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This was news to me. "What do you mean? I thought we served him forever."
"Oh no, my dear. You serve a term and then--unless there's something special he wants from you--you wil be released to your own journey. So take heart, there is a chance you wil not be pledged to him forever in the afterlife. And truly, he is a sensual and . . . giving . . . partner."
With that, she stood and motioned to the path. "Run now. Run like the wind. I wil come for you again on the next waning moon, and you shal take the helm as we continue our lessons. For now, go back to your life. Live. Enjoy."
And I was off and running. I don't remember how long I ran, but I began to feel sleepy. It wouldn't hurt me to just lie down a little and rest, I thought. So I shifted into black panther form, curled beneath a tree, and fel soundly asleep with only the wind to keep me company.
"Delilah? Delilah? Wake up!" Iris's voice echoed through the fog fil ing my brain.
"Kitten? Kitten--come on. Please wake up." Menol y's voice joined her, and I felt myself blink as she yanked me to my feet and helped me sit down in a nearby chair. "You okay? What the hel happened?"
Camil e was rushing into the room with a cool cloth, which she pressed to the back of my neck. "You felt hot, like you were burning up."
I shook my head, trying to focus. "I . . . I . . ." Part of me didn't want to tel them. What had happened would take me some time to come to grips with, but with what we were facing, none of us could afford to keep secrets anymore. Just like when Camil e was shoved into her priestess role and would soon be undergoing a rite to induct her into Aeval's court of Night, so, too, this could have ramifications that might affect al of us, not just me.
"I just had my first training lesson as a Death Maiden."
The men and Iris broke out talking, their words fal ing over one another. My sisters, on the other hand, stared at me mute, both looking terrified. I realized what they were thinking.
"No, no . . . I'm not going to die soon. But apparently I have to be trained in my duties. It's going to be one hel of a journey, I can tel you that." I blinked, realizing that it was no longer a feeling: My life was about to change, and change drastical y. Hi'ran had gone easy with me until now, but no more.
As the others quieted down, I dished out what had happened. "It was incredible watching her with the man," I said, whispering. "We truly do harvest the dead. He was on his way out and didn't want to go; he was resisting. She made it easy for him."
"I wonder . . ." Iris crossed over to the television and turned on the news. She flipped through the stations until she came to the local cable news channel, and we watched as the story unfolded.
Trevor Wil is, the local-boy-makes-good-as-anchor-star, came on, his expression suitably grave. Behind him was plastered a picture of the man in the suit whom I'd seen in the grove.
"Ronald Niece, a local man, died tonight after saving the lives of fifteen fel ow bus passengers. Police say that an armed gunman--identified as Shane Wilson Thatcher--intended to gun down the entire bus, according to a note they found in his house.
"His plans were thwarted when Niece--an accountant by day, black belt karate teacher by night--noticed the gun as Thatcher aimed at the driver. Niece managed to knock Thatcher off balance long enough for the driver to stop and open the back doors.
"As people were exiting the bus, Thatcher recovered his hold on the gun long enough to shoot Niece five times. The driver hit Thatcher over the head with a lead pipe he was carrying under his seat. Unfortunately, though paramedics did everything they could, Ronald Niece died en route to the hospital. Bus passengers and the driver are cal ing him a hero. Niece is survived by--"
Iris flipped off the TV. "How horrible. You'd think with al the problems facing the world, people would find better ways of taking it out on each other. I've been around for a thousand years, and I stil find it incredible what people--Fae or human--wil do to each other." Her eyes were misty, and she wiped the back of her hand across them.
I stared at the TV. "That was him. He walks in the hal s of Valhal a now. Warriors are applauding him; the gods look favorably on him. And he saved fifteen lives tonight that might otherwise be walking in the spirit realm now. I don't think that's a bad way to end your life, even if the end comes too short."
As I'd watched Greta soothe his fear, I'd realized that she--we--performed a valuable service in so many ways. No one who'd been such a hero deserved to take their last breath in fear. He deserved a passionate and lovely welcome, and the Death Maidens could offer him one.
"Delilah, what's happening to your arms?" Camil e frowned, pointing.
I glanced down at my skin. There, a faint shadow started at my wrists, working its way up to encircle both forearms in the shape of a vine. Like Greta's tattoos. As I watched, the vines reached my elbows and stopped, the leaves springing forth from them--maple and oak. The color was muted, like plum bruises, but the images were definitely there. My arms tingled, though not uncomfortably so, as something inside whispered, "First lesson . . ."
"Greta--she had tattoos like this on her arm, but they were bril iant black and orange. But they were the same shape and pattern."
"I wonder if they'l get darker the longer you train with her." Menol y brushed her fingers over my arms, then shook her head. "I don't feel anything.
Camil e, Iris?"
Camil e held her hands over my arm and closed her eyes. After a moment she shivered. "It's his energy, al right. The energy of harvest, of bonfires, and cold autumn nights. I think Menol y's right--these aren't finished yet. I guess you're being marked, like I was by the Moon Mother." She nodded toward her back. The two tattoos emblazoned on her shoulder blades glimmered beneath the sheer material. They designated her Moon Witch and priestess.
Sucking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes, weary. "So many paths to walk . . . but this is mine." The thought of being tattooed didn't frighten me, and indeed--Greta's arms had been beautiful, lovely and wild. And Hi'ran might be one of the Harvestmen, but he was bril iant and as compassionate as he could be frightening.
I straightened my shoulders, proud to be under his rule. My liege walked the paths of shadow, and now, so did I. A little bit of the weight that I'd been carrying for months fel away.
Camil e and Menol y knelt by my side, Camil e on my left, Menol y on my right. They took my hands, and we sat there in silence. What lay ahead we could not know; we were each facing new chal enges, new trials, but we were together.
"We'l walk the journey al the way through, hand in hand," Camil e said, giving me a slow smile. "My own descent into the realms of the Harvestmen lies through magic and worship. Yours--through duty to an Elemental Lord. And Menol y walks the journey in body. None of us is immune to the shadows, and I think we just have to get used to it. We walk in the darkness, not in the light."
