His dogs howled. His dogs never howled on Halloween night. A moonless night made blacker by rain. Not that happy, eager Trick-or-Treaters ever came to his old and venerable house. No adventure-seeking teenage boys ever egged his house, ever soaped its wavy-with-age windows. The Mark disturbed the living, made men apprehensive, and unnerved the foolish, chased the dead, kept demons at bay. Even the birds of the air built their nests on the next house over. But not tonight. Tonight, the dogs howled.

Ayden looked up from his book. The hall clock finished striking midnight as he went to the door and opened an iron-barred peephole. Two eyes burned in the night.

"You should have called. I wouldn't be sitting here in my underwear with the lights out and you wouldn't be standing outside my door freezing your ass off in the cold cruel rain." Ayden said through the opening. He closed the peephole and yelled through the door.

"You're getting old, stepfather. My faithful old hounds heard you." Ayden lifted the iron bars that protected his home from creatures born before the rule of man.

"I was old when the universe was young, boy." The deep voice penetrated the door just like it penetrated all of creation. Iron deadbolts snapped open.

"Stubborn old man. This is a Busman's Holiday, isn't it? Not social huh?" Ayden opened the door. There, standing before him half-formed and unclothed, stood Death. Not Death with a hood and scythe, not Death who comes to us all in the night, not Death, Master of all living things, but Death becoming corporeal and incarnate. A mass of black curls hanging over a thin face, pale skin forming over even paler bones, an impossibly thin waist supported on pencil-thin legs.

Ayden knew the rules; Death incarnate never entered uninvited. He waved and bowed in a grandiose gesture. "You are welcome to enter the house of Ayden Cain," he said formally. Death stepped across the threshold. His body bulked up right before Ayden's eyes and stood in the entry hall a thick, fleshy, handsome young man, his body overflowing with the vigor of youth.

"You look fit, my son."

"As do you, stepfather. It's been too long." Ayden closed the door.

"I am in need of your assistance, Ayden. First for clothing and then to prevent the end of the world as we know it."

"Surely we have a few hours before it all ends." Unafraid, Ayden looked directly into the twin infernos revealed in Death's eyes.

"Yes, this body is hungry and desires food. It craves a mocha-choco-latte-grande with sprinkles and whipped cream, whatever that is. And it craves steak, ale and potato with cheese sauce, and a SacherTorte." Death smiled a pleasant and happy smile at Ayden.

"I have bargain-brand coffee, leftover beef stew, imported Mexican beer rather than the yeast piss that Americans call beer, and apricot jam over Klondike bars. That's the best I can do on short notice."

"A gourmet's repast." Death wrapped a strong arm around Ayden's shoulder and hugged. Ayden rested his head on Death's broad chest. This was the first physical contact Ayden had in years. Death caressed the back of his head.

"Now don't go all mushy and teary on me, old man. If we're not getting bloody, pick from the good clothes in my closet. Otherwise, the hall closet has old jeans and t-shirts. Sorry," Ayden forced himself away from Death's physical body. He went to the kitchen to heat leftovers. Death came in and sat down. He wore Ayden's oldest tank top and pair of well-worn jeans; his attitude announcing "rough trade."

"I liked you incorporeal and fierce." Ayden set the table and put the leftovers in the microwave. "What's the gig?"

"First, tell old man Schliemann that years ago, a muse whispered in that young songwriter's ear. Your hounds are not harbingers of death." Ayden slid the hot food onto Death's plate.

"You're really cruel. Can't we just tell him he has black lung," They shared a laugh at Mister Schliemann's expense.

"He knows, hence his fear. Tell him Death says to sleep soundly. When I come for him, he will greet me as his long-lost son with a fatted calf and expensive wines." Ayden shook his head and made silly faces at Death. Inwardly, he prayed for the day when Death would come to take him.

"That would kill the old cheapskate outright." Ayden opened the freezer, flipped a Klondike bar out of its wrapper and onto a dish. He slopped a spoon of yellowish marmalade jelly on the chocolate coating and topped it with a squirt of whipped cream from a can. Ayden set the plate on the table with a flourish normally reserved for elegance and royalty. Death stopped eating and gazed at the dessert, lips quivering and tears forming.

"My son, the chef!" Death said, his voice cracking with happiness.

"You bastard," Ayden laughed and cracked open a bottle of beer. "What's the second thing?"

Death sighed. "The Book of Daniel prophesizes that the crown of Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon, destroyer of nations, both chosen and damned of Jehovah, will be found in Akkadia. A crown of immense power." Ayden's lips formed a big "O."

"No shit? The old legends say the crown is a shard from Gabriel's sword after his battle with Sammael and..."

