Page 103 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter
“More important than the fate of the world.” With one motion from his hand, the saucepan flew across the room, slamming into the wall, the red sauce spraying like blood over the pale-yellow paint. “More important than me!”
“No, it wasn’t like that! I left word at the restaurant for us to meet tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” he sneered, pacing to the other side of the room, the glass crunching under his feet. “You’d have me wait? For him?” he said, meaning Diego. “You still don’t understand, do you?I’mthe only priority. If our bargain is not met, then none of this matters. I’ll take you and everyone else with me when I go.”
She stared up at Death. His anger was terrifying, even to him. It was mixed with hurt and some kind of betrayal.
“Why are you acting like this?”
Death paced through the kitchen, glass crunching under his bare feet. “I thought you understood after all this time. I was sitting there, waiting, waiting for you, and—you’re here with him?He’s not even worthy.”
Nella gaped at him. “But I’m doing what you asked me to do. I’ve kept our promise for years. Why—”
“Because you picked one ofthemover your commitment to me. Do you think this one—thisboy—is deserving? He knows the truth about that! Did he tell you what he writes in his journal? That one day you’ll wake up and know he’s not enough? That he knows he has nothing to offer you? Did he tell you that?”
Her eyes glittered with tears, the truth pricking at her soul. “Why are you going through his things?”
He growled with frustration. Slammed his fist, sending a crack rippling through the table. The legs sagged as the split worked itself clean through. Nella jumped back as the side nearest to her crashed.
Death gathered her in his arms, forcing her to look up at him. “It’s time to choose! The choice is inevitable. Why can’t you see that?”
The words had barely left his lips when the boy walked in, the cans of tomato sauce rattling together in his bags. He froze, eyes wide at themounds of glass and wood chips, as sauce streaks oozed down the walls, Death’s arms around Nella.
Nella pushed Death away, straightening her hair as if ashamed, chest heaving. How could she even hope to explain?
Diego gawked at her but stepped forward, placing himself between them. “Who the hell are you? Get out of here!”
A bitter blackening sensation rose inside Death, hardening his chest. The boy wasn’t meant to be reaped for some time, but perhaps, like Nella, today was the day Death would make an exception.
Spite trickled through him, warm, oozing, and prickly. “Dear boy, that is simply not the question. The better question is, Who is she?” Death straightened and smiled, the picture of magnanimity. He would simply have to show Nella. He would prove how poor a choice the boy was.
Diego glanced at Nella, baffled, but all she could do was look away—any explanation dying on her lips.
Death’s smile deepened. “Go on. Ask her name.”
“Carmella?” Diego said, as if he were testing it for the first time.
She squished her eyes closed as if to not see when the truth crossed his face. “It’s not Carmella.”
“What? What is it then?”
She opened her eyes, the confusion on his face painful to see. “It’s Nella,” she whispered. “Nella Carter.”
Diego’s face crumpled as he staggered back, away from her lies.
Death snarled at the movement, clenching his fists, mere moments from sapping the life from Diego’s body. “He proves my point. Already he shrinks from you. He’ll never be there for you, not the way you need.” He spun around to face Diego, his voice unctuous, the change in his mood dizzying and dangerous. “So glad we got to meet in person. Nella usually finds the redeemable ones, but I can see you’re nothing of the sort. You’re not creative. You don’t read. You lack ambition. No, sir. You’re far from redeemable. Take your relationship with your father—I’m sure she’d love to hear about that.”
Diego blanched, clutching the edge of the door for support.
“What is he talking about?” Nella asked him, never taking her eyes from Death, her expression murderous.
He frowned at Diego, then leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially to Nella, “I can’t imagine why he didn’t tell you.”
Diego stepped back, distancing himself, almost out the door and into the living room. “I don’t know who you are, but you need to leave, along with your lies.”
Death tsked, his smile bright against his darkness. “Diego, I’m surprised at you. Why didn’t you tell ‘Carmella’ that you were the one who pushed your father to the ground? Right before his heart attack? You love the truth so much, I want to make sure you tell yours.”
Diego flushed as his mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish, the words dying in his throat.
