Haley Thistle
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Monster March: Todesengel the Plague Doctor
🕑 Added 2023-03-22 18:00:01 +0000 UTCMale monster x female reader
The sickness is spreading, and it has become like a fog that reaches everyone. It seeps through cracks and open windows, it billows in without a sound, but once you see it, it is already too late.
I have worked my hardest on helping people, using everything I have ever known to try and find a cure. But at this point, all I am good for is numbing the pain, or helping them into a sleep they will never awake from.
My herb garden is bare, and my supplies are running low. I have managed to cobble together some extra ingredients from abandoned gardens and the homes of the dead. I feel terrible taking from the shelves of someone else, but they are lying dead in their beds and will not need them anymore. I try to comfort myself by saying that were they alive, they would give the herbs to me anyways. Anything at all to help, right?
I work alongside some of the doctors, but it just isn’t enough, The doctors are spread thin as it is, and with all their knowledge and means of safety, even they are susceptible to the plague. When word of Doctor Heimdall’s death reaches me, I feel deep in my bones an utter coldness. If the doctors are as susceptible, then I am as well.
I keep working, trying my hardest to help those still alive. I have taken in several children, giving them a place to sleep and a meal in their bellies. Keeping busy does help. If you don’t think about it, then you don’t have to worry. And if you have no worry, you can put on a brave face.
Unfortunately, I cannot claim that I am special. I am not. So when I first cough and vomit, I know that my time has come. I send the children away with Doctor Alberding, who was leading a convoy of healthy out of the city.
“Branwen,” Alberding says as he looks at me. “Are you sure?”
“You need to go. I can’t leave, so it has to be you,” I whisper to the doctor.
He sighs and nods, joining the children to try and comfort them as they leave.
I go to my bed, assured that I will never get up again. I have already begun to rot, and the grotesque sores blister my body. For days I lie there, waiting for death to come through the door. I have left it unlocked for just that reason.
Breathing becomes painful, and I try to will myself to stop, but even as I taste bile on my tongue, I keep on living. I hope Hell is a better misery than this, I think to myself. I hope the Devil is more forgiving than this.
One day, through the fog of my brain, I see a dark figure come into the room. It towers over me, gazing at me with wide, black eyes. I stare back at them as tears fall from my eyes. Death has finally come for me, and I am relieved. Death sits me up, feeding me a warm broth I can’t quite taste. He then lays bundles of sweet-smelling herbs under my pillows and legs.
Why is he not taking me? Why is he continuing to let me live like this? I struggle to try and talk to him. But my voice is gone. I exhaust myself just from trying to speak, and I fall asleep.
Once I awaken, I feel strangely lighter. I take a breath, and it does not feel pained. I move my arm, and it does not feel as if my skin is ripping from my flesh. I still feel ill, but something has changed.
I hear the door open and, a moment later, a tall, dark figure is standing over me. It’s a doctor, dressed in black robes and wearing the bird-like mask. I squint my eyes at him and open my mouth, wondering if my voice has returned.
“Glad to see you’re awake,” his voice is raspy and soothing.
I furrow my brow as he sits by my side again. He takes the bowl from the side table and fills it with a flask on his belt.
“Up, up, now,” he coaxes. He places his hand behind my head, helping me rise. He then places the bowl to my lips, feeding me the weak broth again. “There we go.”
I sputter, tasting something bitter. “What is this?” My voice croaks.
“Something that is helping,” he replies. “Now finish it up.”
I do as told, taking slow sips of the broth before he lays me back down. “Who are you?” I ask. “I thought all the doctors had left.”
“I am Albrecht Todesengel,” he turns towards me. “I was informed by Doctor Heimdall you may need help?”
I huff and swallow, feeling my throat grow a little tight. “But Doctor Heimdall is dead,” I murmur.
“Yes,” Doctor Todesengel says with a curt nod. “I hope you do not mind. I’ve made myself at home here. You had the proper facilities for me to work.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine.”
Doctor Todesengel sits back down beside the bed, petting his gloved hand over my hair. “You are the lucky one,” he says. “I was able to get to you in time.”
“Is there such a thing?” My voice cracks. “I thought that, once you feel it, it is already too late.”
He chuckles. “Not for me,” he stands back up and turns to the stove. I see steam rising from a pot, and from within, he spoons more of the broth into his flask. “I have the remedy.”
