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His words have the heat in my cheeks flaming out to fill my entire body. For the first time since I arrived here, I feel warm.
I don't remember the last time someone complimented my meal, aside from Father. Blinking back tears as I stare down at my own food, I struggle to find a way to stop them. To distract myself, I muster what little courage he's suddenly sparked in me to ask a question.
"Where is here, exactly?"
"The in-between."
Color me intrigued as the tears all but disappear at his answer.
"What?" I ask, glancing up at him.
"This place, my home, is the in-between. The realm that lies between the living and the dead, the mortals and the immortals, everything that is, was, or ever will be," he explains. "It is the stitching that holds the universe together."
"Oh."
"You are right to look confused. It is not a place commonly thought of, let alone spoken of. Most dare not believe it even exists."
"Then, how is it that we are here?" I ask. "Talking and eating as one might in the world of the living?"
He's quiet for a long moment as if contemplating whether or not to answer.
"I am the sole guardian of this place," he finally says. "Only I am allowed to grant entrance or leave from this place. It is through me that we can sit here as we would in your own home."
I consider this for a moment.
"The food, is it real?" I ask, the question slipping from my lips before I've even had a chance to think it.
There's a second of surprised silence between us before he chuckles deeply.
"Yes, the food is from your own realm. You need not worry about that."
Peering up at him through my lashes, I suddenly realize that I don't know what his real name is. The name the witch, Ravynn, gave me doesn't quite seem to suit him. The Bargainer seems like an odd way to address him, but I can't very well continue to live here simply thinking of him as the man.
They were both clear that he was a being known by many names, after all.
"What name are you best known by in my own realm?" I ask quietly. "Before I met Ravynn, I'd never heard of anyone by the name of The Bargainer, and, if you'll forgive me for saying so, it doesn't quite seem to suit you."
His eyes search my face as he sets down his plate.
"No, very few people have known me by that name, and never one such as yourself," he answers.
"Then what name should I know you by?" I ask.
"I am the one they call Death."
15
Death
Ican see that my answer has startled the girl.
Her face has paled, her large blue eyes wide as they blink up at me. Everything about her has suddenly cooled and dimmed as fear wraps its tendrils around her, and I feel the heavy weight of disappointment settle over me as I watch her.
Normally, this very reaction would delight me as I watched mere mortals consider what my very presence meant for them. Fear feeding me pieces of their souls as it tore into them like the beast that it was.
Yet, seeing her eyes grow dim as I feel fear claw at her soul, does little to bring me joy. In fact, I feel horrified with myself. I mean the girl no harm, as long as she is a guest in my home, however temporary that may be. And yet, I have done just that with my answer.
Still, I do not know why I feel so displeased by her reaction. What should I care what a mortal thinks of me when she is just that.
