"If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?"

Chuck Palahniuk

A Gallant Soul

She brought the short knife out of her pocket and tugged her sleeve away to reveal the milky skin of her arm. She waited a moment for the name to appear in her mind and then struck the tip of the sharp object into her flesh, tracing the words that repeated into her ears silently. Dark drops, almost like ink, formed instead of blood and she grimaced slightly but was used to the pain. Jace Herondale. Watching her sleeve drop lower, she clicked her tongue softly and vanished, ready to take her next victim.

She was in a small house in London. There was a narrow dirt path that led her there. Dead flowers were outside the doors and the windows were wooden. She suspected the family was not wealthy. The wind was cold around her, making anyone shiver but not her, for she felt no weather and no heat. She trudged to the entryway and stepped in spotting crying relatives and the smell of distinct sickness in the air. They did not notice nor could they. A young woman stood at the front of a bedroom, her brown eyes red rimmed. Her mother was above her, patting her with reassurance though she herself did not have any. The interior was quiet with only the small whimpers of siblings and parents. Her orbs lingered on them. She felt sympathy but death was inevitable. Releasing a short breath, she sauntered into the room and closed the door behind her.

He was on his bedside, shivering violently. He was a young man. 22 years of age. His cheeks were bright pink and his eyelids were hovering shut every so often. His fair hair was plastered on his forehead, long and unruly. Piles of blankets covered his body but no heat came. He seemed to be trying to focus on her, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion, then recognition and surprise. "I did not know death was so appealing."

She glanced upwards and tugged her hood down so that it lied on her back. Her red locks fell onto her shoulders like soft sand. "It is not."

He grunted, trying to breathe but she knew for certain he could not. "I thought-I thought...to tell my family goodbye."

She sat on the bed, inches away from his heaving chest. "No, you will not have time." He noticed her voice held no emotion, none at all. What had he expected?

"Is death painful? I already feel so much agony now. How can this be any different?" His fingers were trembling. She stared at the plain walls of his room and then to the picture frames on the table beside them. His life flashed quickly in her head.

At four, he watched his parents as they died in front of him. Blood spilling on their pale bodies. His eyes were large and wide, not believing what he was seeing. His knees gave way and he fell to the ground.

At eight, he was adopted by the Lightwoods. A small family of two children. Isabelle and Alexander. He did not warm up immediately but soon he realized that they cared for him and he let them into his heart.

At twelve, he was in school playing with a few of his friends. Even at a youthful age, he was handsome and the girls in his class begged dearly for his attention.

At fifteen, he was growing. Taller and leaner. His best friend, his own brother. He shared with him a bond that would never be broken. They were companions in faith and in courage.

At eighteen, he was a reckless adult. Not caring for the rules but handling the consequences. He was all grown now. Though he had a family and plenty of friends, his chest had an empty, hollow feeling he could not fill simply.

At twenty, the illness came and slowly took over his body. It took months for it to enter his system but once it entered, it briskly poisoned him. It was too late for doctors to understand what was going on. They were in confusion and utter bafflement. Their minds were blank. So the man lay in the hospital, his family waiting desperately for a miracle.

"Quite unfortunate, a disease with no cure." She uttered, her voice soft but stern.

Jace gazed at her. White dots filled his vision. "I never thought that death would-"

"A woman?" She answered as if already knowing what he was thinking. "Not shocking. At least now you know."

There was a loud bang and the weakly hinged door swung open to reveal the girl, Isabelle. She shouted, her tone frightened. "Mother! He is hallucinating!" She broke into a fit of coughs and sobs, her tall body shaking. The older woman seemed to materialize in front of her daughter. Her face was sad, incredibly sad. She peered at her adoptive son and looked away as if it tortured her to see him like this. She led Isabelle out, whispering that the doctor had ordered for no one to bother him. They reluctantly left, heads bowed.

Jace hacked continuously, lacking breath. "They can not see you?"

She met his eyes. "Only the victim sees death."

