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When Death finally emerges from the car with a deep scowl marring his attractive face, I mean, marring his hateful face, he has traded his t-shirt for a grey hoodie. Making sure to not look at me, he pulls the hood up to cover his head. He hunches over a bit too and keeps his face down.

"You don't look normal," I remark, "at all."

He circles around the car to join my side, ignoring my previous comment.

"What is this?" I gesture to what he is wearing.

"Humans can't see my face. It's just a black hole to them. This," he points to his hoodie, "is what will keep them from running away when they see me."

"I can see you just fine, now lose the hood. You make us look like freaks."

"The hood stays," he snaps and starts walking towards the front door of the club.

I roll my eyes, but follow him inside.

The inside is exactly how you would picture a fight club. I scan the place. There are a few fighting rings strew across the smooth gym floor, some random punching bags hang off the ceiling in different corners of the place and the smell of sweat and gatorade hangs in the air. We can hear grunts and the sound of shoe soles sliding noisily against the ground. Death walks up to the reception area and stops when we are standing by the front desk. I try not to laugh at how ridiculous he looks. Death is a big guy. He may think he looks invisible with his hood on and hunched shoulders but everyone keeps looking at him. Especially the women. It must be something about his really nice, broad shoulders or his well-shaped bu-

"Enrol," he says, handing me a clipboard with some registration forms.

"What?" I ask, incredulous and a little embarrassed that he may have seen me checking him out, "No."

"Look, this is a gym for women. If I could do it, I would."

"We can find some other way in, I'm not giving these people my information." This could potentially come back to bite me in the ass if one of their members disappeared.

"Make something up, I don't care. This is your job," I do not like how pushy he is, but I grab the clip board from his hand nonetheless.

Once I have filled out the entire form, all of its seven pages, we walk up to the woman at the reception desk. I hand her the clip board and she smiles at me before sending a nervous glance at Death.

"Welcome to Jabtastic," I cannot believe some people actually brainstormed this name, "You are entitled to a free week before you officially subscribe, should I set you up with this temporary membership?"

"Yep, sounds good," I say.

"And what can we do for you?" she looks at Death for an answer.

"This is erm... my friend... Beth," I think I just found a way to get back at him. After all, he said he would if he could, "He, well actually she, is transitioning. She wants to enrol as well for the free week."

Death chokes on his air before erupting into a fit of coughs.

She eyes him suspiciously for a moment, before she hands him the clip board with a brand new form.

"No problem, miss. Just fill this out and we'll get you started as well," she says to him.

He snatches it from her and starts scribbling with a little too much force on the thing. She looks taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovers and starts typing on her computer. When Death is done, she registers him as well and hands each of us a membership card.

"Amber!" she yells at someone in the back room, "Would you show our new members around?"

"Beth, seriously?" he hisses under his breath so only I can hear.

I ignore him as I watch a perky red-head sauntering towards us. Her beautifully made up face and neat manucure contrasts brutally with the heavily muscled arms and six pack showing through her tank top. She is tall, almost reaching Death's chin, with large, meaty legs.

"Hi, I'm Amber! I'll give you a tour," she chirps and I am shook. This monster-of-a-girl speaks with quite a high pitch for someone her size, "Follow me."

I start following Amber, "Come on, Beth." I say over my shoulder.

Was that a growl I just heard?

We start following her across the reception area. She walks around the place with us in tow, pointing to different areas and explaining what everything is for. I only half-listen, not really interested in the facilities. Death keeps sulking behind, not saying a word.

Suddenly, Death nudges me on the arm, "It's her."

"Who's her?" I look up at him, confused.

"Our target, it's Amber." Oh.

"You don't expect me to do this here and now, do you?" I whisper. That would not be subtle at all.

"No, of course not. Just try to figure out what's wrong with her."

"These are the locker rooms," she points to a door at the far back of the gym, "this the workout section."

Throughout the rest of the tour, I observe her closely for any hint at what might by amiss with her. She strikes me as a regular human, only with an annoying voice. I stare up at the ceiling and notice that there are cameras in every corner of the place. No windows, but lots of a lighting. No, the kill would definitely have to take place somewhere else.

It is only at the end of our tour, when she stands a little closer to me and looks me in the eye that I see it. The green. It slithers at the back of her eyes, disappearing on one side of her pupil and reappearing on the other systematically. Its glow is barely visible. It is only a thin, translucent green ribbon that dances in a pool of blue, just like it did in my mother.

"With that injured arm, I'll assume you won't be training in the ring just yet?

I am only vaguely aware that she spoke to me, her words are just noise echoing in my head. I stay rooted in place. I have forgotten how to move. The blood must have drained from my face because she suddenly looks at me as with concern in her eyes. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

I start to feel a little ill. I am hot, but I am also shivering.

"Are you OK?" her voice sounds far away. She gets closer to me, but I flinch. This is Déjà vue.

I start backing away from her without even realizing that I am doing it. I have to get away. I have to escape. Not again.

Death suddenly appears in front of me, blocking my view of Amber. I feel him touch my chin and lift my face up to him.

"Emma?" he asked in a concerned voice.

I shrug him off and bolt out of there without looking back. I am not doing this again.

When I am finally outside, I gasp at the cold air hitting my face. I take a deep breath, placing my hands on my knees as I try to regain my composure. Don't think about it. It's over.

"What the hell was that?" I hear Death from behind me.

I do not bother answering, I just start walking to my car. I need to get far away from here.

"Hey! Emma, wait!" I hear his steps following me, but I do not care.

He grabs my wrist and spins me around so I have no choice but to look at him. Without my other arm to stabilise me, I almost loose my balance, but he grabs me before I can fall.

"Tell me what happened in there," he orders. My body is now pressed against his and if he were not so tall, our faces would be almost touching. I am surprised at how warm he is and can almost feel myself relax in his arms, as though all the tension starts magically leaving my body. This is wrong.

But then, when I look into his eyes, I see a storm brewing. My own widen in fear. He is angry. I can tell. There is not telling what he might do now. I look around us frantically. There are people crossing the street and going about their business. Surely, he will not try to kill me in public?

I am not staying here to find out. I need to put some distance between me and him, and this place. If I do not, something bad is going to happen.

Something bad is going to happen to me. Like it always does.

I start pushing at his chest as hard as I can, but he does not budge.

"Let me go!" I yell. I strain between his arms. I ignore the pain it causes my shoulder. Physical pain is temporary, its the emotional one I can not bare.

"Not until you tell me what happened in there. You look like you've seen a ghost and I want to know why," he growls, tightening his hold on me.

"What happened is I can't help you!" I yell, "Count me out."

"That's not an answer! Tell me why."

"No."

"We have a contract."

"I don't care about some stupid contract," I try to wiggle my way out of his hold, but it is no use.

"I still have your dagger."

"Keep her!" I screech. There is no way in hell that I am getting anywhere close to that woman ever again. If that means I have to forget about Janice, then so be it.

"How can I help you, if you won't tell me what's wrong?" he roars, his patience wearing thin.

"What? Why do you want to help me? Last time I checked, we hate each other," I yell. He loosens his grip and I am finally able to put some space between us.

The look I see on his face when I look up at him again has the same effect on me as though a bucket of ice water has been poured over my head. He looks... hurt. And something more.

"What is it with you?" I shake my head. I have no clue what the hell is going on.

I wait for him to answer. A few minutes pass of us just facing each other when he pulls my car keys from his pocket and hands them over.

"Fine, whatever," he mutters.

And the next second, he disappears, leaving me standing alone in the parking lot.