Blaire was running, lost in the thick of fog. She was practically blind and only one thought came to mind: I’ll never find my way out of here.

The sound of hissing sought Blaire out, joined her in her dreary solitude, and she was torn between waiting to meet the intruder or to run from them. The hissing crescendoed and Blaire’s blood heightened, pleading for her to not be an idiot. To run.

So, she did. At least, she tried.

Blaire turned, tripped over the hem of her heavy gothic black gown, and crashed onto the ground. It wasn't flat it was…uneven, shifty, frail. She laid on a mountain of gray bones. They snapped under her weight as she moved.

The hissing returned, multiplied, and hundreds upon hundreds of snakes slid over the bones until all she saw was a mess of twisting, scaled ropes.

A yellow boa constrictor glided toward Blaire.

She tried to stand but her legs and hands were pinned down by layers of serpents.

The boa paused and eyed her, contemplating, waiting. Maybe for her to try and escape.

But Blaire was so tired. So tired of running.

It broke its jaw, transforming into a hideous monster, and lurched toward Blaire with glinting eager eyes and ravenous desire.

Blaire closed and open her eyes, finding herself staring at a dark wall. A ceiling, actually. Black and wide like the boa’s gaping mouth.

“Careful,” a voice coaxed from the left. “Breathe slow. You’re safe.”

Blaire glanced to the side as a lovely woman stroked the side of her face with a damp cloth.

She wore a gorgeous crimson gown that flattered her bronze skin tone, and matched the ribbon tied in her black, Rapunzel braid. 

Ah, that’s right, Blaire thought. I’m in Hell. Wait…

She flinched as an ice pick suddenly pierced her head. Last she was conscious, she was standing on a stage surrounded by monsters. Then she was…falling. Wasn’t she?

“Breathe,” the woman repeated as Blaire unconsciously found herself too distracted to do so. “How do you feel?”

Blaire surveyed the scenery beyond the lady and discovered them in a dim-lit gray room. A bedroom, she gathered, by the black armoire, vanity, closet, and queen plush bed she was too confused to take comfort in.

“Where am I?”

“You are in your bedroom,” the stranger answered, her hazel eyes studying Blaire's expression.

Blaire’s brows furrowed as she struggled to understand the lady’s words. This looked nothing like her room.

“I must tell Rei of your awakening.” She suddenly hissed in a rising and lowering tone.

Blaire stared, perplexed, and was surprised when she saw a black serpent with thin gray stripes slide out of the partially closed black arched entrance door.

Snakes again?

Blaire groaned. “I feel sick.”

“What you feel is mental,” her nurse assured. “Just remember to breathe.”

“Where am I?” Blaire repeated. “How did I get here? Who are you?”

“I’m Hannah. These are questions I am not in the position to answer.”

“Then who is?”

They were interrupted by the return of the annoying scaly creature. Hannah reached for it and Blaire watched warily as the snake slid up her arm and curled around her shoulders like a shawl.

“He’s on his way,” the woman answered by way of explanation, standing. “Choose your words carefully.”

Blaire opened her mouth to ask who and why, but she had a good feeling Hannah would give the same answer as the first load of questions Blaire tossed at her.

Hannah helped Blaire sit, cushioning her back with plush throw pillows and causing her to feel less vulnerable in this position.

“Thank you. This helps,” Blaire told her. “When-”

A man sauntered into the room and all previous questions fell away. He appeared middle-aged in black pants and black long-sleeved dress shirt fastened underneath a buttoned gray vest. His outfit may be different, but that pasty face remained unchanged; a somewhat handsome man with no laugh lines, hollow eyes, and smoothed bleached hair.

“Death?” Blaire croaked.

He hesitated, confused at the word, but then his dark eyes lightened in understanding and he grimaced.

Death strode around to the side of her bed where Hannah once stood; Blaire hadn’t even noticed she left.

Blaire didn't dare move.

“Oh Blaire, how long I have waited for you.” He eyed her the way her father looked at her on graduation day.

Blaire hadn’t planned on their reunion. Not like this. Not her bedridden, dead, trapped in Hell.

“I never gave up,” he continued undertoned. “I stayed loyal and here you are. My reward.”

“Your reward?” Blaire paused and sponged in all information she had gathered. “Are you Viperae?”

“Don’t call me that,” he bit.

“Then what do I call you?”

“Death, perhaps," he teased. "Whatever you choose.”

Blaire stared at him warily. “You seem different.”

He was much more…collected when they last met.

“I’m excited!” he exclaimed and Blaire jolted in surprise. His voice bounced throughout the room; the hiss of a monster.

“For what?” Blaire asked reluctantly.

“You, of course. Among other things.”

Among other things.

“Yes.” Death reached out and brushed his hands over her eyes. They felt like snowflakes, weightless and so cold. “There’s that look I’ve been waiting for.”

“What look?” Blaire grated out, loathing his touch.

“Curiosity, wonder, with a touch of hatred.” Death snatched her chin to make certain she didn’t look away. “Have you ever been afraid?”

“No.” Instant answer.

He grimaced again. “Yes, you have. Once.”

Blaire’s eyes narrowed at the insinuation. “Where’s Cole?”

“Cole?” Death echoed innocently. “Ah, your “sidekick”. Dead, of course.”

Blaire resisted spitting in his face. “I just saw him.”

“Are you sure?”

Well…

“Yes, I heard the Lizard Woman call him Cole!”

“C-O-A-L,” Death spelled and Blaire frowned in confusion. “That’s how you spell my son’s name. Coal.”

“Your son?” she repeated incredulously.

