Monster March: Todesengel the Plague Doctor

Male monster x female reader

The sickness is spreading, and it  has become like a fog that reaches everyone. It seeps through cracks and  open windows, it billows in without a sound, but once you see it, it is  already too late.

I have worked my hardest on helping  people, using everything I have ever known to try and find a cure. But  at this point, all I am good for is numbing the pain, or helping them  into a sleep they will never awake from.

My herb garden is  bare, and my supplies are running low. I have managed to cobble together  some extra ingredients from abandoned gardens and the homes of the  dead. I feel terrible taking from the shelves of someone else, but they  are lying dead in their beds and will not need them anymore. I try to  comfort myself by saying that were they alive, they would give the herbs  to me anyways. Anything at all to help, right?

I work  alongside some of the doctors, but it just isn’t enough, The doctors are  spread thin as it is, and with all their knowledge and means of safety,  even they are susceptible to the plague. When word of Doctor Heimdall’s  death reaches me, I feel deep in my bones an utter coldness. If the  doctors are as susceptible, then I am as well.

I keep working,  trying my hardest to help those still alive. I have taken in several  children, giving them a place to sleep and a meal in their bellies.  Keeping busy does help. If you don’t think about it, then you don’t have  to worry. And if you have no worry, you can put on a brave face.

Unfortunately, I cannot claim that I am special. I am not. So when I  first cough and vomit, I know that my time has come. I send the  children away with Doctor Alberding, who was leading a convoy of healthy  out of the city.

“Branwen,” Alberding says as he looks at me. “Are you sure?”

“You need to go. I can’t leave, so it has to be you,” I whisper to the doctor.

He sighs and nods, joining the children to try and comfort them as they leave.

I go to my bed, assured that I will never get up again. I have  already begun to rot, and the grotesque sores blister my body. For days I  lie there, waiting for death to come through the door. I have left it  unlocked for just that reason.

Breathing becomes painful, and  I try to will myself to stop, but even as I taste bile on my tongue, I  keep on living. I hope Hell is a better misery than this, I think to  myself. I hope the Devil is more forgiving than this.

One day,  through the fog of my brain, I see a dark figure come into the room. It  towers over me, gazing at me with wide, black eyes. I stare back at  them as tears fall from my eyes. Death has finally come for me, and I am  relieved. Death sits me up, feeding me a warm broth I can’t quite  taste. He then lays bundles of sweet-smelling herbs under my pillows and  legs.

Why is he not taking me? Why is he continuing to let  me live like this? I struggle to try and talk to him. But my voice is  gone. I exhaust myself just from trying to speak, and I fall asleep.

Once I awaken, I feel strangely lighter. I take a breath, and it  does not feel pained. I move my arm, and it does not feel as if my skin  is ripping from my flesh. I still feel ill, but something has changed.

I hear the door open and, a moment later, a tall, dark figure is  standing over me. It’s a doctor, dressed in black robes and wearing the  bird-like mask. I squint my eyes at him and open my mouth, wondering if  my voice has returned.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” his voice is raspy and soothing.

I furrow my brow as he sits by my side again. He takes the bowl from the side table and fills it with a flask on his belt.

“Up, up, now,” he coaxes. He places his hand behind my head, helping  me rise. He then places the bowl to my lips, feeding me the weak broth  again. “There we go.”

I sputter, tasting something bitter. “What is this?” My voice croaks.

“Something that is helping,” he replies. “Now finish it up.”

I do as told, taking slow sips of the broth before he lays me back  down. “Who are you?” I ask. “I thought all the doctors had left.”

“I am Albrecht Todesengel,” he turns towards me. “I was informed by Doctor Heimdall you may need help?”

I huff and swallow, feeling my throat grow a little tight. “But Doctor Heimdall is dead,” I murmur.

“Yes,” Doctor Todesengel says with a curt nod. “I hope you do not  mind. I’ve made myself at home here. You had the proper facilities for  me to work.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s fine.”

Doctor Todesengel sits back down beside the bed, petting his gloved  hand over my hair. “You are the lucky one,” he says. “I was able to get  to you in time.”

“Is there such a thing?” My voice cracks. “I thought that, once you feel it, it is already too late.”

He chuckles. “Not for me,” he stands back up and turns to the stove.  I see steam rising from a pot, and from within, he spoons more of the  broth into his flask. “I have the remedy.”

“Please,” I suddenly cry out. “You have to help them.”

