Author's Note: Zoe's powers comes from two different sources. One comes from a book-series called the Incarnations of Immortality. Forive me, but I forgot the author's name at the moment. She obviously takes the office of Death. As for the second source, it comes from a show called 'Dead Like Me.' As for the book reference, in my world there is an office of Death. However, in this universe, it is not up to one person. Since it is an office, there are numerous people who work as grim reapers. Which brings me to the show reference. The reapers, as they are called in the show, deal with a 'normal' life while taking souls to ensure that the recently departed do not feel pain. They are given post-it notes where is shows time and place of the death and simple initials for said deceased. Confusing? I thought so. You'll have to wait for further chapters in order to fully understand Zoe's powers and her role in my world.

Zoe Darsh sat in an empty booth, looking over the top of her menu to a balding man who was fondling a young girl. The girl was neither his wife nor his daughter, much to her relief, but he was slated to die. She looked at her watch and it was exactly one minute before his death.
She shook her head when the waitress came to get her order. She�d order as soon as she returned from the bathroom. She stood and sauntered to where the man and the girl sat, pretending to fall to the floor. She was courteous and excused herself, taking the man�s offered hand to help her up. Smiling, she slid her hand over the man�s palm, not an affectionate gesture, just a mutual touch between strangers. The man mistook the smile for something else and gazed at her hungrily, before his charge began to whine. Wiping her greased hand on her pant leg, she turned on her heel, feeling the familiar presence of Fate pass her and onto the man.
Counting backwards from thirty, Zoe stopped by the bathroom door, on the other side of the restaurant, and stood there, while a loud, unerring screech shook the restaurant�s windows. She looked around the restaurant, watching the people as they scattered around, trying to find out where the noise was coming from. From ten, she turned back to the man and watched a pair of headlights bounce up and down from across the street. Like deer caught in headlights, the man froze, watching as the car sped towards him.
Five.
He had risen to move, tugging on his lover�s arm, but the car had swerved unexpectedly to the left, self-assuring the man that he was safe.
Four.
He was about to sit again, when the car, once again, swerved to its right, crashing through the window.
Three.
The entire restaurant exploded into chaos, guests screaming, debris flying, and blood splattering all over the place.
Two.
The man�s lover had been hit, but being so small, she had simply bounced over the flying car�s hood and rolled to where Zoe stood, watching from a safe distance.
One.
As quickly as it had all happened, it had stopped. There was steam coming up from under the hood, oil and gas fumes wafted into the air, and the slow realization that someone was under the hood. At least...half of him was under the hood. He had been literally cut in half, his legs lost somewhere underneath the back-end of the car while the man�s upper half had landed on the hood, organs and bones splashed over the window, blood speckling the car like a defunct clown-mobile. The man�s eyes were still wide open, as if even in death he didn�t realize he was dead. He had bit his tongue, probably on impact, but his teeth had clamped down so that even his tongue had been severed. People were gagging, some were crying, others were frantically calling the police, the ambulance, anyone to help. The driver was unharmed. Drunk, but perfectly fine.
Zoe shook her head at the pieces of the man, then leaned over the girl whose eyes were rolling to the back of her head. She had been hit hard, but would probably wake up in the hospital with a major headache. Maybe she had a concussion. But it wasn�t her problem. If the girl was to die this night, she would have taken a two-for-one, but the girl would survive. Her job was done.
She snuck out of the restaurant and sat next to a lamp post, waiting. She didn�t mind the job, it was just all the waiting she had to do. She turned when she heard a man�s wail come from the direction of the restaurant. She snapped her fingers and the man that had just been killed strolled towards her, looking unharmed, as if he had never been hit. He spotted Zoe and instantly realized that she was the only one who saw him. He ran to her, eyes red with tears. He fell to his knees and looked up to her.
