Things were not great. 

On the one hand, Daisy was convinced [i]someone[/i] out there hated her more than the wight, her former personal trainer, and her dry cleaner put together. First ThadMax's problematic return, then the wight and his dumb face, and now an army of souls ripping holes in Death on their way to oblivion? There was no way it was mere coincidence. Daisy wasn't so arrogant as to assume she had anything at all to do with whatever reason Boss Man Werewolf had gotten them all together. But at this point, she was not going to be a gracious recipient if she was being Punk'd. 

But it wasn't like she had any choice. Floating atop the Thames in a semicorporeal form, she could feel everything from all sides. The part of the Reaper that remained in the living was a little less invulnerable to the heat and flame that washed over her with each blast. It didn't hurt yet, but she definitely couldn't remain here forever without at least scoring a serious sun burn. 

Still, even that was better than the pinpricks of stinging cold -- like she had become the victim of a My-Girl-esque death scene, where all the bees were also antarctic chimaeras. She felt one every time a werewolf soul was torn asunder by a blast she couldn't explain. She hadn't even known it was possible to just...erase souls like that. Somehow, even erasure would have been better. At least she could have pretend they were going to the right place. But this...watching thin wisps of what had been a real, living thing just crinkle and burn to nothing? 

Daisy made a point to avoid feeling disgusted or bothered by anything, but that...that was wrong, and not just because it was breaking. The goddamn. Rules. 

So, what choice had she had but to go after them? It was stupid and dangerous -- Artie was pissed. She could feel him straining at the end of the tether he provided, back where she'd left him on the far side of the keep, safe, she hoped, but semi-frozen, too. And it [i]hurt[/i]. Ghosts haunted shit for a reason. No one, not even a Reaper, was meant to drift in this gray space between life and Death for long. She shouldn't have even been able to do it, let alone Reap souls from here. 

But again. Villains. Heroics. No other options. Fucking Veti had taught her all that shit. 

She trudged through the explosions, first "walking", then "running", then abandoning both when she realized both require some form of friction, and she really only had willpower. It still felt like too long before she reached the center of the action, and it was another long moment before she forgot to do anything but stare, horrified, transfixed, by the show of light and carnage. 

There was a wolf approaching her, oblivious or uncaring, about the enter the Thames, about to wade across to this fucking huge office building and try and tear it down to...what? Hurt her friends? Scratch an itch? Did he -- or she, Daisy had never been able to tell, though she didn't share that with Veti -- realize what he was giving up? It was far, far more than his life. 

Daisy decided to let him know. 

She reached out a ghostly hand, and in the instant before he...exploded, she pushed, hard, and felt her fingers close around the familiar chill of a live soul. She yanked. The wolf dropped to the ground, unexploded, and his soul came roaring through with Daisy. 

It was instantly clear he was not keen on the proffered favor. 

The towering wolf rounded on the pink-haired Reaper, who stared back calmly, if a little impatient. Reaping souls that hadn't been Marked wasn't allowed, either...but she was pretty sure whoever was in charge would make an exception. 

"[i]What have you done?![/i]" She couldn't tell if he was speaking a different language, or just growling kind of a lot. 

Daisy sighed. "You're pissed, you're scared, I get it. You're also dead. But trust me, I did you a favor."

"How -- "

Daisy ignored him. Her hearing went funny for a second as she reached back through and grabbed another three wolves. On the Thames, three more bodies collapsed to be overrun by their uncaring brethren. 

" -- happened?"

Daisy blinked, adjusting her footing as the wolves slowly realized their missions had gone awry, thanks to an American (ish?) teenager with hair the color of cotton candy. 

"Can you all just...move? I can lead you on later, but now I need to save your friends."

One of the wolves snarled and lunged forward. "You will answer, child. I -- "

Daisy took a step back, and with a flick of her wrist bought the water swirling around furry ankles to the level of their chests. Even without knowing what it meant, they reacted appropriately. Confusion. Caution. Fear. 

"You don't want to do that," she said. "I have a werewolf friend, and she is, like, [i]crazy[/i] overprotective. Also, you're dead. So, whoever you were with before, I'm in charge now. Okay? Now, please be quiet so I can try and wrangle a few more of your buddies."

She turned away, letting the water drop back down to small eddies and whispers of Death. And then she paused. 

"Wait, just so we're clear...who [i]did[/i] send you guys out here?"