Reapers didn't help out humans, demons, or angels; solitary beings that worked alone unless under supervision by a superior. Grell Sutcliff sadly was one who mostly had to be supervised, he loved William even though the feeling was less than mutual, but he hated being treated like a brat who couldn't be trusted to reap souls without constant supervision.
This night was an exception though, this night he got to go out on his own. The only reason he was granted this beautiful thread of freedom was because there were few souls this night for him to steal away. It was a shame honestly; an old man nearing his eighties, a young child dying of a disease, and some portly woman who died of a heart attack. It was boring, very boring, and not a single one of them had been attractive; not in the least.
That was until the scent of new blood filled the air; something about death, fresh kills drove him wild deep down inside. Made a part of him ache with desire, those desires were part of the reason he wasn't trust out on his own.
He followed the scent and the echoing female scream that filled the still air.
He kept to the rooftops to keep from being seen and just barely heard; keeping careful that his death scythe did not scrape the tiling.
Down below was a small home in one of the worst parts of town; a place frequented by prostitutes, filthy old men who pretended to be gentlemen, and opium dealers. Down below a young woman lay sprawled on the ground, a gaping hole in her stomach; oh she was soaked with so much red, red blood. Grell felt that feeling that pull of lust as he looked at all the life spilled over the nameless woman.
What caught his eye even more was the stunning woman standing before the corpse; a woman dressed all in red, a knife in her shaking right hand, her red hair just touching her shoulders, and oh to everything in death and in between she was beautiful.
She was sad and desperate; she noticed him watching her, her face was stained with the dead woman's blood. He could tell by the look in her dark eyes that she was fearful of him, fearful of what she had just done. He grinned down at her exposing rows of pointed fangs; he ran his fingers back through his own thick red hair.
"Don't worry my lady, you are not alone."
He jumped down to the ground below landing as eloquently as a cat, not making a single sound as his feet touched the ground. The woman regarded him cautiously, her eyes going to the scythe he carried with him; Grell gave a bemused glance in the direction of the weapon.
"Don't worry dear this is harmless, to you." He gave a small laugh then turned back to the beautiful woman dressed in red.
She was less scared and more so confused at this point. Her luscious red painted lips moved but no sound came out except for the occasional squeak.
"She was a prostitute, she had an abortion."
He raised an eyebrow amused and curious as to her reason for such a crime.
"Odd reason to kill."
"I can't have children"
He could see the shadow of left over rage in her eyes; she still hated the dead woman. He noticed her hand grip more tightly to the handle of the knife.
"She didn't appreciate it, she didn't appreciate the life that she could give; she threw it away because it would ruin her career."
Her rage was so beautiful, so much rage. A lady dressed and stained with red, red rage surging through her mind. He felt so much passion, so much lust, and want in that moment for this woman.
"I understand your pain my lady, for I too cannot have children of my own."
She regarded him curiously, almost like she just now realized she was confessing to an odd looking stranger carrying a large weapon with him.
"Who are you, what are you?"
"A Death God my dear, but I mean you no harm. Honestly I believe I could help you, I'm sure there are other women as filthy as her; don't you want revenge upon them?"
Yes this would work, this could be perfect, and it would be beautiful. He knew she hungered for revenge; he wanted to taste her pain and her hatred. He was willing to get into trouble with darling William all in the name of helping this beautiful woman in red; his Madam Red.
"What will it cost me?"
He smiled at her.
"You mistake me with a demon my dear madam, I only ask for your affection and your cooperation."
Her eyes studied him, taking him in, and he loved it.
He stepped closer to her; she didn't step back or seem nervous. He took hold of her wrist caressing his thumb over her warm skin; the knife dropped to the ground with a deafening sound. He moved his hand down to hers lacing their fingers together, he pulled her body to his, and she gasped. He could feel her heart beating beneath her breasts, he could feel her passion. Everything was red, so red, and he wanted to devour her and all of her beautiful passions. He touched his fingers to her cheek wiping away the drops of blood; she seemed relaxed now; almost in a trance, some fascinating dream world featuring a red haired God of Death.
"My madam Red" He whispered
He pressed his lips to hers kissing her passionately, she was so eager to kiss back. To taste him, to taste his desires and red coloured passions just the same way that he craved to taste hers; this was his lady, his madam, and he would do anything for her.