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I took his hand, though I couldn’t pull my eyes from the door. “It seemed like the least I could do.”
“Come on.” Paesha wrapped me in a hug before leading me to a bench along the far wall of the room. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Whatever happens,” Ezra said, his words turning shaky, more fearful than when he’d denied Death, “it’s not real, okay? Just keep telling yourselves that.”
“What’s not?—”
Paesha’s words were cut off by the high-pitched scream of some kind of monstrous beast stepping from the shadows just as all but one torch went out. Long, haggard hair and needle-like claws scraped the stone floor as venom dripped from tapered, razor-sharp canines. Within minutes of the beast’s appearance, though it hadn’t come closer than the very edges of the light cast onto the jagged floor, it became a symphony of screaming and crying. Tortuous sounds clawed its way from the beast’s throat until it was maddening.
I covered my ears, just as the other two had done, but the screaming echoed off the walls until, like a blade to a throat, it stopped. Suddenly and without warning.
“Cover your eyes!” Ezra shouted, as if he’d had his fair share of time in this version of hell, and he knew exactly what to expect.
I’d spent too many seconds considering that, not listening to his command. When the torches flared to life, illuminating the entire cavern, the gaunt faces of a thousand ghosts stared back at me, their eyes as ruby red as the hellhounds, all smiling, each one making my skin crawl.
“Look harder,” one whispered, floating back and forth, back and forth as black, oiled hair covered most of her face.
I couldn’t tear my gaze away, couldn’t stop the rise of my own panic when she rushed forward, her terrifying face only inches from mine before she disappeared, and another came for me. Ignoring the two with their eyes well covered, the spectral whispered the same maddening thoughts I’d heard in the forest outside of the castle.
“Death’s Maiden… blood’s mistress… soul’s keeper.”
Twisting my head away, I glanced down at movement on my arm, jumping when a spider the size of my palm appeared, crawling up my arm. I couldn’t escape, couldn’t force my eyes closed.
“Riddle whispers… chaos echoes…thief…”
I slammed my hands over my ears, trying to block the echo of sounds that drove me deeper and deeper into a place I was far too familiar with.
Hello, Maiden.
“No!” I shouted, pushing against Death’s madness.
The reprieve is in her blood.
A visceral desire to see the crimson drops of Paesha’s blood spilling onto the cracked stone floor crept into my mind. To see life leave her eyes. To watch Ezra fall over her body, taking even more from him than I already had.
I rocked back and forth, humming to block the sound. The need. The blood. The blood.
The blood.
“Stop,” I pleaded, losing my sense of self in seconds as I stared into the eyes of the ghosts, watching tears of blood dripping down their faces. I wished I could run my fingers through it. Paint the walls with it. Bathe in it.
I drew a breath, fighting for myself. For her. For him. For every ounce of resolve I’d ever have, as my trembling hand gripped one of the daggers strapped to my chest.
“It’s not real,” I told myself.
“It’s not real,” Ezra echoed.
She cannot die. She’s already in Death’s court. I cannot kill her. I repeated the mantra in my mind until the voice of madness laughed back at me.
She has not yet died. Take it. Take her life.
“No,” I managed to whisper.
Yours.
Mine.
Ours.
