Page 36 of The Deathless One (The Gravesinger #1)

Leaving the safety of the manor was surprisingly difficult. Jessamine had assumed this family she’d built around herself would come with her. Obviously Elric would remain at her side, but surely Sybil would as well?

She’d sensed the first stirrings of hesitancy a few nights after they’d decided to leave. Jessamine had walked through the halls for a glass of water and heard Elric and Sybil speaking. The quiet words had haunted her mind for the rest of the night.

“I can’t go,” Sybil had whispered.

“Because you don’t wish to?”

“I’ve not left this manor for more than a few hours in many years. Going to the Owl’s Nest with you was the farthest I’ve gone in nearly a century, and that almost killed me. I can’t… I can’t go. I can’t do it.”

“If I bid you to be brave? If I ordered you to come with us as the last remaining survivor of my coven?”

Jessamine had peeked through the doorway at his harsh tone. She was ready to leap to the defense of the other witch, who had always treated her kindly.

But they sat in front of a warm fire, and Elric had Sybil’s hands in his. Their silhouettes were soft and quiet in the room, where the only sound was the crackling of wood.

Sybil shook her head. “I don’t think I could do it.”

“Then you shall stay,” Elric had replied. “And if we should have need of you, I hope that you will find the bravery in your heart to save us. If not, then I hope you have the strength to return to your loneliness.”

“I’ll keep Nyx with me. She’s far too young, and far too important to let loose on the streets. It’s barely formed in this realm as it is. Familiars take time to… become, as we both well know. I’ll take care of it for you, and for her.”

Jessamine hadn’t been able to forget their conversation. She’d always known that Sybil had been here alone for a long time, but she’d thought the witch was excited to have them there. They’d certainly struck up an odd sort of friendship, and she liked cooking with Sybil in the kitchen.

Still. This was Sybil’s home, and Jessamine knew how hard it was to leave a place she loved and felt safe in. They were all warm. Dry. Fed.

But she was the princess of this kingdom, and she was going to take it back. No matter how hard that was.

Anxiety churned in her belly as she situated the backpack on her shoulders one last time. It wasn’t overly heavy, filled with only enough food to get her through the day, a bag of coins, useful items for spells, Elric’s black book, and a ward that should keep her safe for a few days at least.

Sybil had pressed the small sachet that smelled like herbs into her hand as she left. “A talisman for guidance and good luck,” she’d said.

But then the witch’s eyes had flicked to the hulking shadow that was so close to her at all times. They’d both known that the guidance portion wasn’t really necessary when the Deathless God had stitched himself to her shadow.

Literally.

She’d woken up this morning with him at her feet, weaving a needle made of bone through her actual shadow.

When she asked what he was doing, he’d told her to be quiet and not ask questions.

Apparently, he wasn’t a morning person. She’d pestered him until he admitted this way she didn’t have to continue summoning him to her side.

He could follow her for longer without returning to his realm to replenish his energy.

They had a long journey ahead of them, and she supposed if he was stitched to her, then he was preparing himself to walk just as much as she was.

With one last wave to Sybil, Jessamine turned her gaze to the road.

“Where are we going again?” he grumbled, already the most annoying companion she’d ever had to travel with.

“Callum said he grew up in the Factory District, and so did Benji. I can only assume that is the direction we should go.”

“I don’t understand how no one knows this man exists. Sybil sent out more than enough messages to whatever covens still survive, and not a single witch has ever heard of a Callum Quen.”

That anxiety churned a little more in her belly, shoving her hearty breakfast up her throat. “That’s why I’m a little concerned.”

“You don’t think he’s a real person?”

“Oh, he’s real.” She shaded her eyes with her hands, glancing down to the area of the road where they had murdered that infected man. There was still a black smudge on the ground where he’d died.

A shiver traveled down her spine. Hopefully, they wouldn’t run into another creature like that on this journey. Or if they did, at the very least, there would be other people to help. Or distract the monster.

It took half a day for her to get through the Water District.

They couldn’t travel the same route as before, not without risking people recognizing her after seeing her so often.

But thankfully, it was a rather uneventful journey.

