This Retcon is based loosely on the Sandman series by Neil Gaiman, specifically Death: The High Cost of Living. Credit goes to him and DC comics. Pic Credit: DC Comics. There may be more from the Endless if there is enough demand, so let me know. The writing is a little off beat, in Gaiman's style (or as close to it as I could be) that's why I said maybe. This story, however, is complete.

Part 1

You’ve got to hand it to the internet. Nowhere else on Earth, outside of a loony bin, will you anonymously receive information about something that couldn’t possibly exist and have it sound as if it’s common knowledge. I’m referring, of course, to the Endless.

The bookstore I’d entered, Gaiman’s, wasn’t like those big box monstrosities where you can locate twelve different publications of Pride and Prejudice. No, this one was the kind you see on Syfy, when you stumble across some low budget horror movie in your unending search for something to watch on TV at three in the morning, and they needed a cliché bookstore to have just the book that they were looking for.

The first thing to hit me was the smell: aged paper, moderately dry air, and a touch of mold, to give it some spice. All they needed was some eerie music, a flash of lightning, and Bela Lugosi.

Beyond that, all I could perceive was stacks upon stacks of books.

Thick tomes, uniform paperbacks, some things that might be referred to as pamphlets all stood beside each other using some sort of reference system that existed long before the onset of the Dewey Decimal System.

There was a set of tiny cowbells above the door that announced my presence to anyone within hearing distance. High tech, this place was not.

The lone presence behind the counter to the left, studying a fairly thick and aged book, looked up at me over a pair of bifocals. He could have been sixty or maybe a hundred and sixty, judging by the way he squinted at me with a decidedly annoyed grimace.

“We close in ten minutes.”

I decided to let the rude comment go, because I didn’t have time to look through the entire store in search of my goal.

“I’m looking for information.”

His lips puckered as he looked up again from his reading. “I don’t sell information. I sell books.”

“Okay.” I’ll play his game. “I’m looking for a book.”

He sighed, marked his place with a ragged piece of, what looked to be, velvet and closed his book. “Author’s name, last name first, then title of the book.”

I blinked at him. “Um, that’s my problem. I don’t…”

He looked at me, hard, and stopped for a second, then tilted his head to the side. Lifting his gnarled right hand, I noticed his ring finger, as well as the pinky, was missing below the second joint. He motioned me closer. “Come here. I don’t see so well, anymore.”

After taking a look down the stacks, I edged nearer.

“Oh,” he said with severely disappointed tone to his voice. “You’re one of those.”

He sighed and stood. After grabbing a pitted and stained stick of wood, that might be called a cane, he hobbled out from behind the counter and down the aisle beside the stacks, disappearing into the shadows.

I looked to the side and then back to the entrance for some evidence that it all wasn’t some sort of waking dream I’d conjured. Rubbing at my eyes, I leaned against the counter and regretted it when I heard something snap underneath. The whole place seemed like it was old beyond time, and would collapse under its own weight if given the chance.

A grunt sounded from the shadows and I heard the thump and shuffle of the old man returning. When he reappeared from the darkness, he scowled at me.

“Do I look like I can carry this? Get over here before my lumbago starts acting up again and I charge you double for the effort.”

I didn’t say anything and rushed to his side to heft up a tome that could possibly weigh twenty pounds and looked like it was written sometime in the twelfth century, or thereabouts. I’ve seen the History Channel, when, back in the day, the only way books were created was when some monk took the time to handwrite them. They were gigantic, much like the tome I was holding, all written in Latin script and decorated with hand-drawn pictures of knights, demons, God, what-have-you. Something similar was in my hands.

He hobbled around the counter again. “That’ll be three-fifty. I don’t take checks or credit cards. Cash on the barrelhead.”

My jaw unhinged. “I didn’t even tell you what I was looking for and you want to charge me three hundred and fifty bucks?”

He cocked an eyebrow at me, which would have had a better effect if there were more than five scraggly grey hairs to make up said eyebrow. “Three dollars and fifty cents. That’s the book you were looking for.”

I looked down at the title, engraved, or maybe burned into the ancient leather cover.

“And if you had the sense God gave Adam, you’d leave this book here, turn around, and walk out that door without looking back,” he added.

My brows furrowed when I looked back up at him. His face was grim, but then again I hadn’t seen it when it wasn’t. “But…”

“No buts, boy. Once any one of those things sets their sights on you, you’ll never be the same.” He squinted at me and shook his head. “You’ll ignore my warning, pay for the book, and then you’ll see.”

I should have LisTeNEd.

I didn’t arbitrarily seek out information about mythical beings. I’m just not that kind of person. Facts, logic, corporeal things are what I believe in. So, how did I find myself browsing the internet and then visiting an odd bookstore in the Village?

It was a high school football game. I was simply a spectator; one of many. A player was severely injured on the field. It was an occasional occurrence that nobody likes to see, however accidents happen. In this particular case, a young Goth girl entered the field, wedging her way through the crown of coaches, referees, and trainers, only to exit a few moments later, holding the player’s hand.

I was about to stand and start clapping, but the whole situation was more than a little odd. Looking around, I watched the spectators. They carried on like they hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary, still waiting to find out what happened.

I stood and made my way down a few rows, watching the beautiful girl and the player walk off.

The girl slowed for a moment and glanced at me, but continued on leaving me with nothing but a playful wink.

Quickly following behind, I saw them open the door to the locker room underneath the stands, except there weren’t any lights on.

“Hey,” I yelled. “Wait!”

I didn’t get there before the door had closed. When I opened it, there was light, as there should have been, to begin with.

That’s when the announcement had come over the PA system. The injured player was dead, and we were to leave in an orderly fashion. I never made it back to see. The crowd was too heavy and security ushered everyone out.

The next morning the local newspaper described his injury: a broken neck. A picture, included with the article, revealed the face of the same person the Goth girl walked off the field with. I’d witnessed something that just wasn’t possible.

The book wasn’t written in Latin, or even Old English, as I thought would be the case, since it was so old. It was plain everyday English.

I looked up and around the semi-deserted restaurant. Patience wasn’t one of my virtues. That’s why I hadn’t made it back to my apartment before succumbing to the urge to drink a cup of coffee and maybe sift through the first few pages of the book.

After my third cup, a plate of homemade biscuits smothered in gravy, and slice of reheated peach cobbler, I’d only made it to the third page. Even though the writing was in English, it was large artful blocked letters that were bunched up so close so it was incredibly difficult to read. A’s looked like N’s and O’s looked like Q’s. It was all very annoying.

“Wow, I haven’t seen one of those in a while,” said a female voice out of nowhere.

I startled and nearly knocked over my half empty cup of coffee, only spilling a drop or two before I righted it. Looking up, across from me in the booth was the girl.

My breath caught and all movement of mine froze.

She was very pale-skinned and very shiny black hair, looking somewhat windswept and full. The only visible clothing was a black camisole, and around her neck hung a silver link chain with a very large ankh dangling from the bottom. The last thing, and most important, in my opinion was her face. Compassion exuded from her expression. Her irises were very light-grey in color. Her right eye was traced or perhaps tattooed with an Egyptian symbol I recognized: the Eye of Horus, with the little curly-cue hanging underneath the outside.

