Death is a Girl

Chapter 13: Companion of Death

Is this what dying is?

…Is what Morrigan would have thought had she not already had a first-hand experience with dying just two days ago.

It was a struggle to open her eyes, but gradually her vision became clearer until she was able to make out a dark figure standing against the backdrop of the cosmic sky, like a smudge on a kaleidoscope.

As her strength returned, she attempted to stand up but stumbled and ended up kneeling instead. The figure was the demon, standing a few paces away from her, but with his back turned. He was looking at something, and as Morrigan’s head cleared enough to follow his line of sight, she saw Noir.

Noir sat on his haunches in the center of the floating platform that had been their arena. His tail flicked in irritation as he fixed his gaze on the demon.

“Noir?” Morrigan gasped.

“Stay back, Morrigan,” he said. “Allow me to handle this.”

The demon chuckled. “Oh, what’s this? The little reaper has a kitty for her guardian?”

“I am her guide,” Noir said, maintaining his dignified demeanor. “And I’ll give you just this one chance to leave with your spirit intact, demon.”

Morrigan watched as Noir’s eyes began to glow red, and then his shadow expanded like a black pool around his feet.

The demon paused, eyeing the expanding pool of darkness with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. He seemed to realize that dismissing Noir outright might be a mistake.

Was that true, though? Morrigan had thought Noir’s role was simply to help guide her with her list as she learned how to work as a reaper. What were those shadows expanding away from his body?

Noir’s voice remained deceptively calm, laced with an undercurrent of menace. “I assure you, my offer is far more generous than you deserve. Take it, or face the consequences.”

The demon let out a haughty laugh, as he began pacing in a wide circle around the visually more demonic cat. Despite his laughter, his eyes betrayed a glint of uncertainty. “You expect me to run from a housecat?”

“No,” Noir said, his voice dropping to a growl. “I expect you to run from what comes next.”

In an instant, Noir’s shadow shot up around him like a dark geyser, twisting and morphing into tendrils that lunged at the demon. The demon reacted swiftly, darting forward in a full sprint as he ducked and rolled out of the way of the dark appendages that whipped at him from all directions.

Undeterred, Noir’s shadow continued its assault. A massive hand of darkness shot away from the feline as the other tendrils retracted, swiping at the demon. He managed to slip under it, tucking into a roll, before springing back to his feet, unscathed but visibly shaken.

But as Morrigan watched, something horrifying was happening to Noir. The flesh seemed to melt off of Noir’s bones. Patches of muscle and bone were exposed in a gruesome display like when he summoned the list. His eyes, now set within wide skeletal sockets, glowed red, but the rest of him was transformed into a vision of a mutilated cat.

The demon’s eyes widened at the sight, and for the first time, he seemed genuinely afraid. “What are you?”

Noir’s voice, now distorted and layered as if coming from multiple beings at once, reverberated through the air. “I am older than your ilk, demon. I am a guide of the lost, the companion of Death. And you have overstayed your welcome.”

The tendrils shot forward again, this time with an added ferocity that seemed to pull the very air around them into a vortex. The demon dodged again but not as cleanly—this time, a tendril grazed his arm. As it did, dark energy burst from the point of contact, causing the demon to roar in pain.

The demon’s arm seemed to wither at the point of contact, black lines crawled up his arm like infected veins. He recoiled, clutching his wounded limb, his eyes now burning with both fear and anger.

“You dare—” he began, but was cut off as another mass of fleshy shadow shot forward, elongating like a spear. The demon barely dodged, leaping to the side. The shadow pierced the space where he had been standing a moment before.

“Dare? I’ve been lenient,” Noir’s voice echoed, still maintaining that multi-layered, otherworldly tone. “But my patience has its limits.”

Morrigan, finally regaining her footing, reached to the side and summoned her scythe. Her heart was pounding, but seeing Noir—her seemingly unassuming guide—reveal such power left her feeling both horrified and awestruck. Once her scythe was formed she held it in both hands and took a battle posture, having no confidence in her skill but at least wanting to be ready.