He turns and looks at me, at least I assume he’s looking at me. “Do not worry, I will do all in my power.”

I relax back into the bed, feeling powerfully weak. I drift in and  out of sleep for a few days. Each time I wake, Doctor Todesengel feeds  me the broth.

“I thought all the doctors had gone,” I murmur. “Where did you come from?” My voice cracks and he offers me water.

Todesengel chuckles. “I am where I need to be now,” he replies.  “That is all that matters, doesn’t it?” He pets my hair back from my  face. “I was lucky, really. It has been a long time since I was where I  needed to be.”

I look up at him and smile softly. “I don’t  know how I can ever repay you. You saved my life.” I take his hand and  squeeze it as hard as I can.

“Branwen,” he whispers with his  strange voice, “I just want to see you better. That will be all the  thanks in the world for me.”

Todesengel is gentle and kind but  has strange habits as well. He talks to the bugs on the wall. And at  night, as he’s working over the herbs and medicine, he talks to himself,  laughing at his jokes and humming away as if he is carefree. It starts  out as creepily eccentric, but soon it becomes endearing to me. Doctor  Todesengel has become a fondness I cannot ignore.

Within a matter  of days, the sores heal, my strength returns, and by the end of the  week, I am able to leave my bed. I am still weak, but I am able to walk  and move about the house again. Doctor Todesengel burns my bed,  replacing it with a new one.

“Much like souls,” Todesengel  starts, “disease can only be cured in flames.” He tosses more lumber  onto the fire, burning blankets and beds from other houses where people  are still alive.

I look at him, hearing him humming behind his mask as he grinds up seeds. “That’s rather disturbing,” I say.

He chuckles. “Most things are when you say it with a smile,” he  retorts. “Hand me that jar over there,” he points with a gloved hand.

I reach back, my hands shaking, and I have to grab it with both hands. “You can take off your mask,” I reply.

“Still too early to risk it,” he answers. “In a few days, the air  will be clear.” He tosses the liquid inside the jar onto the fire, and  it roars to new life. Some of the flames flicker green for a moment  before fading into the orange heat.

“The smoke may suffocate, but as it rises, the air will become clear,” he says with a soft voice.

He has bundles of lavender and mint hanging from the ceiling. He  says they will purify the air and keep the plague from returning. All  this time he has stayed with me, I have never seen him without his mask.  He keeps it on at all hours, but he says it is to keep himself safe.

Once I am able, I help Doctor Todesengel make his medicines and  tinctures. It helps me get the strength back into my hands, and I feel  better being able to do the job I was trained to do.

“Your pain medicine is a work of art,” he tells me.

“I just wish the valerian smelled better,” I sigh.

Todesengel chuckles. “Does it smell?” He taps the beak of his mask. “I wouldn’t be able to tell.”

I chuckle. “Then take it off and give it a good whiff.”

He hesitates and looks down at the jar he’s holding. “It at least  does its job. It eases the pain, and for those too far gone, it lets  them fall into a deep sleep.”

I furrow my brow. Todesengel completely avoided me.

“Will, you ever take off your mask?” I ask him. “Even if I said I would kiss you?”

“I uh,” Todesengel stammers. He takes a deep breath and turns towards me. “It would not be safe, my Branwen,” he says.

“But I am better!” I gasp. “You healed me. If it isn’t safe here,  then-” I stop and look down at my hands. “I want to see you.”

Todesengel touches my cheek. “My darling,” he whispers, “do not break my heart to bend my will.”

I frown at him. “Is it wrong that I want to kiss you?” I whisper. “That my heart is growing stronger because of you?”

“No,” he whispers. “But, you must understand,” he grunts and takes  hold of my hand. “I have to do what I must,” he tells me. “For the good  of the world.”

I look back up at him and tug the beak of his  mask, making him lean forward. I place a kiss there and smile at him.  “Forgive me. I’ll try to tolerate your methods.”

Todesengel  laughs. “My love,” he whispers. “Once the world is quiet, I will share  with you my complete heart.” He taps his beak to my cheek, and I giggle.  “For now, this is all I can offer.”

As time goes on, I’m able  to leave the house and go out with Doctor Todesengel to assist him.  Most of the town is empty, and everything feels hollow and deserted. The  stench of death wafts through the air, making me feel sick.

“Here,” Todesengel fashions me a mask with a small beak filled with  mint and lavender. “Hopefully, this will help,” he says as he fastens it  to my face.

