Working for death is not a job for the weak. Souls scream, complaining of their endless torment constantly, and hearing shrieks as souls are dragged away to the underworld upon completing their assessment is almost a guarantee. Still, someone has to do it, and Blaine happens to be the perfect fit.
Nobody knows where she came from or how long she's been working, but Death's Secretary keeps the reaper on schedule while also deeming who's fit for heaven and who's damned for hell. For some reason, you feel that if she were her own judge, she wouldn't be going into the pearly gates...
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