The demon looked from Noir to Morrigan, and back again, his eyes darting as if calculating the odds. Whatever the result of his mental arithmetic, it seemed to settle him on a course of action.

“Fine,” he spat, his voice tinged with resentment as he glanced at his damaged arm. “You’ve won this round, but don’t think this is over.” With that, he turned and ran along the edge of the platform, ducking and dodging more of Noir’s lashing tendrils, his hand forward as a distortion opened in the air in front of him. He stopped with his back to the portal as it formed into a swirl similar to heat heatwaves that became a vibrant whirlpool as it drew in the colors of the sky behind it.

He smiled, his teeth wide and rock-like as he locked eyes with Morrigan. She tensed in response and watched as Noir made one more attempt to lash him with one of the dark tendrils. This time, the demon’s hand shot forward and grabbed it. It writhed like an angry snake as his hand clenched tighter.

Noir hissed in pain, the red in his skeletal eyesockets flashed brightly. For the first time, his composure seemed to crack as he wrenched the tendril free, retracting it back into the pool of shadow at his feet.

The demon smirked, his eyes locking onto Morrigan’s. “I’ll be seeing you again, little reaper.”

Before she could respond, or before Noir could summon another tendril, the demon leapt backward into the portal. As he disappeared, the whirlpool seemed to collapse in on itself with a resonating boom, distorting the cosmic sky for just a moment before reality snapped back to its original state.

Morrigan’s gaze returned to Noir, his horrific figure standing as a mess of flesh hanging off of his small skeletal frame. The shadows at his feet receded as his flesh started to slurp and slap against the bone, pulling his body back together. Noir let out a low growl, more in discomfort than pain, as the exposed muscles reassembled themselves. The loose flesh pulled tight against the bone, the sight almost too surreal to comprehend, and as his form solidified, his eyes, still radiating a fierce red glow, seemed to dim slowly, the hue changing, fading to their normal golden-yellow.

Morrigan stood in awe, her eyes wide and mouth agape. She had thought she’d seen the depths of Noir’s mysterious nature, but this was beyond anything she’d ever expected. As his form returned to that of a seemingly normal black cat, save for the intense yellow eyes that now surveyed the realm calmly, a shiver ran down her spine.

“A-are you alright?” she finally managed to ask, her voice tinged with concern and a lingering fascination.

Noir took a moment to inspect himself, ensuring all parts had returned to their proper places. “I’ve had more graceful moments,” he admitted, his voice back to its familiar smooth timbre, “but I’ll recover. And you?”

She wanted to say she was fine, but the honest answer was far from it. However, she understood that now was not the time for weakness. “I’ll manage,” she replied cautiously, still gripping her scythe.

He nodded, his golden-yellow eyes locking onto hers with a gravity that suggested more than simple concern. “Good. Now, come with me; you still have work to do.” He turned and walked to the far end of the platform. Morrigan looked to the sky and saw its intense, vibrant colors starting to dim and take on a blue hue. The shooting stars and balls of fire disappeared as if getting further away from a foggy window, and the sky eventually returned to normal. There were even a few clouds lingering innocently in the air as if that distorted space never existed.

When Morrigan’s eyes came back down, she realized she was on a normal rooftop, and Noir sat on his haunches by the ladder that she had originally climbed up.

“What was that place?” she asked. “And that demon… are there more of them? A-and, what are you exactly? Noir?”

His tail flicked. “That is what’s called negative space: a place you do not want to get trapped inside of. Now, you have many questions, but we don’t have time to meander about while you ask. There is the soul of a child, currently forced to witness the aftermath of his own horrific end.” Noir’s voice was laced with a venom that Morrigan had yet to hear from him. It caused her to sink into her shoulders shamefully. “Quickly, now. I’ll answer all you wish to know when this is done.”