Mabel tried not to tap her foot incessantly as she waited for the pizza place to call out her order. She was on her ways to a girls' night with Lucy and Kellan, and her two friends had asked (demanded) that Mabel stop by one of their local pizzerias to get some—according to Lucy—"Better than Sex Pizza." Mabel wasn't sure if she'd use those exact words, but Ro's Pizzeria certainly did an excellent job on their alfredo sauce.

"Ah, hello, Mabel!"

Recognizing her boss's voice, Mabel spun around to face him, "Hey, Herman! What are you up to?" She'd left the store around an hour ago, but he'd still been in his office when she'd flipped the sign to 'Closed' and retreated to her car.

Herman chuckled heartily. "Just finished up some paperwork and decided I would treat myself to a reward." He winked and patted his stomach for emphasis, causing Mabel to grin.

She didn't have any uncles, of course, but—if she did—she imagined they'd be like Herman, with his funky ties, messy hair, and laid-back personality. His easygoing ways were almost enough to distract her from the fact this his soul was apparently growing dark.

Sobering at the thought, Mabel tried to remain at ease. Aleron hadn't mentioned anything about Herman's soul lately, so at least it hadn't gotten worse, right?

Something in her gut told her the opposite.

Mabel was saved from having to make an awkward excuse when the teenager behind the counter called out her order. "That's me," she told Herman, hoping her weak smile didn't look too much like a grimace, "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon?"

He nodded in confirmation. "Yes, indeed. Enjoy your dinner, Mabel."

"Thanks!" she called over her shoulder, shooting him a wave as she moved to the counter, "You too."

***

Several days later, Mabel cursed under her breath when she dropped the small paper bag holding the Smith family's order of cumin, coriander, and thyme. Plucking it up and ensuring none of the containers were damaged, she set the bag on the counter and wiped her hands on her apron; twisting around to get a label, she squeaked at the sight of Aleron standing directly behind her.

"Geez," she placed a hand over her heart. "You scared me, Al."

Ignoring the nickname she'd given him about a week ago, Aleron placed a hand on her shoulder, the somber look on his face scaring her. Thoughts flashing to Herman, who had just left for an impromptu "vacation," Mabel felt her heart drop. "What is it?" She croaked, "Is it Herman? Oh, God, it is, isn't it?"

Aleron tried for a reassuring smile, but it fell flat. "No, Little One, you need not worry about Herman." They both ignored the "not yet," that hung in the air. "I am leaving."

"Oh?" Mabel straightened, trying to ignore the clenching of unease in her stomach. "When? Where are you going?"

He blew out a resigned breath. "I have been called back down to Hell. I will not be long, but I must deliver the souls I have collected and speak with Death."

Mabel quirked a brow with intrigue. "Death? I'm guessing he's the real Death? And here I thought you worked for the devil." She chuckled at her own joke, but the smile died on her face when Aleron remained stoic.

"Of course I do not answer to the devil—he is a bastard." Mabel blinked, stunned. "I answer to Death, and that is all."

"Well," she cleared her throat. "Alright. But you won't be gone too long, right?" She wasn't sure what it was, exactly, but she grew nervous at the thought of him being away. She had come to rely on his security, and she hadn't thought about what would happen if he wasn't watching over her.

Aleron seemed to understand and agree with her concerns; he placed a gentle kiss on her lips, running his fingers down her cheek as he searched her eyes. "I need you to be safe, Mabel. Do not speak with those who make you nervous, and do not stay out after dark. If you call, I will not be able to hear—Hell cuts off all outside communication."

"I know," she smiled weakly. "I'll be safe, I promise. Just come back, soon, alright? I've gotten used to you."

He smirked, though it was brittle with underlying worry for her. "Of course, Little One. I would not want to keep you waiting."

***

"You alright, Mabs?" Kellan asked, her blue eyes filled with concern, "You look exhausted."

Mabel waved off her friend, knowing Kellan wasn't wrong. Aleron had left the night before, and Mabel hadn't slept. Thoughts about what Aleron was doing in Hell, coupled with the ever-growing unease in her gut, meant she'd tossed and turned all night.

She'd been hoping that this morning shopping with Kellan would distract and tire her out all at once; it was her day off, too, so she'd be able to go back to her apartment and try to sleep later.

"Neighbors kept me up with their music," Mabel lied, plucking up an especially dangerous looking high heel. "How does someone walk in these?"

"Can't you complain to the landlord or something?" Kellan snatched the heel from Mabel's fingers, admiring the spikes crawling up its back, "And that's easy—with talent, poise, and grace. All of which I happen to have, thank you very much."

"They don't do it often, and it was for a celebration or something, so I'll leave the landlord out of it, for now," Mabel fed Kellan vague details, running her fingers over a smooth leather purse. "I'll let you have the heels, then, and stick with my flats. If you break your ankle, what do you tell the doctors?"

"That I'm a supermodel, of course, and my latest photoshoot went a bit wrong." Kellan retorted smoothly, tucking the box containing the heels under her arm. "See anything you like?"

Mabel grinned teasingly. "Anything I can afford, you mean? Nope, I'm good, Miss Victoria's Secret. You all set?"

"Oh, shut up," Kellan snorted. "Let me go check out."