I could easily fall in love with her face, and I’m sure it showed by my slacked jaw and dumb expression I had decorating it at the moment.

She smiled at me. “You’ve been doing research since you saw me last night.”

I nodded.

Holding out her hand, she gestured at the book. “Do you mind?”

I barely shook my head. She could have anything she wanted. I didn’t care. Just as long as she stayed right there so I could look at her.

She spun the book around and fingered through a large handful of pages, eventually stopping and spinning it back around.

“Look down at the book, Jasper Pennybaker,” she said softly.

Anything for her.

When my gaze broke from hers, my mind cleared, somewhat. What she pointed at was a picture of a cloaked figure, holding a large crooked pole with a giant wicked blade jutting horizontally from the end, a scythe.

“It’s not a very flattering picture, but it’s essentially correct. This is the part I want you to read.” I started to look back up but she held up her hand. “When you finish, I’ll return and I’ll have a question for you.”

I swallowed and managed to finally say something. “Who are you?”

I looked up; enough to see her lips pull apart and turn into a beautiful smile. “We’ve met once before, but you probably don’t remember.” She stood and stuffed her fingers in a pair of tight black jeans. “Almost everyone sees me twice in their lifetime, Jasper Pennybaker; once at the beginning and once at the end. You’re one of a select few that will see me more than that.”

I should have LisTeNEd.

She was there, in the morning, sitting on the edge of my bed. The girl added a black linen jacket to her ensemble. Something was different about her. When I looked at her face, I wasn’t as smitten as I was the previous day.

“I’m toning down my natural aura,” she said.

I rubbed at the sleep still in my eyes. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have stared. Hold on…” I paused. “How did you get in here?”

Her eyes moved to the table beside my bed. “You’ve read the portion of the book concerning me, Jasper. Should it surprise you that I can be anywhere that I choose to be?”

I swallowed and felt the dryness of my throat. “You’re Death.”

“And you’re mortal.”

My hands started shaking and it wasn’t because I was cold. Death smiled upon me and I was afraid.

“I am not here to claim you, Jasper, but to ask a boon instead.”

The air I was holding in my lungs rushed out and I felt an immediate sense of relief. A laugh erupted from deep down at how terrified I’d been during that short span of time. She smiled again.

“Um, what…” I stuttered. “What can I do? I mean, you’re Death.”

She looked around my room, pausing briefly at the pictures of my friends and family strewn across the dresser.

“Every hundred or so years, I take a break in my duties and reconnect with mortals. To understand why they value life and sometimes beg or plead for me to stay my hand.”

I couldn’t fathom what she was saying or why she was telling me this.

"I'm not merciful or blessed. I'm just me. I've got a job to do and I do it. When the first living thing existed, I was there. Waiting. When the last living thing dies, my job will be finished. I'll put the chairs on the tables, turn out the lights and lock the universe behind me when I leave."

Billions of years, she had existed. The thought was unimaginable. “What does this have to do with me?”

“For eighteen hours, Jasper Pennybaker, I want to borrow your body.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

Death nodded once. “You’re excused. But I still want to borrow your body.” She stood and walked lazily around the small room, touching things in curiosity. “You see, every time I’ve take one of these little sabbaticals, I’ve borrowed a female body of a species.”

“Species?”

She looked back at me with a smile and a nod as she fingered a bowling trophy I’d won three years before. “Uh huh, I’m omnipresent. That includes the rest of the universe as well. Right at this moment, across the universe, there are versions of me talking to versions of you on all of the planets that support sentient life.”

I looked to the side trying to comprehend that. “There are a lot of those planets?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Oh yes.” She picked up the trophy and gave it a childlike grin. “As I was saying, I’ve only chosen females in the past and I realize that it was an error on my part. So, here I am.”

My hand found its way to the book on the Endless. “The guy I bought this from said…”

Death rolled her eyes. “Yes… Neil.” She said it with a mild tone of annoyance in her voice. “He’s had… difficulty with my older brother. One should never actively seek out one of the Endless. Unexpected things could happen. Offend one of them in the wrong way and, phew.”

She laughed and mocked wiping sweat off her brow.

“However, it is Death that asks a boon of you, Jasper Pennybaker, and not the other way around.”

Frankly I didn’t see much of a difference, but to be on the safe side I decided to clarify a couple of things. “You said you wanted to borrow my body. That means I get it back just like right now, it wouldn’t hurt me or anything?”

Death waved me away. “Don’t be silly. Yes, just like now. It would be eighteen hours older, mind you, so you will be minus a few skin cells and your fingernails will be a fraction of a millimeter longer, but nothing that would have happened to you anyway will happen to you in the interim.”

I nodded in thought. “And what happens to me while you’re in there?”

She clapped her hands once and bounced. “Oh, you’ll control this body, of course.”

My eyes widened.

I DID some rEAlly

LiKe, really bad. You

~Delirium, of the Endless

“Sister, wake up.”

Twice in one day, I had been awoken by girls in my bedroom, sitting on my bed. Since I knew for a fact that I hadn’t slept with either of them, I also knew that neither of them was supposed to be there.

“I fell asleep once. Except I wasn’t asleep, and then Barnabas ate one of my fish. That was when I sat on the green mouse flavored ice cream. You know? It tasted bad.”

I rubbed at my eyes, only then did I realize that I wasn’t me anymore. I was her, Death. Only I wasn’t Death. I was just in her body and she was in mine. She must have put me back to sleep or something.

“Do you have a pickle?”

I glanced up at the girl. The odor coming off of her reminded me of sweat, late nights, cheap wine, and old leather. I can’t even describe what she was wearing only to say it was a little bit of everything, and all of it wrinkled and in disrepair. One side of her head was shaven, the back was spiky and the other side was long and unkempt, but under it all looked to be a preteen girl.

“Uh, no.”

“Poo.”

“What?”

She looked around as she was randomly digging into her pocket. “Why are we here?”

“I live here. Why are you here?” Sitting up, I swung my dainty legs to the side.

“I forget.”

The fog was lifting from my brain and I started to remember everything. Death had been there. I finally agreed, and we switched, then nothing. It was Death. What was I supposed to say, No? Right, then she might have sucked my soul right then and there. At least this time I stood a chance of coming out of the situation with her owing me, and a chance to fulfill a semi-secret fantasy.

Looking down, I saw her body. My hands found their way to my abdomen and trailed upward to the medium sized breasts that were under the black camisole. That’s when I remembered that I had uninvited company.

I looked at her staring at me with childhood wonder in her eyes. “Did your boobs fall off again?”

“Uh, no.” Before she had a chance to respond with some other idiotic statement, I butted in. “I’m not Death.”

She frowned. “I hate it when this happens.”

The girl abruptly stood and wrapped her arms around me. The smell was awful, but I patted her a little on the back in hopes that she would break it off quicker.

“I love you, Sister. You should stay the way you are more often. I don’t like it when you’re not you.” She increased the pressure. “I wasn’t me once. There was a big flood, and I got really wet in that, only it wasn’t really rain, it was that gunky stuff in people’s eyes. You know? I wish I could remember what it’s called.”

She pulled back and looked at me like I was going to help her figure out the correct term for eye gunk. One of her eyes was a cerulean blue and the other lime green, just as mismatched as everything else about her. It was crazy. She was crazy.

