I stare up at him for a second, waiting for him to jump up and down, clap his hands together and yell, 'SYKE!' but it doesn't happen. He's serious. I gape at him, "Excuse me? Could you say that again? Because I think what I just heard was way too crazy even for you."

Damien smiles sheepishly, "Just hold on a second. Actually hear me out."

"Hear you out? Hear you out?? You want me to throw myself under the bus and pray? You do remember who we work for, right? He's not gonna be answering any prayers any time soon."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. But it might be the only way to get Zach to talk to us."

"Hey," Rev steps in, "give him a chance. It's actually pretty smart."

I turn towards Kianna, who shrugs. I roll my eyes, "Fine."

Damien lights up. "Okay," he starts, and I prepare myself for anything. "So, you know how you look different to everyone? Like based off what they think beauty is or whatever?" I blush and nod slowly. "So what if we happen to get you into one of the biggest clubs that Zach just happens to be in? And you just happen to be the most beautiful girl he's seen?"

My brain starts clicking and cranking its gears. Sparks shine through my eyes. "I mean, he hasn't seen me in a while so his perspective of beauty could have totally changed. So he wouldn't recognize me."

Damien grins, "Plus, he'll probably be too drunk to notice."

I lay my chin in my hand, resting my elbow on my knee, contemplating the outcomes. I'd just have to get him alone for a little bit, then it'd be too late for him. A smile spreads across my face, and I look back at Damien, "I guess I have to give it to you, it's not totally stupid. I'm in."

Damien pumps his fist, and looks at the three of us, subtly avoiding eye contact with Kianna, who shrugs, "Okay, I agree this may work. But what if it doesn't?"

"She'll have backup," Rev smirks, popping his knuckles.

Kianna nods, her lips twitching upwards, "Okay, fine," she turns back to me, "but I get to dress you up." I knit my eyebrows in confusion and she giggles, "You didn't think I'd let you go to a fancy club in a t-shirt, did you?"

I look down at my casual outfit and blush, "Yeah?"

--------------------------------------

Kianna drags me into a shop with glass walls and a large display of fancy dresses. She perks up at the smell of fashion and guides me through the racks pulling out stacks of dresses and making me try them on. After she seems satisfied with one or two, she pays, delicately folds them into a bag and skips out and into another store lugging me behind her. And we do the same thing. Over. And over. And over. Until hours have gone by.

"Kianna," I call after her as she drags me into another store, this time filled with jeans and blouses.

"Yeah?" She responds, too focused to look back at me.

"Don't I only need one outfit?" I groan, my arms aching from the number of bags I'm carrying.

"Oh, honey, you needed a wardrobe change."

I look down at the bags, "I can see that."

"Don't complain, you've been wearing the same five outfits for years."

"Hey, I'm not complaining. I'm flattered you're spending your money on me and all, but I really don't need more clothes."

This time, her head flips back in surprise, "You have, like, two pairs of shorts, maybe three pairs of leggings, and six t-shirts. And you don't need more clothes? Are you insane??" I shrug, and she turns away, shaking her head. "We have an endless amount of money and you choose to have barely enough shirts for a week," Kianna mumbles under her breath, looking for clothes even more vigorously. I smile at her annoyance and continue to lug around behind her. At this point, I'm carrying so many clothes, I'm not even sure if Damien's whole house could hold them, much less my closet, and I haven't the slightest clue which outfit I might be wearing for Zach.

After a couple of hours of shopping, Kianna and I finally make it to Damien's place. I walk into the house and throw down the bags of clothes then slump onto the couch. Kianna rolls her eyes and drags the clothes upstairs, probably to organize them or something. I snuggle into the couch, and allow my eyelids to drift shut. Before long, I'm asleep.

Suddenly, I hear a loud crash, and a scream escapes my lungs as a black puddle expands around me, sucking me into its blackened soul. A sinking feeling weighs me down and I try to struggle, but some force is preventing me from moving any part of my body. I fall into the abyss powerless and weak, the sinking feeling intensifying. I continue falling for what seems like hours but may have been only minutes, when I stop abruptly, my feet landing softly on black tile floor. I feel the absence of the strange force, and begin to test my movements, wiggling my toes in my old, black Converse. I hear footsteps trod near me, and my head snaps up. Twenty feet in front of me, there is a bulky silhouette of a man, calmly stepping towards me. His presence sends a shiver down my spine. "Who are you?" I try asking, but only a whimper of alarm escapes my lips. The man stops walking, his movements suddenly hesitant.

"You don't need to be afraid," a deep, melodic voice echoes around the room, almost immediately calming my nerves. I frown in confusion.

"Who are you?" I manage to say, stumbling back as he continues to advance towards me.

"I think the real question is who are you?"

"My name's... Sev," I squint towards the figure, trying to see his face in the dim light.

"Is it? I see you still haven't acquired your memory, little Seven?"

My eyes widen in surprise. He knows what I am. How does he know what I am? "Who are you?" I demand, more determined to get an answer this time.

The figure continues to walk towards me, but I stand my ground. He stops only inches in front of me, our foreheads almost touching. This time, I don't need to squint to see his face. I gasp. He's beautiful. A man. is beautiful. His face is a deep golden, and his square jaw is chiseled from stone. His rough black hair is combed back, only leaving a few stray strands laying across his forehead. I know I recognize him from somewhere, but I can't pinpoint it. Then, I see his eyes. Where there may have once been two eyes, there was now only black orbs, reflecting nothing but my astonished expression.

"Death," I breathe, staring into his deep black eyes.

His gaze freezes me in place. "I need a favor," he smirks, making him even more ruggedly handsome.

All I can think about is how screwed I am. Because there is no way I can get out of anything Death asks of me. My breathing quickens, and I take another step back, but his arms sneak around me and pull me tight against him, pressing our foreheads together. A part of me wants to struggle and yell for help, but something about him entrances me, gluing my feet in place.

"I need you to remember me."

His request startles me and I pull my head away from his in confusion. His chest rumbles in a way that almost resembles a growl and he brings a hand to my cheek. His fingertips are rough but surprisingly warm. Suddenly, I forget his strange request as he leans down towards me, glancing down at my lips. My lungs forget how to work and my body begins to move on its own. One of his hands sneak around my neck into my hair and he pulls me up towards him, closing the distance between us.