“Please,” I suddenly cry out. “You have to help them.”
He turns and looks at me, at least I assume he’s looking at me. “Do not worry, I will do all in my power.”
I relax back into the bed, feeling powerfully weak. I drift in and out of sleep for a few days. Each time I wake, Doctor Todesengel feeds me the broth.
“I thought all the doctors had gone,” I murmur. “Where did you come from?” My voice cracks and he offers me water.
Todesengel chuckles. “I am where I need to be now,” he replies. “That is all that matters, doesn’t it?” He pets my hair back from my face. “I was lucky, really. It has been a long time since I was where I needed to be.”
I look up at him and smile softly. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you. You saved my life.” I take his hand and squeeze it as hard as I can.
“Branwen,” he whispers with his strange voice, “I just want to see you better. That will be all the thanks in the world for me.”
Todesengel is gentle and kind but has strange habits as well. He talks to the bugs on the wall. And at night, as he’s working over the herbs and medicine, he talks to himself, laughing at his jokes and humming away as if he is carefree. It starts out as creepily eccentric, but soon it becomes endearing to me. Doctor Todesengel has become a fondness I cannot ignore.
Within a matter of days, the sores heal, my strength returns, and by the end of the week, I am able to leave my bed. I am still weak, but I am able to walk and move about the house again. Doctor Todesengel burns my bed, replacing it with a new one.
“Much like souls,” Todesengel starts, “disease can only be cured in flames.” He tosses more lumber onto the fire, burning blankets and beds from other houses where people are still alive.
I look at him, hearing him humming behind his mask as he grinds up seeds. “That’s rather disturbing,” I say.
He chuckles. “Most things are when you say it with a smile,” he retorts. “Hand me that jar over there,” he points with a gloved hand.
I reach back, my hands shaking, and I have to grab it with both hands. “You can take off your mask,” I reply.
“Still too early to risk it,” he answers. “In a few days, the air will be clear.” He tosses the liquid inside the jar onto the fire, and it roars to new life. Some of the flames flicker green for a moment before fading into the orange heat.
“The smoke may suffocate, but as it rises, the air will become clear,” he says with a soft voice.
He has bundles of lavender and mint hanging from the ceiling. He says they will purify the air and keep the plague from returning. All this time he has stayed with me, I have never seen him without his mask. He keeps it on at all hours, but he says it is to keep himself safe.
Once I am able, I help Doctor Todesengel make his medicines and tinctures. It helps me get the strength back into my hands, and I feel better being able to do the job I was trained to do.
“Your pain medicine is a work of art,” he tells me.
“I just wish the valerian smelled better,” I sigh.
Todesengel chuckles. “Does it smell?” He taps the beak of his mask. “I wouldn’t be able to tell.”
I chuckle. “Then take it off and give it a good whiff.”
He hesitates and looks down at the jar he’s holding. “It at least does its job. It eases the pain, and for those too far gone, it lets them fall into a deep sleep.”
I furrow my brow. Todesengel completely avoided me.
“Will, you ever take off your mask?” I ask him. “Even if I said I would kiss you?”
“I uh,” Todesengel stammers. He takes a deep breath and turns towards me. “It would not be safe, my Branwen,” he says.
“But I am better!” I gasp. “You healed me. If it isn’t safe here, then-” I stop and look down at my hands. “I want to see you.”
Todesengel touches my cheek. “My darling,” he whispers, “do not break my heart to bend my will.”
I frown at him. “Is it wrong that I want to kiss you?” I whisper. “That my heart is growing stronger because of you?”
“No,” he whispers. “But, you must understand,” he grunts and takes hold of my hand. “I have to do what I must,” he tells me. “For the good of the world.”
I look back up at him and tug the beak of his mask, making him lean forward. I place a kiss there and smile at him. “Forgive me. I’ll try to tolerate your methods.”
Todesengel laughs. “My love,” he whispers. “Once the world is quiet, I will share with you my complete heart.” He taps his beak to my cheek, and I giggle. “For now, this is all I can offer.”
As time goes on, I’m able to leave the house and go out with Doctor Todesengel to assist him. Most of the town is empty, and everything feels hollow and deserted. The stench of death wafts through the air, making me feel sick.
“Here,” Todesengel fashions me a mask with a small beak filled with mint and lavender. “Hopefully, this will help,” he says as he fastens it to my face.
