“And you’re an arrogant fool.” She had not forgotten his promise of midnight lessons, though never would she have guessed he’d stoop to petty games as punishment. “I don’t have any berries with me, you ridiculous heap of shadows.”
The darkness gathered around her. “A ridiculous heap of shadows, am I? Well, Miss Farrow, I’m afraid this heap of shadows is your only help at the moment, and you’d do well to remember that. Especially if you intend to save your cousin.”
Despite her fear and her nerves and the anger boiling within her, Signa tipped her head back and laughed. It was a bitter, unnatural sound. “And I’m supposed to trust you?”
The sigh he blew between his lips became the wind in her hair. “What will it take for you to accept that I am not your enemy?”
“You not killing everyone around me would be a good start.” She squared her shoulders. “And you could answer my questions, too, without the riddles.”
Though still faceless and nothing more than swaths of shadow and the bleed of night, the darkness shrank until Death was a shadow shape of a man that bent to her. “Ask me, then, and I will answer.”
She flattened her expression, careful not to show her surprise. Though he made no comment on the lives he’d taken, she knew better than to lose this opportunity. “If I have the powers you claim, why did they fail me when I got stuck in the fence?”
His shadows brushed close to her skin as he answered without hesitation, “Because you fear them. Because you fear me and my world, and that you may somehow be becoming part of it.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, betraying nothing. “I don’t belong to that world.”
“No? Then why is it that I’ve never met another soul that shares my power?” The shadows circled around her. “Since the creation of life itself, there has been Death to balance it. And in all that time, I have never once been able to communicate so clearly with another living soul.”
She dared not look away from the reaper, but instead tried to peer through the shadows protecting him. What might he look like with his shadows stripped away? Would he have a face? A body? Oh, what she wouldn’t give to catch Death blushing. To catch him feeling as small and bare as she did.
“How did you feel,” he asked suddenly, “when you used my powers last night? Did you like feeling its burn against your skin? Did you find comfort in the darkness and the shadows?”
She had, though it was a truth she’d tried not to admit even to herself. All her life, she’d hated Death. And yet she’d spent her years chasing after him like a moth to a flame. As difficult as her life had been because of him, she should have despised him. Why, then, was it that whenever she was with him, something within her seared hot and fervent?
Before Death, she should tremble. She should fear. And yet the more time she spent with him, the more that fear was beginning to slip away as curiosity festered in its absence.
She didn’t hate Death, not truly. And God, what a fool that made her.
Death’s shadows tilted, circling her. As they did, the air in the tunnels grew tighter and more fraught, and Signa let it turn her fingers to ice and her lungs to frost. There was a limit, though, to that coldness. Too much, and it burned.
Yet no matter how much she pretended otherwise, Signa craved that burn.
“Ah yes.” Death’s voice was a purr in the night. “That’s what I thought. I have the power to help you, but I won’t force myself on you. You must come of your own bidding. My touch is fatal, Little Bird. Just a brush of my skin, and you’ll be behind the veil again, able to access your powers until your body repairs itself.” He held out his hand. “No more pretenses—I want to show you our world. Say the word, and tonight I’ll teach you to access your power without the belladonna.”
The memory of their time in Lillian’s garden surged, and Signa recalled the slice of the cold metal gate through her body. The pressure on her unmoving lungs as they sat frozen in time. There was something else she remembered, too—the freedom. The power.
What would it mean, though, if she acted with Death’s wrath? If she allowed herself his power—what did that make her? There was a darkness waiting to embrace her, waiting to drown her. It was the side of herself she’d fought tooth and nail against, for should she give in to such desires and embrace the powers within her, just what might she become?
“Do you know which tunnel leads back to Thorn Grove?” she asked.
Death replied coolly, “I do.”
“And can you lead me there?”
“I will not.” Signa noted his choice of words with annoyance. “You have abilities that are unheard of, Signa Farrow. You are no ordinary human, and it’s time you stopped acting like one. If you would embrace the power that I see in you—”
“It doesn’t matter what you see!” Her words rang too loud, piercing in her own ears. “What if I want to be an ordinary human? I’m tired of you following me wherever I go. I’m tired of people dying!”
Though she saw no nose, Death looked as though he were pinching the bridge of one. “If you’d let me show you what you could be—the power that you could wield—you might change your mind. Perhaps you think an ordinary life will suit you now, but what happens when that’s no longer enough? When there is a void in you that cannot be filled by tea and gossip?
“I have tried to leave you alone,” he continued. “I have tried not to care. To not get involved. But we are connected, you and I. Our fates—”
“Fate can sod off!” Her temples pulsed with a blossoming headache. “I can determine my own fate without your help.”
There was a smile in his voice. “If I ever see Fate again, I’ll let him know you feel that way.”
Signa stilled, though this shouldn’t have surprised her. If Death was real, then why shouldn’t Fate be?
Death noted her curiosity. “Tell me, do you truly wish me gone? Because I have tried to leave you. Yet every time I do, it seems you find a reason to pull me back. Say the word and I will try again if that’s what you want.”
When he drew a step away, Signa reached out instinctively to stop him. “Wait!” He stilled without hesitation, and the tension in Signa’s chest eased some, and she told him, “I would prefer not to have everyone around me die, yes. But… I don’t want to be stuck in here alone.”
Again, Death reached out his hand. “My offer still stands, but you need to make a decision. I’m a busy man, remember?”
“Yes, I’m sure I’m preventing you from a dozen deaths as we speak.”
He scoffed. “Souls are not patient creatures. Whether I go to them or not, they’ll find me soon enough.”
She rolled her eyes but knew there was no changing his mind. “Fine.” The word came through gritted teeth. “Make me a promise, and I will play your game.”
His empty, waiting hand clenched tight. “I don’t make promises I cannot keep.”
“Good. Then promise me you’ll leave everyone in Thorn Grove alone. I’m tired of making bonds, only for you to take them from me.”
The air grew even tighter, her lungs colder. When Death spoke again, all amusement—all his curiosity—had evaporated. “You had an uncle who ignored you. Who stole from your fortune and kept you locked away in a room so that he could bring the entire town to his bed. You had an aunt who abused you and another guardian who you never had to meet because he was someone who was not fit to ever be left alone with young girls, Signa. And as for the one who died in the bathtub? She had a scheme to marry you off to her friend’s son so that he could take over your fortune and help them obtain wealth.