“I wonder if Dream is still busy sorting his socks.”

Grabbing onto the opening I rushed in. “Why don’t you find out and I’ll, um, I’ll be along later, okay?”

She kind of smiled, but it didn’t look right on her face. Instead she reached into her pockets again and pulled out a rainbow colored fish with a piece of string attached behind its gills almost like a dog collar and leash. When the girl released it, the fish floated above her and started tugging her along.

“Down the road I go. I’m following my fishie…” she sang as she disappeared through the bedroom door.

I shook my head. My life had obviously become an amusement park ride for the supernatural. Looking at the clock on the bedside table, I noted that the majority of the day had been spent. Death had cheated me out of ten hours, by putting me to sleep. While I wasn’t all hip-hip-hooray about letting someone walk away with my body I did want the chance to experience what it was like to live on the other side of the tracks.

What person doesn’t wonder about how the opposite sex lives?

But there I was with only eight more hours left. What could a really hot Goth girl do in only eight hours?

After washing my hand and feeling decidedly warm and somewhat satisfied after a little self-exploration, I exited the bathroom and the patted down Death’s pockets. All I found was a thin set of gloves, poking halfway out of one of them. But then again, what does Death need with stuff like keys, money, a pocketknife, or any other things normal people carry with them?

Looking where I normally stored my wallet and sundry other items, in a candy dish on my dresser, I noticed that everything was missing.

“Well, I guess she’d need them if she was walking around in my body…” I groaned. “And driving around in my car.”

That meant if I wanted to go anywhere decent, I’d need to take the bus.

I sighed and hunted down my spare ATM card and apartment key, so I’d at least have money and a way to secure the place before I left. Once that was done, I shoved both of them in my front pocket, since the jeans didn’t have butt pockets and the ones that were included with the linen jacket were false.

A quick look in the mirror, by the front door and I smiled. “Girls have it so easy. The world is at their fingertips.”

I leaned in and fingered the Horus marking under my right eye, trying to figure out if it was natural or a tattoo. It was darker than any artificial marking I’d ever seen, and it gave my pale skin a decidedly exotic appearance surrounding that grey eye that could look through a person’s soul. My finger moved down my tiny pert nose and traced my full lips, promising pleasures beyond measure.

Before I got distracted again, I smiled at myself and exited the apartment.

I was glad she chose to wear flat-soled boots. Having never experimented with women’s shoes in my lifetime, I couldn’t imagine navigating the stairs in high heels.

While the body I occupied was shorter, and much thinner than my original, I noticed other differences as well. Everything moved smoother, with grace if you will. There was a very gentle sway of the hips and subtle bounce in the breast area that was pleasant. I’d never been more aware or how my body moves in my life. Maybe it’s because I grew up with something different and never really thought about it, or maybe it was because, in my opinion, Death was the perfect girl.

There was nothing about her that I disapproved of. She didn’t have over exaggerated body parts like gigantic fake breasts or J-Lo hips. They were in perfect proportion to her body. I wasn’t really into the Goth scene, but some people can pull it off, like the look was specifically made for them. Death was one of those people. Even the tattoo — I hate tattoos on girls, however on this face, it belonged. All in all, I was supremely satisfied with my experience. I couldn’t have asked for a better body to experiment with.

Since I hated busses, I decided to stay in the neighborhood. I had about six more hours left and I wanted to experience everything I could, short of sex. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to get Death’s body knocked up, and I did have a little fun earlier, with a self-induced test run.

Running up the stairs to my apartment, I stifled a giggle.

Teasing the guys and girls I danced with was an experience I’d never forget. The free drinks and mild workout set my body humming on an energy high, or it might have been the alcohol. Either way, I felt great and I wished I could have had a little more time to explore other avenues, maybe like a weekend or perhaps an entire week as a girl.

When I reached the top of the stairs I fished my key out and sighed. Still, it was a once in a lifetime chance to have a real fantasy come true, and I’d taken it. Not only that, I enjoyed virtually every second. There were no regrets.

Death was sitting on my bed waiting for me, with a smile gracing my original body’s face. “Have fun?”

I grinned from ear to ear. “That was the best. Thank you for the experience.”

Death nodded. “You’re welcome. And thank you for letting me borrow your body. Being male definitely has its advantages.”

I shrugged while I pulled out my cash, ATM card, setting them and my key in the candy dish. “I think both sides have their advantages and faults.”

He cocked my head to the side and sent me a little smile. “Which do you like better?”

Leaning against the dresser, I thought about it. “Leaving all the obvious things aside, I felt more in touch with myself as a girl.” I grinned and blinked at the implied ramifications of that statement. “That sounds weird, doesn’t it?”

He shook my head. “Not at all. One of the reasons I chose to borrow a man’s body this time was because I’ve been feeling incomplete recently. As Death, I need to understand what drives all of the souls I come to claim. I was unknowingly denying myself all these millennia.”

She made my body and face look so wise, something I don’t think I’d ever accomplish. After leaning back a little and bracing my body’s hands behind it, she continued. “So, you finding a little of yourself that was lost in all the maleness isn’t unusual.”

A glance at the clock ended our conversation. “It’s time,” announced.

I nodded, and crossed the floor to stand in front of my original body as it stood up. Death took a hold of the ankh necklace and stretched out the linked chain to slip over my head as we did before.

“Ready?”

I stalled, looking uncertain. Death looked at me knowingly and then leaned in, connecting our lips.

All during the night I had resisted using her body to do anything untoward. I had been tempted to lock lips several times with a number of different men and women, just to see what it was like. However, it wasn’t my body to experiment with in that way. So I held back.

The experience was mind-blowing. I didn’t know if it was the fact that I was literally receiving the kiss of death, or because there was that much difference between kissing as a man as a woman.

My hands ran up to encircle Death’s neck as I pulled him down to deepen the connection.

“Sister! You have a boyfriend!”

Death pulled back, alarmed. “Del, No!”

The crazy girl was back and she collided with the both of us for another one of her stinky hugs.

When I became aware again, not a lot of time could have passed, but since I was on my knees at the moment, I knew I was missing a few minutes.

“Jasper?” Death’s voice, her female voice, called out to me.

I swayed slightly, but she kept me steady. Her beautiful features came into focus.

“Jasper, can you hear me?”

I managed a weak nod.

Hearing a relieved sigh, I focused on her. “What happened?”

She giggled. “My sister, Del.” With a glance to the side I saw who she was indicating. “She hugged us in the middle of the transference.”

I gave her a slow drunken blink. “That’s bad?”

Death shrugged. “Strange things happen when a mortal is in the presence of Delirium of the Endless.”

Del gave me that odd smile of hers. “Does this mean I have two sisters now?”

My eyes widened and I looked down. Everything was as it should be. I was back in my male body again and Death was in her female body, although we both were wearing our own silver ankh. I fingered it for a moment and then lifted it up with a question on my face.

Death shrugged. “It doesn’t contain any of the power that mine does. As far as I can see, it’s just a regular ankh.” She smiled knowingly. “Consider it a keepsake of our time together.”

Leaning in, she kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you again sometime, Jasper Pennybaker. Have a fun life.”

