Page 95 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)

The moment I spoke the words, it occurred to me exactly what troubled me most of all.

Despite his hostility, I’d seen vulnerability in Zevander, those times when he wasn’t himself.

As if something inside of him were silently pleading for help, and it crushed me to imagine someone hurting him in that moment.

“That is where we disagree. Had he remained friendly, I’d have spared him.

But he didn’t. He threatened us. You .” He strode toward me and brushed his thumb gently across my cheek.

“And if ever I raise a dagger, or hand, to you again, no matter my state of mind, I’ll expect you to react the same.

” His words spun me back to when he’d plunged the sword into the soldier’s throat.

The very thought had the rims of my eyes tingling with the threat of tears.

“Let’s head back. We’ve got a long journey ahead.” A kiss to my forehead, and he headed back the way we’d come.

“ N o,” Father said, refusing to dismount. “I say we keep going. Through the night.”

The setback at the river had put us behind a bit, and even setting the horses to a canter for the last hour had failed to put us far enough before nightfall.

“I will not sleep there.” He nodded toward the crumbling remains of a church just a few yards ahead of us, perched on a small, snow-laden hilltop surrounded by the woods.

“Is that the church supposedly swallowed by ghosts?” I asked.

Father grumbled to himself, his face pinched to a scowl.

“According to your map, there is no other village for another half-day’s ride. Besides, it’s better to be on higher ground.” Zevander pointed to the upper level of the church that seemed to remain intact. “That would make the perfect perch to keep watch.”

“And what about that beastly thing.” Father pointed back at Raivox, who sat a short distance away preening his feathers. “I’m sure he does a fine job of keeping just about any threat away.” He looked Zevander up and down. “Except for you, of course.”

“It’s possible he could eat the horses in the night. I’d much prefer they have some form of shelter,” Corwin argued.

“That shelter is undoubtedly crawling with ghosts and evil spirits. Are you comfortable sleeping amongst them?”

Aleysia groaned. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Father. It isn’t haunted!”

“It is! I’m telling you, it’s a bad omen staying here.”

While I might’ve been inclined to defend Father out of principle, after what’d happened earlier in the day, I was too exhausted from travel to consider keeping on through the night. My backside was sore, and I wanted off the damned horse.

“Everywhere we stay is a bad omen these days. Unless you tell me there’s a true threat here, ghosts are the least of my worries.” Zevander gave a nudge to Vane’s flank and headed in the direction of the church.

“Ghosts are a true threat!” Father yelled after him. “An indication of evil!”

While a dilapidated church didn’t exactly promise a luxurious night of sleep, I was relieved that Zevander had put his foot down on the matter.

As we approached the decayed shelter, I took notice of strange fissures along the cracked dirt, much of it covered by the forest’s vegetation.

Interspersed in the surrounding forest lay toppled and decayed trees, as if they’d been knocked down by something and left to rot.

Frowning, I stared off at an exceptionally large oak that’d been entirely uprooted.

“What do you suppose did that?” I asked as we passed it.

“Could’ve been a violent storm. I’m not entirely familiar with your world to say for certain.”

“We have been known for the occasional tornado, but those roots are so…extensively disturbed.”

Zevander brought the horse to a stop just outside of the church and slid from the saddle. “Stay here. I’ll have a look and make sure the structure is stable.”

“And should it collapse on you while inside?” Gaze trailing up the front of the structure, I estimated it to be about thirty meters in height to the top of its steeple.

“I suppose you’ll have your atonement for what happened in the woods.”

“I don’t wish you dead. Just incredibly remorseful.”

“I’d sooner be crushed by the decayed remains of a church than feel remorse for what I did.

” He patted his chest and leg, performing his usual check for weapons, drawing my attention to how many he kept strapped to his body—three daggers across his chest, one at his hip, and, of course, that obnoxious sword at his back.

“And you call me stubborn.”

“I prefer to call it tenaciously protective of what’s mine .”

It didn’t matter that I was frustrated by what he’d done, that damned word still cast a flutter in my stomach. He slipped through the stone archway where a door might’ve been at one time, just as Father, Corwin, and Aleysia trotted up on their horses.

“This is foolish. Absolutely foolish!” Father said, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle.

“Why are you so afraid of ghosts, Father?” My question wasn’t mocking, but curious.

“During my time with the Lyverian priestess, I saw things. The dead. They rose.”

The back of my neck tingled. Could he have possibly seen what I’d seen? Those horribly mangled versions of the dead?

“The priestess showed you visions of this?”

“They worship death. Specifically, a goddess named Morsana.”

It was strange to hear her name in the mortal lands, more so from the mouth of my father, given he didn’t believe in any god but his own. “And what about her?”

“She guides them. And she’s not a benevolent goddess. At times, she is cruel.”

Tell me about it.

“So, you believe the dead still walk the grounds of this place?” I kept on with my prying.

“I’m certain of it. They are angry and hostile. Many of my fellow Red Men have gone missing on their way to Lyveria.”

“Well, there you have it,” Aleysia chimed in, expectedly. “It was a sacton who killed them, so of course they’re angry at clergymen. Probably wasn’t wise of you to wear that damned red robe, Father. You’ve likely doomed us all.”

Zevander strode out of the church, shoving his sword inside the scabbard at his back. “Seems stable. No sign of ghosts.”

While a smile crept over my face, Father’s didn’t carry a speck of amusement.

“It’s early. They’ll be afoot later, and you’ll be sorry you doubted me.”

“Well, until then, I intend to sit on something more comfortable than this damn saddle,” I said, throwing my leg over to dismount.

Hands to my waist, Zevander lifted me off the horse and grabbed the reins, before guiding Vane into the lower level, where stone pillars stood about the broken and busted pews.

