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An odd feeling pressed against the center of my chest without warning, where the warmth often gathered in response to death. The heaviness unfurled through me, feeling like a coarse, suffocating blanket. I drew in a shallow breath, frowning at the sudden, strange scent of lilacs. Stale lilacs. It reminded me of something I couldn’t place at that moment as I felt myself turn back to the body without consciously willing myself to do so.
Wait.
I took a step closer. “Did you move her legs?”
“Why would I do that?”
Unease slithered through my veins. “When I came in, one of her legs was bent at the knee, pressing against the table. Both are straight now.”
“I didn’t move her,” he replied as my gaze lifted to her face. The charred skin shaped like wings across her cheeks and forehead seemed to have faded a little. “Maybe you—”
The rattle of a breath being drawn and the crackle of lungs expanding silenced the god. My gaze flew to her chest just as the bodice of her gown rose. I froze in disbelief.
“What…?” the god muttered.
Andreia Joanis sat up, that gaping mouth opening even farther, the singed lips peeling back to reveal four long canines—two along the top of her mouth and two along the bottom. Fangs.
“The fuck?” the god finished.
“That’s not…normal, right?” I whispered.
“Which part? The fangs, or the fact that she’s dead and still sitting up?”
Andreia’s head tilted toward the god, seeming to look at him with eyes that were no longer there.
“I don’t think she’s dead,” I said. “Any longer.”
“No,” the god growled, causing my skin to pimple. “She is still dead.”
“You sure—?” I swallowed a gasp as the seamstress’s head snapped in my direction. “She’s staring at me, I think. I can’t be sure. She doesn’t have eyes.” Out of instinct, I reached for my thigh, only to come up empty. I started to turn to the god. “I would really like to have my dagger—”
A hissing sound came from Andreia, the kind of noise no mortal should be able to make. It rose and deepened, turning into a piercing snarl that raised every single hair on my body.
Andreia rocketed to her feet, the movement so inexplicably fast that I jerked back out of reflex. Fingers curled, she launched forward—
The god was just as unbelievably fast, stepping in front of me as he withdrew a short sword. The blade glimmered like polished onyx in the candlelight. Shadowstone. He stepped forward, planting a boot in her midsection. The seamstress flew backward over the tea table.
She fell onto the floor, quickly rolling into a crouch. Popping back up, she came at us again. I started to reach for the blade in my boot when the god met her attack, thrusting the shadowstone sword deep into her chest.
The seamstress’s body spasmed as she reached out, trying to grab hold of the god. Tiny, spiderweb-like fissures appeared along her hands and then raced up her arms, spreading over her throat and then across her cheeks.
Jerking the shadowstone sword free, the god stepped to the side, his focus intent on the seamstress. Those fissures deepened into cracks as her legs collapsed under her. She went down hard, folded into herself.
I stood there, mouth hanging open. Patches of her body seemed to sink in as if she were nothing more than a dried-out husk. “What…what did I just see?”
“I have no idea.” The god tentatively stepped forward, nudging Andreia’s foot. The skin and bone turned to ash, quickly followed by the rest of her body.
Within a span of several heartbeats, nothing remained of the seamstress but her gown and a dusting of ash.
I blinked. “That was…different.”
The god looked at me. “Yeah, it was.”
“And you…you have no idea what just happened? Like that’s never happened before?”
Steel-hued eyes met mine. “I have never heard of something like that happening before.”
Being a god from the Shadowlands, I imagined he would know about mortals coming back from the dead. “What do you think was wrong with her? I mean, why did she act that way?”
“I don’t know.” He sheathed his sword. “But I don’t think Madis simply killed her. He did…something. What, I have no idea.” A muscle ticked along his jaw. “I would not repeat what you’ve seen here.”
I nodded. As if anyone would believe me if I did.
“I must go,” he said, glancing back at the ash-covered gown and then to me. “You should, too, liessa.”
I didn’t want to spend another second in this house, but a hundred different questions exploded in my head. The absolute least important one of all was what came out of my mouth. “What does liessa mean?”
The god didn’t answer for what felt like a small eternity. “It has different meanings to different people.” The eather pulsed in his eyes, swirling once more through the silver. “But all of them mean something beautiful and powerful.”
