The mid-October sun is starting to set, its orange rays reflecting against the calm river and blinding me in the process. The days are getting shorter and that means the arrival of winter is approaching. I wrap my coat tighter around me.

The fourth stop is located under a bridge, a ways away from the city centre. Very few people ever come here and that is a good thing. Aside from the odd hobo or teenage delinquent, I have never seen another human hang out around here. If I did, however, even I would probably tell them to run away, while making as little noise as possible, and to never, ever come back.

Because this is Troll land, and Trolls are the worse kind of creatures to have ever walked the earth. And probably some of the oldest as well.

The vile things are not only despicable in nature, selfish and conniving, but they genuinely enjoy making other creatures suffer. As it turns out, humans are their least favourite species and that makes them their favourite prey.

Trolls have one weakness. They are perverted little monsters. I say little as an insult more so than an accurate description of their physical size. There is nothing little about a Troll. All of them are huge, bordering on giants. Think Hagrid, but with less hair. They walk around under a mask of deception, disguised as humans. Only when they get really angry can you get a glimpse of their actual appearance.

Luckily, they are reclusive, anti-social beings. They very rarely come out of their lair, which is a small mercy for the population. I can already picture the world if Trolls were not so secluded. There would probably be very little humans, lots of violence and lots of brothels.

I knock on the stone door that is always hidden behind a ton of rubbish. Once, twice...

A small trap is yanked open and two, hostile blue eyes under a set of bushy eyebrows settle on me.

"Do you come alone?" he says under his breath, looking on each side of me.

"Of course, I'm alone, Jaafan. Let me in," I reply. I know better than to bring anyone else here.

"Ok," he grumbles, snapping the trap shut. I hear shuffling inside and then the door squeaks open.

I walk inside, aware of his sleazy eyes on me. As soon as the door closes behind us, the frigid air hits me. Trolls like to keep it cold in here. Something about it reminding them of their homeland.

"It's been a while," he says absentmindedly, "We thought you forgot about us."

"You merry bunch?" I scoff, "Never."

The Trolls and I have a silent agreement. I am still unsure what they ever saw in me, but they tolerate me and I tolerate them. We have... mutually benefited from one another over the years. The Trolls manage the weapon contraband in the country and in return for my services, they give me what I need.

I follow him in silence through the corridor that leads to their living space. Jaafan moves in quick steps and I have a hard time keeping up with him. His ample robe brushes the floor behind him and goes all the way up to his neck, where his longish black hair is tied in knot. Every few seconds, he stops to make sure I am following him.

We reach another door, which he holds open for me. I take in the familiar room, with its ratty sofas, torches that burn blue flames and old rock music. An older Troll is making drinks of a suspicious-looking black liquid in one corner, while the others are mingling. When they hear us coming in, their heads snap to me.

"Hi guys." I wave my hand nervously. This part always gives me the chills. I never know if they will turn on me one day.

"Emmalyn," says Jojin, the biggest one of the bunch, "What a pleasant surprise. For a moment, we thought you disappeared on us," he adds and I detect a hint or reproach in his tone.

"Yeah, where were you?" says another one.

"Jaafan, what happened to her neck?"

The Trolls begin to rush over to Jaafan and I, inspecting me with their inquisitive eyes. I let them probe me, knowing very well there is nothing I can do about it. Thankfully, their intentions seem to be noble enough.

It is in these times that I feel like I have stepped into some sort of twisted fairy tale. Emmalyn and The Seven Trolls, in which I exchange pictures of my ankles for deadly, tricked-out weapons.

"Enough," roars a familiar voice from the back of the room. We all stop and turn to Zevrij, the clan leader, who appears behind the curtain that hangs at the back of the room. His eyes land on me and a soft, albeit crooked smile appears on his mouth.

"Well, if it isn't our little Emmalyn. You are a sight for sore eyes my darling," he says, walking to me.

Zevrij appears as a tall man, with blond, almost white hair that fall down to his shoulders. He seems lanky, but that is only because the size of his limps are offset by how tall he is. His bicep is the size of my thigh. He has a straight nose with the same piercing blue eyes as the other Trolls, but his are a few shades lighter. I remember thinking he was attractive once. That is until I got a glimpse of what is hiding behind the mask.

"Ok. It hasn't been that long," I say when he reaches me. The other Trolls move away, watching our exchange silently.

"Oh, but it has," he pushes a strand of hair behind me ear, "It's been 5 months and 16 days."

I gulp.

"What can I say? Business has been slow." The trick is never to let them catch you off guard. They can smell weakness from a mile away.

"Perhaps," he turns around and motions for me to follow him, "Come."

I turn to the other Trolls and wave at them awkwardly, before leaving with Zevrij. I follow him through the curtain and into the backroom where all the magic happens. Zevrij walks behind the glass counter and looks at me expectantly.

"What is it going to be today, love? Land mines, shotguns, a flamethrower?" he asks with a devious smile.

