"Why do you call him that?"
"Because that's what he is, silly!"
"Oh."
"He's outside my window. Can I take him some cocoa?"
"He's what?"
"C'mere."
Toby took her hand in one of his, with his other fist wrapped around a large marshmallow. He led her to the window overlooking the street.
The death dealer stood at the edge of the shadows as he had across from the doctor's office, waiting.
"What is he?" she whispered.
"He's a death dealer," Toby said with impatience. "He's not here for us."
The confidence with which he spoke floored her. She wiped her face again, the world around her spinning. Near hyperventilating, she sat heavily on the couch and clutched her head with her hands. Toby chattered, his tone lifting in a question that didn't penetrate the in-between world in which she'd fallen.
There were sounds that should've alarmed her, the feel of hot tears on her face. Something warm touched her back, and a jolt of hot electricity made her sit upright. Her mind cleared, and she wiped her eyes at the massive form in black before her. Panicked, she backpedaled until trapped into the corner of the couch.
The death dealer stared at her, much larger in her small living room than he was in the middle of the street. He was close to seven feet tall, with chiseled features and eyes as black as eternity. His clothing was thick and heavy this night, as if he expected to be standing outside her window until dawn. His sweater, jeans, and trench coat were all of high quality with his heavy boots dwarfing her feet as hers did Toby's. She didn't see any weapons this night. He was muscular and buff beneath the trench.
Of all things, his gloved hands scared her the most.
"Gabriel!"
Toby started into the living room, spilled the cocoa, and then retreated to the kitchen. The death dealer moved silently, even over the hollow wooden floors.
She heard Toby's chipper voice as he invited the death dealer to share some cocoa with him.
What the hell was a death dealer? The grim reaper, here in her home?
In the course of a day, her whole life had gone to shit.
She tiptoed to the kitchen and peeked in. The death dealer took up much of the small space, his trench still on despite sitting at the kitchen table. Toby was showing him the glitter drawing he'd done. The death dealer glanced at it, his face so emotionless she thought him a statue again. He sipped his cocoa from a sticky cup filled half with marshmallows.