I breathe in deep, the scent of the herbs makes my nostrils and lungs feel cold. “Thank you,” I sigh.
Even still, the putrid smell of death lingers in me. With every breath, it grows a little fainter, but it is still there. I feel as if it will stay with me for the rest of my life.
We go into homes, looking for the sick and possibly still alive. We’re able to save a few people and get them somewhere safe. Todesengel has had to talk people away from their loved ones. Mothers from children, husbands from wives, daughters from their parents. It is hard seeing the grief and loss, but it is all part of trying to save their lives.
There are times when we come into a place, and the stench of decay and death is so thick I have to leave. Even with the mask on, I cannot breathe. I do not understand how Todesengel can stand it. He will stay with the dead, saying a prayer over them as a kind gesture.
There have been times we have found someone who is at death’s door, and Todesengel stays with them until their last breath has been taken. He has me leave and shuts himself away with the dying. I don’t understand why. I mean, it is never easy to watch someone pass away, but if it helps to stay, then I want to help.
“You narrowly escaped death,” Todesengel tells me one night as we’re sitting by the fire. “I don’t want you to come close again.”
“Why are you so fascinated with it, then?” I ask him. “What makes you stay to see the soul evaporate and leave this world? Does it not hurt you as it would me?”
“My love,” he says. His voice sounds as thick and heavy as syrup. “It isn’t my pleasure to see these final moments. It is something I must do. I know you have seen your share of sick and dying, even before all of this, but this is something I must do alone.”
I take his hand and squeeze it tight. “I want to share your burden.”
He chuckles softly, bringing my hand up and placing the beak of the mask in my palm. “It is not a burden that is meant to be shared. It is heavy, but having you near makes it lighter.” He then looks up at me. “The love I have for you makes me think I am stronger than I really am.”
I smile at him. “I love you,” I whisper to him. “I would do anything for you.”
“I ask for nothing except that you will obey me when I ask.” Todesengel squeezes my hand tight. “One day I hope you will understand.”
“I will try,” I whisper to him.
One night, a young boy comes to us begging for help. His mother is starting to die, and he heard that somehow we could help her. We follow the boy to his home and Todesengel takes one step into the room, then turns and holds his hand out.
“Do not come in, Branwen,” he commands me.
I gasp and flinch at his words. “But the boy said-”
“Do not come in,” Todesengel repeats with a stronger voice. “Remember your promise to me, that’s all I ask.” He places the flask in my hands. “Feed the boy some. He is still in good health.” He walks into the house, closing and bolting the door behind himself.
I give the boy some of the broth. He sips on it, making a sour face as he does.
“Why must medicine always be so bitter?” He asks me.
“Perhaps it is so we know it’s working,” I reply. I glance back at the house, and I see something strange in the window. I see a small, flickering green light. “Stay here,” I whisper to the boy.
I go back up to the house, peering through the window. There is a candle lit on the bedside table, but the flame glows bright green. I see Todesengel leaning over the bed, and he picks up the woman. I gasp softly, watching as he holds her in his arms like a mother would a child.
He reaches up, removing his mask. As it falls from his face, in the green light of the candle, I see something that is distorted and horrifying.
“Lady,” the little boy chirps, “what is it?”
I duck down, taking the boy into my arms. I cannot piece together what it is I just saw. The face under the mask was not a face at all. It was something like shreds of leather stitched over a hideous mound. The strange and gnarled mouth pressed to the lips of the woman, and her body went limp. As Todesengel pulled away, something black followed from the lips of the woman.
I cling to the boy more for my own comfort than to comfort him. What if all this time, my first thoughts on Todesengel had been right? In my sickness and delirium, I had assumed he was death. But after seeing this, I feel it is true. All the times he said he wanted to be alone with a patient, they always died. This was why he never allowed me to come in. He was taking their lives rather than the plague.
Todesengel walks out of the house. He looks down and sees the boy clinging to one another and me. “I am so sorry, child,” he whispers. “I did all I could.”
I can’t look at him. I pet the hair of the little boy as he weeps. I cannot bear to face Todesengel right now. Even though I still love him, I cannot face what he really is.
We get the boy to a safe house, and as we walk back home, it is eerily quiet. Once we get home, I claim I have to go to bed. I lay down, my back turned to the room, and I try to sleep. I want to believe that it had all been a trick of the eye, everything I saw was a hallucination. Perhaps I had inhaled too many herbs, but I knew I was lying to myself.
