Wren suddenly sat up. He got to his feet in one fluid, graceful movement, brushed himself off fastidiously, and then smiled at Ledger.
“I’ll get back to you,” Earl said as it pointed at him. “In a minute.”
“Go to Hell,” Ledger said.
Earl laughed. “You’ll be there first,” it said. “Say hello to Bell for me.”
It reached into Wren’s pocket and pulled his switchblade. The knife snapped out, and Earl raised it to his face, the point dug into the soft skin under Wren’s eye.
“You want… to be like them… so much,” it mocked. “You think… they’d want you… if you were ugly?”
It dragged the knife down, digging a thin, bloody track to the corner of Wren’s mouth.
Ledger tried to get to his feet, but his leg felt heavy and unresponsive. He fell back down, and something fell out of his ripped hip pocket.
It was one of the torn cards.
Ledger grabbed it and stared at the battered face of Death. He’d thought he understood it, but there had to be something he’d missed. The image was a stylized version of Dale. He had to have Earl’s death.
Or…
Oh.
Ledger closed his fingers around the card to crush it. He wasn’t, he thought miserably, going to like himself very much for this. Like everyone kept reminding him, though, hewasBell Conroy’s son.
He used both hands to push himself to his feet. He hopped clumsily forward, his leg dragging behind him.
“I brought your death,” he said. “I just didn’t understand what it was.”
Earl took the knife away from Wren’s face, a crude feather marked into his cheek, and stalked forward.
“You lie,” it said.
Ledger shook his head and held out his hand, still clenched into a fist so tight he didn’t know if he could uncurl his fingers.
“Your death is here,” he said.
Earl hesitated, its expression suspicious, and then it stalked forward. It reached out and pried Ledger’s fingers open with the bloody blade. It stared at the ball of cardboard for a moment.
“Do you think… I can’t hurt you… for so long?” it asked coldly. “I’ll make you… love it… before I stop.”
Blood drooled warm and wet down Ledger’s leg. “Look at it,” he said. “It’s your death. It’s right in front of you.”
Earl took the card and smoothed it out. It stared at the image for a moment, its eyebrows furrowed, and then it suddenly smiled. It was a beautiful smile, and it made Ledger want to be sick. Earl tossed its head back and laughed in delight.
“It’s my death,” it said. “That’s… what… it was. How did I… forget that?”
“You weren’t made to persist,” Ledger reminded it. “Not like this.”
Earl stepped back and bowed slightly. “I forgot myself,” it said. “And I misjudged you. You’re a good servant, after all.”
“Yeah,” Ledger said as he turned to look at Dale. The dead man lay on the ground, broken past the ability to bully its corpse into functioning. Ledger grimaced. “A shit person, though.”
“I don’t care… about that,” Earl said. It walked over to Dale and crouched down in front of him. Dale tried to flinch away from it, but Earl cupped his face in its hand. “Yes. I remember… you now. We didn’t get… to finish.”
Dale’s ruined eyes darted from Earl to Ledger. He got his broken arms under him and tried to crawl backward to escape.
“Get it away from me,” he said. “Get itoff me. You said we’d kill it.”
