Page 6

four

Astoria

I had no interest in seeing the library or playing games on deck with the other passengers. In fact, if the woman from the room over bothered me once more, I might snap.

A tray of untouched food sat on the table beside me as I stared at the dark wood paneled walls. I couldn’t remember when the attendant brought it, I could hardly remember moving from the sofa. My trunk was still neatly packed at the foot of the double bed, the silk duvet hardly ruffled.

Regardless of the cost of the cabin, I couldn’t bring myself to look out the window.

The dark seas were a grave reminder of the choice I made and what I was leaving behind.

I pressed my head back against the cushion, settling in for another bout of restless sleep.

Nothing worked to quell my troubled spirit, at least not since Beatrice had passed.

I could take a few of the tablets Leo’s doctor gave me to help me sleep, but they made me feel strange and I felt strange enough as it was.

With a heavy sigh, I placed my arm over my face once more and laid in my grief.

Tears welled until I could not hold their release and they fell down my cheeks.

It wasn’t just Beatrice’s death, but the loss of the boys.

When would I see them again? Would I get to attend their weddings?

Arthur planned on asking for Charlotte’s hand in marriage soon, and I would not be there to be part of it.

For all his assurances, I could not bring myself to even meet the darling girl.

How do you explain to your fiancè that your mother does not age?

That your children could wind up cursed because of their grandmother’s arrogance?

I would never regret having my children, but I would always bear the guilt of what I knowingly passed down to them.

They were better off without me.

I cried harder, pressing the embroidered cushion to my face.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

How many times must one woman tell another that she does not want to play bridge?

Were there no other compatible matches elsewhere on this ship?

Ignoring the pushy woman at the door, I kept to my crying with eyes shut.

The sofa was comfortable enough, and the voyage thankfully short.

I could manage to stay there for the few days it would take.

Arthur and Leo had graciously purchased a cabin with an attached bathroom and a view.

I could stay here without moving, or eating…

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Did her mother forget to teach her manners? I didn’t want to cause a fuss, but with my hair a mess, mascara undoubtedly streaked down my cheeks, and dressed only in my chemise after shedding my gown, the last thing I wanted was to tell a woman I had no desire to be her companion on this trip.

“I fear I am feeling quite poorly, would you mind leaving me to rest?” I called, my eyes still closed with my arm slung over my face.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Tossing the pillow across the room and rising to my feet, I stomped to the door and threw it open.

“I said I am feeling poorly and I do not–” the vitriol fell from my lips as I looked up to find the last person I wanted to see standing in the doorway.

His towering frame crowded the already cramped space as he rested an arm above the door and leaned into the wall.

My face grew red and suddenly I couldn’t remember what I had been thinking.

Death took his time allowing his eyes to travel my body, lingering at the barest hint of skin above my stockings and beneath my chemise. My heart beat heavier, each flutter tightening my chest as I slammed the door in his smirking face.

That man! No–not man, that… that BEING. I despise him. I despise him so much…

Locking the door with a huff of frustration, I turned to find him already there, a leather bag at his feet and his legs crossed over one another as he sat perched on the edge of the bed in a pressed suit.

“Do you mind!” It wasn’t a request, but a demand as I held my hands over my chest and turned away from him. My trunk was close to his legs, I’d have to turn around and walk past him to search for my dressing robe.

“Not at all,” he replied with a dangerous voice and crooked grin. He laid back, resting his hands behind his head as he closed his eyes. I took that as my invitation to reach for my things.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you have against making friends?” He peeked one eye open, and the attention he gave me burned as he looked me over once more with smug satisfaction.

Wrapping the robe around my body, I pulled the belt tight. “Nothing, but I dislike unannounced guests.”

“Why didn’t you play bridge?”

“Is that truly any of your business?”

“It is now.”

“It is no such thing, what are you doing here?”

“I warned you,” he said, his voice thick and gravelly. “About Beatrice…”

“You did,” I agreed, glaring at him. This was hardly the place or time for such a reminder, although I had wondered when he would finally decide to appear and claim the right to boast. Beatrice had passed away almost six months ago and not once did he appear.

“Death is absolute.”

“And?”

