“Discretion is the better part of valor?” I asked. “Similar to how I bravely traverse the planes with my slightly unstable mage partner and bottomless-stomached hellhound?”
“Not exactly,” Ezra answered with a slight chuckle, “but you’re getting there. If you don’t accept what you are soon, the consequences will get more severe.”
Ezra was dressed in his regular white shirt with black vest and black pants, his rune-covered yarmulke giving off a faint violet glow. Resting next to him on the bench sat a thick book.
It was easy to confuse him with an elderly scholar, and not the personification of Death—until he let you feel a minuscule amount of his massive, fear-inducing energy signature.
“Right now,” I answered with a small groan, “the consequences of my actions are causing my digestive system serious agony.”
“I’m sure, being acquainted with Karma, that you have an excellent working knowledge of cause and effect,” Ezra said. “What you don’t see yet, are potentialities.”
“Excuse me?” I asked. “I’m not seeing what? Have you been speaking to Professor Ziller?”
“How was your trip abroad?” Ezra asked. “I understand Japan is exquisite this time of the year.”
Ezra had a habit of doing that. I figured being Death meant his mind was occupied at all times. It was staggering he could even hold a conversation with us.
Every so often, in the course of our discussions, he would slip into what I assumed was a tangential topic, only to discover later on, that with Ezra, everything was connected.
“Japan was bloody and painful,” I said, slightly thrown off by the question. “Thanks for asking.”
“I hope not at the same time. I’ve noticed Ms. Nakatomi has not resumed her duties as Director of the Dark Council—yet.”
“Maybe she’s taking a well-deserved vacation?” I answered. “She did say she would be back. I didn’t think pressing her for a start date was a good idea, considering the context.”
“The power vacuum caused by her absence will need to be addressed if she does not return soon.”
“Addressed?” I asked. “Why does that sound painful?”
“Only if you delay too long.”
The feeling that struck me whenever Ezra mentioned that something needed to be “addressed” was similar to my reaction every time Monty wanted to have a “conversation” with an angry mage or felt the need to use “diplomacy” first—it felt like large doses of skepticism sprinkled with controlled dread.
It never ended well.
“That doesn’t sound good,” I said. “Can you go have some words with the current leadership of the Dark Council? Explain to them the error of their ways?”
“In what reality do you think my going to have words with any mortal will be welcomed as a good idea?” Ezra asked with a sigh. “Stop being a putz and pay attention. No one wants to ‘have a word’ with me, especially when it could be the last words they speak. You”—he pointed in my direction—“will eventually have to deal with this.”
It never occurred to me that Death didn’t really have anyone he could just chat with. It kind of made sense, though. no one was really eager to have a heart-to-heart with Death, and if he showed up to speak to you, well, it was likely the last conversation you were ever going to have. Puts a damper on the small talk thing.
“Me?” I asked, clearly confused. “Why would I ever dream of helping the Dark Council? They tried to take us out several times. Last time with a small army.”
“Your vampire needs the Dark Council,” Ezra answered. “More importantly, the Dark Council needs her, and the city needs a stable Dark Council.”
“Still not seeing how this is my issue. I’m not a mage, vampire, or were-anything. How is this my business? Did I forget to mention that they threatened to kill Peaches and erase Monty?”
“Stop being so petty and look at the bigger picture here,” Ezra answered, waving away my answer. “We both know those threats weren’t credible. You’ve faced gods.”
“We got lucky, multiple times.”
“What do you think will happen if the Dark Council collapses?”
I imagined a city without the Council. The image wasn’t pretty. They served an important and needed role in keeping the main factions of the city in check. As much as I wanted to see them blown apart, it would be in our best interests to have the Dark Council intact—for now.
“Nothing good,” I said. “Still not seeing how this is my problem to fix.”
“That’s because you’re dense,” Ezra said. “In any case, that’s a situation for another day. We have other issues to discuss.”
“Other issues? Like what?”
It was always best to be transparent when speaking with Death. Things like “other issues” could easily be translated into “your imminent demise” if not made clear.
“Issues—like the golem.”
THIRTEEN
“The what? Did you say golem?”
Monty cleared his throat. “That—is improbable,” Monty said. “Golems are mostly the stuff of legend. They are impossibly complicated to construct and require more power than any one mage can command.”
“You are mostly correct,” Ezra said, looking at Monty. “If we were talking about the conventional method of creation.”
“Maybe I misheard,” I said, raising a finger and interrupting the conversation before it headed where I knew it was going. “Did you say Gollum, like The Lord of the Rings? My precioussss and all of that? Are you saying he’s real?”
Monty gave me a you can’t be serious look, which I returned with a we just talked down a little Jotnar ice mage from a pocket dimension she created stare. Mages—really.
“No, he’s not,” Ezra answered. “That’s a character in a story. I’m talking about the other kind.”
“The…other kind?” I asked, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, it’s been an eventful day, what with preventing our building from becoming an ice sculpture, convincing a Jotnar ice child to rein in her super mage powers, and dealing with a pair of paranormal pretenders intent on blowing us all to Jersey or hell—same difference.”
“That does sound eventful. How is little Cecelia?”
“Dangerous,” I answered, “and powerful. Scary