"Impaling grenades, actually." I pull out a receipt from my pocket, where I have scribbled the rest of my order, "And these." I hand it to him.

He looks at me under his lashes before he examines the list.

"You're going after vampires?" he says after a few seconds.

"Yes."

"Have you brought payment?"

I fetch the envelope of pictures. He grabs it from my hand and peeks inside. With a satisfied smirk, he tucks it in his pocket.

"Do I wanna know what you do with these?" I ask.

"I don't know, you tell me," he winks and I try to hide how uncomfortable I become. Show no fear, I chant in my head. He seems to notice this, because his eyes narrow to slits as he pins me with a predatory look.

Shit.

But then his smile returns and I relax. "Let me get these for you. I'll be just a moment," he says, turning and leaving me alone in the room.

When he returns a few minutes later, he is carrying a black duffel bag filled to the brim as though it weighs nothing. He places it on the counter in front of me. "That is everything."

Before I can thank him and take my leave, Jojin bursts in. I hear a series of loud crashing sounds coming from the other room and my eyes widen in alarm. If I am in the middle of a Troll fight, I am screwed.

"Sir," he pants, looking at Zevrij, "there is an angel here."

Fuck. He's already found me.

"Which one?" asks Zevrij in a calm voice.

"Azrael, sir."

Damn it.

I whip my head toward the curtain when another loud crash, followed by hysterical voices erupts in the cave. When I look back at Zevrij, a shiver runs up my spine when I see the look of terror in his eyes. I briefly wonder what Death has ever done to make a Troll clan leader show so much fear.

"What does he want?" he asks, barely holding on to his cool.

"Says he's here for Emmalyn," replies Jojin.

Zevrij pins me with a glare, one which I brush off, because I have more pressing issues.

"Zevrij, do you happen to have a secret exit back there?" I ask.

"Tell me, how did you get mixed up with the Angel of Death?"

"Whoa there. He got mixed up with me!"

"Hurry, before he completely trashes the place," exclaims Jojin, flailing his arms above his head.

"Stay here," Zevrij tells me.

When he pulls the curtain back, Death is standing before him with a murderous glare. He grabs Zevrij by the collar and slams him on the wall so hard that it fissures, a long hollow slit starting at the floor and going all the way up to the rock ceiling.

"Where is she?" he hisses, applying more pressure on Zevrij's neck.

Hi eyes find me and Death follows his line of sight to where I am standing. When he sees me, unharmed, relief floods his features, before it is quickly replaced with anger. With both of them looking at me this way, I am not sure which one I find scarier.

"I'm right here," I peep.

He releases Zevrij's neck and stalks towards me, rage boiling off of him in waves. The air around him sizzles violently, worse than I have ever seen it before. Death is pissed, and it is definitely directed at me.

"Get away from her," growls Zevrij, surprising both of us. Death stops in his tracks and turns to him slowly. I shake my head at Zevrij, pleading him not to get into this.

"Excuse me?" Death says in a cold, menacing tone.

Jojin and his leader take a step toward Death, who remains still.

"Emmalyn stays with us," says Zevrij.

"A creature as old as you should know how easy it would be for me to kill you, Troll," He grabs Zevrij again, pressing his hand at the Troll's jugular. Just when I think he is about to snap his neck, Jojin takes a swig at Death and I yelp, subconsciously throwing myself at him before he can hurt him.

The Troll's fist never reaches my face. Death grabs his arm and throws him on the opposite wall, where he falls limply on the ground like a rag doll.

"What the fuck was that?" he yells at me, shock evident in his eyes.

"I tried to help you, you asshole!"

"You could've helped by staying home like I told you to," he roars.

"That's just the thing though, you can't tell me to do anything," I become aware of the Trolls surrounding our little screaming match, but I am too upset to stop.

His features twist in a scowl and he clenches his jaw. "Sure I can," he hisses, "Watch me." He grabs my arm and pulls me to him, but Zevrij slips between us.

"What do you want with the girl?" he grits.

"Get out my face," Death answers condescendingly, as though the Troll means nothing to him.

But Zevrij does not move. The two of them stare at each other in silence for what feels like an eternity, power radiating from both of their bodies. If they were to fight, I know Death would win and even if Trolls are evil, I do not want any of them to die because of me.

"Stop," I say. They both turn to me. I place a hand on Death's shoulder and slip between him and Zevrij. He looks down at me, his body visibly relaxing at our proximity. "Let's go."

"Emmalyn, you don't have to go with him if you don't want to."

I ignore him, "Death, take me home," I say, looking directly into his dark, stormy eyes. I know Death would never hurt me, but I can not say the same about the Trolls if we stay here much longer.

Death looks past me at them, debating whether to let this go or not. He is having an internal battle, I can feel it.

"Please," I add. His face softens.

"Ok," he finally says and I release the breath I have been holding.

I grab my weapon bag, painfully slipping on my shoulder before Death takes it for me. Without another look at the Trolls, he teleports us out of there.