Heroes in action films and movies are rarely this submissive. But when they are, it’s because they have a plan.

Blaire had no plan. She had an objective, she had the determination, but no plan. She had no idea how to escape the house--she didn’t even know where she was.

Coal said she wasn’t in Hell.

Then, where was she? Someplace in the Bermuda Triangle? Another planet?

So immersed in her thoughts, Hannah and Pima toyed with her body like a doll and redressed her from head-to-toe without a single notice on her end.

“There.” Hannah stepped back and smiled. “You look lovely.”

Blaire glanced down, surprised and horrified to find herself in a solid black dress with a long jacket buttoned to her hips.

“What am I wearing?” she squealed.

“Hurry. Rei doesn’t like waiting,” Hannah answered, heading toward the bedroom door.

Blaire would’ve remained rooted to the wooden floor if a serpent hadn’t slithered to her side and hissed in warning.

It was she either eat or be eaten.

…

Blaire slapped Death the second they were within reach of each other.

It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t even considered. It was a reaction brought on by overwhelming rage and disgust towards that infuriating, grimacing pale face.

The instant her hand met his cheek, the remaining strength she had abandoned her and she fell clumsily forward.

“Don’t touch me,” Blaire growled as Death captured her by her shoulders.

Ignoring her, Death tilted her chin up and to the side, baring her wounded neck.

“Coal didn’t restrain himself at all, did he?” Death’s ice fingers traced the holes. “You must be starving.”

“I’m fine,” Blaire lied.

“You’re my Chosen. I know you are.” Death swung Blaire into his arms and carried her into blinding white light.

Jack Frost embraced her, stilling Blaire at the sudden and unpredicted contact.

Blinking away the sunlight, Blaire took in their surroundings. The two of them stood on a vast patio overlooking a seemingly never-ending haunted forest in the distance. She couldn't see the ground below them and what monsters may be lurking there, only the trees and the grim gray sky.

Blaire slid out of Death’s arms onto one of the two seats, feeling light as a feather.

As Death settled on the opposite side of the table, the desire to eat grew more unappealing.

Close to escape, yet prevented by the person before Blaire, was frustrating.

“Eat before you pass out,” Death ordered.

“I can’t,” she answered.

“Try the drink. It’ll rejuvenate you,” he suggested, motioning to the questionable mug before Blaire.

She was reluctant, but the longer she waited the lighter she felt. If she didn’t put something in her stomach soon, there was no doubt she would faint.

“Would you be more accepting of the food if you had revenge on Coal?” Death inquired.

Blaire blinked, surprised by the question.

“What?”

“He’s harmed you. Surely you want retribution.”

Blaire’s eyes narrowed. “He acted on your orders, though, right?”

“I did not order him to harm you to this extent.”

“Why would you order him to bite me at all?”

“I assumed you would rather have had your first bite from him rather than me.” Death scooped up his flute glass of blood. “Was I wrong?”

Blaire ignored his question and warily sipped her mug. It was scalding, thick and sickly sweet, igniting a warmth inside her.

“How is it?” Death asked.

“It’s fine.”

“Is that all you will eat?”

Blaire shrugged. Porridge and fruit seem too challenging for her sensitive stomach.

“I would really appreciate it if you ate more.”

“I would really appreciate it if you left me alone,” Blaire retorted.

“Coal?” Death called and his black-and-white striped serpent appeared from the shadows, exiting the patio.

Blaire looked quizzically from the direction of the serpent to Death.

“What was that?” she asked, and her answer was given as the doors to the patio opened.

Blaire paled as Coal entered. Unlike Death, who brought on such surprising rage that she couldn’t help but lash out, Blaire was too overwhelmed to know how to react.

So she didn’t.

Coal came to a polite stop a safe distance from the table, his eyes facing forward like a soldier. He wore the same black outfit as the night Coal rescued Blaire, as well as ruthlessly executed dozens of demons.

Death stood holding his half-filled drink and stared at his son impassively.

“Kneel, Coal,” Death ordered and his son did so without protest. “Apologize to Blaire.”

Coal’s yellow-brown eyes drifted to Blaire and he said with eerie sincerity: “I apologize.”

“Well?” Death looked at Blaire.

“Well, what?” Blaire asked, confused. “What are you doing?”

“Having him make amends for what happened last night,” Death explained simply. “What else?”

“You're the one that needs to make amends,” Blaire pointed out.