�Why? Why me? Why did I have to die?�
Zoe shrugged. Thankfully she was used to this side of her job. �I don�t know. I just work here. All I have to do is take your soul and make sure you go to Heaven or Hell. If you have a problem with it, contact your afterlife representative.�
�What?�
Zoe shrugged again, her humor was, as always, misunderstood. She looked at her all-purpose watch, the one that showed the minute, hour, second, month, day, year, and destination for all souls, and pointed down. �Sorry, old man, but you�re going to hell.�
�I lived a good life! I�m not evil!�
�Yeah?� Zoe raised an eyebrow. �Well, when people claim to have seen you with a girl that�s not your daughter, one can speculate...�
�Oh, God, no! My wife is going to-�
Zoe put her index finger and thumb on the bridge of her nose. �Please don�t say she�s going to kill you. You�re already dead, Einstein.�
�But...�
�See this?� Zoe pointed to her watch. �It says eleven-thirteen. You died thirteen minutes ago which means you�ve already lived your life, now it�s your time to go. Too bad, so sad...deal with it!�
�But my children...� The man sobbed. �My daughter�s sixteenth birthday party is tomorrow!�
�I�ll send her a card with you in mind. Now, can you please go?�
�Go?� The man looked around. �Go where? I�m dead!�
Zoe grinned, knowing it was an easy, below-the-belt set up. �Go to hell.�
The fires of hell sparked around the man�s feet, rising up from the unknown, dark depths and engulfing him in fire. He screamed in pain, trying to claw at the sky as if it would open and God Himself would take him. But He didn�t, and the man slowly began to sink into the a black portal, skeletal hands were pulling at him, the fires of hell whipped his face, and far, far below was Satan, laughing, mocking, and probably jumping with joy. There was one last breath of fire before Janus, Guardian of all Portals, decreed the gate of hell closed. He stood, amidst the shadows, gazing at Zoe as she looked at him.
�Long time no see, Janus.� Zoe said, rising to her feet. �Hear any good jokes lately?�
�None that you�d really appreciate.� Janus answered. He tossed back his hair, pure white, like clouds, with a porcelain face to match. The only black on him was his eyes that held the great gates of heaven and hell at bay. No one could enter or escape without his consent. It was unsure if he was that powerful or that if anyone did attempt a stunt as to go in and out of the gates, that they would find themselves in the Abyss, the depths deeper than Chaos.
�What brings you out among mortals?�
�I�m here to warn you.� Janus replied, gazing towards the accident. �Satan is planning something sinister.�
�Oh, please!� Zoe laughed. �He�s always planning something sinister. It�s the only thing he can do! Why would this year be any different than any other year?�
Janus shrugged. Even a motion like that made Janus seem mortal. His eyes, black and fathomless like a shark�s, turned to look at Zoe. He was neither young nor old, tall nor short. But in a way, he was handsome, bordering on pretty. He sighed and scratched his eyebrow, a gesture that disturbed Zoe. Every time Janus had made a mortal gesture, it always meant he was perplexed, something that should never bother a powerful immortal like him. He smiled when he noticed Zoe looking at him.
�Ah, don�t mind me. I just came to warn you, alright? I must be going. Watching the portals is a full-time job, you know. I�ll be seeing you.�
�Yeah, alright.� Zoe nodded and watched the Guardian leave.
He disappeared in a flash of white rings and stars, leaving nothing but a sprinkle of white dust. Zoe stared at the dust until it finally blew away with the wind. Troubled, Zoe turned on her heel and headed towards the city of Tourmaline.
Tourmaline was the epicenter of the vampire and lycanthrope world. There was no such thing as a secret underground movement; vampires and lycanthropes literally ruled the city. There was a werefox mayor who was as his animal implied; sly as a fox and just as sleazy. Of his entourage he had several werewolf bodyguards, a weretiger secretary, and werebears who were a part of his security team. Most of the clubs were owned by vampires who catered to all races and sexes. There were legal brothels and dance clubs, S&M torture chambers that were as common as the corner bakery in a human city, churches to convert humans to a vampire or lycanthrope, outrageous country clubs and even restaurants that had human offerings as well as fresh cattle for lycanthropes who chose to hunt their food. Every night was an orgy of hot, frenzied sex, every night was like a battle for life and blood, the thrill and terror of the hunt. Every night was an experience. As for the humans...they just lived there.