When she backed away, Delirium squeezed in for her own stinky hug. Directly afterward she had me bend down so she could whisper something into my ear. “Goodbye sister-brother. Don’t learn too much. Sometimes truth is not as pretty as fish.”

I stifled a laugh, but then I saw she had a very serious look on her face, and for the briefest of moments she didn’t look insane.

“Come on, Del. I think Jasper has had enough strangeness in his life.”

Delirium backed away. “She sure has. Did I tell you about how strange Dream acted when his socks tasted pink?”

Part Two

Since I’d met Delirium and Death, of the Endless, my life has been anything but normal. The bookseller at Gaiman’s was right. Those that meet them are never the same afterward.

Sometimes I’d find myself pausing in the middle of my work, selling stock to retired people, and just looking out the window, considering a pigeon perching on the sill. Wondering how much those powerful aspects of the universe were above me, like I was above the pigeon.

It sat there probably thinking, instinctual thoughts: food, danger, prey, nesting, and probably not much else. Was I as simple to those primordial beings like the Endless?

Then there would be times when something odd would happen, like the previous day when Cathy, the office intern, brought in a sack of fruit she’d bought at the farmers market. All of it looked very good. I grabbed an orange and sat it on my desk for a mid-morning snack. When I finally got around to peeling it, it was dry and moldy inside, like it had been sitting around for weeks, on the verge of folding in on itself.

That had happened to me a few times, and not just fruit. A desk I used at home; it was made of oak, and only a couple of years old. Three days previous the top of it collapsed under the weight of my monitor. The wood was dry and aged, some of it even turned to dust.

It made me think that anything I touched went through some sort of time machine and came out the other end an aged desiccated husk.

Stupid, right?

Like before, I searched for answers. The book I bought at Gaiman’s still lay on the bedside table, untouched since I’d read up on Delirium.

I shook my head in remembrance of the little girl who was almost as old as the universe itself. I tried not to think of her, or even to not think chaotically. Since she had met me, I was on her radar. She considered me her brother, or rather her sister-brother, since I allowed Death to borrow my body and Delirium witnessed the switch back. The girl was seriously touched in the head.

Opening the drawer to the nightstand, I withdrew the ankh that Death left for me and thought of the irony it brought forth. The Ankh was the Egyptian symbol of eternal life. How fitting it was the sigil of Death.

Holding it brought to mind her face and her grey eyes, her endearing smile, her cute giggle. I missed it.

Pathetic, isn’t it? I was more than a little in love with someone that I could never have. She was as far above me as that pigeon I spoke of. How could someone that’s been around for billions of years…

I stopped that mode of thought. It was less than worthless to consider or desire anything like that.

Bringing the ankh to my lips, I kissed it and set it back in the drawer. “I miss you.”

Three weeks had passed since my introduction to another level of reality. I’d taken to wearing Death’s gift to me around my neck and under my clothes. I just couldn’t get her out of my mind, which was a little more than odd.

After deepening my research, I’d learned that the average mortal, that might meet an Endless through mere chance, well, they’d forget about them or pass them off as a trick of the eye or the result of an overactive imagination. I, on the other hand, was obsessed with them.

When not engaged in everyday life, I would drift in thought, and wind up thinking about what she was doing. Was she taking someone’s soul or visiting a newborn? Statistical evidence provided by the government told me that a little under a half-million people are born and die every day, worldwide. Keeping in mind her assertion about sentient alien worlds in the universe, yes, it was a safe statement to assume Death was quite busy.

However, being an omnipresent personification of death allowed her not to be overwhelmed.

For the hundredth time, I pushed thoughts of her aside and routed around in the refrigerator for something to eat. With a frown, I realized that I needed to go shopping, so I opted for cold cereal.

After doling out a decent amount of Captain Crunch, I popped open the milk and started pouring it on top, only for it to issue forth in great clumps of sour, curdled nastiness. My appetite quickly took a back seat to disgust.

“What the hell?”

I checked the sell by date on the brand new, never been opened, quart of milk. It still had a week and a half left. I’m anal about my milk. Yes, I’m one of those annoying people that search every container in the store to find the freshest milk that’s available, and the freshest one I could find was probably the equivalent of four months old.

“That’s it,” I said in frustration. “Something is seriously wrong.”

The cereal, along with the milk went into the garbage which had to be taken out before it smelled up the entire apartment.

When I returned, I grabbed my keys, wallet, and coat, slipped on my gloves and headed to the one person that might have the answers that I was looking for.

The small cowbells clanged together as I entered Gaiman’s for the second time in a month. Normally I’m not much of a bookstore kind of person. I prefer to pull my reading material off the internet through Kindle. I do my little bit for the environment by not wasting paper, keep my apartment clean and orderly, and if I could get the damn thing from freezing up all the time, right when I’m at the good part of the story, I’d be happy. Anyway, what I’m getting at is I don’t visit bookstores much.

The old guy was sitting behind the counter, and I could swear that he hadn’t moved an inch from where he was the last time I saw him.

“I’m not open yet,” he growled without looking up.

I thumbed behind me. “Your door’s unlocked and the open sign reads open.”

He glanced up at me with the same sour look he gave last time. “Oh,” he looked mildly surprised and then somewhat disgusted right afterward. “It’s you. Still alive I see.”

I licked my lips thoughtfully, thinking about how to broach the subject, and then decide to just jump in with both feet. “Death said that you had some dealings with her older brother.”

He was somewhat startled, but he hid it well. Only the slightest tick of his lips betrayed his uneasiness.

“So it was the Grim Reaper that you sought out,” he said as a matter of fact.

I shook my head and looked around. “No, it was the other way around.”

This time he didn’t hold back the shock. “And you’re still alive? Death only reveals herself to a person, twice.”

With a nod, I confirmed what he knew. “She wanted a favor.”

Now he understood. “That explains why you’re still in one piece.” He waggled his right hand at me and I noted the two missing fingers again. “I wasn’t so lucky with Destiny.”

He looked bitter about the incident, so I chose not to inquire further.

“About that whole one piece thing; I think she left me with something. I was wondering if…” Leaving the question hanging there, I was hoping he’d do that magic trick thing he did last time and know exactly what kind of book I needed to fix what was wrong.

The shopkeeper took a more intense look at me. “Two arms, all your fingers, two legs and feet. She took something?” His eyes widened a little and he looked at my crotch. “Not…”

Instinctually, I covered my privates. “No, everything is still there.” Closing my eyes, I tried to think of a way to not sound like a complete lunatic. I suppose it just wasn’t meant to be. “Everything I touch, ages, or rots, I don’t know which.”

He looked thoughtful for a few moments and then pursed his lips. “Lock the door and turn the closed sign around. I don’t want us to be interrupted.”

Relief surged through me as I followed his directions. After I’d flipped the plastic open/closed sign, I heard the thump and shuffle of him moving around with his old cane. When I returned, there was a well-worn stool waiting for me that I tentatively sat on.

I wound up telling my story from the first time I saw her at the football game, through my visit to the store, my subsequent meeting at the restaurant, and the day when Death borrowed my body.

When I got to the part where Delirium showed up, the shopkeeper shuddered.

“That girl is a menace.”