I breathe in deep, the scent of the herbs makes my nostrils and lungs feel cold. “Thank you,” I sigh.

Even still, the putrid smell of death lingers in me. With every  breath, it grows a little fainter, but it is still there. I feel as if  it will stay with me for the rest of my life.

We go into  homes, looking for the sick and possibly still alive. We’re able to save  a few people and get them somewhere safe. Todesengel has had to talk  people away from their loved ones. Mothers from children, husbands from  wives, daughters from their parents. It is hard seeing the grief and  loss, but it is all part of trying to save their lives.

There  are times when we come into a place, and the stench of decay and death  is so thick I have to leave. Even with the mask on, I cannot breathe. I  do not understand how Todesengel can stand it. He will stay with the  dead, saying a prayer over them as a kind gesture.

There have  been times we have found someone who is at death’s door, and Todesengel  stays with them until their last breath has been taken. He has me leave  and shuts himself away with the dying. I don’t understand why. I mean,  it is never easy to watch someone pass away, but if it helps to stay,  then I want to help.

“You narrowly escaped death,” Todesengel  tells me one night as we’re sitting by the fire. “I don’t want you to  come close again.”

“Why are you so fascinated with it, then?” I  ask him. “What makes you stay to see the soul evaporate and leave this  world? Does it not hurt you as it would me?”

“My love,” he  says. His voice sounds as thick and heavy as syrup. “It isn’t my  pleasure to see these final moments. It is something I must do. I know  you have seen your share of sick and dying, even before all of this, but  this is something I must do alone.”

I take his hand and squeeze it tight. “I want to share your burden.”

He chuckles softly, bringing my hand up and placing the beak of the  mask in my palm. “It is not a burden that is meant to be shared. It is  heavy, but having you near makes it lighter.” He then looks up at me.  “The love I have for you makes me think I am stronger than I really am.”

I smile at him. “I love you,” I whisper to him. “I would do anything for you.”

“I ask for nothing except that you will obey me when I ask.”  Todesengel squeezes my hand tight. “One day I hope you will understand.”

“I will try,” I whisper to him.

One night, a young boy comes to us begging for help. His mother is  starting to die, and he heard that somehow we could help her. We follow  the boy to his home and Todesengel takes one step into the room, then  turns and holds his hand out.

“Do not come in, Branwen,” he commands me.

I gasp and flinch at his words. “But the boy said-”

“Do not come in,” Todesengel repeats with a stronger voice.  “Remember your promise to me, that’s all I ask.” He places the flask in  my hands. “Feed the boy some. He is still in good health.” He walks into  the house, closing and bolting the door behind himself.

I give the boy some of the broth. He sips on it, making a sour face as he does.

“Why must medicine always be so bitter?” He asks me.

“Perhaps it is so we know it’s working,” I reply. I glance back at  the house, and I see something strange in the window. I see a small,  flickering green light. “Stay here,” I whisper to the boy.

I  go back up to the house, peering through the window. There is a candle  lit on the bedside table, but the flame glows bright green. I see  Todesengel leaning over the bed, and he picks up the woman. I gasp  softly, watching as he holds her in his arms like a mother would a  child.

He reaches up, removing his mask. As it falls from his  face, in the green light of the candle, I see something that is  distorted and horrifying.

“Lady,” the little boy chirps, “what is it?”

I duck down, taking the boy into my arms. I cannot piece together  what it is I just saw. The face under the mask was not a face at all. It  was something like shreds of leather stitched over a hideous mound. The  strange and gnarled mouth pressed to the lips of the woman, and her  body went limp. As Todesengel pulled away, something black followed from  the lips of the woman.

I cling to the boy more for my own  comfort than to comfort him. What if all this time, my first thoughts on  Todesengel had been right? In my sickness and delirium, I had assumed  he was death. But after seeing this, I feel it is true. All the times he  said he wanted to be alone with a patient, they always died. This was  why he never allowed me to come in. He was taking their lives rather  than the plague.

Todesengel walks out of the house. He looks  down and sees the boy clinging to one another and me. “I am so sorry,  child,” he whispers. “I did all I could.”

I can’t look at him.  I pet the hair of the little boy as he weeps. I cannot bear to face  Todesengel right now. Even though I still love him, I cannot face what  he really is.

