Page 9

“The White One, the god of frost and snow, lost a battle of wills against Fria, the goddess of magic. She turned him to stone inside his mountain fortress, damning the North to an eternal cold.” – Esther Weil, Renowned Folklorist

A sher materialized with a grunt of pain. His pale face contorted under his midnight hood.

“That. Hurt,” he growled. A singed hole marred the leather of his waistcoat, right where his heart should be, if reapers even had such a thing. Angry black smoke billowed out of the tear.

Apparently, a crow could not be killed with a bullet. Even a magical one. If I survived this conflict, I’d tell Ruchel later to cross that off the list.

Just to be sure, I aimed my last shot at his face and cocked my revolver.

His shadows grabbed me from behind. A tendril of night wrapped my waist and both arms and pinned me against the brick wall hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. The darkness disarmed me. It swallowed up my revolver and the dagger at my hip. Asher crossed to me, steps brisk against the wooden floors, black eyes glowering, and he jerked the strap off my shoulder. His shadows opened wide like the yawning jaws of a great beast. He fed my satchel to his darkness, and it ate it all up.

For a moment I was too shocked with this show of magic to protest. This was power I’d never seen before in all my centuries. His magic was wintery cold and smooth along the hot surging pulse in my wrists. I struggled briefly against the dark bonds to test their strength, a futile effort. They were as solid as steel. Wasting anymore precious energy on them wouldn’t be prudent.

Based on the vehement way he glowered, shooting him hadn’t been prudent either. It sure sent a clear message, though. I would not be spied upon.

“I would like my things back,” I said, mustering calm. Hopefully he couldn’t hear the panicked patter of my heart. The organ insisted on giving me away.

“You’ve been a villain,” he tutted, brow wrinkled in pain. “You don’t get to make demands of me now.”

My stomach fluttered with nerves. If he was going to kill me, I’d rather he just got on with it. “You were a villain first, and you were spying on me again.”

He moved in so close I could feel his breath, hot and angry, against my lips. “You’re not turning this around on me, troublemaker. You shot me, a member of your coven.”

“You’re only a member through deceit and technicality. You tried to have me killed yesterday, you lout!” My vision narrowed on the threat before me, and the pulse in my throat jumped. “I had good cause to shoot you. If you don’t want me to do it again, you should stay far away from me.

“I wasn’t trying to murder you, you little monster,” he rumbled. “I didn’t know how your powers worked—still don’t understand them. That wasn’t sabotage. I’m a ferrier of souls. I deal with death enough as it is. I don’t add to my load by killing people.”

“And Hel is hot,” I said with a laugh that had no humor. “You’re full of it.”

“I admit I attempted to mislead you the first time we spoke. You’re a vicious thing. I didn’t think you’d answer my questions unless you believed I was equally vicious. And then . . .” His words trailed away, and his multicolored eyes sharpened, deep browns and dark blues melting into the black. He chewed at his cheek.

I thought for sure he could hear my heart. It was making such a racket in the quiet. I swallowed. “And then what?”

“And then you just walked away from me. The nerve of you.” His stony expression cracked into a crooked grin that was more appealing than it had any right to be. “No one walks away from me, Trouble. They run. They hide. They don’t walk.”

“If you enjoyed that so much, let me go. I’ll show it to you again.”

“It made me more curious about you than is strictly good for my health. Clearly.” The singed bullet hole continued to leak billowy death magic. He stuck his finger in it, stoppering it. “Now, where is the rest of our coven?”

“Oh, I’m not telling you anything. Did the bullet I put in your chest not make that clear? You’ll get no cooperation from me. You or your god.”

Asher growled something unintelligible under his breath. He pulled me unceremoniously out of the building by the same shadows that bound me, back into smoldering heat and endless sandstone. The soft sand betrayed me. He tracked my boot prints easily.

When I tried to thwart him, he pulled me down to the ground and dragged me behind him through the dirt on my back, my arms and shoulders and hips tethered to him by his cool shadows. Defeated, I warned him when we were coming up on the dead end, but full of reciprocated distrust, he insisted on seeing it for himself.