I cannot sleep, so I get up and go out to confront Todesengel about what I saw. But as I walk into the room, I see him sitting with rats all around him. I am struck silent with fear and disgust as he pets the rats and coos to them. He has removed his gloves, and he is letting the rats lick black drops of blood from his fingertips.
“There it is,” he whispers to the rats. “Take it.”
I cup my hand over my mouth, feeling as if my soul is trying to force its way from my body. I stumble and grip onto the wall.
Todesengel looks up, seeing me braced there. “Branwen,” he stands up and the rats all turn and run, going out the window. “Branwen, wait.”
“No!” I scream and hold my hand out in front of me. “Stay away from me!”
He stands still, his hand reached out to me while drops of black blood splash onto the floor. He wrenches his hand back, placing his gloves back on.
“You were never meant to see this,” he whispers.
I tremble and sniffle, feeling my body start to shiver. “That isn’t all that I have seen!” I snap at him. “I have seen much more!”
He looks up at me. “Branwen,” he whimpers.
“You aren’t helping anyone!” I cry. I rip my fingers through my hair. “Everyone you say you’re trying to help, you just-” I choke on my sob. “Every single one you end up killing! You’re death itself!”
Todesengel sighs and shakes his head. “My love-”
“Do not break my heart to bend my will!” I throw back at him. “How dare you make me love you while all you have done has lied to me! Do not speak my name on your cursed lips as if you ever really loved me at all!”
“But I have always loved you!” He cries. “I never meant to come here, but when I saw you sick and dying-” his voice cracks and he sobs. “I had to save you.”
“Why?” I scream at him. “What was the point?” I whimper and hug my arms around myself. “I love you even still-” I tremble. “I am dying because I love you! I hate this-” I whimper and claw at my face. “It is you,” I sob. “You are the reason the plague is here.”
He sobs and his hands tremble. “My love,” he says. “It isn’t that-” he looks up at me. “I am the plague.”
I stare down at him, had I the power I would have set him ablaze with my gaze. “What?” I hiss.
“I am the plague,” he repeats to me. “But please,” he begs, falling to his knees. “You have to listen to me. I need you to understand-”
“Get out,” my voice quivers, but I try to remain strong. “Get out of my home and out of my life. No matter how much I love you, I will recover from this sickness in me.”
“Please,” he sobs. “Do not make me go! Do not say our love is a disease.”
“Our love?” I scoff. “This isn’t love! All you’ve done is lie!”
“Then please let me explain! I was going to tell you everything once it was over, I promise!” Todesengel throws himself at my feet. “Please! I love you! Do not throw me out!”
My heart is shattered, but it still beats for him. I want to believe him, but I am so afraid of the truth that is there. I sniffle, and my tears fall onto his hood. “Then take off the mask.”
He is silent.
“If you want me to listen,” my voice shakes, “then remove the mask and speak to me with your own face.”
Todesengel takes a deep breath, and he chokes on a sob. With trembling hands, he reaches up to the mask, unlatching the straps, and he pulls it away from his face. It falls to the ground, laying sideways. He keeps his head down, so his hood keeps him covered. I kneel down beside him, reaching for him, and he jerks away from me.
“You have to let me see you,” I urge him, grabbing his arm. “I have to know the truth.”
Todesengel shudders, and he turns to me. His face is marred and strange, just as I had seen through the window. His hair is pure white and is tied back at the nape, and then the long braid wraps around his long thin neck like a noose. His skin is patched together, some of it is gray while the other is dark black. His features are highlighted by ridges in the skin that look like bright, yellow gems. His nose is hooked and angular, and his mouth is wide, slicing back to his ears, which are pointed and sliced at the tips.
His eyes are wide and black with a green light glowing from within. He looks at me, and while I want to see the monster, all I see is his sadness. I take his hand, holding it gently. I then squeeze it and sigh.
“Tell me what you are,” I whisper. “Before I change my mind.”
He takes my hand, looking at it before he closes his eyes. “Before I begin,” he shudders. “You must know that I know what I do is neither noble nor good. It is simply a fact of the world. People grow sick and old, and they die. I am merely performing a truth. But the truth is rarely ever liked.” He squeezes my hand.