He sat up abruptly, his coat wrinkling as he tugged at the collar. “Perhaps you’ve learned your lesson.”

I wasn’t sure I had. When Death revealed himself to me, he cautioned me against using the curse to bring back the dead. Life carries a balance, he said. If the universe wanted Beatrice, it would take her, one way or another, and I only delayed the inevitable .

I wrinkled my nose.

I wouldn’t admit he was right. “If you are here to gloat, trust me when I say that nothing you say or do will ever change the way I feel about you stealing her from me.”

“I am not here to gloat, Astoria.”

“Then why are you here?”

He shrugged, then snapped his fingers. A dress, crimson red, appeared on the bed beside him. “Get dressed,” he said, holding it out to me. “I’m hungry.”

I didn’t miss the sparkle in his eyes as they roamed my features, or the way his jaw clenched as I took the dress and our fingers brushed for the briefest moment. Similar to everything else about him, it was gone in a moment, replaced with a cold and calculating mask.

Hunger kept me compliant as I dressed in the bathroom. The dress fit perfectly, its material clinging to my body in a way that made me feel like a starlet. It was too much. His unannounced visit. This dress. I wanted to believe him to be mendacious, but then there were small moments like this…

Where he proved me wrong.

With my arm looped through his, he guided us toward the dining room at the rear of the ship, a gilded sanctuary where gold-trimmed walls and polished mahogany gleamed beneath the soft glow of chandelier light.

Waiters moved with practiced grace, dressed in crisp white waistcoats and gloves perfectly pressed.

They glided between tables, balancing silver platters.

Seating was typically assigned upon boarding and I had expected to dine elbow-to-elbow with a handful of other couples. But to my surprise, Death leaned in close to a passing waiter, murmured something low, and changed our course.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the picture as we moved past the murmuring crowd to a secluded table at the very back. The sky was ink-dark, the moon hanging low and luminous over the Atlantic.

We sat in silence through each course, but his eyes never left mine. Behind us, the soft strains of piano mingled with the low murmur of polite conversation, grounding the moment in something almost ordinary. Too ordinary. Too real. We shared a tacit look, as if he was thinking the same thing as I.

If you could have dinner with Death, what would you say?

I hesitated, chewing on my lip as I studied him.

He was handsome. With a strong jaw and straight nose.

It wasn't as if I pictured Death in a flesh form, but I thought he'd be prouder, perhaps more stern.

While his stoic features held a certain severity, it startled me to realize he wasn't boastful.

It wasn't pride high on his brow. In fact, it appeared more akin to remorse. For some reason, that bothered me.

As if he read my mind he spoke first, “Ask, Astoria. I don’t bite.”

I almost asked him what his favorite part of the meal was, but then my guilt rose once more and I began to sweat as I lowered my gaze to the dessert on my plate. “Did you make it peaceful? For Bea?”

Grim set his fork down, chewing slowly as he finished his bite and prepared to speak. “Beatrice's soul was vibrant throughout the journey. She is at peace.”

I scowled. Death, peaceful? I attended to her as the fever took over. I sat in the bed beside her as she drew her last ragged breath. It was me, I was the one who bore witness… and it was not peaceful.

“Is that why you worry? Do you believe they suffer? Is that why you dare cheat me?”

“Cheat you?” I gawked.

“Yes, Tempest. Cheat me.”

My spine went rigid, and I briefly wondered if this had all been a ploy to soften the blow.

Smoothing my hands over my lap, I stood to leave and threw my napkin on the table for good measure.

What if something had happened to Arthur?

Or Leo? What about Mary? I hadn’t received any correspondence from them in quite some time.

My skin began to itch beneath the silk of my gown and I tucked my hands between my folded arms as if they glowed and I needed to hide it.

It was a bad habit, one that accompanied the frantic pace my heart had set.

Hardly making it a few steps, Death’s broad hand came around my wrist as he pulled me back to face him. “You mistake me, woman. Death is not the same as fear.”

“Even so, do not expect me to thank you,” I bit out.

He chuckled, as he rose to meet me. “I know better.” His gaze pinned me, sharp and unrelenting. “But you will dance.” His hand slid from my wrist, fingers slipping between mine. The touch crackled through me, fierce and electric.