gives me a look that feels like he’s asking, “Are you coming or are you going to stand there like an idiot?” Shrugging my shoulders, I stand and brush the skirt down a few times before following. He twitches his tail in a, “Finally” gesture that cats do while leading me from the bottom of the stairs to one of the two doors on the right. He sits in front of the closed door just off the stairs and looks at me with the tip of his tail flicking in impatience. Taking a deep breath, the smell of cooking reaches my senses and my stomach growls. My nerves on edge, I open the door and the cat flies through the opening, leaving me behind to take in the view before me.

  A small six-person leaf table is set up in front of a huge stone fireplace with a crackling fire burning merrily. The table and chairs, one at either end of the table, are made of a deep dark wood that seems to swallow rather than reflect the firelight. The rest of the room is illuminated with the same scone shaped lights I’ve been seeing throughout the house, but instead of the overly dramatized gothic feel that has followed me since I woke up, the room feels open and welcoming. Cora is standing next to the chair farthest from me with a big toothy smile on her face. Taking a quick look around I see that she’s the only person in the room and I’m a little disappointed. I really wanted to talk to the owner to ask what was going on and why he’d brought me here. Forcing a smile for Cora, I step in and walk to the seat next to her.

  “Oh, you look lovely, dear. Who knew The Master had such excellent taste in human clothing?” Giving Cora a questioning look I take my seat intending to ask her about her second ‘human’ comment, but I’m interrupted by the deep voice of my rescuer.

  “Thank you, Cora, I believe we’re ready to eat.” My head snaps up in surprise, not having heard him enter. He’s already seated at the other end of the table and the door I’d left open for a quick getaway if needed, is now shut. Feeling a ball of nerves gather in my stomach, I’m only slightly aware of Cora nodding next to me and turning to leave. I watch him watching me, his blue eyes so pale they almost blend into the whites of his eyes. His dark skin looks smooth, helping to emphasize the drastic color.

  The sound of a pushcart behind me has me turn and my mouth starts twitching at what I see. Eggs. Nothing but different egg dishes are piled haphazardly, looking like they’re about to topple with each movement that Cora makes as she pushes the cart towards the table. On the bottom tray lays the cat who’d shown me the way in, looking like royalty with his head held high and his tail tucked up close to his body.

  I start to stand when I see the top dish begin to sway threateningly, hoping I can somehow stop what is sure to be a disastrous mess, but I’m too late. In what feels like slow motion I watch the dish I think is holding a misshapen omelet fall to the carpeted black floor. I take a quick intake of breath and brace for the shattering impact. Just before it hits, the plate and food stops in midair, turns right side up, and floats to the table before settling onto the surface.

  “Thank you, Hannah, that would’ve been a right mess!” Cora says to the cat who looks back at her with a small nod. My mouth is hanging open and my mind is frozen in stunned disbelief. At a sigh from my host, I swing back around to look at him. He has his head in his hand, shaking it wearily.

  “Huh? What? How?” Is all I can get out while I look from the now floating food landing on the table to the beings surrounding me. Hannah, who I need to start thinking of as ‘she’ instead of ‘he’, lets out a large yawn while watching the plates. Cora is smiling merrily as she sets silverware in front of me before skipping to stand in front of the fireplace. Yes, skipping. A male rumble fills the silence, my host clearing his throat while crossing his fingers under his chin.

  “I think it’s time for introductions. Cora, my butler, is a wraith. She took this form to help you be comfortable around her. Hannah, the cat, is a witch who was cursed by her lover.” He thins his lips a little, looking annoyed, before taking a deep breath and stating, “You may call me Martin. Welcome to my home.”

  My thoughts are blank. I have no idea what to say and yet my mouth utters words without any prompting from me. “Nice to meet you all. My name is Josephyn and I’m human. You never said what you are?” I ask the question, really not wanting to know the answer.

  His eyes soften as he sits back and says, “I, am Death.”

  My eyes widen and I blurt out, “Death? Like death and taxes, Death? Are we talking Brad Pitt or Piers Anthony?” Why did I just make references to Joe Black and one of my favorite book series? My thoughts must be short-circuiting. I did not just play into this man’s delusions of being the physical manifestation of Death, did I? Yet, there are plates flying around the room and no one is contradicting what he just said. Am I dead? Asleep? I poke my arm and feel my nail scratch my skin. Nope, not asleep.

  He looks thoughtful for a moment before responding with, “I’m not sure what you mean by Brad Pitt, but Piers Anthony’s rendition of me will work.” Huh, he hasn’t heard of Joe Black, one of the best movies ever made, but he recognizes Piers Anthony’s work. Yep, I’m hallucinating all of this. I’ll wake up in a mental ward wearing a straitjacket and bouncing off the plushy walls. That doesn’t sound so bad actually.

  I look over as Cora comes up to me, “Oh don’t worry, love, it’s not so bad here. All the souls go to processing, so you don’t have to worry about seeing or speaking to them anymore. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

  I nod sagely and for the second time in my life, I faint, this time from brain overload rather than from exhaustion.

  Chapter 3

  I wake to feel a presence sitting next to me. The dinner disaster floods my thoughts and I squeeze my eyes shut, not sure if I want to deal with any more crazy right now. “You probably have a lot of questions, understandable really. You’re the first human I have ever brought to my home. We are all trying our best to make you feel comfortable, I’m sorry that our first meeting was anything but.” I open my eyes a little to watch Martin as he sits next to me. He’s looking at his hands in his lap, slowly running his thumbs together, while I’m lying on a settee in another dark room that looks like a lounge.

  “Why?” I whisper. I didn’t wake up in a psych ward, so maybe I should start to accept that all of this is real. Besides, I bet the dru
gs those kooks give me would only make things worse.

  “I have watched humans evolve from primitive beings into what they are now, read every word they have ever written, and you fascinate me. You are always looking for the next miracle and yet they are all around you. You overcome obstacles with such passion and force of will that you leave me speechless in your determination. You truly are a wondrous species.” He looks at me with awe and I’m both flattered and bewildered.

  “But why me?” I’m nothing special. Just your regular average person who just so happens to see and hear things that aren’t there.

  “Because you called to me even though your time isn’t up yet. You saw me when you shouldn’t be able to. And, because I need your help with everything that’s about to happen.” I look at him in confusion and he elaborates, “Beings like us, like you, are about to be introduced to the humans. All of the humans. The time has come to reintroduce ourselves, immortal and mortal alike, back into your everyday lives. When we did it the first time, we didn’t use mediators and caused the Salem witch hunts. We would rather avoid that again if at all possible.”

  I nod in understanding. If he’s not delusional, it makes sense that he wouldn’t want something like that to happen. His reference to my being different bothers me so I ask, “What do you mean like me? I’m just a normal human with a few screws loose.”

  It’s his turn to look confused as he says, “No, you are not normal or have any screws in you, loose or otherwise. You are a medium, or psychic if you prefer, just like your mother before you.”

  The mention of my mother has me sitting up with interest, leaving his explanation about why I’m different for another time. I never knew my mother and the man I knew as my father is best forgotten.

  “How do you know my mother?”

  “I met her before you were born. Just like you, she called me before her time. It was the first time I ever spoke with a human, a living one anyway. She was kind, not afraid like so many others are.” His voice is quiet as he talks about her, almost gentle.