“Neuntöter is a name I was given when I first came to this world. I was sent here as a soldier of my father, who was charged to bring pestilence to the world. I am just one of his children, and I am his plague.” he releases my hand, and he slouches more. He covers his face with his hands in shame.
“You are not of this world,” I whisper.
“Beyond it,” his voice cracks.
“And the kiss?” I ask him. “Why did you kiss that woman before?”
He moves his hands away from his face, and he shifts in place. “It is how I must feed,” he replies. “I take their death and their sickness into myself. It feeds me, and then I can spread my plague to the rest.”
“The rats?” I glance towards the window. “You used rats to do it?”
“What better way to do it?” Todesengel looks up at me. “The smallest of the small, the least looked upon. They are creatures that get everywhere. They leave their mark, and you will never know.”
“And what about the medicine?” I snap. “What was it for? Was it even helping anyone?” I rip the flask from his belt and shake it in the air. “Was I helping you murder?”
“No!” He gasps. “I helped where I could! I wasn’t lying to you when I said I wanted to help you heal.” He grabs my wrist, easing down my arm. “I saved your life with this medicine.”
“Why?” I gasp. “You tell me you were sent to spread the plague and that you feed off the dead. Why would you ever want to save someone?”
“Because,” he murmurs, “I have always admired you.”
I scowl at him.
“When I came here to lay the first seeds of the plague, the black rats,” he starts. He then swallows as his eyes fill with tears. “I was roaming the streets, and I saw you in your garden.” Todesengel then chuckles. “I never considered myself a man, and yet I was still susceptible to a beautiful woman.” He touches my cheek. “Your dark hair and kind eyes had me ensnared.” He dropped his hand. “When it came time for me to come down and feed, I was horrified to find you ill. So in my selfishness, I saved you.”
I look away from him and out the window that is open. “Are you going to kill everyone in the world?” I ask. “Is that your goal?”
“My goal is to feed,” he replies. “I can only do it every once in a few centuries. I create fear in the masses,” he whispers. “I turn their hearts so that they reach to a higher power.”
I look back at him. “Are you talking about God?”
He shakes his head. “That is not for you to know.”
I scoff and look away from him again, wiping tears from my cheeks. “I am so confused.”
“It is almost over,” he coaxes me. He runs his fingers through my hair. “My period for feeding is ending. The rats are carrying the last of the plague. It will end. People will heal. The world will continue. And then they will forget.”
“How could they ever forget?” I snarl. “How could people forget this suffering and pain? How can anyone-” I stop when I see the sorrow in his eyes.
“Men always forget,” he whispers. “They will say ‘never again,’ and it will always happen again. It is the true clockwork of mortals.”
I take a breath and steady myself. “Isn’t there some other way?”
He shakes his head, hanging it again. “This is all as it should be,” he answers.
I stand up and wipe my face. “I need a moment,” I reply. I step outside into the cold night air. I can hear weeping from the houses, so I walk away from them. I go down the road, heading towards the fields.
I see a man standing in the field. He is tall and angular and wearing a wide-brimmed hat. I consider turning back, but I am not ready to go home. I continue through the trail, coming close to the impossibly tall man.
“It isn’t safe for young women to be out here alone,” he says, not even moving. His back is turned to me, and his hat is pulled low. “What brings you here?”
My throat is tight, and I stand still. I glance over at him. “Just walking,” I answer.
“It’s quiet,” he whispers with a dark voice. “Strange. There used to be so much noise here,” he then chuckles. “I wonder why.”
I glare up at him. “Who are you?”
“Just your friendly neighborhood scarecrow,” he laughs. “Just enjoying the night air, much like you.” His head turns slightly, and there is a yellow glow from his eyes.
I gasp and stumble backward, catching myself. I stand in the tall grass, looking up at him. I then swallow down my fear and step back onto the path. “Do you know the Neuntöter?”
The man chuckles. “Once,” he replies. “He’s far too sad. He really ruins a good mood,” he waves his hand out, and I notice it looks rather strange, almost claw-like. “He was the reason it went quiet last time too.”
“Tell me,” I repeat myself. “Who are you?”
“You know,” he scoffs. “I have been asking myself just that same question.” He turns his head up towards the sky. “I’m not quite sure how to answer you.”
“Why?” I mutter.