“This is humiliating,” I grumbled. My shoulders ached, and my bound fingers were starting to go numb.

Asher didn’t slow. “Then maybe you should apologize for shooting me.”

“I’m sorry I shot you,” I said flatly.

He stopped. Turning on me, he looked me over slowly, then one pale brow cocked. “I don’t believe you.”

We continued like that in silence, him towing me behind him like I weighed nothing, retracing my footsteps. I might as well have been a slab of dead venison he was hauling home after a hunt.

My prints led us straight back to the brick building we’d picked to hide in. Nola filled up the doorway. To my great relief, Ruchel was on her feet beside her, worn and rumpled but very much alive. They seemed not to know what to make of the picture we presented: a reaper lugging his coven mate like meat from the butcher.

“She shot me,” Asher proclaimed petulantly, coming to a halt at the bottom of the stone stoop.

“Did you just tattle on me like a child would?” I groused, struggling to sit upright with my hands bound. “How old are you?”

Asher didn’t seem to realize the question was facetious. His brow scrunched. “Does anyone bother to keep track of their age after the first few centuries?”

“I found the well,” I called up to Nola and Ruchel, “but the god spy stole my things from me.”

Asher reached into his cloak and pulled out their water sacks. “I’ve got them here for you.”

Nola helped Ruchel navigate the stairs. At the bottom, she took her sack in both hands and drank greedily.

Asher let me hydrate, but I wasn’t allowed to do it myself. He poured the water directly into my mouth from my canteen, splattering my chin and nose. Like a fool. I needed to remember to mask my irritation better because all evidence of it delighted him.

“Aren’t you going to help me?” I asked my coven mates, lifting my bound hands to them.

Ruchel’s lips were pale, and purple splotches hung beneath her ochre eyes. There was no patience or sympathy to be found there. “Did you really shoot him? That’s a waste of a good bullet, Maven.”

It wouldn’t have been a waste if it had killed him.

“I did shoot him a little,” I confessed with a sigh.

“Are you going to let her go?” Ruchel demanded.

“Eventually,” Asher drawled.

Nola shrugged her broad shoulders. “No offense, duck, but if it means he’ll continue to keep the giants away from all of us, I’d let him gag you.”

Asher’s laugh was as thick and deep as his baritone and as threatening as smoke before fire.

He let me rise to my feet, an extra challenge with my wrists bound. There was so much sand in my trousers now, I felt ten pounds heavier. Grit slid down my pantlegs into my socks. Winola handed over her pack and the rest of the things I’d left behind, and Asher stored them in his shadows—sending them away to wherever shadows went.

“You could stop fussing with me and help us carry Ruchel,” I suggested.

She was moving on her own, but not without lots of help. As we walked, she hung off Nola’s arm and slowed our pace to a near crawl.

“The living can’t well tolerate the touch of a ferrier of spirits,” he said. “She would find my magic very unpleasant.”

His shadows curled around my wrists, cool and silky. Not at all unpleasant.

“Hm. Maven doesn’t seem to mind it,” Nola noted.

It felt like a spotlight had been turned on me. My cheeks burned.

Asher sent me a smug grin over his shoulder. “No, but she’s an unusual exception. It wouldn’t be the same for someone less villainous, like our high witch.”

“Let’s not talk about how unusual Maven is,” Ruchel ordered, her breathing labored. Sweat beaded on her brow. “No mention of villainy or gray magic either. Especially not in front of the others. Got that, Asher? Other witches will be less openminded than us about partnering with a gray.”

“As you wish,” he said, sending me another self-satisfied smirk.

If I could get my hands around his neck, I’d squeeze until his face turned purple. I’d poke at the bullet hole I put in his chest. I’d kick him in the shins . . .

I considered telling him all this, but then Ruchel tired and couldn’t walk on her own anymore. She vomited again, mostly dry heaves, there was so little left in her stomach. Asher released me so I could assist. We took turns lifting her.