People were out already, cleaning fish in the streets until they ran bright red with blood.

Carts with massive ice blocks waited to load the fishermen’s catch, and then those carts moved off to wherever people had money to buy.

It reeked to the high heavens, and she pulled her shirt up over her nose so she didn’t smell the pungent scent of fish so strongly.

At one point, they passed a blockade that a group of men were putting up. She read the words on the sign they hammered into it. “Sick beyond.”

Then another home with all its windows bordered up. Each one was splashed with yellow paint in the same color as the warning sign they’d put on the blockade.

Glancing over at the Deathless One—Elric, she corrected herself—she grumbled, “You’re lucky you can’t smell this place.”

A flash of something darkened his gaze. “You’d be surprised how much I wish to smell it, nightmare.”

They didn’t talk for a while after that.

Not even when she reached the border of the Factory District.

It was like someone had drawn a line through the city.

One moment, she was surrounded by leaning buildings decorated with fishing nets and streets running red with blood, and the next she was surrounded by smog.

She stood in line with all the other people entering the district.

There were walls separating the two areas, ones with barbed wire wrapped around them.

She had to open her mouth and let a woman with dirty hands look her all over before she grunted and said, “Healthy enough. She’ll be a hard worker. ”

And then she was let through.

The buildings in the Factory District were shorter, squatter, but much more sturdy. A layer of smoke hung over the district, and every ten houses seemed to be framed by factory buildings that had tall stacks belching more smoke out into the air.

The streets were much flatter here. No grooves for blood to run through, although the ground was oily and dark, leaving everything a little slippery and shiny. Then she walked by one of the factories and noticed that slick shine was coming from the buildings.

Oil, she realized. A lot of it.

Soot smeared the faces of most people who walked by, but no one made eye contact or even looked at her. Their clothing was equally dirty, and they wore hoods and hats and helmets that covered their features from any prying eyes.

“I wouldn’t even know if one of them was infected,” she murmured, stepping to the side of the street to get her bearings. “How can they tell?”

“They can’t,” Elric replied. She didn’t think anyone could see him other than her, so she was the only one who noticed the wrinkles of worry between his eyes. “That is something we’ll have to figure out along our path.”

“What?”

“I could feel the infected when we got rid of the one on the path. They aren’t… sick.”

“Of course they’re sick. Haven’t you seen them? The boils, the pus, the drooling.” She shuddered. “I just don’t know how to fix them.”

He was quiet. Way, way too quiet.

Glancing over at him, she saw him frowning at a young man who was standing in the center of an alley.

The man had just walked by her. She’d seen the vacant expression on his eyes and his dirt-smudged cheeks, but other than that, he was entirely normal.

Just a man going home after working in a factory all day long.

But now he stood there, frozen, his fingers twitching slightly. A few other people paused around him, then three of the largest men looked at each other and sighed.

She watched them grab the man underneath his arms and start dragging him down another alley. Almost as though they knew something that no one else did. Or perhaps, that everyone knew something she did not.

“What just happened?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, that frown still very prominent between his eyes. “Healers had no say about what afflicted them?”

“Our healers didn’t even know what it was.

We called in scholars from every corner of this kingdom.

That’s why I’d turned to witchcraft.” At his sidelong glance, she shrugged.

“I wasn’t practicing witchcraft at the time.

I just thought maybe there was an answer in the magical rather than practical.

Even if the discovery of what I was doing would have caused… waves.”

“From what I’ve heard, it sounds like you might have lost your throne no matter what.”

She liked the teasing tone in his voice. It sounded like he was actually a person, not just a god who had no reason to be in this realm with her. He was more real to her like this. Much more.

“Come on,” she muttered as she realized there were people staring at her. “People think I’m standing here talking to myself. We have to get going.”

“What does that matter?”

“I don’t think people in the Factory District take a liking to those who seem a little touched.” She eyed one of the larger men, who had returned from the alley. He was looking at her with a frown on his face, his hands clearly itching to drag her to the same place.

She wasn’t sick. She wasn’t infected.

Or at the very least, she didn’t think she was.