We get the boy to a safe house, and as we walk  back home, it is eerily quiet. Once we get home, I claim I have to go to  bed. I lay down, my back turned to the room, and I try to sleep. I want  to believe that it had all been a trick of the eye, everything I saw  was a hallucination. Perhaps I had inhaled too many herbs, but I knew I  was lying to myself.

I cannot sleep, so I get up and go out  to confront Todesengel about what I saw. But as I walk into the room, I  see him sitting with rats all around him. I am struck silent with fear  and disgust as he pets the rats and coos to them. He has removed his  gloves, and he is letting the rats lick black drops of blood from his  fingertips.

“There it is,” he whispers to the rats. “Take it.”

I cup my hand over my mouth, feeling as if my soul is trying to  force its way from my body. I stumble and grip onto the wall.

Todesengel looks up, seeing me braced there. “Branwen,” he stands up  and the rats all turn and run, going out the window. “Branwen, wait.”

“No!” I scream and hold my hand out in front of me. “Stay away from me!”

He stands still, his hand reached out to me while drops of black  blood splash onto the floor. He wrenches his hand back, placing his  gloves back on.

“You were never meant to see this,” he whispers.

I tremble and sniffle, feeling my body start to shiver. “That isn’t  all that I have seen!” I snap at him. “I have seen much more!”

He looks up at me. “Branwen,” he whimpers.

“You aren’t helping anyone!” I cry. I rip my fingers through my  hair. “Everyone you say you’re trying to help, you just-” I choke on my  sob. “Every single one you end up killing! You’re death itself!”

Todesengel sighs and shakes his head. “My love-”

“Do not break my heart to bend my will!” I throw back at him. “How  dare you make me love you while all you have done has lied to me! Do not  speak my name on your cursed lips as if you ever really loved me at  all!”

“But I have always loved you!” He cries. “I never meant  to come here, but when I saw you sick and dying-” his voice cracks and  he sobs. “I had to save you.”

“Why?” I scream at him. “What  was the point?” I whimper and hug my arms around myself. “I love you  even still-” I tremble. “I am dying because I love you! I hate this-” I  whimper and claw at my face. “It is you,” I sob. “You are the reason the  plague is here.”

He sobs and his hands tremble. “My love,” he says. “It isn’t that-” he looks up at me. “I am the plague.”

I stare down at him, had I the power I would have set him ablaze with my gaze. “What?” I hiss.

“I am the plague,” he repeats to me. “But please,” he begs, falling  to his knees. “You have to listen to me. I need you to understand-”

“Get out,” my voice quivers, but I try to remain strong. “Get out of  my home and out of my life. No matter how much I love you, I will  recover from this sickness in me.”

“Please,” he sobs. “Do not make me go! Do not say our love is a disease.”

“Our love?” I scoff. “This isn’t love! All you’ve done is lie!”

“Then please let me explain! I was going to tell you everything once  it was over, I promise!” Todesengel throws himself at my feet. “Please!  I love you! Do not throw me out!”

My heart is shattered, but  it still beats for him. I want to believe him, but I am so afraid of the  truth that is there. I sniffle, and my tears fall onto his hood. “Then  take off the mask.”

He is silent.

“If you want me to listen,” my voice shakes, “then remove the mask and speak to me with your own face.”

Todesengel takes a deep breath, and he chokes on a sob. With  trembling hands, he reaches up to the mask, unlatching the straps, and  he pulls it away from his face. It falls to the ground, laying sideways.  He keeps his head down, so his hood keeps him covered. I kneel down  beside him, reaching for him, and he jerks away from me.

“You have to let me see you,” I urge him, grabbing his arm. “I have to know the truth.”

Todesengel shudders, and he turns to me. His face is marred and  strange, just as I had seen through the window. His hair is pure white  and is tied back at the nape, and then the long braid wraps around his  long thin neck like a noose. His skin is patched together, some of it is  gray while the other is dark black. His features are highlighted by  ridges in the skin that look like bright, yellow gems. His nose is  hooked and angular, and his mouth is wide, slicing back to his ears,  which are pointed and sliced at the tips.

His eyes are wide  and black with a green light glowing from within. He looks at me, and  while I want to see the monster, all I see is his sadness. I take his  hand, holding it gently. I then squeeze it and sigh.

“Tell me what you are,” I whisper. “Before I change my mind.”

He takes my hand, looking at it before he closes his eyes. “Before I  begin,” he shudders. “You must know that I know what I do is neither  noble nor good. It is simply a fact of the world. People grow sick and  old, and they die. I am merely performing a truth. But the truth is  rarely ever liked.” He squeezes my hand.