Inside, vegetation had grown up from the floor, a small sapling taking root where the altar would’ve been, its leggy branches bare and deadened by the cold.

Somehow fitting for the surrounding abandonment. Solemn and burdened by an eerie stillness.

Corwin settled the other horses near a patch of overgrown grass in the corner of the room, where they lowered their head to graze.

I followed Zevander up a narrow, stone stairwell to an upper level of what must’ve once been the gallery.

The roof had caved in, offering a view of the twilit sky overhead, while part of the wall across from us had crumbled, the view beyond it drawing me closer.

The woods stretched on for miles toward the faint outline of mountains in the distance.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Zevander said, and I turned to see him staring at me. “Seeing beauty through the eyes of something so ruined and ugly.”

Smiling, I turned back to the view. “If you’re referring to yourself, you hardly qualify as ugly.”

“You flatter me.”

“For now. I’m still angry, though, so tread cautiously.”

Smiling, he hiked his boot up onto the crumbled edge of the stone wall and rested his arm against his bent knee.

“Fair enough. But know that your anger bears no effect on how swiftly I would kill to protect you.” He reached out, gently caressing my cheek, and from the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a figure standing in the corner.

Frowning, I gripped Zevander’s wrist and sidestepped him for a better view.

A little girl, perhaps no more than six, stared back at us, her tattered white dress and pale skin practically glowing in that shadowed corner of the gallery.

“Hello?” I stepped toward her.

“Who are you talking to?” Zevander asked from behind me.

I glimpsed him peering in the same direction and turned back to her. “Do you not see her standing there?”

“No.”

Sighing, I turned to face him again. “Then, perhaps my father was right about the dead.”

“You see them now?”

“Yes. Well, one. A little girl.”

“Not surprising, I suppose.” His gaze lingered there a little longer. “The Corvi worshipped the death goddess. It makes sense that you’d have visions.”

“Like the Lyverians. How long has the Umbravale separated our worlds?”

“Centuries.”

“Is it possible that mancers could’ve crossed over?”

His brow lifted, and he blew out a breath. “Months ago, I’d have said not likely. Since having learned of the vein here, I suppose there’s a possibility.”

“Interesting.”

“Oh! Oh, this is stunning.” Aleysia jogged up the staircase, clanking what I guessed were jars of food stuffed in a bundle she carried. “And to think you wanted to sleep on the ground somewhere, Father. Absurd!”

“Let’s settle in,” Zevander said. “We’ve got a long journey tomorrow. I’ll take first watch.” He twisted back toward the view, out toward Raivox, who sniffed around as if searching for food. The Corvugon scampered back and forth, almost erratically, pausing to claw at the dirt.

“Probably was a good idea to bring the horses in,” I said. “He seems ravenous, the way he’s sniffing around.”

“Unless he’s looking for something else. Seems rather occupied with that one spot.”

“I wish he’d fly off and find something to eat. Unless, of course, the human he ate was filling enough.” It was hard for me to grasp that, only months ago, the enormous creature was smaller than the rat he hunted with ease.

Behind us, Father, Corwin and Aleysia lit a small campfire out of the kindling they’d gathered from below. Still standing at Zevander’s side, I said, “Your eyes blackened again. Back when you stabbed him.”

“I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. That I was out of sorts when I did it.”

“You weren’t?” A quick sweep of my gaze showed the others busying themselves with jars of food, seemingly oblivious to our discussion.

“No. That time, I acted out of instinct, not madness. And I’d do it again, if necessary.”

“Even at your own expense? The mortal was an easy kill for you this time, but what happens when it isn’t?”

The corner of his lips pulled to a half smile. “Is that what has your brow tight and bunched?”

“You kill for coin, as you said. You don’t have to kill for me. Not if it means your life.”

He sneered and stared out over the vast expanse of trees. “The world has taken everything from me. My morals. My body. My fucking soul. You’re all I have, moon witch. The only thing that gives me worth, and if it takes my life to keep you safe then I will gladly surrender it. For you.”

Gods, was it possible to love someone too much? So much the mere thought of losing them stirred panic in the heart? Felt like a suffocating fist around the chest?

I reached for his arm and his muscles tensed in my grasp. A reminder that he wasn’t a man who loved easily. Or trusted easily.

When I released him, he quickly snatched up my wrist, tugging me close and slanted his lips over mine in a kiss that felt too much like an apology.

His brow furrowed and he lowered his gaze, our foreheads pressed together.

“I’ll not lie, my state of mind has become unpredictable at times, and I can’t often discern between what’s real and what isn’t.

Were we not so far into this journey, I might’ve insisted you stay behind. ”

“And I’d insist that you worry about yourself.” I gripped the nape of his neck and kissed his cheek. “As for when you slip, I told you I’d pull you back into reality when the lines begin to blur. That’s what I’m doing.”

A muscle in his jaw ticced and he turned away, staring out over the trees. “You haven’t grown weary of this exhausting waltz?” For as cold and detached as he could be, the rare flicker of vulnerability never failed to yank at my heart.

“We’re nearly there. We will find the vivicantem.”

“Yes, and it will ensure that I am strong. Strong enough to deceive those around me. But what happens when these dark thoughts become stronger than vivicantem?”

“How do you overcome an adversary? You fight them.”

“And if I become a danger to those I love?”

“Then, we fight that, as well.” I slid my hand into his and kissed the back of his knuckles.

His fingers curled into mine, and he pulled my arm into his chest, clutching me like I might try to escape. “Every time I think I could be merciful and let you go, spare you of all this, you remind me why that will never happen.”

Smiling, I pushed up onto my toes and kissed him. “It’s as I’ve told you before. You need to cast those silly notions aside.”