"Is there any time left?" He was hesitant.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a thoughtful expression on her cold face. "I can give you time. I can give you until midnight's third chime and that is all. Everything else is ready."

He licked his lips feverishly. "T-Thank you."

Rising to her feet, she shook her head. "At the third chime. Do remember."

"Wait!" He shouted but it was barely a shout. His voice was weak and fragile.

She turned, raising a superior eyebrow. She was beautiful, he thought. Death was eternally beautiful. With splashing crimson hair and sharp green eyes, she was a perfect image to see in such a dark room. She wore a black dress and a long black cloak over her shoulders. Light freckles sparkled on her pale skin. "If this.." He swallowed with difficulty. "If this is fine, may you stay until midnight?"

His question must have struck her for she stared at him wearily. "You have your family."

His lungs felt like they were going to burst. "A stranger is-is sometimes better than someone you know well."

Jace thought she would refuse, her body movements said so. Instead, she returned to her seat and answered, "I suppose."

"You have a sorrowful life, Jace Herondale. I pity you." She brought her finger and scaled it against his cheek. Her hand was beyond freezing.

"I know." It came out as a whisper.

"What will come of me when I go?" He wondered if there was an after life. Another world, perhaps?

"Do you believe in God?"

"No."

She bit her red lip. "Then nothing. You will go. And there will only be darkness to accompany you."

He allowed his eyes to shut. The cold was beginning to freeze him and no matter how many blankets Maryse may have placed on him, there was no use. He was dying.

"I am surprised. Not many speak to me like this."

With his eyelids still closed, he asked, "And why is that?"

"I am death. Not everyone accepts me with open arms." She was bitter. "But that is okay. I am far used to it now. Are you afraid?"

"Only curious."

"As to what?" Her green eyes enveloped him like a fresh sky.

"You. Do you not-" He started to cough again and she planted her hand on his chest. It was burning. Steadily, he felt the tender pain fall away. He took a sharp intake of air. "Are you not free?"

"As free as I can be."

Night was arriving. The moon shown vividly above them. She gaped out the window and into infinity. "You have no love in your heart." She remarked.

Jace turned to her in exhaustion. "That is true. True indeed. I always thought..." He faltered. "I always thought I would find my significant other."

"Not everyone does."

He nodded. "Yes. I know that like a stab in my chest. I know it now and I will forever."

Beneath his orbs, his skin was purple. His lips formed into a tight line. Though she could not take his sickness away, she could steal some of the pain. Before she could move, he had his hand on hers. She winced but his grip was alarmingly tight. His eyes burned with the coming of unshed tears. "I want the pain to go away."

She squeezed his hand. "It will."

"But when?" His words were hard to hear. "I can not help but feel that every moment in my life was meant for disaster. And here I am, a weak creature clinging so tightly to a world that no longer wants me." The tears came shortly after and they dripped down his cheeks.

She tucked her hands on either side of his face. "Life is not generous. You are strong. You will be freed and I shall let you go gently for no harm will be done, I assure." He was crying silently now and she watched him with compassion and fondness.

The bells were heard and she heard him let out a whimper. The first chime. The second chime. And a second later, the third.

He regarded her with fear, his blazing gold eyes wide. She smiled, a harsh smile. "It will be alright. I gave you my promise."

"One thing I ask."

"What is it?"

"What is your name?"

She was uncertain. "Clarissa. Why do you ask?"

"Because, I want to meet the real you in the life after."

"You do not believe in God."

"If it means seeing you again, then I do."

She lowered her head so that centimeters lay between their faces. "It will be brief but sweet, love." His eyes locked closed and she bent her lips to his. Their breaths mingled and his mouth opened to let her in. Soon, she was stealing all of the energy in him but he did not stop and she did not either.

Satisfied, she pulled away from him and looked at his face. It appeared as if he was slumbering but his heart no longer gave its steady beats. Her own features were sad. A black tear fell from the corner of her eye. She swept it away impatiently.

As she reached the door, she whirled to look at him one last time. "I would like to meet you too. Maybe our lives do not all end in death but something more." And she disappeared.