She trailed, glancing over her shoulder when the two demons outside the recovery room followed. She rubbed her arms and touched the slender choker at her neck.
Their deal was done. The tumor was gone. How long did Fate expect her to stay here?
They didn't go far, for which she was grateful. Wynn led her to a door guarded by another demon and stepped aside.
"Thank you, Wynn," she murmured. She wasn't sure why she expected him to speak but found herself wishing he'd say something.
He didn't.
The final nail in the coffin of their friendship left her feeling depressed. Deidre opened the door into the familiar chamber and closed it behind her, leaning against it. She was in a lot of trouble, but at least, if Wynn left, he'd tell Gabriel where to find her. From there, she didn't want to think of what might or might not happen.
She pushed herself away from the door and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She was halfway across the room when what she'd seen registered. Her reflection was seated, and her hair was blond. It wasn't a reflection.
Deidre froze.
"What have you done to my hair?" the female voice asked.
Oh, god. Not this bitch. Deidre took a deep breath and faced the deity previously known as Death. Gabriel's ex-lover was identical to her in every way, even garbed in the same dress. The only difference was her hair and the eyes that turned from white to black to every color in between. She sat in a chair by the black hearth.
"I like pink," Deidre replied. "What are you doing here?"
"Recovering, like you."
"From…. Were you …?" she pointed to her head.
Past-Death's cold smile did not reach her eyes. Deidre studied her, picking up other signs of how different they were. There was no human color in the woman's pale cheeks, and her expression was emotionless, as if carved from marble. She stood, her bearing regal and her walk smooth, without the cheerful bounce Deidre had in hers. Everything about the deity screamed careful control.
"I experienced your life with you. I admit, I expected a human existence to be a little less boring," past-Death mused.
Deidre was still as the creature walked around her, scrutinizing her.
"So you just rode around in my head for twenty six years?" she asked, confused.
"Pretty much. Darkyn was supposed to find me much earlier, according to our agreement." Past-Death shrugged. "It's for your benefit he did not. Wynn's work on us kept you safe and me trapped."
"I don't think that was his intention," Deidre muttered under her breath.