The Domain of Death Himself

Xanthus is Death, and Death has a busy life, as you'd imagine. What with the scythe work and the whole soul collecting stuff. His days are long and kind of dull, until he meets a certain, someone.

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9. Curiosity killed the cat

“What happened to your eyes and teeth?” The man asked Death curiously.

                “Nothing, I was born with them.”

                “Can you see?”

                “Yes.”

                “How?”

                “I don’t know.”

                “How do you eat?”

                “Easier than most.”

                “But you have no molars.”

                “Yes I do.” Xanthus pointed, opening his mouth wide and showing him.

                “Oh…” He fell silent. “Anyway… back to business, will you work for my company?”

                “Of course not.”

                “I’ll give you money.”

                “I have money. I could buy your company.”

                “I doubt that.”

                “You shouldn’t.”

                “I’ll make you.”

                “How?”

                “I’ll kill your family.” It was the typical response. Xanthus rolled his eyes and laughed coldly for what seemed like the hundredth time. What was wrong with this man?

                “Do you think a person like me could have a family?”

                “I’ll kill your workers.”

                “Go ahead and try.”

                “We did just a minute ago.”

                “It was unexpected.”

                “We can surprise you again.”

                “Have fun with that.” It was obvious Jareth was getting severely irritated with Xanthus and his quick remarks. He scowled and drew the poorly concealed gun from its holster. Xanthus didn’t use guns so he didn’t know how good it was so he thought it was a good time to act.

 

With a large sweep he closed the long umbrella with a snap, slashing through three of the thugs’ throats’. They fell with gurgling yells. Xanthus turned to the other two and opened the umbrella into their faces. They flapped their arms confusedly but Xanthus’ hands were already poised in front of their hearts. It wasn’t just souls he could steal from… He held the beating things in his hands and watched with fascination as they slowly stopped.

                Making a face he dropped them to the floor.

                “Great, now my hands are dirty…” He moaned in annoyance, whipping them on one of the guard’s coats that he’d killed with his scythe earlier. Jareth was staring at him in shock and horror.

                “My lord!” He exclaimed and stumbled backwards, falling to the floor as he tripped over a body.

                “Can I have my money please?” Xanthus asked, his voice void of the jaunty sarcasm it had held before.

                “But it wasn’t a real order!”

                “I think it was. You ordered, I came, you examined. Money please.”

                Jareth considered for a moment, a moment too much for Death.

                “Five.”

                “What, What are you-”

                “Four. Money, now.”

                “What? No I-”

                “Three.”

                “Here!” He caved and plunged his hand into his jacket, throwing a fistful of notes at the approaching Xanthus.

                “Thank you.” Malcolmson turned and began to walk away, picking up his coat, scarf, glassed and scythe from the gravelly floor.

 

A bang echoed through the alley again, and the clang of the scythe joined it as Xanthus turned and deflected the bullet with the blade.

                “Don’t, it’s not worth it.” He said, without looking at the trembling man on the floor.  

 

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