I shrugged. “She really wasn’t that bad, just smelly.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.” He tapped his cane on the floor a few times, in thought. “You have to understand that she is the living embodiment of insanity. She’s not some little girl that is touched in the head. Her perception of reality is skewed and she alters the world around her to fit that reality.”

Lifting up his cane, he pointed the head of it at me in a telling gesture. “Everything she says is suspect. Just by casually thinking about something, she can influence a change.”

That sent my thoughts off into various realms. How many times had I simply thought of something beyond the norm? My fantasy life was a good example. Staring at a pretty girl and wondering what she would look like in certain outfits of a perverted nature, or maybe how much I couldn’t stand some of my co-workers and wished them ill. Those thoughts were never voiced or even take seriously. But what would happen if they actually were?

I got the head of the cane again. “You see what I’m talking about now,” he said with satisfaction. “Now, here’s the hard part. I need you to think about everything she said to you, no matter how irrelevant it may seem. When you have that, you’ll have the answer to your problem.”

Absentmindedly, I stroked the ankh underneath my shirt.

He looked at my hand with a frown. “What are you doing there?”

I lifted my gaze to him. “Oh… yeah. I forgot.”

Slipping off my glove, I reached inside and withdrew the necklace. Upon seeing it, I could swear that his breathing changed.

“Is that what I think it is?” An eagerness edged into his voice.

“Probably not. When I switched back, I had this around my neck. Death said it was just another necklace and it didn’t have any power.”

“Hmph,” the shopkeeper grunted. “None of her power, perhaps. What about her sister’s? Hmm?”

I moved to deny that Delirium had anything to do with what was going on, in some half-assed natural defense I normally give out when people pick on those that are mentally unbalanced, but I stopped and left my mouth wide open in realization.

The guy was right. Delirium wasn’t some preteen that had issues. She truly was a billions-year old entity. Death, herself said that odd things happen when she’s around. What if, while Death was switching us back, Delirium had somehow interfered with the process and maybe Death wasn’t entirely gone.

Raising my hand, I looked at it with trepidation. “Are you saying that…” I swallowed. “I… I have the Touch of Death?”

His lips pursed as he too was looking at my hand with a little more respect. “You might want to put your glove back on, boy. No need in tempting fate.”

It made a little sense. Everything semi-natural that I’d been touching was dying, died a little faster, or moved well on its way through the death process. Foods spoiled, my desk dried and rotted, but what about other things?

“This isn’t happening all the time!” I pointed at him. “I work with the public and shake hands all the time. Why aren’t my bedsheets turning to dust, or or or my steering wheel crumbling?” I tried to think of everything I touched throughout the day, which was impossible.

The old man shrugged. “Could be any number of reasons. Perhaps it takes time to recharge and you’ve just been lucky, or maybe it’s just leaking through, or perhaps you have some sort of subconscious control. The only way you’re going to find out is by talking to Death.”

I looked at him like he was insane. “People aren’t supposed to ask favors of the Endless. It says so in the book. Death said so.”

“I told you that nobody comes away from a meeting with one of them as same person. There’s always a cost. You should have listened.”

I should have LisTeNEd.

Fear is a multi-edged sword, screw just the two-edged thing. I was scared from so many different directions that it was pathetic. With a touch, I could possibly kill things. If I called on Death, I could maybe wind up making things even worse. But if I didn’t, then I’d wind up having this thing for the rest of my life. I could maybe call Delirium and wind up as one of those floating fish things at the end of her leash. Everything was a no win scenario.

When it doubt, I find it a good and safe course of action to go home, turn out all the lights, pick up a bottle of peach schnapps and drink myself into a coma. The problem was that I only had a third of the bottle left from the last time I was feeling sorry for myself, and by the time I’d finished it, I was only at an average drunk.

“Oh, we’re here again,” said a familiar young voice.

I jumped and dropped the empty schnapps bottle in the semi-darkness. It was still daylight outside, noonish actually, and heavy curtains could only do so much. Delirium was sitting on the end of the couch.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. My tongue felt rather thick.

She looked down at the dropped bottle. “I’m always at the end of one of those.”

Oh God, remind me to never drink again. My brain was going in ten different directions. I didn’t know whether to run and hide, or maybe just jump up and insist she put me back to the way I was before all of the mess started. Instead, I just sat there and voiced the first opinion that popped into my head.

“I kill things with my hands.”

Okay, it wasn’t much of an opinion, more of a fact really.

She gave me that half-grin that I still had nightmares about. “I have blackberry preserves between my toes.”

I giggled a helpless laugh.

Delirium rummaged around in her pockets and she withdrew a bottle of bubbles similar to what I remembered playing with as a kid. She fished around for the plastic wand, dipped it inside and blew a single multicolored bubble, shaped like a rabbit. It didn’t float to the floor like normal bubbles, instead, it drifted around the room until it was joined by a bubble-frog, and a bubble-Christmas nutcracker soldier, all produced from a circular wand.

I was too drunk to actually say anything worthwhile and it must have been twenty minutes later my entire living room was awash with a kaleidoscope of bubble-impossibilities.

Forcing a measure of sobriety through to my brain, I concentrated on the Endless sitting on my couch. “Have you seen Death recently?”

She nodded and blew another bubble, this time in the exact likeness of Dick Cheney. I blinked and then rubbed at my eyes.

“She wouldn’t happen to be dropping by, would she?”

Delirium shrugged. “If you want to talk to her, sister-brother, then just call her.”

My eyes rolled randomly. “I forgot her number.” What? It makes as much since as anything she had to say.

Her eyes dropped to the ankh I was fingering. “It’s okay, sister-brother, I try to forget things too, but I really don’t. I see things that others don’t.”

That, I can truly believe, well maybe without a two or three tabs of a strong hallucinogenic.

She put the wand back into the bubble flask and the shoved it into her pocket. I tried to forget the fact that she never put the top back on and soapy solution was probably spilling everywhere. That explained why she smelled so bad. God knows what else was in there.

Leaning toward me, she took hold of my ankh. “Sister, I hold your sigil in my hand. Will you visit with me and our sister-brother?”

I squinted at Delirium. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Hello, Jasper Pennybaker.” Death entered the living room from the bedroom door. “Del, why are you here?”

She gave Death a strange smile. “Sister-brother is drunk and he kills things with his hands. And I have strawberry jelly between my toes.”

“I thought it was blackberry preserves,” I said.

Delirium laid her head in my lap and stroked my denim covered thigh. “That too.”

Death’s eyebrows lifted a little. “Del, Destruction said that Barnabas is hungry and you should feed him.”

The personification of insanity bolted up. “Oh! I knew I forgot something.”

I know I should have just kept my mouth shut, but considering the drunk I was experiencing, I simply couldn’t help myself. “Who’s Barnabas?”

Delirium tilted her head at me. “He’s this doggy. He’s a very clever doggy. He says things like... like... ‘I would feel infinitely more comfortable in your presence if you would agree to treat gravity as a law, rather than one of a number of suggested options.’”

She faded away leaving her bubble collection floating around.

Death was wearing a long black lace skirt and a crocheted coverup over a black lace top of some kind. She was still as beautiful as ever, but in my drunken state I wasn’t as affected by her presence as last time.

