“I kept hoping that the next would be better than the last,” he continued, “but greed turns people into monsters. Was it truly so terrible to have yourself freed from them?”
She’d never considered her life and all its upheaval in such a light. She’d been so young, and in too many strange situations to know what was normal and what wasn’t. He was right that her guardians had all been cruel to her. All but one. “I had a grandmother who did none of those things,” Signa argued. “What about her?”
The shadows around him jerked, irate. “All those who live must die, Little Bird. You know as well as I do that it was her time. I came for her while she still had her dignity.”
Signa ground her teeth, wanting so badly for her frustration to only grow, never ebb. “Because of you, I’ve had a life of isolation. It was one hardship after the other because everyone around me believed that I was cursed.”
Death snorted. “It’s not my fault you’ve been surrounded by pious vultures—”
“Vultures or not, I would have at least enjoyed some company every now and then! You said yourself that life and death must maintain balance, yet you seem to be doing a lousy job at following that rule. Am I mistaken, or did you not tell me how important it is that I recognize my powers and don’t go around accidentally killing people, so that we might maintain some fragile balance between life and death?”
His shadows stilled, and Signa found herself looking up at this strange man—at death incarnate, at the bleed of the night—with her heart in her throat. When he spoke, his voice was the sound of hooves upon cobblestone, low and choppy. “Perhaps it was more selfish of me than I realized, but I couldn’t stand by and watch how they treated you.”
He’d effectively stolen Signa’s bite. It wasn’t right, what he did. All those people, as awful as they’d been, hadn’t deserved to die. Yet Signa couldn’t help the way her stomach fluttered at his admission. “You… You took them to try and help me?” She didn’t want to believe such a thing could be true. No one had ever stood up for her. No one had ever tried to protect her. So why had he?
“Of course I did, you ridiculous girl.” He fisted his hands and drew a breath, as though attempting to summon his patience. “Does that satisfy you?”
It took her a moment to right herself, barely understanding what he meant. Because… no. She’d never realized she could be so unsatisfied. Hadn’t realized her lips could tingle or her stomach ache with a desire that she knew should not exist.
She should hate him. But to know there was someone watching her—someone protecting her and caring for her—it was all she’d ever wanted. And even though it hadn’t been in the way she’d expected, even hearing those words felt far better than it should have.
“I accept your offer.” She forced the words out before she could change her mind. “Show me how to access my powers without belladonna and get me out of here.”
The words unbound him. When Death’s shadows wrapped around Signa, she didn’t flinch. Though a small part of her warned that this was wrong, that she should be afraid, she leaned into his caress. She could feel his shadows now. Could feel them along her skin, brushing against her neck and lips. Igniting parts of her that she’d never known could be awoken.
His fingers clasped around hers, and it was a true hand, soft against hers and pale as the moon. He pulled her in close. Signa drew a breath—he truly was more than the darkness and shadows he lurked in, then. He had shape.
“All those I touch,” Death whispered, “die.” His other hand pressed against her cheek suddenly, and he breathed out a wondrous sigh so heavy that Signa’s entire body warmed. “Except for you, Signa Farrow. When I touch you, I feel you. On you, my influence is temporary.”
Signa yearned to lean into that touch. He sounded nothing like himself, dark voice now breathy and wondrous. Slowly, he let his hand drop from her cheek, though the fingers of his other hand remained curled tight around hers. “Should we break our connection, you’ll be corporeal once more,” he warned her. Signa nodded and fastened her fingers around his, never wanting to experience being stuck within something again. Death made a low sound in the back of his throat as she pushed closer.
The longer they touched, the more she could feel her temperature plummeting. The weight of her body grew light as gravity slipped away. Ice cleaved through her, and her thoughts darkened as that power slipped in, assuring her she could do anything. That she was invincible.
She tipped her head back, relishing the feeling. This world was hers to take.
“How do you feel?” Death asked with a knowing lilt.
“Like the world I’ve known is suddenly insufficient.” She didn’t realize it until she’d spoken the truth aloud. Something about Death—something about when she was like this—made her brave. Made her confident in a way she otherwise dared not be.
“For you, this world is insufficient.” Death led her through the tunnels. There were no walls to block them nor any doors to change their path. The world was open for their bidding.
“For you,” Death continued, “the world could be infinite.” They passed from one tunnel to the next, the world bowing to their whims. “Whether you welcome this power or not is your choice, but this feeling—this world—could belong to you. You need only to take it.”
She shut her eyes. There was a pressure in the back of her skull that she soon realized came from the lonely souls calling to her, wishing to pass on. Then came another pressure upon her that she recognized as an approaching death—someone ready to be reaped from this earth calling to her.
When Signa opened her eyes again, they were wet. “Is it sad?” she asked. “What you do?”
The muscles in his hands flexed in surprise. “There are times I wish things could be different.” It wasn’t a direct answer, but Signa figured it was the best she’d get. “There are times I wish I could warn people of their choices. Lives I must take at too young an age or when they’re surrounded by people who are not ready for them to leave. I am hated and feared more than anything or anyone in this world. So at times, yes, it can be sad. But it’s who I am.
“There’s good in it, too,” he went on. “I am the first person people see when they draw their last breath. I am the messenger who can deliver them to those they’ve missed. I am the one who assures them not to worry, or who delivers a swift death to those who are not welcome into the afterlife. I am many things, but what I am not is ashamed.”
“You must be lonely, though,” she said, her chest aching a little at the thought. At the familiarity.
“Yes,” he admitted. “For many years I was alone, forced to spend my days watching the lives of humans, never able to interact.”
“But you can interact with me.”
“Ah,” he said, “so you see why I enjoy teasing you so. I am not so lonely anymore, Little Bird. Not so lonely at all.”
She wanted more information—to know what this connection between them meant, and why she was able to see him. But when she turned to ask, he was surrounded by translucent blue orbs that danced around him, lighting their way.