“Neuntöter is a name  I was given when I first came to this world. I was sent here as a  soldier of my father, who was charged to bring pestilence to the world. I  am just one of his children, and I am his plague.” he releases my hand,  and he slouches more. He covers his face with his hands in shame.

“You are not of this world,” I whisper.

“Beyond it,” his voice cracks.

“And the kiss?” I ask him. “Why did you kiss that woman before?”

He moves his hands away from his face, and he shifts in place. “It  is how I must feed,” he replies. “I take their death and their sickness  into myself. It feeds me, and then I can spread my plague to the rest.”

“The rats?” I glance towards the window. “You used rats to do it?”

“What better way to do it?” Todesengel looks up at me. “The smallest  of the small, the least looked upon. They are creatures that get  everywhere. They leave their mark, and you will never know.”

“And what about the medicine?” I snap. “What was it for? Was it even  helping anyone?” I rip the flask from his belt and shake it in the air.  “Was I helping you murder?”

“No!” He gasps. “I helped where I  could! I wasn’t lying to you when I said I wanted to help you heal.” He  grabs my wrist, easing down my arm. “I saved your life with this  medicine.”

“Why?” I gasp. “You tell me you were sent to spread  the plague and that you feed off the dead. Why would you ever want to  save someone?”

“Because,” he murmurs, “I have always admired you.”

I scowl at him.

“When I came here to lay the first seeds of the plague, the black  rats,” he starts. He then swallows as his eyes fill with tears. “I was  roaming the streets, and I saw you in your garden.” Todesengel then  chuckles. “I never considered myself a man, and yet I was still  susceptible to a beautiful woman.” He touches my cheek. “Your dark hair  and kind eyes had me ensnared.” He dropped his hand. “When it came time  for me to come down and feed, I was horrified to find you ill. So in my  selfishness, I saved you.”

I look away from him and out the  window that is open. “Are you going to kill everyone in the world?” I  ask. “Is that your goal?”

“My goal is to feed,” he replies. “I  can only do it every once in a few centuries. I create fear in the  masses,” he whispers. “I turn their hearts so that they reach to a  higher power.”

I look back at him. “Are you talking about God?”

He shakes his head. “That is not for you to know.”

I scoff and look away from him again, wiping tears from my cheeks. “I am so confused.”

“It is almost over,” he coaxes me. He runs his fingers through my  hair. “My period for feeding is ending. The rats are carrying the last  of the plague. It will end. People will heal. The world will continue.  And then they will forget.”

“How could they ever forget?” I  snarl. “How could people forget this suffering and pain? How can  anyone-” I stop when I see the sorrow in his eyes.

“Men always  forget,” he whispers. “They will say ‘never again,’ and it will always  happen again. It is the true clockwork of mortals.”

I take a breath and steady myself. “Isn’t there some other way?”

He shakes his head, hanging it again. “This is all as it should be,” he answers.

I stand up and wipe my face. “I need a moment,” I reply. I step  outside into the cold night air. I can hear weeping from the houses, so I  walk away from them. I go down the road, heading towards the fields.

I see a man standing in the field. He is tall and angular and  wearing a wide-brimmed hat. I consider turning back, but I am not ready  to go home. I continue through the trail, coming close to the impossibly  tall man.

“It isn’t safe for young women to be out here  alone,” he says, not even moving. His back is turned to me, and his hat  is pulled low. “What brings you here?”

My throat is tight, and I stand still. I glance over at him. “Just walking,” I answer.

“It’s quiet,” he whispers with a dark voice. “Strange. There used to  be so much noise here,” he then chuckles. “I wonder why.”

I glare up at him. “Who are you?”

“Just your friendly neighborhood scarecrow,” he laughs. “Just  enjoying the night air, much like you.” His head turns slightly, and  there is a yellow glow from his eyes.

I gasp and stumble  backward, catching myself. I stand in the tall grass, looking up at him.  I then swallow down my fear and step back onto the path. “Do you know  the Neuntöter?”

The man chuckles. “Once,” he replies. “He’s  far too sad. He really ruins a good mood,” he waves his hand out, and I  notice it looks rather strange, almost claw-like. “He was the reason it  went quiet last time too.”

“Tell me,” I repeat myself. “Who are you?”

