Grandmum pulled me out of the house to go walk among all the people and bright lights. She said she didn't want to be cooped up in the darkness, it reminded her too much of the days when she lived with the Master, before Daddy told her it was more fun to stay above ground, with colours and beating hearts to feast on.

We tripped through the streets, to a place where the books lived. It didn't smell musty, not like Daddy's library. These books were pretty, and filled with people who did all kinds of things. Nasty people and nice people, and mad things all around. Grandmum left me to go find something, and told me not to snack on anyone. She was very strict about that. No blood on the books. When she came back, she was holding a bag. Grandmum bought something? My daughter never buys things, she says it's weak and human. This must be special.

She takes me back to our house, a place on top of a hill. There's lots of views in this city of hills, so Grandmum likes it. The stars tell me the building is safe from the bad tremors that sometimes come and shake the city to little pieces. And big pieces. I like to ride the trams, and hang off the sides to sweep the air as the man rigns the bell. Sometimes we kill the man that rings the bell, but then it won't go. The levers are funny, and I can't get them to work.

When we come back in, she went to stare out of the window, watching the lights. The bag has a book in it with a pretty girl on the front, all in black. Inside are lots of pictures with speaking parts. Pretty pictures with an old nasty woman playing with bird entrails to see the future. Only demons see the future in entrails. More of the pretty dark haired girl who says she's Death. Pretty and happy and wearing black and a hat. She dies at the end of heart problems, like my Grandad did. Daddy didn't kill Grandad. Only one of the family he didn't kill.

Grandmum comes back over from the window, hugging herself like she can squeeze all the badness out. She cocks her head to look at me. "Dru, what are you doing with my book?"

"She's pretty and breakable. The dark-haired girl."

She smiles. "Death's always pretty in some way, Dru. Especially when it's bloody."

I grin. "Pretty blood. All red and tasty, like rich iron and sparkles."

"Mmm." She sits next to me, taking the book and leaning her head on my shoulder, blonde hair smelling of lemons. Bright yellow sunshine lemons. She traces her finger across the writing at the front. " 'And if I believe that, then dying would be the only answer because then Death couldn't come and say Peachy to me anymore and after all she has a brother who believes in hope.' " She stops reading, staring out of the window again, silent for long minutes as the sound from outside filters in. Sirens and car beeps and people screaming and laughing.

Eventually, she leans up and kisses me. I kiss back, stroking her hair as she pulls away. "Grandmum?"

She puts on her wistful face. "Wear your butterflies with pride, Dru. Wear them with pride." Then she burrows her face into my neck and sighs. I hug her and start rocking, humming to keep the bad memories away from my daughter, listening to the sirens wail into the night.

END
[ Author Note - Neil Gaiman owns Death and the Sandman (the book's The High Cost of Living) ]