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There were not many things I expected to see when I opened the front door. In fact, I had been pretty certain nothing would be behind it when I left my house. I had had every intention of simply walking the few miles to my nearest neighbor to bring her some mushrooms I had found in my yard.

My neighbor was a mycologist. She picked mushrooms for a living.

So, whenever I found some, I brought them to her. Maleficent kept attacking her dog and it was the least I could do.

Tonight, however, I did not make it past that threshold.

I slam the door shut as soon as soon as I see Death, casually standing on my porch as though he did not try to kill me three times in the last week.

"Wait!" he stops the door from closing with his large hand. I push harder.

"This is your one and only warning, if you don't vacate the premises I will shoot you," I proclaim. What is that law called again?

"This isn't Texas, Emmalyn."

"I'll shoot you anyway, you fucking psycho," I grunt as I press my entire body weight on the door. The damn door won't budge.

After a second, all resistance drops and the door shuts with a loud bang. Thank god. I turn around and jump with a yelp, "How did you do that?" I ask in a state of panic.

"I can teleport," he states matter-of-factly. I look around frantically in search of the nearest weapon. A vase, an end table, Maleficent?

He must have seen my panic-stricken eyes, because he lifts his hands on each side of his head in surrender, "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Excuse me for being unconvinced," I scoff, "See this?" I point to my splinted arm, "And this," I point to the black bruises on my neck.

"I had nothing to do with what happened at the theatre. I swear."

"Then how do you know about it? I saw you there, or is being a cinema cashier your side hustle?" I'm loosing my patience. How do I get him out of my house? I go for the vase.

Grabbing it with my good arm, I launch it at his face. The lucky bastard dodges it and it is sent crashing against my wall.

"Wow, you really are a piece of work," he looks behind him at the mess of glass on the floor. Turning back to me, he says, "Look, I was there, but not for the reason you think. And no, it is most certainly not my side hustle." he spits, "Death doesn't have a side hustle."

"If it wasn't you, then who was it? You're the only person who is currently trying to kill me," I have just about had it with this guy. He is blocking my way to my weapons and I am starting to feel trapped.

"Who do you think started those sprinklers that put an end to the illusion?"

"How did you know about the illusion?" I ask with a raised brow. Excuse me for not automatically buying into his bullshit. The guy has a bad track record.

"I know lots of shit," he pauses, "unfortunately."

I start inching my way slowly toward the living room. I know I have a dagger stashed somewhere between the couch cushions.

"Why are you holding mushrooms?" he asks, eyeing the plastic bowl in my hand.

"None of your god damn business," I grit.

"You're fucking weird," he mutters, "This must be some cruel joke," he holds his forehead, massaging his temples.

"Look, as enlightening as this is," I point between both of us, "I'd really like you to kindly fuck off."

"I have a job for you," he blurts out, taking me by surprise.

"A job?" Ok, I'm maybe a little interested, "I thought you wanted me to stop killing?"

He suddenly shifts nervously on his feet and I quirk one eyebrow. Definitely interested.

"I'm having a bit of trouble with..." he stops to think for a second, "a target of mine."

"You want me to kill someone for you?" I reiterate, "You? The Grim Reaper?"

"I prefer the term Angel of Death, or just Death."

"So let's say I believe you, which I don't, by the way. Why would I, a mere mortal, be able to kill someone if you, the 'Angel of Death'" I quote with my fingers, "isn't able to?"

"Look, I won't bore you with the whole mechanics, but I am unable to mark this person's soul for some reason. Basically, I can't kickstart her death. If anyone is able to figure this out, it's probably you," he sighs, adding the last part as though it causes him great pain to admit it.

"Assuming I still believe what you're saying, why would I ever accept to do this for you?" I cross my arms in front of me, still slowly but surely moving toward the couch.

"Because I have something you want, remember this?" he pulls Janice out from his cloak and spins it in his hand a few times, "Wanna know something interesting? I couldn't find any fingerprints on it," he sends me a pointed look, "You're a little freak of nature, aren't you?"

I try not to let my anger consume me as I continue to stare at Janice. If I am honest with myself, there is no way I will be able to overpower him with just one arm. Maybe the way to get it back is to play at his game, for now.

"Ok, fine. But you'll have to fill out a contract, just like all my other clients," I reach for my laptop, assuming he probably does not have one. I am not too sure angels or gods or whatever have internet access wherever it is they live, "I don't kill outside of a contract." I hand him the computer cautiously, making sure our hands never touch.

"Seriously?" he grimaces.

"Yes," I lean on the wall, my eyes never leaving him as he sits at the table and boots up the thing. "My default home page is my website. Make sure you read the fine print before you start filling out the request form."

I watch as he expertly types with quick movements, as though he has used a computer all of his life.

"The full payment up front thing isn't going to happen, but I can agree to the rest," he looks up at me seriously, his dark eyes boring into mine under thick lashes.

I nod. Play by his rules, Emma. I try to ignore the little voice in my head that says he actually read the thing, which is more than I can say about all my other clients.

"I'll need a quicker turnaround time, though. Can you do this tonight?"

"Fridays are my night off."

"Tomorrow, then," he shuts off the computer, standing back up to his full height, which is really tall, adds the little voice. "I'll give you the details later."

"Great. Now get out, I have mushrooms to deliver."

He walks to the door and I follow him, making sure to keep at least four feet between us. He notices this, but chooses not to mention it.

"I'll be in touch," he says before disappearing in the night.

I cannot stop myself from wondering what the hell I just got myself into. And if he is not behind the attack at the theatre, then who is?