A bitter realization washed over me, my anger morphing into something darker, more suffocating. He had me cornered, and we both knew it. I was a rat in a maze with no way out. I tried to take a deep breath, but frustration simmered just below the surface. If he was right, if this was as wide-reaching as he said, there was no escape—not in this life, not in the next. And if he was right about Molly...


    Death noticed the shift in my expression, and his tone softened. He leaned in, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "Hey, it’s not all bad. We could be worse off. You’ve got your perks. Sure, you’re rough around the edges," he said, giving my gut a light tap, "but you’ve got connections, knowledge, and an endearing lack of self-preservation. Plus, you’re already dead. What more could they do to you?"


    He wasn’t wrong. I could get close to things—and people—others couldn’t. And there were still a few loose ends I wouldn’t mind tying up.


    "So, what do you need me to do?"


    Death considered me for a long moment. He wasn’t just looking at me—he was looking into me. It was unsettling, to say the least.


    "Get back to living, Jack. Be who you were—that’s it. Whatever path you were on that got you killed? Stay on it. You’ll know you’re headed in the right direction when things start heating up. And keep an eye out for the other Eternals. Do this for me—maybe save the world while you’re at it—and I’ll put in a good word. Might even let you finally rest. Deal?"


    I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him to kick rocks back to wherever the Eternals came from. But then Molly’s face flashed in my mind, and the decision was already made. I took a breath, steeled myself, and nodded. "Alright, fine. I’ll do it."


    Relief washed over Death’s face. "Great. Only took half an hour of my life that I’ll never get back." He exhaled deeply, visibly relaxing. "Just remember—live your life like you always have. Do what you would’ve done before, and avoid what you wouldn’t have. It’s pretty straightforward."


    He pulled a small, shimmering vial from his cloak, filled with a dark, swirling liquid. "Drink this. It’ll bind your soul back to your body."


    I uncorked the vial but hesitated, narrowing my eyes at Death. "There’s a catch, isn’t there?"


    "What do you mean?" he asked, a little too casually.


    "A catch. A scheme. The fine print," I said, my voice sharp.


    "Well, now that you mention it… it’s a trifling thing, really. Barely worth noting," Death admitted, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Just a little give and take, a bit of a bumble and a stumble."


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Spit it out."


    "When I send you back, you won’t be exactly the same. There’s always a cost. Hard to say what it’ll be, but... with a fair degree of certainty, you’ll be... somewhat alive," he muttered, the last part barely audible.


    "Somewhat alive? Did I hear that right?"


    "Well... mostly dead. But if you take care of the body, it should hold up… for a while, at least. Think of it like a loaner."


    "Great. That’s just great."


    I shook my head and downed the contents in one searing gulp. The taste was startling—a bitter mix of herbs laced with a sweetness that lingered, burning as it slid down my throat. My vision blurred, and a violent tug yanked me back toward my body.


    "Now, this part is going to hurt you a lot more than it will me," Death said, hopping into the water. He stood easily on the still surface between cresting waves, reaching into his cloak and pulling out a glowing, thrumming crystal. It looked like an amber shard of life itself, pulsing with raw power.


    My body floated toward him, the potion working like threads binding me to my corpse—too many strings, old and rotten, reeking of rancid decay. Agony tore through me as he rammed the pulsing crystal to my chest, right into my unbeating heart. The shard sank deep, yellow light flaring as it fused with me.


    The world spun—nausea, burning, freezing—waves of torment crashed through my veins, my body unable to decide which agony to settle on.


    "And Jack, one more thing. This is crucial. Whatever you do, for the love of all that is good and right, don’t—"


    The world snapped back into focus, cutting off his words. I gasped, air tearing into my lungs like acid. Clawing my way out of the water, I shivered, drenched and trembling to the bone.


    "For hell’s sake, finish the sentence," I muttered, glancing back to where Death had stood, but he was gone, and the cab with him. The only trace of our encounter was the faint smell of brimstone lingering in the air, the burn of the scar etched into my chest, and, oh yeah, the fact that I was now a walking corpse.


    As I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the water, I saw it—skin pallid and gray, eyes faintly glowing with an unnatural light. The truth hit me like a sledgehammer: I wasn’t quite dead, but I definitely wasn’t alive, either.


    "I hate Tuesdays," I grumbled, flexing stiff fingers that didn’t feel entirely like my own.


    I stumbled away from the dock, every step heavy with the darkness now pulsing within me. But I pushed it back, forcing myself to focus on what lay ahead. There was a mystery to solve, demons to stop, and maybe—just maybe—a world to save. No pressure.


    Breathing heavily, battered and bloodied, I staggered away from the scene. I found a payphone, vision blurred with a distant, creeping pain, and fumbled with the receiver as I dialed Cali’s number.


    "Cali," I croaked when she picked up.


    "Jack? You sound awful. What happened?"


    "I need a ride."