She looked me over and crossed the room to stand in front of me. I blinked at her, looked up at grinned. “Hi.”

She smiled, lifted up her skirt to her knees, and straddled my lap before lowering herself down to take a closer look at me. I felt the cool touch of her hand on my cheek and across my forehead. Her touch felt so good. I’d missed it so much.

“Jasper?”

Opening my eyes, I was surprised that she was so close and I was becoming increasingly more sober with each passing second.

“Hmm?”

“You’re different from the last time we spoke,” she said.

“I know. I kill things with my hands now. You smell good.”

Her lips formed into a smile. “Now I know you’re different.”

I took a deep breath and realized I could really smell her. It wasn’t any perfume or soap that I recognized. It was earthy, and cold, a natural scent that reminded me of death.

She took my right wrist in her hand and tugged off the glove. I tried pulling it away. “Don’t touch it. It’ll hurt you,” I warned.

Death smirked at me. “Somehow, I doubt that, Jasper.”

When it was free, she slid her cool fingers between mine and clasped our palms together. Her eyes opened in curious surprise. “Ah, there is something there; only, it’s not exactly my power. Close, but not exactly right.”

Her free hand gently took hold of my jaw. “Look into my eyes, Jasper Pennybaker.”

I didn’t have a choice. Her voice compelled me, but I would have done so anyway. She had her own wide and open, delving deep into me, swallowing every ounce of what made me, me. Memories played across the movie screen of my mind. Every moment since she and her sister had left, the first time, was open to Death. She saw me live my dull existence, day to day. She witnessed the times that I aged various things and the time I spent with the shopkeeper at Gaiman’s.

Death saw how much I’d missed her.

And then I was myself again. She had a wistful smile playing across her lips. “The Endless cannot love mortals, Jasper. It’s one of our most stringent rules.”

I looked away, ashamed of my thoughts betraying me.

Death hadn’t released her hold on my face and she tugged it back. “The thing is you’re not exactly mortal anymore.”

She tugged me to my feet with little effort and we walked toward my bedroom, except it wasn’t there anymore. In its place was a darkness that I’d seen once before.

Thoughts of the locker room, where she escorted the dead football player, came to mind and I almost panicked. Sensing my distress, Death stopped before entering the blackness.

“Don’t be afraid, Jasper. We’re going to my place and from there to another place. There are some questions that need answering and I think you’ll need to be there for that.”

I licked my lips in nervousness, but nodded, trusting her. “Okay.”

The black was cold, but it wasn’t. I felt a tingling run across my skin and a rush of something ran through me. From there, it was like walking from one room into another, only not as clean.

Apparently Death lived in a rent controlled apartment in New York, and she was a slob. Books set in stacks here and there. She had a worn couch, and an old coffee table with several water stains on top. Across from that was an old stereo system with a closed turntable and a goldfish bowl on top with a really fat goldfish and a really skinny one as well.

A slight giggle broke me from my observations. “Well, I wasn’t really expecting that,” she said.

I looked down at myself and sucked in a breath. I was her again, Death. Only she was still herself and I was an exact duplicate, except I was wearing the same outfit I had on last time. “I’m you again.”

She giggled again. “Yeah, I see.”

“Wha… what happened?”

She took ahold of me by the upper arms. “Calm down, Jasper. You’re perfectly fine, and if I’m right, when we return to your apartment, you’ll be you again. Here on the Etheric, everything takes on its true form. There are no illusions, no masks.”

“But…”

Death nodded sagely at me. “This is starting to make more sense, however I would like to ask my brother to confirm my suspicions before I say anything more, alright?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

She smiled at me, that same beautiful, calming, exhilarating smile that calmed me and made me flush all at once. “Now, come, sister-brother.”

“Not you too,” I whined.

We walked through the apartment to a closed door. “Del is many things, Jasper, but she sees a lot that none of us is aware of. There are no illusions for her, ever, so she saw that you were different and correctly addressed you. I shouldn’t have played it off as her eccentricity three weeks ago.”

When we entered the second room, I saw seven portraits adorning the walls and nothing else. Each portrait had a single item painted in the center: an ankh, a heart, a ring with a sharp hook arcing off the end, a sword, a weird looking skull with a bunch of bones hanging around it, one with just a swirl of colors, and lastly a book with chains binding the corners. It was the last one that Death and I approached.

She placed my hand, which she was holding, on her shoulder and then took hold of the frame’s edges. “Brother, I hold your sigil in my hands. May I visit your domain?”

Another rush went through me and then next thing I knew I was standing in a large, very well maintained garden maze. There were no hedges and the pathways were made of something like concrete, but not really. The grass was shorn an inch or two high and everything was beautiful, very peaceful and orderly.

“Where are we?” I asked.

Lacing our fingers together, once more, Death tugged me along. “This is the domain of Destiny. He holds the Book of the Universe that contains all that was and all that will ever be. Needless to say, he reads a lot.”

Nervousness crawled up my spine. “Is this the same guy that, um, took that guy’s fingers at Gaiman’s?”

She nodded with a knowing look. “I suggest that you don’t try to steal a peek at the Book.”

“Gotcha.”

In the center of the little maze stood a tall person, holding a book that made the one I bought off the old man at the store look like a child’s primer. The thing was probably three times the size, maybe three by two feet in proportion and it was a good ten inches thick. It had to weigh close to fifty pounds, but he was holding it like it was nothing at all. The odd part was the chain that was strapped to his wrist that led to the binding at the bottom. I suppose that information of the totality of the universe was in high demand and needed to be secure.

Death announced our presence. “Brother.”

“Sisters.”

She squeezed my hand and grinned triumphantly at me. “I assume you’re up on current events, Brother?”

The book closed and Destiny turned around. The only thing that was visible under his full length grey robes was his face, and even that was cloaked in shadows. One thing I was able to see was that he had no eyes. There were sockets for them, but they were sunken and flat about a quarter of the way inside. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how he was able to read anything without any eyes. Perhaps the Book of the Universe was in braille. That would suck.

Destiny’s head turned toward me and then back to Death. “Indeed.”

“So, don’t keep us in suspense. What’s up with the clone?”

“I’m not a clone,” I protested.

“Jasper, you look exactly like me. You’re not my twin since I was born before life existed and you were born a little over twenty-six years ago. Roll with it, cutie.”

Destiny cradled his book in his left arm. “In the simplest of terms, Sister, Jasper Pennybaker is your offspring, of a sort. When you returned to your body at the end of your sabbatical, Delirium interposed her chaotic nature into the process.”
i
I thought Death was going to pass out. Her jaw slacked and she looked paler than I’d seen her before. “I’m a mommy?”

Destiny’s lips pursed. “I said, of a sort. Honestly, Sister, why do I even bother to explain anything when you only pick and choose what to hear? She is more a creation than an offspring.” His tone of voice was dry and somewhat annoyed. “That which has been introduced into his body is a mixture of your purview and that of Delirium.”

Death’s eyebrows bunched up. “Del’s a mommy too?”

I couldn’t hold back any longer. “You’re not my mommy… my mother. I was born twenty-six years ago. I know who my mother is.”

That’s when I found myself under the intense non-gaze of the eldest of the Endless. “You are no longer that person, Jasper Pennybaker. However, you are not entirely one of the Endless either.”