Death finished his sentence."... The man who wears the crown gains the power of life and death, power sufficient to challenge the gods of creation." Death finished eating the stew and sopped up the gravy with a piece of bread. He chased it down with beer and started eating the dessert.

"I thought you guys found all of that magical, holy, horseshit junk and destroyed it."

"Apparently not. Some gods are downright suckers for shiny baubles." Death leaned back on two legs of the chair and finished his beer. "Nebu was a doddering old fool with a pretty wife. He sealed the crown in a golden box with three silver keys made it the cornerstone of the Hanging Gardens."

"Should have thrown it in the royal crapper," Ayden said. Death gave Ayden a shit-eating, gotcha grin and touched his index finger to his nose.

"Right answer. His successor did just that. An intrepid archeologist dug it out."

Ayden splayed both hands to either side of his face and made like a little boy. "Daddy, Daddy what did you do today? Well son, today I dug up a moldy old king's 2500 year-old shit to find a crown that will let me destroy the world and your Momma. Aren't you proud of me?" Ayden laughed. Death tsk'ed and turned away.

"You high? Maui wowie?" Death asked, acting blasé.

"Mexicali nu-cue-lar, rolled on the loins of virile young warriors. Guaranteed to put a smile on your face no matter what."

"Like an Aztec sacrifice?"

"Take the edge off big time, Cheech. I bought it special." Ayden opened an earthen jar and removed a cigar-sized doobie. He lit the end, took a drag and handed it away. Death took a drag deep enough to stone an elephant, turned bluish and tried to cough up a lung. His eyes, once hellfire red, dilated to soft amber.

"Dis shit's strong... So this is high? I never seen these colors. I feel... happy, and I never feel happy. Why, I'm high enough to die, so die I will. Got some taco cheesies? I want taco cheesies." Death rambled and giggled long enough to curdle a dead man's heart if one had been around to hear it.

Ayden took a deep drag. "I needed that," his hesitation disappeared. Death set a hand on his shoulder. Ayden nodded the go-ahead. His body stiffened and his flesh quivered. His skeleton shrank. Fat dissolved. Muscles contracted. His body became tighter, more compact – new face, new hair, veined arms bursting with muscle, a body just barely adult. A fresh body eager to move and react, not tired from centuries of drudgery and pain. A body not much more than twenty years old. He could see coal-black hair and olive skin reflected in a window. His new face was the younger brother of Death's incarnation. He took a final hit from the doobie.

"I always wanted to die wasted," Ayden said. He made the excuse sound brave but both men knew it was false bravado, cowardice even. No organ or cell in Ayden's body would ever be responsible for his death, would ever let him die, part of his punishment, an unforeseen consequence. He remembered his fall. The words of damnation still echoed in his mind; fratricidium. A curse upon you, upon your soul, upon your very being... A dead brother's blood cries out. The dirt that received your brother's blood, cries for vengeance. From this day and for all time, the dirt of the earth will rebuff you, your plantings and all you touch will be fallow. All of creation will know you for your sin, will name you "exile" for your crime. The mark is cast on your body. Shame will decorate your lintel. Dread and foreboding betoken your path as a warning to all of creation. Maledictus. Fratricidium. Cursed of the Almighty. Marked by spectre more fearful than the fallen. A scourge that will stalk you all the days of your life lest any creature living or dead; find you, desire to kill you. It shall not be. If any man slays you, vengeance shall be taken on him and his family sevenfold. Therefore, all will shun you. All will cast you out to wander the earth... This is the judgment of the Lord your God. I who parted the light from the dark, who created the heavens, who numbers the birds of the air, who cares for the least of creation, even the lilies of the field, and I who made man in his image, proclaim this judgment to all creatures. And this judgment be upon you now and forever, to stand beyond the deaths of men, beyond the end of the stars of the heavens and beyond the end of time itself.

Dreamy-eyed, Death waited while Ayden placed the dishes in the sink, threw the beer bottles in the trash, turned the lights down, checked the door locks and last of all, changed into old Levi's and tank top in the dark of the night so he couldn't see the magnificence of this new body anymore than necessary.

"I can sever the nerves to take the pain away," Death offered.

"No, dying I can handle, life is inviolable." Ayden took Death's hand. A coldness filled the air, their hearts skipped a beat, and then they moved. They moved in that side-long glance that sees motion where nothing exists; that flash of light where only dark should be. They move in the shadows of the creation where disorder rules; through unwatched corners; as that mote of dust dancing in a lonely beam of sunlight. They moved. Death and his sometimes servant, sometimes son, Ayden Cain – Cain, son of Adam, Cain, brother of Abel, Cain, accursed of God Almighty – traveled through space and time to find the new Gahenna.

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