Zoe crossed into Tourmaline territory and immediately felt the first rush of Death. It wasn�t the death of others, it was the power of the grave. She wasn�t just another faceless grim reaper, she was also a Necromancer, born to raise the Dead and to raise hell whenever, wherever she wanted. In all honesty, this was her home, she belonged here and nowhere else. Anywhere else she was hunted down by the religious orders, she was considered a freak of nature, something to be feared, something to be killed. She was protected here, respected, feared by zombies who had no control over themselves. This was her world.
She walked along a dark alley, her hand resting comfortably against a yoyo that she had custom made herself. It may have looked ridiculous to some, but to those who knew her and those that had experience with said yoyo knew that it and the bearer was something one shouldn�t underestimate. She may have been Death Incarnate and Necromancer, but she was twice as deadly with a weapon.
On the outskirts of Tourmaline, were the human establishments, erected just for the purpose of serving the human public. As one got deeper, into the center of Tourmaline, human shops became scarce and soon became strictly lycanthrope and vampire. But humans didn�t inhabit the outskirts completely. Necromancers likes herself, witches, psychics, and others of the sort also lived in the outer circle, inhabiting their own area for people who weren�t quite human and weren�t quite preternatural.
She smiled as she passed shop keeps and pedestrians, not the kind of smile that was endearing, but of one of pure madness. She had the masks of humanity and death, happiness and anger, sometimes she wore the mask of insanity. Sometimes it was an act, other times it was the hot, burning emotion that she couldn�t escape from. She wasn�t a very emotional or affectionate person, but she knew enough to survive and had enough experience with people to not trust completely. Some would call her paranoid, those that knew her called her a philosophical sociopath.
She came upon a brick building that had a broken neon sign. Looking up the twenty-odd floors, she sighed and let her mind slip into the mask of happiness. Home. She was finally at home. She climbed the stairs, not for her health, but because she needed to clear her head. She made it habitual for her to mentally tick-off all the jobs she had done for the night. Whether they were old, young, good, or bad, she couldn�t let every case become personal. A job was a job, someone had to do it, even if she was the only daughter to the man known as Death.
It took her over an hour to reach the eighteenth floor, only because she took her time. By the time she walked into the hallway, it was close to one in the morning. It took her another five minutes to walk down the hall and lean heavily against her apartment door. Inside, there wasn�t a flicker of power or magic to tell her that her roommate was home. Sighing, she dug into her pocket for the key, half-wondering why she wasn�t home yet. Usually, by midnight she would be home, watching a late night movie. Her �witching-hour� as she liked to put it.
She inserted the key and turned it, pushing the door open with all of her weight. Before she could let out a relaxed sigh, the first tendrils of power reached her mental barriers and she froze, the door between her and whoever was inside.
It took her a full minute to recognize the power. It had been three months since she had seen him and she had already forgotten his psychic scent. She snarled and pushed the door open wider, putting her hands on her hips. She wanted to scream at him, to grab him by the neck and shake him until his fanged teeth fell out, but the moment she looked at him, she made the mistake by looking into his eyes. Of all the vampires she knew and all the men she had either killed or pissed off, Cian Donovan was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. The word to describe him might have been a little awkward, but there was no other word she could use. His hair was as dark as the room, his eyes a violet so dark they were like black diamonds. The only true thing visible was his pale, nearly translucent face, a stark contrast against the darkness around him. She didn�t know what he was wearing and she didn�t care. The only thing that pissed her off was that he was using his eyes to take out the bark in her bite.
�Hello, Zoe.� Cian crooned, his voice laced with the blatant undertones of Ireland.