“Yeah, I sensed that too,” said Death.

I looked back and forth between the two of them. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Death turned to me and took my free hand in hers. “It means that you are part mortal. Each of the Endless was created when there was a need for us. We were made from the Void and Chaos, but you…”

“You and Delirium changed me.” I pulled from her hands and backed away. Turning around, I sunk the palms of my hands into my eyes, rubbing them, and trying to make sense of the mess that my life had become.

Her hands settled on my shoulders. “It wasn’t on purpose.” She sighed. “In all of existence we have never done this. Dream once had a child with a mortal and it didn’t turn out well. That’s why we made the no love rule.”

She squeezed me lightly. “I wouldn’t have come to you for my request if I knew it would have hurt you, Jasper.”

I felt her turn back to her brother. “What’s going to happen?”

“You know better than to ask me that question, Sister.”

She sighed. “Can you at least tell me how she can control her powers? They’re dangerous on the Mortal plane.”

“That is her choice. She has many talents that will reveal themselves over time, some more dangerous than others. Think on how we control our own, Sister. I would suggest preventive measures until she is more proficient.”

Death’s cool breath was next to my ear in a whisper. “I’ll teach you.”

“Jasper Pennybaker, turn to me.”

Almost like Death’s command back at home, Destiny’s power compelled me to face him. It wasn’t quite as strong and I had a feeling I could have fought it, but I looked over my shoulder at him nonetheless. Death eased my body to follow.

“Even though you are not entirely like us, you are considered family. Death will teach what is expected of you. Do not be under the mistaken assumption that you have a choice in the matter.”

“Des, don’t be an ass.”

He glanced at his sister and grimaced. “We each serve a purpose in this universe. Without our presence as a guiding hand in events, everything falls into random chance and thus into chaos. Think of this in terms of a healthy mortal body. If taken care of, it lives a long healthy life. If left to its own whims and desires it is soon polluted and disease ridden, dying well before its time.”

He stepped closer to me. “You are now part of this equation. To ignore it is to…”

“Can we not bring Destruction into this, Des? I’ll explain that later, okay?”

Death seemed to have a beef with how I was being told to be a good semi-mortal personification of… what? What does a mix of Delirium, Death, and a mortal man make? Insane Death Man? I didn’t exactly feel insane.

Destiny breathed a calming breath. It looked like he took his job way too seriously.

“What am I?” I finally asked.

I felt Death’s hand slide around my waist. She looked at her brother for the answer that I wasn’t so sure she knew at the moment.

“That is for you to find out. When you do, return here and I will assist you as much as I can.”

Unlike my new brothers and sisters, my domain was on Earth, on the Mortal plane, my apartment to be more specific. Death didn’t seem too surprised.

“This is where you spend the majority of your real life, Jasper, where you feel safe and secure.” She looked around. If it’s like everyone else’s domain, eventually you will make of it what you will. For now it will suffice.”

I moved to the front window and took a look outside. Normally, I have a breathtaking view of a parking lot. This time there was only black space. “We’re still on the Etheric,” I concluded.

“Very good.” I heard her rummaging around in the kitchen. “We’ll have to assume a lot of things since this is a first.”

“What do you mean?”

Death’s head popped up from behind the refrigerator door. “I wasn’t kidding around when I said none of us had ever attempted to create another. When there was a need, another brother or sister would appear to fill that position.”

After closing the door, she poured herself a glass of orange juice and I closed the distance between us.

“What if I don’t want to play this game?”

She drank half the glass and then sat it on the counter as she contemplated something. “My brother, Destruction, he chooses not to participate.”

I pointed at her when I recognized the name. “You mentioned him before, at Destiny’s place.”

She nodded. “Not too long ago, he hung up his sword and told us that mortals had destruction well in hand and they could do just as good without him. Now he paints bad pictures in watercolors.”

I felt my forehead move into a confused position. “Well, if he can do it…”

Picking up her juice glass, she motioned toward the living room. “Turn on your television, Jasper. See what uncontrolled war and natural disaster is doing to the world around you.”

Looking at her with a bit of uncertainty, I said, “You’re saying that before he quit, that everything was peaceful? I kind of doubt that.”

Death shook her head. “No, I’m saying there was an actual purpose when things happened. It all served a greater plan. Everything you see now is random acts of violence. There is very little honor in battle anymore. People strapping bombs to their bodies and throwing themselves at innocents is not war, it’s simply chaos.”

“And chaos is bad.”

She nodded. “Just so.” Finishing her drink, she looked at it and frowned. “You need more juice.”

Leaving the Etheric plane, where apparently I was currently located, and entering the Mortal plane was supposed to make me revert back to my male self, but that didn’t happen. Instead, my eyes changed colors, or more specifically, one of my eyes. The one that wasn’t surrounded by the Horus tattoo, changed to lime green. The other one stayed a pale grey.

Death was the one to notice. “It seems Del has left her mark on you after all.”

I had to stop beside a parked car and use their side mirror to get a decent look. “Great. Well, at least it’s not the hair.”

I sighed and smacked the mirror in annoyance, nothing hard mind you; I was still respectful of other people’s property. It was more of a knock. However, the mirror fell off, the entire device, not just the reflective portion. Whatever bolt or fastener it had connecting it to the car had rusted straight through.

“Oh shit.”

I looked around to see if anyone had witnessed my unintended vandalism. Picking it back up, I tried to wedge it back on, but it was too heavy and the car was listing to the side so it was an impossible attempt. Stepping back I looked at the pile of crap. It was a rust bucket held together with Bondo. I was surprised that it hadn’t been hauled off, as a derelict, by the police.

With another sigh, I dropped the mirror on the hood of the car. The owner probably would notice.

The second the mirror touched the car, all four tires deflated rather rapidly.

“Jasper, what are you doing?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Noth…” I didn’t even get it out before the drums had touched the ground, which pushed up into the frame. A loud clunk sounded in front.

Bending over I saw that the engine block had fallen out.

“I think we better leave.”

We both backed away and watched as the car fell apart, bit by bit. The doors fell off. I heard springs snap. Rivets popped and the fenders fell off.

“I think you need to put your gloves on, Jasper.”

I was still frozen in awe at what was happening, but I fumbled the thin things that Death considered gloves out of my pocket and slid them on. More popping sounded and I saw a rush of greenish water dribble out of the front. The radiator had obviously given up the ghost.

The next second, Death had a hold of my arm and was pulling me away.

“What?”

“Gasoline.”

At the thought of what might happen next, I backpedaled away as quickly as possible.

I must have looked like a freak, eating a Bavarian crá¨me donut with gloves on, while we watched the chaos from across the street at the donut shop. The car eventually caught on fire. There wasn’t a massive explosion, like in the movies, but it did burn for quite a long time before the fire department arrived and in due course put it out.

The owner showed up. He wasn’t too happy.

“I think it’s decay,” said Death as she was routing around the bag in her hand for another donut hole.

“Hmm?” My eyes ticked back to her.

“Your power, your talent; decay, or maybe something related.”

I thought about that for a few moments as I chewed a little slower and then washed the little piece of heaven down with fresh skim milk. “If it was just organic things then I’d agree, but that was metal.”