“Yes. Contrary to what you may think, I do have a family.”

Blaire yanked herself out of Death’s grasp.

“You don’t believe me,” he said, reading the look of Blaire’s distrust.

“He’s alive,” she said with certainty. “That was him I saw. My Cole.”

Death cocked his head to the side. “And how did your Cole act during your brief reunion?”

With disbelief. Disgust.

Blaire shivered at the memory.

Death slid a hand around the back of Blaire’s neck and tilted her head upwards. “Your friend’s death was inevitable, but I saw potential in him. I gave him a choice. He chose correctly.”

Inevitable death. Potential. Choices.

Blaire struggled to keep up, resisting looking over her shoulder and analyzing each sentence. She had an idea that Death had no intention of explaining himself nor defending his actions.

“You will, too,” Death added. It sounded more of a threat than a promise.

He dipped his head and brushed his mouth against the hollow of her throat.

Revulsion paralyzed her.

“What are you?” Blaire whispered.

“Why don’t I show you?”

Blaire flinched, preparing for some form of attack. Instead, she was wrentched off of the bed.

“Follow me.” Death half dragged her out of the room.

Blaire stepped into a haunted hallway, gothic designed and, well, old. Nothing screamed “Modern” or “Twenty-first century” as they passed walls blanketed in portraits and stained-glass windows, up creaking staircases.

The Blackwood’s house couldn't hold a candle next to the authenticity of Death’s horror mansion. This place would have been a pleasure to explore if it was just for show.

Death stepped aside as a black hooded snake sped by.

“You have a snake infestation problem,” Blaire pointed out anxiously.

“What do you know of snakes, Blaire?” he inquired curiously.

“They have a mean bite.”

Death grimaced and Blaire didn’t know if it was one of his smile grimaces or an actual grimace. “We have much more to us than that.”

“We?”

“Shhh,” Death shushed, slowing as they began to approach a door. Like a majority of the others, it was arched shaped. It was also closed.

Instead of knocking or coming back at a time of availability, Death shoved the door open.

The room was probably gorgeous, but Blaire wouldn’t know. Her attention was drawn to the king-sized bed in the center and the couple on it.

Already half-naked and clinging onto each other, Blaire by instinct turned to run. But Death locked her under his arm and snatched her face, steering it to the bed.

“Watch,” he hissed in Blaire’s ear.

The young woman was very beautiful. The top half of her pale dress had been unbuttoned, revealing her undergarment and access to more skin. With her head tilted back, yellow hair swaying, Blaire could see the pleasure on her face as she enjoyed the man as he kissed her neck.

No…not kissed. Bit.

It looked, to Blaire, vicious, harsh, violent. The man was holding her too tight, too hard. But she didn’t seem to notice or care.

Death pushed the door further open, slamming it against the wall. Blaire jumped, startled and worried as the sound distracted the monster on the bed.

He ripped his lethal and frightening fangs out of the woman’s neck and looked over in aggravation.

Blaire gaped in horror.

Cole’s gold eyes possessed those eerie elliptical pupils, reflecting so many emotions. None of them welcoming.

“My apologies,” Death said, sounding far from truly apologetic while holding up his free hand is surrender. “Wrong room. Carry on.”

Death steered Blaire out and closed the door behind them. “Now, is that your Cole or mine?”

Blaire worked her throat, trying to squeeze out words. “What are you?”

“A snake demon.”

A what?

As Blaire was currently out-of-order at the moment, Death took this opportunity to continue talking.

“When I met you and Cole for the first time, I had very clear ideas of what to do with you. Had you been the first to come with me, your fate would have been hers.” He reached out and brushed his curled fingers against her neck. She cringed but he didn’t notice. “But you probably wouldn't have lasted a year.”

Blaire swallowed. “What is she?”

“A human. She sustains our life with her own.”

“A blood bag, you mean,” Blaire snapped.

“It’s a very honorable position,” Death assured. “It is a glory to be the Serpent King’s Chosen.”

“And she’s the Chosen?”

Poor girl.

“Just as Cole was.” Death grimaced. “Now you are.”

Blaire paled. “But I’m-”

“Mine. Until the end.”

Blaire clenched her hands into fists, forcing herself to stand tall. “What changed? You said my fate would have been hers. Was I meant to be someone else’s?”

“You will only ever be mine,” Death promised. “Anyone else who approaches you without my permission will lose their head.”

“A little dramatic…” Blaire mumbled under her breath.

“I am very possessive,” Death agreed. “But I do enjoy some bloodshed.”

Blaire forced herself into staring into his eyes, seeking answers. Like his so-called son, his pupils were narrow, gleaming something unsettling. Bloodthirst?

As Hannah warned, Blaire chose her next words carefully.

“What am I here for?”

What is a Chosen’s purpose?

Death grimaced, reading the unspoken question on Blaire’s face. 

Instead of answering, he said: “You must be curious of your new home.”

“Don't talk like you know me,” Blaire snapped.

“I know humans,” Death replied, releasing her. “Go on and enjoy yourself.”

“Are you abandoning me right here?” Blaire asked, appalled.

In the middle of a snake infested horror house?!

“You’ll be fine. I’ll see you soon.”

“Wha-?”

Death swerved on his heels and slid down the hall as smooth as a snake, leaving Blaire staring after him in awe. He was really going to leave her to her own devices without supervision. Was this a test to see if she'd escape?

The door beside Blaire suddenly swung opened and a hand latched onto her arm.  The last thing she saw as she was yanked into Coal’s bedroom was Death turning a corner and disappearing.