Nola carried her across her shoulders as we neared the marketplace.

“You need to keep out of sight, Asher,” Ruchel instructed, her cheek resting on Nola’s shoulder. “Or you’ll scare off everyone at the market.”

He gave us back our things, including my weapons, before he melted away into the shadows. The tart, tangy scent of his death magic lingered in the air, a vast improvement on the smell of sweat and bile.

The statue of naked Irmina was so tall I spotted her peeking out over the top of the maze walls. Made of bronze, she carried a spear, her sculpted hair spilling over and around her shoulders to fall to her waist.

The market proved to be less crude than I’d imagined. The stalls were well-built, the wares top quality. This had to be the work of a powerful coven—possibly several were needed to make such a sophisticated thing.

“Everyone underestimates green witches,” Nola said, guessing correctly where my thoughts were headed. “Greens are the most common around Wulfram, and they’ve done the best job establishing themselves as neutral forces. The other larger covens are convinced they’re not a threat with their crafts and their healing tonics.”

I scoffed. “The larger covens are fools, then.”

If all the greens banded together, they could win the games with sheer numbers and cleverness.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nola said. “That’s why we do what we can to make them our allies when we encounter them, not our enemies. Blue thinks they only pretend their group is broken into several smaller covens, like we do, and I suspect she’s on to something there. Behave yourself here. We want to join with them, not turn them against us.”

The scent of cooked animal fat and roasted vegetables carried on the breeze. People bustled about, many of whom I’d never seen on the train before. The strangers wore matching black uniforms.

Blue and the sisters were still there. They’d waited for us. The sight of them sent my hopes soaring and warmed the renewing magic in my chest.

I spotted Emma’s tall conical hat first, then Liesel beside her. They were taking a dust bath like hens to replenish their energies, buried up to the neck in loose dirt and sand. Blue sat on a stool beside a makeshift wheelbarrow fashioned from the broken pieces of horse carts. The extra wheels and parts the crafty green sisters hadn’t used remained scattered about.

Nola reached them first, carrying Ruchel across her broad shoulders. “It’s been a lot longer than one hour,” she said to Blue, a happy glint in her cobalt eyes.

Blue snorted dismissively. “Yes, well, the girls needed a pick-me-up after making that, and I had business with Talia.”

“And you’re not always a cunt,” Ruchel added as Nola lowered her into the wheelbarrow. “This was a very clever idea. Thank you all.”

“Shut it,” Blue hissed. “Someone might hear you carrying on. The sellers will think I’ve gone soft and try to stick me with higher prices.”

The expansive market filled out the courtyard and spilled into the streets. Nola showed me around and we bartered at various stalls. I traded the boots I’d scavenged for roasted potatoes and a roll of bread, a proper holster for my weapons, and three more rounds for the revolver. Good food and better company replenished more of my spirit. I asked discreet questions and learned the black uniforms represented a coven who called themselves the Guardians, self-proclaimed servants of God King Alrick.

“They say they’re fighting to end the trials, but it’s yet another power play fueled by a god to grab another throne. That’s all,” Nola droned. “This coven is more organized than the Master’s group of bashers, but I don’t know who their leader is. The last rumor I heard, the god king himself was at the helm, but that’s probably nonsense. The Guardians are growing rapidly, though, turning prisoners into soldiers. Transforming the maze into their territory. That’s not just rumor.”

“Could they bring the games to an end before they even start? Isn’t that what we all want?” I asked, working through my own ponderings out loud. This coven certainly looked impressive standing all together. There were so many of them. “Are they a way out of the trials and off the Schatten for good?”

“That’s nothing but a dream, and they’ll all die for it,” Nola said bleakly. “Blue’s been here longer than anyone, and she’ll tell you the same. Groups like this one crop up claiming they’re the answer . Then rivals rise to power beside them like weeds. They kill each other and there’s panic and anarchy and more death than ever before. It’s covens like ours willing to keep their teams small and smart who survive. That’s what matters most. Stay unnoticed, avoid god politics, and you stay alive.”

