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She was almost out of sight, nearly lost to the deep shadows formed by two full moons when her voice rang through the chaos threatening to trap me.
“Ezra!” she screamed, her silhouette charging forward as she threw herself into the very solid arms of the form she’d been chasing. I’d expected her to fall, the specter to vanish, but instead, his hands wrapped around her, lifting her and swinging until her feet left the ground, and she kissed him. The laughter mixed with sobs spurred my feet to run to them both.
“I told you he was real,” she cried, holding the sides of his striking face.
And though most of his features were hidden in the darkness, with his smile and the way his dark eyes held her so tenderly, I didn’t bother questioning it. Somehow, he’d come.
“You shouldn’t be here, kitten. You were never supposed to come. Unless…” He paused, the wheels of his mind turning until finally, his head jerked to me, studying each of my features, measuring me up until he sneered, pushing her behind him.
“I may not be able to kill you, Maiden, but I know exactly how to make your eternity a nightmare.”
“Ezra,” Paesha whispered, pulling him back. “I came here willingly. We didn’t?—”
He clapped a soft hand over her mouth. “Be careful, my love. Everything here has ears. And they come. I just happened to beat them out the door.”
“Who comes?” I demanded, reaching for Chaos, though I wasn’t sure what good our weapons would do here, considering everyone was already dead.
“We do,” a sickly sweet feminine voice called from behind Paesha’s lover. “And our master has summoned you, Deyanira.”
I stepped around Ezra’s large figure to take in a massive line of women and men, all thrumming with a power that was so familiar. Death’s magic seemed to agitate beneath my skin, renewed and vigorous as it was drawn forward. Every one of Death’s harbingers, a group of warriors he’d reaped, stared at me, oozing bloodlust and madness. For the first time in a long time, I felt real, genuine fear undulate over my bones.
Chapter 60
“We need to find Orin,” Paesha whispered to Ezra as we followed the collection of Death’s harbingers through the gnarled gardens. Icharius Fern held a position in the middle, but he’d kept his face down and his mouth shut. I’d almost forgotten he was there at all, as it seemed he wished everyone to. What level of madness had he waged war with through his own life? Hiding his power so flawlessly had to come with a price.
Ezra pressed his lips together, shaking his head, still staring into the shadows. Whatever he was afraid of, it held him invisibly by the throat, as if he’d learned a hard lesson we hadn’t yet.
The harbingers were insufferably slow, taking their time, likely to let our fear build as we climbed the steps. The grand, marbled corridors of Death’s castle were exactly as I’d imagined they would be from beyond the court’s gates. The opulence of the surroundings clashed with the underlying darkness that permeated every stone and every inch of the fortress. A twisted sort of beauty, but then so was Death.
The walls rose high, adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes of suffering and despair. Flickering torches cast eerie shadows, dancing along the cold, polished floors. The air was heavy with a suffocating stillness, broken only by the echoing footsteps of our group, shuffling forward.
When Ezra reached for Paesha’s hand, her shoulders relaxed, and though a ping of jealousy rattled through me, unsure of the state I’d find Orin in, I was so happy for her. She’d loved as desperately as I had; she’d danced with his memories on the rooftop countless times until she’d cried herself to sleep. She’d never let go of him for a day. Had come to hell, following her love of him, her soul be damned, and she’d made it through. Come what may, she deserved the smile that tugged at her lips, even as fear held us both firmly on the ground.
Little by little, they inched away from us, Ezra holding her further and further back, until it was clear that whatever my summons would hold, he would protect her, keeping her far away from Death, and for that, I was grateful.
The former harbingers and I walked the center aisle, our steps measured and resolute. I refused to look ahead, to see those hard eyes watching me. The seats lining the aisle drew my attention instead, and as my gaze swept over them, a chill gripped my heart. Each seat was occupied by a familiar face, those whom I had condemned to Death’s court. An audience of my victims. How fucking poetic.
Their eyes, filled with both resentment and resignation, bore into my soul. They were corporeal ghosts of lives extinguished, a haunting reminder of the choices I never truly had. But guilt still gnawed at me.
A tugging on my conscience pulled my eyes from my victims to the dais. To Orin, standing strong behind the throne of golden skulls his father sat so comfortably in. My knees weakened and steps faltered. His once-vibrant eyes were hollow, consumed by unfathomable darkness. Veins of black snaked beneath his collar, a visible manifestation of the madness that gripped his very being.
My heart shattered as I realized that his father’s power had swallowed him whole, erasing the man I loved. I couldn’t stand to see him like that, yet I couldn’t bear to tear my eyes away either, even though he didn’t seem to notice me. He hadn’t come to my side the way Ezra had come for Paesha. He hadn’t moved an inch. Orin was lost. Just as I’d feared. Though standing here now, in the heart of Death’s court, I finally realized there was likely no way of ever being able to save him, not under his father’s watchful eye, as Ezra had warned us, and even if I could, where would we go? How could we return?
Building up the courage, I looked into the hard face of Death next, his beautiful features so similar to Orin. I wondered how I hadn’t seen it before. Perhaps it was the angles the moon’s light cast through the vaulted windows above or the identical robes they both wore. Maybe it was the obsidian eyes or impassive faces, but seeing them side by side was eerie.
Each time I’d let myself look into Death’s face, a serpentine smile had formed, and he’d stroked my cheek just as Orin had, always keeping hands on me. Now that I knew the truth of my power, I realized why. Not for healing, as my husband needed, but to keep the darkness, his potent magic, stronger than the other, mostly dormant within me.
When he looked away, the smile finally forming, I followed his gaze to a woman standing at the bottom of the steps between us. Her eyes were fixed ahead, as if trapped within an unyielding trance. Vaguely familiar features mirrored my own, causing a surge of recognition that sent tremors through me. My mother, the woman whose death had carried me into this world, marking me his before I could ever belong to anyone else. An innocent child, Life’s Maiden, robbed of a happy beginning.
She stood maybe fifty steps from me, stirring a whirlwind of emotions—a longing for a mother’s love and the profound ache of loss. But perhaps more intense than that was a festered anger that had coiled for so, so long, I thought I’d burst soon, staring back at Death, the monster that’d taken everything from me. My past and my future. And he’d done it with that smile on his face, calculating and cunning. Bastard.
Curiosity got the best of me. I whipped my head around, staring in the direction my mother was until I found two familiar, hateful green eyes peering directly into mine. My father. Scorned by his own death. Based on the way my mother watched him in disbelief, I could only imagine that Death had held them apart, saving their happy reunion until this moment, though neither looked jovial.
“My lovely Deyanira,” Death purred, rising from his gilded throne to melt down the steps and stand before me. “Welcome home.”
“I’d say thank you, but I’m not feeling very grateful at the moment.”
“She speaks again.” Pure delight lit every one of his features. “Such a lovely voice. Though I prefer the time you screamed. Shall we revisit that moment?”
