Page 161 of Till Death

No.

The blood.

The blood.

The body. The soul.

“Stop,” I pleaded, feeling myself weaken, the small handle of the throwing knife vibrating against my palm. Paesha lay in Ezra’s lap, slender hands over her ears, face twisted in pain.

I had no pain.

She had pain.

Sweet, beautiful pain. Like the slice of a blade across flawless skin. Like the final breath of a dancer at the end of a performance.

A gasp.

A gasp.

I gripped the edge of the bench with my free hand, watching the pulse of her heart in her throat, the artery luring me.

“It’s not real!” Paesha screamed, momentarily breaking the trance.

I drew a heavy breath into my lungs, remembering that I was no longer Death’s. The darkness was not the whole of my being. I belonged to Life, too. To happiness. To birth and healing. To laughter and a family who loved me. To her.

Drawing forth the light that’d almost vanished within me, I fought against the darkness until the voices were silenced. Until saving her was not enough. Until every bit of light begged for escape, and then I let it. Releasing the power, allowing it to surge through Death’s pit. Filling every crevice, each shadowed corner with pure, blinding radiance.

“Dey?” Paesha squinted at me. “You’re kind of glowing.”

A tear slipped down my cheek. “I’m so glad.”

She had no idea the battle I’d just fought, and I hoped she never would.

“Impeccable timing,” Ezra said, drawing both of our attention to the open door.

Every part of my body froze. I couldn’t move. Or breathe. Nor think beyond the old man standing there, his kind eyes and simple smile a balm to a racing heart.

“Hello, Little Dove.”

Chapter 62

There hadn’t been a single moment for happy reunions or hugs. The second we’d reached the doorway, Hollis twisted around and beckoned for us to follow him. We hurried through the winding marble corridors of Death’s castle without speaking a word. Ezra eventually took the lead, ushering us out a small door at the far end of the castle, forcing us through the dead gardens he’d called Grimwood Thicket with markers of terrifying gargoyles and gnarled bushes.

Each turn was intentional, as if they’d taken this twisted path so many times, the way through was burned to memory. I did my best to keep up, repeating every turn over and over in my mind as we ran, eventually leaving the gardens behind and crossing into a line of dead trees. But beyond that, within the world of eternal night, a silvery reflection grew from a speckle in the distance to a massive, eerie lake, its dark waters glistening with a gossamer light. The air, heavy with a haunting lament, carried the mournful echoes of countless souls. Their voices, like a distant choir, and the trees that lined its shores, stood as silent sentinels.

The second we stopped, I darted for Hollis, wrapping my arms around him as he chuckled, that familiar sound coating something that felt so raw and so bruised within me. “I missed you, Old Man.”

“Careful, Little Dove,” he whispered into my ear. “You don’t want anyone here knowing you have a heart, or they’ll find a way to use it against you.”

I pulled away from him, studying his deep blue eyes. “Your bonded wife? Is she here?”

He nodded, but his smile faltered. “I see her when I can. Death tends to keep us apart.” When Paesha hugged him, he buried his face into her chestnut hair, but I could see the worry there, just below the surface.

“What’s going on, Hollis? Tell me what he’s done.”

“The only currency in this realm is fear. You live with it, or you cultivate it. Those are the two roles. The reaper or the sower and I expect he’ll come for you again soon. If you let him see that Orin is your weakness, he’s going to find a way to break you both. You have to stay away from Orin. He’s not safe.”

I lifted a shoulder. “He’s never been safe, and that hasn’t kept me away yet.”