Page 87 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

“Keep it,” he says, nodding to my hiding spot. Unease twits between my ribs from his knowledge of where it is, but even if he looked beneath the rock, all he would find are my trinkets. The pieces of the spell, the things that really matter, he'd have to dig much deeper to find. And why would he, if he thinks he knows all that’s in my trove?

I drop the needle in my apron pocket. “Not afraid of me anymore, then?” I ask, my voice teasing. He looks up, his eyes traveling across every inch of my face. The weight of his gaze pushes against my skin, so intense it feels as if he’s actually touching me, but I do not look away.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I think I'm more afraid of you now than I ever was,” he says, opening the book once again and returning to his reading without another word.

36

BEA

Iwake to the earth groaning and the hair on my arms standing on end. There’s a cry—a wail—and a feeling that someone is calling out to me.

I rise to my elbows, blinking the sleep from my eyes. There’s another moan coming from downstream.

“Hello?” I call out, scrambling to my feet. I peer into the darkness, my eyes struggling to adjust now that the light of the fire is behind me. “Is someone there?”

The After pulses, its rhythm in beat with my pounding heart. Through the mist, a sliver of black, darker than the rest, appears.

“Helllppp meeee,” The voice is human, but not. Raspy and pained, as if the person is uttering the words with their dying breath, and it hits me like a knife straight into my chest. I do not have a single rational thought. I only react; I’m in the water, in less than a second, fighting to get to the voice.

“Helllpppp meeee,” they beg again.

“I’m coming!” I surge forward, but I do not make it far before my chain catches, and I fall, cursing under my breath. “Brennen!” I shout, scrambling to my feet. He emerges less than a second later, his eyes wide and hair messy.

“There’s someone down there. They were crying for help, but I can’t reach them!” My voice is panicked, on the edge of hysteria, because I can’t hear them anymore. Are we already too late?

Brennen runs into the water without hesitation. “Where are they?”

“In the mist!”

Brennen pulls his shirt off, muscles rippling as he throws it onto dry land and dives into the deep part of the river.

He stands as he nears the After, moving to the side and peering into the black.

“Hello?” he shouts, but the smear of dark is gone. The After calms, receding. He looks back at me.

“I swear I heard someone. They were right there!”

He takes another minute to search, creeping closer to the drop hidden by the black shadows, avoiding touching their long, trailing fingers as he peers into the darkness.

“There’s no one here,” he repeats, taking his time to wade back to shore.

“Could they have fallen down?” I ask, my heart skipping a beat. What would An Glèidheadair do if a living soul fell in front of his gate?

“I dinnae think so. The water level is low today. It’s too shallow before the drop.”

I shake my head, my mouth going dry. “But I heard them. Someone was there.”

Brennen grabs his shirt, returning to the tent. I follow behind, but he closes the flaps, blocking me out. The sound of wet clothes falling to the ground meets my ears, and my breath hitches, the realization that he’s⁠—

I lock my gaze onto the fire, trying not to picture his bare corded arms or the way his waist dips into a V at his hips. How taut and toned his stomach is.

My heart rate picks up as the flaps open again.

“If there was, they’re dead,” he says, completely unaware of where my mind has just gone. “No one survives the transition into the After. An Glèidheadair would kill them on the spot,” he says, answering my unspoken question. He holds an arm out to indicate I should come in. He’s wearing dry clothes, but his lips are tinged blue. I grab several more sticks and throw them onto the fire, but I don’t enter the tent.

He quirks an eyebrow. “Prefer to stay soaked?”

I press my lips together and take a tentative step inside, eyes flicking toward the After. There was someone there. I can still feel them. But even more, I’m suddenly aware of the space between Brennen and me. Or lack thereof. My body refuses to move deeper into the tent. For some reason, even with whatever is lurking in the dark, being in the small space with him feels terrifying. Too much. Too close.