Daisy had never been one for sentiment -- or at least not that she let herself acknowledge -- but standing out alone on the pavilion outside the London branch, she could almost pretend the sound of Artie's nails on cobblestone was soothing. Or at least thought-provoking.
Granted, most of those thoughts were grim, bordering on hostile...but thoughts provoked they were nonetheless.
The Reaper knew full well what most of the B&H company thought of her. It came with being able to change her appearance like most people changed a pair of sunglasses. There was a reason -- there were myriad reasons, but only one really meant anything -- she opted to stay a sixteen-year-old girl. Daisy had no idea how old she was. Her memory didn't extend more than a few years back, and even then, 'years' was a broad estimate as a year in Death could be a second or a century in life. But things didn't change so much that she didn't know how little was expected of teenaged girls, worldwide. Particularly those with pink hair.
An arranged marriage here, a few hens and a cow there. A cheerleading scholarship, a night spent home with younger siblings. Countless Instagram'd selfies with the tag #nofilter. Things were easy, vapid living. No one expected depth of a sixteen-year-old girl. No one expected forethought or morality. Daisy's job was a basic as they come, and when you looked like she did, you could keep it that way. You never had to explain yourself, never had to correct mistakes. Never had to figure out how to fit "I'm sorry I killed your boyfriend" into 160 characters, because who even had a monthly text limit anymore, anyway?
No one asked Daisy hard questions, and no one bothered to look beyond perfect French manicures and bubblegum spirals. Well. No one but Veti. And it was hard to lie to Veti. But Veti had been preoccupied in the last year, anyway, so the danger there was mostly latent. No one ever made Daisy think about what she did, and no one made her take responsibility, and that was just how she fucking liked it, thank you very much.
And then one of those missing pieces, one of those moral gray areas she made it a priority to avoid just walked into the group and expected to be all cocktails and camaraderie. Not like there weren't other obnoxious cases in Bain and Hoyle. The whole damn company built their foundations, necessarily so, on 'things that annoyed Daisy'. Hell, even Veti and Siya offered up their own special brand of what-the-fuckery.
But the others were subtle about it. Werewolves could die. Vampires could die. Warlock, demons, even fucking soul-eaters could die.
The undead?
Daisy shuddered and sighed and raked a hand through her hair. The Ice Bitch had been wrong in that much. Daisy wasn't sure she'd suffer much whether the crazy spirit went to hell or straight the other way. It was the wight she was worried about...and the fact that he was completely remorseless was both horrifying and refreshing.
The fact that she felt cold standing near him was something else completely in and of itself.
On the ground, some twenty feet off, Artie had stopped twitching like a spastic squirrel and was sniffing the air in earnest. She watched him for a long moment, her mind wandering far away, wondering idly what would happen if she took him and left. Veti might be upset. But Veti would get over it. She had Thad back. And Tiny Vamp had turned Atticus into a jungle gym of sorts. She was pretty sure she could sneak out, collect whatever remained of her paycheck when they all came back dead or alive or somewhere in between and tut-tut all the way to the bank. If --
“Daisy, um…Hi. Seems like I missed a lot.”
Daisy started, then shut her eyes and exhaled.
Well. So much for later.
She turned and gave her vapid-in-arms compatriot an almost friendly smile. She liked Jay-Jay. She didn't take everything so fucking seriously as everyone else did. And she liked staring at Henry, too.
She just wasn't sure she'd cooled off enough to be friendly yet.
"Hi," she said dully, before turning back to look in front of her. Artie was still sniffing the air, but he was on all fours now. And bigger. Somewhere between a Great Dane and a bear.
Daisy rolled her eyes. For already being dead, her attention span wasn't half bad when compared to his.
"It's just Jay-Jay," she called. "Chill."
Artie didn't respond, didn't even look at her. But he growled, deep and low in his chest in a way that told Daisy without words:
No. It wasn't.