Page 48 of Blood and Hexes

She tossed the knife to Tris, who caught it deftly mid-air. “We’re really going to call Death?”

“It’s not that hard. Anyone can do it, in fact. People don’t because, well, they aren’t suicidal. Death is temperamental and unpredictable. It’s as likely to help you as it is to kill you on the spot, if it’s in the mood to.” She swallowed. “We…my family. We have something that provides a bit of leverage and protection. Not that it’s still entirely safe.”

Tris mindlessly twirled the silver blade in her hands, the only thing betraying her anxiety. “All right.”

"Now, if you'd start with the elemental shields," Diana said to the witches.

From the four corners, each witch focused on the element they were linked to. Mikar noted that while there were many in the east, north and south, Blair stood alone in the west corner. She was a fire witch, then. They were the rarest, as far as Mikar knew.

Words crossed Diana's lips, taking his attention away from Blair. He didn't understand any of them, although he spoke most living and some dead languages from all around the globe. While he couldn't make sense of the harsh, almost guttural sounds, he recognized the intonations. Enochian. The language of heaven and hell, shared by angels and the fallen. The language Belial had made use of when they'd first met.

Diana was really calling hell.

And hell responded.

Shadows gathered inside the salt lines blocked by an immaterial wall. The dark, murky fog converged to the center of the circle, right above Chloe. The smell of the valley was overpowered with a strong scent. The salty, metallic smell of blood and fire. The shadows dissipated in a cloud of fine mist, leaving in their stead a hooded figure, too tall, too still. Even from outside the circle, beyond its reach, Mikar could tell it was also too powerful. Stronger than one single being had the right to be. He'd met gods and demons. He'd met monsters and freaks. Hell, he was a freak.

This was something else. An elemental force that felt unlimited.

The figure lowered its hood, revealing a face that wasn't unfamiliar. Dark eyes, ebony hair, and skin so pale it seemed to shine in the darkness. Its features were too delicate and enticing to be manly, although when it spoke, the voice was deep and suave. Enchanting.

"It has been some time since I heard such a call," it drawled, smooth and seductive, gliding more than walking the length of the table, to stand above Diana. It didn't speak English, or any language Mikar recognized, but he understood every word all the same. Its communication was beyond words, predating the very notion of language. Predating life in this world.

This…thing wasn’t a person, though it wore a suit of flesh. It wasn’t a master, a lord, or a king of the underworld. It was emptiness. It was void. It was Death.

It dropped to a low crouch, and extended a long, pale hand to touch the tip of her chin.

Mikar started to advance, not able to help himself. If Eirikr hadn't firmly held him back, he would have entered the circle and stood between that thing and Diana.

“It’d kill you where you stand without a blink,” Eirikr whispered, his words coming out fast and low.

“It could kill her,” Mikar shot back.

“It won’t.” He sounded so certain. “She’s a Helsing.”

Mikar’s lips pursed, but he stopped fighting to get to her. For now.

Death paid him no mind, entirely focused on Diana. "I remember you. The last time such a spell was cast to get me here, you were right under me." Death sounded amused, glancing down to Chloe.

Mikar blinked. Diana had been dead? Or dying. That was hardly better. His heart skipped a beat.

“I’m honored you answered, Thanatos.” Diana seemed calm, but sweat was gathering on her forehead.

Death let go of her chin and rose with a chuckle. "Oh, you knew I would. The deepest, darkest pit of the underworld gets rather tedious. I enjoy your summonses. Well, I see a dying girl and a girl willing to die. I see blood, and salt and water to keep me away from your little friends.” Death’s smirk suggested that if it so wished, it’d get out of the circle and destroy them all without any effort. Mikar believed it.

“Yes. I see many things. But I hear nothing." Death stared pointedly at Diana, its gaze demanding, probing, challenging.

Diana lowered her gaze to her palms, biting her lip, uncertain.

"Do not tease. I have little patience, girl."

“I’m not my father,” she said. “I haven’t got his skills. You may find me wanting.”

Thanatos’s depthless dark eyes were set on her. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Diana breathed deep, in and out, and opened her mouth.

The sounds coming out of her throat weren't real. They couldn't be. Mikar wouldn't have thought such a pure, powerful, clear voice could possibly exist. She sang. The valley was filled with her voice, responding to it, every bit of grass, every tree, every animal falling silent to listen to the ageless lullaby she sang. The elemental magic the witches were maintaining outside the circle erupted in colorful flames, dancing with her voice. Her voice was a spell. A curse. All here would live the rest of their lives haunted by the melody, seeking more to make sense of their lives.

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