�What the hell are you doing here?� She asked, blatantly irritated.
�I came to see my dear sister.�
Zoe let out a snort. �Right. Dear sister. My ass!� A thought dawned on her and she shut the door with enough force to have the entire building shaking. �Where are they?�
�Where are what?�
�The camera�s, stupid. Where did you put them?�
She began to rummage through the couch�s pillows, upturning the cushions and looking through the closets. She peeked into the bedrooms and the bathrooms, rummaged through the cupboards, refrigerator, and under the table where Cian was sitting. She slammed her hand on the surface and leaned towards her brother. Her anger was hot enough to burn and to bypass the compulsion of Cian�s eyes.
�Where are they?�
Cian shook his head. �I assure you, Zoe. That there are no camera�s here. If there were, you know I�d be trying to dissuade you from looking.�
Zoe leaned back enough to cross her arms. Unlike most vampires who liked to lie and use their charms or their vampire powers to get their way, Cian only used his body and his voice. Maybe it was his upbringing or maybe the way he experienced the world, but if there was one thing Zoe could truly count on, it was Cian telling the truth. After all, he had told her he was an adult film star, known for his large, natural endowment, and low and behold, he was telling the truth. Of all the years she had known him, he could never tell a lie, whether his life depended on it. He was, by far, the most truthful and reliable vampire she had ever known. Thanks to their mother.
�Fine. So there aren�t any cameras here. Then what are you doing here?�
�Carrick insisted I look for you.�
�Carrick?� Zoe repeated. �Last I heard, Einstein, Carrick is a tiger and he can�t talk.�
�I know that.� Cian answered. �But he literally made his point when he found a picture of you and placed a very sharp claw into my neck. He didn�t move until I understood his meaning.�
�Yep, that�s Carrick�s work.� Zoe said with an air of pride. �So, where is he?�
Cian used his eyes to beckon behind her. Then she saw the first glimpse of something white. Then it began to grow and completely block out the window that situated itself in the kitchen. It was nearly as large as a pony, twice as bulky, and full of raw, feline muscle. He trotted towards her then, and laid his head on her lap, purring with content.
�Holy shit.� Zoe murmured. �When did he learn that trick? I was just in the kitchen a few minutes ago and I could have stepped on him the whole time.�
�Apparently Aaron and the Clan have been teaching him a few...hiding techniques.� Cian added. He looked at Zoe�s surprised face. �Just because he�s your cat, doesn�t mean that we haven�t been taking care of him.�
�You took care of him better than me.� Zoe pointed out.
�You didn�t want my help, remember?� Cian shot back.
�With good cause. You�d probably charge me to stay at your house.�
Cian�s anger began to rise. �I wouldn�t dare. You�re my sister.�
Zoe rolled her eyes. �If not that then you would have tried to get me into one of your movies!�
Cian remained quiet then let a grin slowly carve into his face. �Maybe.�
�Oh, you sick bastard!� Zoe screamed. �Get out! Get out of my apartment!�
The vampire chuckled as he rose, giving Zoe a long look of his usual leather and chains outfit. It was one of those outfits that came straight from an S&M movie. The shirt was vinyl, shiny, and stretched so tight over his torso that the muscles and his nipples were greatly defined. His arms were bare, except for a coil of silver around his upper left arm and a silver shackle on his right wrist. His pants were leather, skin-tight, with a large bulge in the front to make any woman�s mouth water at the thought of seeing him naked. He gave a little shake of his head and his hair fell in a black curtain over his shoulders. He smiled, knowing Zoe was watching him against her better judgment and blew her a kiss, just to annoy her.
�Asshole.� Zoe growled.
�Mine or yours?� Cian countered.
�Out!� Zoe shouted.
Turning on his booted heel, Cian reached for the door and took his hand back just as the door opened on its own. He stared at the woman opposite him and forgot all his teasing and smart-ass remarks.