Someone, somewhere was dying. 

Granted, Daisy was standing/floating/haunting amidst waist-high piles of gores, blood, and fur. Half the fallen bodies strewn around her ethereal form had just recently died at her hand, something she was trying very hard to ignore just now. The rest were hurling them against the B&H castle walls, maybe taking a few more souls down with every blow. A lot of someones were dying a lot of places. Daisy was a Reaper who'd been ass deep in Death even before all the chaos had started. She was so accustomed to feeling souls snuff it, she could generally ignore it. 

This soul was not like the others. 

For one thing, it was not a sudden flare of light and pain and then a pull of cold nothing as the souls were obliterated by whatever magic had been laid upon them. This was the slow, inevitable crawl to Death everyone -- most everyone -- experienced at one time or another. But unlike the average human soul, this was no dull bundle of cool light. This soul was old and big, the sort of shit people would have used in conjunction with words like 'noble' or 'venerable' or 'gravitas', whatever the hell that meant. 

Someone was dying [i]inside[/i] the castle. Someone important. 

For one stupid, embarrassing, annoying moment, Daisy's sort of heart was in her sort of chest. Her eyes flicked back to the castle and her soul began straining against the bonds of life and Death. Veti's name repeated in her head like a slowing heartbeat. Which was lame, because she maybe kind of sort of [i]hated[/i] Veti or something. But she didn't want her to [i]die[/i], geez, she and Tiny Vamp had just spent an entire year pretending not to mind each other's sense of fashion to prevent that. 

But no. No, Daisy knew what Veti-at-Death's-door felt like. She had eleven months worth of experience. This wasn't that. This was bigger, deeper, colder. Not as scary, maybe, but still some pretty real shit. And it occurred to her then she had no idea what was happening inside the castle. That was clearly were the werewolf bombs were trying to get. If things were bad out here -- 

Whatever she'd been about to decided suddenly fled as the newly dead werewolves -- the ones she'd managed to save, thank you very much -- suddenly realize they weren't so helpless as they thought. 

She felt claws rake down her back like red hot pokers drawn through butter, and she hissed in pain. They'd attacked from Death, not life. They couldn't kill her -- not quickly, anyway -- but they weren't far from leaving those same ugly marks of decay all up and down her torso. 

Daisy released her hold on life for just a second, letting the castle flicker out of view in favor of the gray waters of Death, where just now, easily half a dozen enraged, confused werewolves were beginning to realize they'd been cheated. 

'Cheated.'

Daisy quickly put some space between herself and the snarling pack, hiding pain behind a mask of irritation. 

"C'mon, guys, I feel like we [i]just[/i] talked about this. You're on my home turf. You don't want to fuck with me."

"You have stolen the promise of glory from us!" one hissed, and his companions howled and snarled their assent. Daisy tapped the Scythe, still invisible, with her thumb. Just in case. 

"Um, I stole oblivion from you," Daisy corrected impatiently. She still had to get back to the castle. She still had to rescue scores of yet un-oblivion'd wolves. And these newly dead ones were not helping. "I dunno who promised you what -- " she pointed at the wolf who'd given a useless answer, " -- thanks for the help, dude -- but it's not what you think. There's no paradise waiting on the other end of soul-based TNT. There's no nothing. Trust me. I'm doing you a favor."

The wolves snarled and moved closer. Daisy swore under her breath. None of them had been in Death long enough to be a real threat. But they could still pack a wallop. Or at the very least, call the wrong kind of attention. Her back still throbbed. 

"Daisy, don't be a hero," she sang under her breath, just as the wolves lunged toward her as one. 

She thrust the butt of the Scythe deep into the water, knocking all six wolves back onto their haunches. Fully four of them were swiftly carried away by the water, their howls of anger quickly turning to fear as they realized what was happening. The other two scrambled up and after Daisy, who was already making her way back toward Artie and away from the causeway. 

She found him and pushed through the life without so much as a backward glance, though she could feel the heat of claw marks burning through the back of her Victoria's Secret Pink tracksuit. 

Artie was on all fours, towering above her as the sound of distant explosions and gunfire slowly returned to her. He licked her face once, anxious, angry, and she reached up, panting, to pat his snout before hauling herself onto his back. 

"Go find Veti," she breathed, wincing, and trying not to think of the wolves still dying for everything and nothing. "Hurry, Artie. Go."