Death gave her a cool nod but kept her distance.
“Death?” There was desperation in Manny’s voice, and it broke Elyse’s heart. He stumbled past her and dropped to his knees, prostrating himself before Death.
“Please—please. My wife—Bring her back,” he pleaded.
Death’s expression held a hint of pity. “Your wife is not mine to command. Her life remains intact.”
Manny looked up. Relief flooded his face, but it was undercut with pain.
“Please, bring her here. I beg of you.”
“I can only go where I am summoned,” Death said dryly. “Your pleas are wasted.”
Elyse’s gut twisted as she watched Manny continue to beg. She had done the same with Death not long ago.
Killian stepped forward and placed a hand on Manny’s back. “We’ll find her,” he murmured. “We won’t stop until you’re together again.”
“The Blade,” Death demanded, extending her palm.
Elyse took a step forward, the Blade laid across her palms. “A deal is a deal.”
“Wait.” Killian spoke with such conviction. Elyse froze in place. “Do not give her the knife.”
Death looked at him with disdain. “You have slain the demon. The Blade is now mine. Those were the terms.”
Killian stepped toward her with a casual gait. “I did say I would give you the Blade of Hanael after killing Lazarus. But ‘after’ is such a vague term, wouldn’t you agree?”
Death’s eyes turned a shade of black so dark, they seemed to swallow the light whole. “You dare play games with me?” Her voice had a ghastly tone, vibrating with ancient power.
“I do, actually,” Killian said. “You cannot hurt us, or anyone we care about, unless it is their predestined time to die. That was part of the deal.” He took a menacing step toward Death. “So I think I’d like to bargain a few more things.”
Death’s eyes shot to Elyse. Her hand remained extended, waiting for Elyse to comply. But Elyse took a step back and clutched the knife closer.
“What is it that you want?” Death hissed.
Killian’s face was calm, stoic. “You truly cannot bring Sera back?”
“I cannot.”
“Do you know where she is?” Elyse asked.
Death nodded slowly, calculating.
“Tell us where,” Killian insisted.
“Is that all?” Death sneered.
“No.” Killian’s throat bobbed. “I want you to bring back Zubir.”
Hope flurried in Elyse’s stomach.
Death pivoted, glancing toward Zubir’s broken body. To the shifters gathered around him, mourning. “I cannot. He is too far gone.”
The feeling in Elyse’s stomach turned sour. There was rage in her voice as she said, “He’s been dead for minutes. Killian was—”
“Killian’s body was almost entirely intact when I resurrected him,” Death seethed, stepping toward Elyse. “The shifter is not.”
Elyse felt her heart drop. But she was not done bargaining. “What about another?” she asked. “Someone whose body has been preserved for many years.”