But freedom was what I wanted. Freedom so I could have my revenge. A guilty god still needed to die, and if I needed to kill all of them to get at the one responsible, I’d do that.

“You could risk the nights here and remain in the maze,” Nola continued. “You could pray the giants and the garm don’t get you. Declare Alrick as your god and fight beside warlocks who wear hexen bones made of our defiled dead on their clothes.”

My nose wrinkled. “No thank you. I’ll stick to our new plan: finding a way out of the Otherworld.”

“Agreed. I’ve had enough of war. I won’t be used again like a weapon to bring more power to already powerful men, whatever the reason,” Nola said. “I’ve been approached before by the Guardians. My answer is always the same.”

“‘Fuck off’ with both middle fingers raised?” I guessed.

“Exactly.”

More Guardians flooded the market, and Nola and I were ushered to the outskirts to make room for them. Someone of import had arrived, based on the sudden din. We huddled under the overhang of a stall that sold boot repair services. I wished I was a few inches taller so I could see who it was that had everyone acting excitedly.

The shadows darkened around me and the air cooled. Asher remained hidden, his wraith-like shade concealing his body, but the silky touch of his magic grazed my shoulder. It didn’t bother me. I appreciated that he was making his presence known. It felt less like spying that way.

And then the crowd shifted just enough that I caught a glimpse of a tall man with chestnut hair and a bronze circlet worn like royalty. Bronze and bone were preferred items for relics, marking him as a warlock.

His profile came into view just for a heartbeat, and I forgot how to breathe.

“Bram?” I gasped. My eyes had to be deceiving me. “It can’t be . . .”

“You’ve seen him before? How?” Nola asked.

But Bram was a coal delivery man in the Upper Realm. I’d known him for months. He’d visited us every week. What was he doing down here dressed in fine button boots that wouldn’t last a day in a trial and a brocade jacket that belonged on a prince?

He shook hands with a witch from the train, a beautiful woman with dark umber skin and tight, jet-colored ringlets, the curls at her temples shot through with silver. She was the high witch of what appeared to be a modest green coven. Talia, I’d overheard her called, the woman who ran the market.

They smiled at one another in that disingenuous way of the politically-minded, a reserved showing of teeth that didn’t reach the eyes. My fingers tightened into fists that shook, my body recognizing the threat before my muddled mind could catch up.

Bram was a warlock. Not some coal delivery man—never just that. It had all been a lie.

“He was there the day my sister was murdered,” I told Nola, my voice turning breathy. “He visited our shop all the time. I didn’t know he was a warlock. I wouldn’t have . . .”

Nola laid a hand high on my arm, her large palm swallowing up my shoulder. “That’s hard, duck. I’m sorry. Damn. If you’re sure that’s him—”

“It’s him,” I bit out.

“What sort of power would someone need to have to portal between here and the Upper Realm whenever it pleases them?” Nola asked. Then she answered her own question. “God power.”

I didn’t know how he did it, and I didn’t care. Lisbeth accidentally revealed herself to an ambitious warlock, and that same night she was dead. That wasn’t a coincidence. My hands made fists that shook. Revenge was mine, and it demanded I act now, ask questions later. Rage made me feel as powerful as if I still had god magic burning in my chest.

Go make him spit blood , Lisbeth’s voice said in my head, and that sounded like an absolutely brilliant idea.

Bram was gone as quickly as I had spotted him, swallowed up by the crowd, but I’d seen enough. That was undoubtedly him dressed in silks, surrounded by desperate people who had nothing, being fawned over by a starry-eyed coven.

I pushed what magic I had into my hands until my fingers went gray, and I reached for my dagger.