“The world is chaotic,” he answers. “Everywhere you look, there is chaos. But right now, while it is quiet, there is peace.” He huffs and turns sideways. “I think I may hide somewhere like this, where it is quiet.” He glances towards me, his yellow eyes flaring and leaving trails of light.
“I am Baal,” he replies. “Or I was,” he laughs.
I take a step towards him. “Are you like the Neuntöter?” I ask.
“Oh fuck no,” He growls. “Similar vein of work, but two completely different things.” He holds up two long, sharp fingers. “What he does is a necessary truth in this world. What I do is a necessary chaos in the other. Which is what I am sick of.” He glances back up towards the sky. “What he does serves a purpose here. And it may not seem like it now, but in time, you will see it is not senseless.”
I furrow my brow. “Then can you tell me? What is the purpose?”
Baal scoffs. “Nope. Not my job anymore.” Suddenly, massive wings sprout from his back, and he flaps them, shooting himself up into the sky.
The force of his wings knocks me backward and tumbling into the field. I grunt and huff, scraping myself up a bit. I then just lay there, gazing up at the night sky as Baal flies away. I sigh, closing my eyes as I let the night wrap around me.
I wake up, rolling over on my side, I see a black rat in the grass. It rubs its face, then runs away before a boot lands in front of me. I sit up, looking at Todesengel as he towers above me. He has his mask on.
“I’ve been looking for you all night!” He snaps. “What are you doing here?” He kneels down and helps me up, dusting dirt and bugs off of me.
“I think I met an angel last night,” I murmur. “But I’m not sure.”
“I was so scared,” he grips my arms, and I feel his hands trembling. “I thought I would never see you again.”
I sigh, and I remove his mask. In the daylight, his eyes aren’t black, but a beautiful vibrant green. The blister-like gems on his face radiate a shimmer, and his skin has a glow to it. I lean in, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“It isn’t my place to understand your meaning in the world,” I tell him. “All I know is, I love the man who is in it.” I smile softly at him. “I am scared,” I confess. “But with you, the fear is far away from me.”
Todesengel smiles, and he takes my hand in his. “You still love me?”
I nod. “I think I always will,” I admit. “When will I see you again? Since this time is coming to an end.”
Todesengel shakes his head. “It will be many years from now, I am afraid.”
“Oh,” I gasp. “Then…will it be goodbye soon?”
He touches my cheek, brushing dirt from my cheek. “You can always come with me,” he replies.
My eyes widen. “What?”
“You can come with me. You’ll not be able to return for another seven hundred years, I’m afraid.”
“Seven hundred?” I gasp. “The world will still be here in so long?” I cannot believe my ears.
Todesengel laughs. “It will be going on for much longer than that,” he says. “It will seem like another world in 2018, but it is still the same place.”
“Oh wow,” I whisper. I then look into his eyes. “I love you,” I whisper. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you.” I touch his cheek and feel a warmth radiating from his skin.
He smiles and bends down, kissing me again. I am not sure what lies in the next world, but I am confident that as long as he is there, I will not worry about anything.
Seven Hundred Years Later:
I step out of the small house and watch as the cars go shooting by.
“Why do you keep watching them like that?” Todesengel calls from inside.
“I have never seen anything move so fast!” I gasp. “I am still getting used to them,” I grin as I watch another car zoom by. I turn back to look inside the house. “Are you ready yet?”
“Give me time!” he snaps. “This world is much different. I can’t walk out in the mask like before.”
I sigh and lean back. “I’ll miss that mask.”
He steps out into the sun, shielding his eyes. “Is it brighter here?”
I chuckle, going over to him and examining his disguise. “Right? I feel like the sun is closer or something.” I smooth down his collar. “You look quite dapper.”
Todesengel grimaces and makes a face. “This face is itchy.”
I touch the skin, not used to it. It’s much smoother than his natural skin. “I don’t like it either. It’s weird hearing your voice come from such a face.”
He kisses me. “Well, only for the time being. I have to go to work.”
I kiss him back. “Have a good day at the hospital,” I tell him. “Get a good meal.”
Todesengel scoffs. “It’s not ready yet. But any day now.”
Comments
MadyStacy
I liked the full circle aspect as well as relevance to current history!
Amy Mused
I feel like Todesengel is one of the most tragic stories because he can't help what he is and how he feeds. Yet when the woman he loved was near death, he had to do whatever he could to save her. Even if it meant revealing his true nature.
