Author's Note: I do not and never will own the Dante Valentine series.
Written for the One Prompt, Many Fandoms competition.
It's relaxing to talk to the dead. The normies don't believe that. To them, Death is frightening. An implacable tide, come to sweep them impersonally into nothingness, erasing their existence like blowing out a candle. To them, the emerald set into my cheek is a curse.
Not to a Necromance.
Hey, I'm not trying to say that it's a walk in the park. Being a Necromance is hard. There's a reason they're so rare.
But I've never been so fulfilled as when I talk to my god, and that blue crystal light is all I can see. Anubis has never turned away from me. I've only turned away from him. Let me tell you. Not something I want to repeat.
Japhrimel asks me sometimes what it's like. I try to explain, but I can see the confusion in his eyes, still bright, demon green. He doesn't understand. He can't. He's not human. If he dies, I can bring him back. That's what being hedaira means. Two as one. If I die, he dies, too, but I think it's different for demons all the same.
When he dies, he won't be coming home.