“You know,” he scoffs. “I have been asking myself just that same  question.” He turns his head up towards the sky. “I’m not quite sure how  to answer you.”

“Why?”  I mutter.

“The world is  chaotic,” he answers. “Everywhere you look, there is chaos. But right  now, while it is quiet, there is peace.” He huffs and turns sideways. “I  think I may hide somewhere like this, where it is quiet.” He glances  towards me, his yellow eyes flaring and leaving trails of light.

“I am Baal,” he replies. “Or I was,” he laughs.

I take a step towards him. “Are you like the Neuntöter?” I ask.

“Oh fuck no,” He growls. “Similar vein of work, but two completely  different things.” He holds up two long, sharp fingers. “What he does is  a necessary truth in this world. What I do is a necessary chaos in the  other. Which is what I am sick of.” He glances back up towards the sky.  “What he does serves a purpose here. And it may not seem like it now,  but in time, you will see it is not senseless.”

I furrow my brow. “Then can you tell me? What is the purpose?”

Baal scoffs. “Nope. Not my job anymore.” Suddenly, massive wings  sprout from his back, and he flaps them, shooting himself up into the  sky.

The force of his wings knocks me backward and tumbling into  the field. I grunt and huff, scraping myself up a bit. I then just lay  there, gazing up at the night sky as Baal flies away.  I sigh, closing  my eyes as I let the night wrap around me.

I wake up, rolling over  on my side, I see a black rat in the grass. It rubs its face, then runs  away before a boot lands in front of me. I sit up, looking at  Todesengel as he towers above me. He has his mask on.

“I’ve been  looking for you all night!” He snaps. “What are you doing here?” He  kneels down and helps me up, dusting dirt and bugs off of me.

“I think I met an angel last night,” I murmur. “But I’m not sure.”

“I was so scared,” he grips my arms, and I feel his hands trembling. “I thought I would never see you again.”

I  sigh, and I remove his mask. In the daylight, his eyes aren’t black,  but a beautiful vibrant green. The blister-like gems on his face radiate  a shimmer, and his skin has a glow to it. I lean in, pressing a kiss to  his lips.

“It isn’t my place to understand your meaning in the  world,” I tell him. “All I know is, I love the man who is in it.” I  smile softly at him. “I am scared,” I confess. “But with you, the fear  is far away from me.”

Todesengel smiles, and he takes my hand in his. “You still love me?”

I nod. “I think I always will,” I admit. “When will I see you again? Since this time is coming to an end.”

Todesengel shakes his head. “It will be many years from now, I am afraid.”

“Oh,” I gasp. “Then…will it be goodbye soon?”

He touches my cheek, brushing dirt from my cheek. “You can always come with me,” he replies.

My eyes widen. “What?”

“You can come with me. You’ll not be able to return for another seven hundred years, I’m afraid.”

“Seven hundred?” I gasp. “The world will still be here in so long?” I cannot believe my ears.

Todesengel  laughs. “It will be going on for much longer than that,” he says. “It  will seem like another world in 2018, but it is still the same place.”

“Oh  wow,” I whisper. I then look into his eyes. “I love you,” I whisper. “I  don’t want to say goodbye to you.” I touch his cheek and feel a warmth  radiating from his skin.

He smiles and bends down, kissing me  again. I am not sure what lies in the next world, but I am confident  that as long as he is there, I will not worry about anything.

Seven Hundred Years Later:

I step out of the small house and watch as the cars go shooting by.

“Why do you keep watching them like that?” Todesengel calls from inside.

“I have never seen anything move so fast!” I gasp. “I am still  getting used to them,” I grin as I watch another car zoom by. I turn  back to look inside the house. “Are you ready yet?”

“Give me time!” he snaps. “This world is much different. I can’t walk out in the mask like before.”

I sigh and lean back. “I’ll miss that mask.”

He steps out into the sun, shielding his eyes. “Is it brighter here?”

I chuckle, going over to him and examining his disguise. “Right? I  feel like the sun is closer or something.” I smooth down his collar.  “You look quite dapper.”

Todesengel grimaces and makes a face. “This face is itchy.”

I touch the skin, not used to it. It’s much smoother than his  natural skin. “I don’t like it either. It’s weird hearing your voice  come from such a face.”

He kisses me. “Well, only for the time being. I have to go to work.”

I kiss him back. “Have a good day at the hospital,” I tell him. “Get a good meal.”

Todesengel scoffs. “It’s not ready yet. But any day now.”