Nola grabbed my elbow. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m going to go shove my hands inside his chest and demand a few answers,” I said coldly. Smoky death magic wound anxiously around my sleeves, darkening my dirty clothing. “I’ll make him confess his crimes in front of all of his followers—the ones that don’t flee in fright at the sight of a gray. Then he’ll shout my sister’s name, beg her for forgiveness, before I cut his tongue out. Just as a start.”

Nola jerked my elbow, rattling me until I let go of my dagger. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt us.”

I blinked at her, my vision red-tinged and narrowing. “Get the others and go. I’ll wait until you’re gone.”

She pulled me closer. “You promised you didn’t have god ambition.” Her voice broke.

“That’s not what I’m—”

“If you attack him here and now,” she whispered, her breath warming the shell of my ear, “the Guardians will come for all of us. Then you’re just another one of the weeds that crops up down here. Another powerful bastard who starts a war no one wins.”

“Nola—”

“Was I wrong about you? Are you one of them?” She pulled away from me and adjusted her belt, tucking her shirt in where it had lifted, her movements curt. “It’s your move now, ducky. Either way, I’m getting the others and leaving here. I hope you find your senses and come too. I hope I wasn’t wrong about you.”

I watched her push through the crowd, frozen. The fire in my chest had been smothered once again. My arms went inert at my sides.

Of course, I knew exactly the sort she was describing. Hadn’t I watched people with too much might sacrifice those beneath them to gain even more in the Upper Realm? Wasn’t that exactly who the gods I hated were? Too powerful to answer to anyone. Too selfish to be useful.

Asher’s magic touched the back of my neck, and a shiver cascaded down my spine. Muscles low in my belly trembled. The scent of woodsy leather hit my nose moments before I felt him whispering directly into my ear out of his darkness.

“Always so vicious,” he drawled. “I especially liked the bit about cutting out his tongue.”

“Bram is the one person in this realm I’d like to put a bullet in even more than I’d like to put another one in you,” I told him. There was no heat in my words, just truth.

A husky chuckle curled into my ear. “Should I be jealous?”

“There’s just so much I don’t understand,” I breathed, needing to get the anxious thoughts out no matter who my audience was. “I don’t even know where to begin. How is he here? Why did he pretend? How do I get at Bram now when he has such a massive coven?”

“What if I helped you get at him?” His darkness shifted behind me, moving so I heard him over the opposite shoulder. “I don’t kill, mind you. I meant that. I won’t be putting a bullet in him, but I could be helpful in other ways.”

“What ways?”

“You need information. I need information too. We could stop trying to get one over on the other and make a fair trade instead.”

“I don’t see that working out well.”

“You won’t know until you try. Come on, Trouble. You tell me something, and I’ll go and get you something useful as payment. A fair trade. No games.”

I bit my lip, trying to think out my options, but my mind wasn’t being helpful. It just kept replaying images of Lisbeth dead, the coppery scent of phantom blood stuck in my nose. Me with my hands shoved inside Bram’s chest and the world on fire all around us. “What do you want to know?”

“Why do you call yourself a witch?”

I scoffed. “Because I am one. Haven’t I answered this before?” I moved away from the stall, and Asher’s shade followed me out into the street, keeping me cool in the heat. I didn’t want to lose pace with my coven completely. I needed to catch up to them, but walking away from my new target made my feet heavier. It hurt me putting my back to Bram, leaving him behind.

What if someone else killed him before I could? Nola said coups were common in Wulfram. That would crush me.

“You’ve got more in common with me than you do the other witches,” Asher said. “You don’t age. Mortals change just a fraction all the time. You don’t, and I saw you touch that garm’s soul. You held it like only a ferrier can. Yet I sense no connection to the elements in you. Nothing that would explain such power.”

My power didn’t come from any element. It flowed from my god-born spirit. “I’m not a reaper. I don’t belong to the Old One.”

“I know that. I just want to understand you. I need to learn your ways.” His pause came with a lingering exhale. “I need your help.”

I stopped then, sliding to a halt in loose gravel, surprised by the admission. “Help with what?”

“Keep answering my questions, stop plotting my demise, and I’ll tell you.”