“Metal decays.” I looked at her dubiously and she clarified. “It takes a long time, but it does decay.”

Well, if anyone would know, it would be her. “Yeah, but I’ve never made something that big go to pieces like that. Plus it didn’t rust, it just fell apart.”

“Good point.”

The look on her face told me she was disappointed and still thoughtful.

“What’s the matter?”

She swallowed her most recent hole. “I can’t think of anymore D-words. We need a dictionary.”

I looked at her dispassionately. “Does is have to be a D-word? Can’t I start a new trend? Like, Endless: The Next Generation? Maybe the newbies can all be E-words instead. I could be Ecdysiast.” On second thought. “Uh, nevermind.”

Death’s lips twisted to the side and her eyes sparkled, but thankfully she left that joke alone. “Are there any junkyards or abandoned buildings around here?” She closed her eyes and before I had the chance to answer, she opened them again. “Oh, I have the perfect place.”

A chill ran down my spine wondering what she had in store for me.

“Can I finish my breakfast first?”

Leaving any buildings or rooms takes on a whole new meaning. Apparently, I don’t have to exit via the front door anymore, at least as long as I am with Death. What I’m getting at is that we went to the restroom at the donut shop, but instead we entered a perfectly awful room that looked and smelled like it was being used as a toilet, and not in a sanitary way.

There were no fixtures, or furniture. The carpet was rotted and moldy and the windows were missing.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Galway, a coastal city in west Ireland.” She wrinkled her nose and she looked around. “I was just here picking up a squatter. The locals are having this building condemned next week. I thought we might give them a little hand. Keep costs down, you know.”

She motioned me toward the hallway door of the small room. “They cleared the building and left about thirty minutes ago so we don’t have to worry about anyone getting hurt.”

I paused before following her downstairs to the ground floor. “You want me to be a human wrecking ball?’

Death shook her head. “You’re not human anymore, Jasper. You need to start thinking in terms of that and worldview. I’m not sure exactly what Destiny has in store for you, but I have my suspicions.”

Eager to have light shed on exactly what was going on, I pressed the issue. “What do you think?”

She stopped and turned to me, bringing us to a halt in front of the rear door to the building. “Let’s do a little experiment first. If I’m correct then I’ll tell you.”

It was a dubious situation in which I’d found myself, but I nodded, trusting myself with her vast experience. We exited the building and I saw it was only a little three story job, run down over the course of decades due to neglect. It definitely needed to come down before it fell at an inopportune moment and killed somebody needlessly.

“Take off your gloves and while you’re doing so, concentrate on order.”

Midway at tugging on the fingers of my left hand, I paused. “Order of what?”

“Just order. Anything will do: a library and its stacks of books, bowling pins, playing cards, police, government, anything that requires rules, and the proper execution thereof. You’ll see what I mean in a moment.”

I nodded and removed both gloves, sticking them halfway out of my left front pocket while I chose the playing cards option she suggested. In my minds-eye, I put all fifty-two of them in order from Ace to King.

Death’s hands found their way to my shoulders, from behind. “Now, relax and touch the brick with your hand.”

Opening my eyes, I reached out and brushed the wall with my fingers. I thought I heard a groan from somewhere, which made me take a step back. Death accompanied me about thirty paces in retreat, where we came to a halt.

We hadn’t even made it to that point before I’d heard things cracking and popping.

Death’s hands encircled my waist and her chin found its way to my shoulder. “Jasper, in order for the world around us to grow, there must be change. The old must make way for the new. It is incumbent upon us to do this in an orderly fashion. That’s why we’re here.”

I listened to her cool calming voice as I watched cracks appear in the wall and work their way upward to the top of the building. They weren’t gigantic breaks, but there were a lot of them.

“Quickly and with the least loss of life, must the universe change. If there has to be life lost, then let the sacrifice not be wasted. Let it have purpose, for that is what motivates the whole to make the greatest leaps forward.”

Something out of sight made a crashing sound and the building started falling in on itself from the top, downward. A place deep inside of me felt satisfied. Dust plumed up and out, blowing around, but not touching us.

“Though it may seem violent at times, there is a reason for Devastation.”

I was so caught up with watching what I had caused with a single brush of my fingertips. At first, I didn’t understand what Death was saying to me. Instead, I inhaled and then released a contented sigh. “Wait, what?”

She released her hold on me and I spun around. “Devastation?”

Death nodded. “Look down.”

My brows furrowed and I did as she told me. I’d changed again, back into my male body. The clothes stayed with me this time, though. Well, not the camisole; it had changed into a tee shirt and the linin jacket had a more masculine cut to it, but the black jeans and boots remained. In place of the ankh, now hung a different symbol.

I lifted it and saw something that I recognized as a Greek letter, Psi.

“It is your sigil, sister-brother.”

“Psi? I’m a fraternity now?”

Death giggled. “Not exactly. It is representative of two symbols: a trident, to lay waste to the old, and a flower, to make way for the new.”

“Oh.” I thought it over for a moment. “I suppose it’s all in the way you look at it.”

She caught the dual meaning of my observation. “Some look at me in fear when I come for them, while others look at me as a release from their mortal bonds. Neither of which is entirely correct. I’m just the one that shows them the way to their next adventure, just as you are now the one that leads them to a higher purpose.”

Dropping the sigil so that it tugged against the chain on my neck, I gave her a doubtful look. “You make it sound so noble.”

She smiled softly. “It is. This is what Destruction could never understand. He saw mankind enter the atomic age and the chaos that could be had by a single explosive device. That’s when he hung up his sword and said they didn’t need him anymore.”

Taking my hand in hers, she stroked the top, petting me lightly. “Mortals need a reason, motivation, if you will, to be more than they limit themselves to. Think of all the times in recent history when something awful happened. Afterward, did everyone simply bemoan the fact that it happened, or did they pool their resources and try to help one another?”

My thoughts went to the most recent disasters that could be labeled devastation: Hurricane Katrina, Haiti, 911, and others. I sighed. “It doesn’t last for long. People revert back to form eventually.”

Death nodded. “True, that is until the next time that something happens. Then they are right back where they need to be. Your job will be to create the devastation, but to limit the loss of life. I have a feeling that is Destiny’s plan.”

It all clicked together for me right then. “It’s all because Destruction quit and isn’t coming back.”

“I think so. The universe needs order, sister-brother. But first we need to rid ourselves of the old so we may make way for the new. That’s you.” She smiled. “And maybe others.”

Epilogue

We returned to Destiny’s domain and he verified what we’d already figured out. I wasn’t Insane-Death-Man after all. Destiny arranged for Delirium to be at my apartment at the moment Death hugged me, because Death had the destructive power I required, and Delirium possessed the sight that burrowed through to the truth of what needed to be done.

The gender changing thing was a side-effect, because the leeching of power had to happen during the transference in order for me to possess what was needed to get the job done. Every time I enter the Etheric, I revert back to female. Seeing as that’s home for me now, I spend a lot of time as a girl. It’s up to me if I want to change back when I reenter the Mortal plane. Either way, I get the best of both worlds.

Until I master my powers, I’ll be limited to Earth and be bound to a mortal body, but one day that will change, and the universe will learn to grow again.