He zipped up the backpack and tossed it at my feet. It hit the floor with a soft thud.
"If there's anything else you want, get it now,” he said, going for the duffel. “We won’t be coming back.”
I picked up the backpack and hitched it over my shoulder, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Ever?”
Ronan was back to ignoring me.
“But… I’m Shadowborn,” I said randomly. Everything was rushing at me so fast, I couldn't keep up. I felt like I was underwater, looking up from the bottom of the pool while everyone else swam around on the surface, oblivious. “What does that even mean?"
“We don't have time.” There was desperation in his eyes, an uneasiness that I’d never seen there before. But he knew me well enough to know that I wouldn’t—couldn’t—let this go.
Exasperated, he said, “Shadowborn are witches who exist in two planes—the world that you see here, and the Shadowrealm.”
“What else?”
“They’re extremely rare.”
“And?”
“Once they fully come into their magic, they can access powers from both realms.”
My stomach tightened. “What powers?”
Ronan stared at me a long time, his lips pressed into a thin white line. It was a look I’d gotten to know well from my stubborn friend. It meant that he had all the answers, but didn't want to share them.
“What powers?" I repeated.
“The strongest among you can manipulate a person’s life force,” a voice said, but it wasn't Ronan.
Death was back, his shadowy form taking up all the space in the doorway. His tone was so matter-of-fact, it was like we were watching this unfold on a National Geographic special. “They can become soul ferriers, like my owls and ravens, but infinitely more powerful. They are necromancers in the truest sense of the word. They have the capacity to give life, to save it, or to destroy it. And they are, all of them, bound to me.”
“Well I’ve never heard of it,” I said, eager to move past words likenecromancerandbound. “Shadowborn. Sounds made up.”
Death opened his arms. “Yet here you are. Existing.”
Ronan, who had been silent through this latest exchange, grabbed the duffel off the bed and heaved it over his shoulder. “Gray, I’ll answer your questions later—and so help me, you need to be straight with me about whatever the fuck happened to you last night. But please get your shit together. Beaumont’s meeting us up there—he’s already on his way.”
“Wait… Darius?” I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to slow the churning madness. “Why? Ronan, what is going on?”
“We’re wasting time, Gray. Let’s go.”
"I'm not leaving. Not without Sophie. I mean, not without—not until we find who killed her."
"Alvarez is on it. There's nothing more we can do.”
“Nothing?” Death made a low, throaty sound that might've passed for a laugh if there was anything even remotely human about him. “How can you be so certain?”
Ronan whipped his head around. “Why are you still here?”
“I am everywhere. Always.”
“Enough with the riddles,” Ronan said. “Explain yourself.”
“I have business with the Shadowborn. It does not concern you.”
“Everything about her concerns me.”
“She needs to know who she is. She must be trained. Protected. I will give her that.” Turning to me, he extended a gloved hand and said, “Come. I’ll take you to the realm and we’ll—”