“That slap was it. Get your vengeance from Coal and we can move on.”

“Move on?” Blaire repeated, incredulous. “To what?”

“The duties as my Chosen. We have much to do. I can’t afford to have any ill will in my family.”

“I’m not your family and I’m not your Chosen!”

Death snatched a knife from the table and offered it to Blaire.

“Use it on me,” Death urged. “I won’t fight.”

Blaire snatched the blade without second thought and prepared to pierce the demon’s chest when her arm halted in the air.

She was hesitating. No matter how hard she tried to fight it, tried to kill her reluctance, the uncertainty only grew until she was quivering in place.

“You can’t do it,” Death explained, stealing the knife from Blaire’s hand. Her body relaxed almost as soon as the weapon was out of her grip.

Blaire looked accusingly at Death.

“As my Chosen, you can’t defy me.”

“Are you saying I do whatever you tell me to?” Blaire asked, dismayed.

“You still have your free will. But as my Chosen, you share the same desires as me, one of which is not dying. The other is to punish Coal.”

There was not a trace of humor in Death’s voice and Blaire said, “But Coal’s your son.”

“And my warrior,” Death added. “He, as well as everyone else, obeys my every command. You hold the same power.”

“Because I’m your Chosen.”

“Can I make it any clearer?”

Blaire glanced down at the unmoving Coal, his eyes drilling into the stone floor.

She could command him to do anything? That was nice.

No…no. She couldn’t get lured in by power play. But maybe she could take advantage of this.

Blaire’s eyes traced from Coal’s eyes down to the lower part of his jaw. From her position, she wasn’t able to see the scar, but she knew it is there.

Coal’s voice echoed in Blaire’s head, “Ask my father. Once you become his Chosen, he’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Now was as good as time as any to find out the truth.

“What happened to Cole? My friend?” Blaire asked, facing Death.

A flicker of surprise was cast over Death’s face; perhaps surprise over the sudden change of topic, then weariness at her persistence.

“Your son has something to do with him, doesn’t it? He has the same scar.”

Death took a sip of his drink before answering.

“Well, that would be because you are looking at the body of your friend.”

Blaire’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“Your Cole died, and his body is now a host for my son,” Death explained so bluntly he might as well be commenting on the weather.

The drink in Blaire’s hand slipped and crashed to the floor, splattering over the hem of her dress.

“Your son is a ghost then?” she asked, trying to maintain her composure.

“No, he’s a demon.”

“Is that…is that how you all come to exist? Possess human bodies?”

“Some. Coal is the only one in the Ophidia family that isn’t a pureblood.”

Blaire’s eyes reluctantly returned to Coal. Slowly, the truth was sinking in.

“Oh God,” she said. “Oh God.”

Cole was dead. Truly gone from this and her world. Her purpose of searching for him was over, finished, futile since the very beginning.

She was such an idiot.

“What do you want?” Death asked. “Do you want to hit him? Have him imprisoned? What about starvation?”

“What?” Blaire whipped her head at Death, confused and tormented.

“How are you going to punish Coal?”

It took a minute for Blaire to remember where she was and what Coal was doing there.

That’s right. He attacked her. He turned her into a Chosen. He hurt her with Cole’s body.

Blaire felt sick.

“You’d probably feel best if he was punished immediately.” Death grabbed the knife again and held it out to Blaire.

Blaire stared dumbly at it.

“Take it.”

“No.”

“Why? Because it’s Cole’s body? It’s not Cole.”

What was wrong with not wanting to hurt the body of someone she cared about? Even if they were dead?

“Take the knife, Blaire. You don’t have to kill him.”

“You’d be okay if I killed him?” Blaire gaped. “I’d never!”

Death shoved the dagger into her hand anyway.

“No…” Blaire squeaks meekly.

She wouldn’t do it. She can’t do it.

“You’re my Chosen. I want you to do it,” Death encouraged. “Forget any guilt you may have. You aren’t hurting your friend. You’re hurting the demon that hurt you.”

“No…I don’t want-”

“Coal, stand and come here,” Death ordered.

There was a clicking sound as one of the doors to the patio opened and half of Asper revealed himself.

“Father, uh, Glais is-”

Both doors flew open and a new unknown face appeared refreshed and jovial, their white long hair dancing in in the wind.

“Oh Rei,” the man clicked his tongue, “you know better than to keep a lady waiting.”