"I'll be here," Mabel called to the woman's retreating back, shifting her eyes to a display packed to the brim with different perfumes. Mabel reached out an arm to pluck one up, but paused when her flesh erupted with goosebumps. And not the "Oh, yay, Aleron is here," goosebumps, but rather the, "Something doesn't feel right," goosebumps.

Spinning around slowly, Mabel let her gaze sweep over the many other customers in the store. No one looked out of place, but Mabel's gut instinct had yet to lead her astray.

Something wasn't right, and—whatever it was—it wasn't going to end well.

***

Mabel supposed that she shouldn't have been surprised when—just two days after the incident in the store and three days since Aleron had left—she'd caught a man dressed in all black following her. She'd originally noticed it on her way back from work the previous day, but her suspicions had only been confirmed once she'd spotted him loitering around the shop all day.

She had put off leaving the store for as long as she could, but Herman had finally ordered her out; now she stood in the dark of the night, cursing her stupidity and wondering if Aleron had heard her hushed whispers of his name.

"Aleron," she murmured again, arms clutching her purse to her chest, ears straining to hear the faint footfalls trailing after her as she bustled to her waiting vehicle.

But her protector didn't show, and the man clothed in black snatched her away from her car with nothing more than a light struggle and muffled screaming.

They were deep in the alley when Mabel finally managed to land a kick against his nether regions, grunting when he dropped her abruptly against the ground. She shot up and twisted to run, but he was too fast.

He snagged her around the wrist, landing several angry blows of his own before Mabel was able to scramble backwards, tears finally falling when her back hit a wall.

"Aleron!" she screamed, "Aleron!" The man paused in confusion, before his eyes lit up with greedy satisfaction.

"Guess no one's around to hear you scream, Doll." Mind caving in with terror, Mabel almost collapsed with relief when a familiar chill settled in the air, raising the hair on her arms.

Driven by a sudden desire to not die, Mabel forced herself to calm down and hold on. "I'm going to be totally honest with you," she said slowly, hands splayed against the brick wall behind her, "You should probably leave now. Not that it will save you, but it might buy you, like, five minutes or so."

The man laughed, eyes dark with intent. "How come? You got a 'strong man' that's going to save you?"

If not for the panic still racing through her veins, Mabel would have smirked. This idiot wouldn't last a second against her—admittedly odd—guardian. "Yes, actually, and you'll find he doesn't like it when people hurt me."

"Oh?" he continued forward, slipping a knife out of his pocket and placing the side of his blade against her neck. "He's not doing a good job. Wait till he sees your face. Or your dead body. Then he'll realize he should get a different job—I don't see him anywhere." He lifted his free hand, stroking it along her bruised cheek and making her wince.

Blurred vision struggling to focus on the shadow over the man's shoulder, Mabel grinned. "You should look again, I think."

The man sneered, and Mabel hissed when he pushed the knife further into her skin, the feel of her blood trickling down her neck making her nauseous. He shifted just enough to see behind him, tensing and letting the blade fall from his hands as he shoved away from Mabel. She slid down the wall, watching in stunned silence as the once-fierce man collapsed to his knees and begged.

"Oh, shit! I had no idea she was with you, Death, I swear. Oh, God, please don't kill me."

Aleron's face was steely with the kind of silent rage that spread over a city in the dead of night, then collapsed it the next day with one quick movement. "Did you touch her?"

"No!" the man lied, looking at Aleron as though the man of shadows was God, come to pass judgement. In a way, Mabel supposed, he was. Aleron certainly ran the city like that, after all. "I didn't touch her, Sir. I swear to God I didn't touch her!"

Aleron stared at him for another long moment, before his eyes flashed red. "We will see," he declared dangerously, stepping around the now-weeping man and kneeling by Mabel.

She smiled weakly, trying to raise her hands to grasp his face and ensure he was real but failing. "Good to see you, Al." Her voice was a rough croak.

He managed a half-smile of his own, but the fire in his eyes burned even brighter as he inspected her injuries. "You as well, Little One. Are you in pain?"

"Not sure, maybe?" she furrowed her brows as she tried to determine what was hurting her, wondering idly when her body had grown numb. "Al?"

"What?" he growled, tearing his gaze from the wound on her neck to meet her eyes.

"I can't feel anything. Why can't I feel anything?" Sudden thoughts of being paralyzed came to her mind, and she couldn't stop the tears from dripping down her cheeks. "Aleron?" she choked, "Why can't I feel?"

"You will be fine." It was supposed to be reassuring, no doubt, but it sounded more like a command than anything. His hands framed her face for half a second before he spun away, stalking back to the fallen man and looming over him.

"How dare you touch her," Aleron snarled, landing a kick on the man's side. "You DO NOT TOUCH HER!" Mabel observed through rapidly clouding vision as Aleron delivered a beating with his own hands, the shadows that normally followed him instead hovering around her.

The man lay broken on the ground, whimpers slipping out of his throat, until Aleron clubbed him on the side of his head and he went completely silent. "Al?" Mabel's voice was soft, but Aleron heard her nonetheless and twisted to face her.

"Yes, Little One?"

Mabel sniffled. "I don't feel good." Her vision went black, and the last thing she saw was the shadows swirling forward to embrace her.