Page 19 of Dead Serious Case 4 Professor Prometheus Plume

Death frowns. “For goodness’ sake,” he admonishes the dog. “Have a little decorum. We have a reputation to maintain.”

“Sol!” Aidan yells happily.

The dog, who is apparently called Sol, excitedly scrambles to his feet at the sound of Aidan’s voice, trampling all over me and narrowly missing my balls. He bounds over to Aidan and launches himself onto the sofa. Pringles go flying everywhere, Danny gets slapped in the face with a very enthusiastic tail, and Aidan giggles loudly as Sol licks his face, bathing him in slobber.

“Sol.” Aidan shoves the huge puppy head away, still laughing.

“Aidan,” Death says on an indignant exhale. “How many times do I have to tell you? His name is Soul-Slayer.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Grim,” Aidan sniggers.

“He is a fearsome guardian of the dead,” Death sniffs.

“Uh-huh,” I mutter. “Well, that fearsome guardian of the dead is barking at his own reflection.”

Death looks over towards the puppy, who has abandoned Aidan and is now barking enthusiastically at his reflection in the glass doors of the TV cabinet. He rolls his eyes and stares tragically at the ceiling as if he might find his patience there, dangling from a Christmas decoration by a very thin thread.

Suddenly, Sol’s ears pick up and he spins abruptly. Before I realise what has caught his attention, he streaks through the living room, out into the hallway, and presumably in the direction of my and Danny’s bedroom. Moments later, there is an almighty crashing, followed by joyful barking and a loud, shrill yowl from Jacob Marley.

“Oh god.” I close my eyes.

“I’ll go.” Danny jumps to his feet.

Aidan winces. “I’ll help.” He follows behind, obviously very familiar with Death’s dog.

“Perhaps you should check on your feline companion,” Death suggests.

“Actually, I’d be more concerned for your dog than Jacob Marley. He generally isn’t fond of humans–”

“I can relate,” Death mutters.

“–but he’s even less fond of other animals, regardless of species. He’s a prickly little git.”

Death hums contemplatively.

“What are you doing here anyway?” I ask. “Other than letting your cute dog tear up my flat and slobber over everything.”

“Chan told me to be here,” he says, as if that was reason enough. At my raised brows, he adds, “For dinner.”

“Okaaaay.” As things stand, Death having Christmas dinner at our flat is really not the strangest thing to ever happen to me. A sudden thought occurs to me and before I can second-guess the etiquette involved, I turn to him. “Death, can I ask you a question?”

He gives a single sharp nod. “You may.”

“It’s—it’s just that my dad…” I swallow tightly as he watches me carefully with those piercing, fathomless eyes. “He’s not…” I sigh. “He’s not… Is he going to–”

“Tristan,” he replies firmly but not unkindly. “I cannot tell you what you want to know.”

“No, I know.” I shake my head. “I’m not asking you to tell me when he’s going to die. I know you can’t or won’t tell me that and to be honest, I’m not sure I could handle knowing anyway.”

“That is why the rules exist,” Death says. “Humans are not equipped emotionally to carry the weight of knowing when they are going to die.”

I nod miserably. “You’re right. I know you are.”

“But I can tell you this,” he relents. “The sand in his hourglass is running low. His time is coming, but not quite yet. You should prepare yourself. But, Tristan, you more than most should know that death is not the end. The soul is forever, and death is simply its transition from one state of being into another. Right now, your father is trapped, his damaged mind his prison. When his time comes, there will be no pain for him, only joy at being free once more.”

“Will I… will I be able to see him again? I mean, after–”

“Tristan,” Death says his tone softening. “You have loved him so well that he has no unfinished business. When his time comes, he will cross directly into the light and into the arms of his loved ones.”