Patrick wasn’t a weak human anymore. His death had turned him into something stronger, sturdier with magical means. While he didn’t understand what his purpose was now, or what the changes meant, he knew he was more durable. Even with the collar around his neck to keep his magic quelled, the reaper understood there was a strength in him that hadn’t been there before. With that strength came a confidence that he hadn’t had, even when he was free. There was not much left to fear when he’d already died and seen the afterlife.
Zac was his only remaining weakness, one that he was going to keep close to his heart. Seeing the nephilim’s confusion made him smile softly, happy to have him surging forward to kiss him. There was no hesitance anymore, no fear of being judged by their god. He kissed him back, savouring it and lingering against his lips for a long moment. “I have,” he agreed. The priest wasn’t sure how to describe his changes without seeing pain in the nephilim’s eyes. He didn’t want to cause him any type of pain.
Sighing, he took a deep breath before beginning. “I - after the halloween party, I was taken back to the suite. I didn’t think Raphael was being kind but I didn’t want to be in the costume so I took the opportunity to duck out,” he explained. While he didn’t want to go into the gory details, he knew he had to explain himself. “Mason was going through his first shift as a werewolf and Raphael was hoping it would change me too,” he explained. In a way, it had been successful but not in the way the master was hoping.
“He killed me. I - I died,” he said, watching Zac carefully. “I left, I went to Heaven. I met God,” he said, laughing softly. It had been the most amazing thing and he couldn’t even describe it. “But he said my job wasn’t done and I couldn’t come to heaven, not while I’ve been tainted by a demon so he sent me back but I’ve changed.”
It was so comforting to have Patrick in front of him. He didn’t realise how unsettled he felt constant, not just gloomy. He wished they could have just stayed in that sweet and affectionate moment, but Zacharias got a terrible sense of foreboding as the man began to explain. When Pat had left him that night, he had been unable to think of anything else.
As he spoke, his expression slowly fell until his heart dropped into his stomach and he went pale. “He.... you died,” he repeated slowly as he tried to process it. His mind had processed the information, but not his emotional in regards to these facts. First, he went through the worried and scared emotions at the fact that Patrick died, reaching up and cupping his cheeks with both of his hands. “At least you got to see a little bit of heaven,” he replied softly, smiling for just a moment. Pat had come back and was alright, as far as he could tell.
Before, he never would have gotten angry, but his own brush with death had changed him. Maybe he had absorbed some of the other negatives emotions people had that night, because now he was angry. “Not only did he try to make you into a werewolf, he killed you in the process.” His tone ended in an ever so slight growl, eyes darkening with his anger. “Not only is that against the rules made to protect the slaves, I don’t think anyone said a thing. I’m sure Lovell would have tried to get a reaction out of me if he’d known.” Zac had started this job to help the slaves, and now he was being forced to accept what little he could actually do, more than he had already. “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”
