Jackson had proven to be very useful during his time back from the dead, he was respectful, patient, and loyal. Unfortunately, Reapers were following me, not being stealthy about it either. They were here for Jackson and I wasn't about to give him up.

"Watch out Mors," Jackson mumbled, warning me about the obvious threat towards him.

"I know," Jackson looked down, not wanting to meet my unwelcoming eyes. Grinning I darted through empty streets, leading the reapers to unpopulated areas. With

"I don't want to die master," I groaned, he was useful but he was running out of things to do.

"Deus meus, vexo," My eyes rolled and I gave out a frustrated sigh, "Shut up, please."

"Sorry master," Jackson apologized, eyes down to the ground in submission. He took my ignorance as an acceptance and rose to his full height, only up to my chest. "

"You know what we should do?," He gathered his bearings and shook his head.

"No I do not master."

"We should say hello to them," Jacksons' eyes filled with fear when I grabbed him, jumping towards the sky and onto a rooftop.

In front of us was three reapers, scythes out and ready to fight. I let go of Jackson and stepped back.

"Time to learn how to fight Jackson," Jackson yelped and stared at me with betrayal in his eyes. I gave him a shooing motion and glared at the middle aged man. The man was defeated, shoulders slumping as he turned away from me. A minute later a small black scythe clattered at his feet, "You'll have no chance of living without a weapon against them," He looked back at me, "Live and you get a reward, don't live, and well, you know what happens." With motivation to live, Jackson turned away from me once more and with a roar, lunged at the Reapers.

Me, I was lounging on my floating chair with a smirk on my face. I knew Jackson wouldn't live to see the light of another day after this and that the Reapers would eventually come after me once that they become bored of fighting my assistant. With my legs crossed, I watched in amusement as Jackson struggled against the trained fighters, born to fight demons and reap souls.

Sooner than later, a reaper clad in red turned to me, scythe up. He charged at me, growling at me and effectively hitting me but not injuring me. The Reaper let out a screech of fury, stomping his foot and striking me again and again.

"How the hell?" He turned to the second Reaper and pointing at me, yelled at him, "How is this possible Will?" At this point Jackson was blindly attacking the distracted Reapers. The Reaper who I now know as Will turned to me, dodging Jackson's attacks.

"Yes, how is it possible for you to survive a hit by a Reapers scythe?" He questioned in the most monotonous tone I had ever experienced. I shrugged in a vague answer and grinned. I simply sat there as the Reaper in red stuck me over and over, his scythe always passing through my body. As he seemed to not get tired and I was getting irritated, my hand darted out, crushing the small scythe in my grasp and standing up.

"I do believe that's enough, what's your name little one?" One bright red eyebrow raised and a hand was placed on a hip,

"Grell, yours?" He hissed, frustrated with me. Veiny, blue eyes glowed from under the blackness of my hood and they could see the glint of sharp teeth.

"Mors Pulchrae."

Deus meus vexo- My god, irritating

Mors Pulchrae- Beautiful Death