The thought should have frightened him, but he was ready to go. He wanted to leave this world and go to another where all this pain ceased to exist.
A dark shape slipped from the trees. It approached him under the shadow of the morning clouds, its movements agile and soundless. A black cloak shrouded its form, a hood obscuring its face.
Death had come to collect his soul.
It reached his side but made no move to take him. Why was it only staring at him? Was it waiting for permission?
Zev rasped, “I’m … ready to pass through … the Gate …”
Death didn’t respond.
“Please …” he begged, tears falling. “Finish it.”
After a pause, Death’s cloak moved aside to reveal a black-gloved hand holding a dagger. Morning light shone on the sharp edge and the red gilded hilt. The weapon seemed familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he’d seen it.
“Zev!” a faint voice filtered through his muffled hearing. “Zev!”
Death vanished in a gust of wind as a glowing form came through the shrubs. A Seraph swathed in light. The being rushed to his side, and her face became clearer.
“Zev, I’m here!” Dyna’s cool hands took his sweaty face, and his senses slammed back into place. All of it, hitting him with the suffering and stench of his burning flesh.
Dyna fumbled with a key hanging on a piece of twine. She jammed it into a manacle, and he heard the distinct click of his freedom before the manacles clanked in the dirt. She tried to be gentle in removing the chains, but Zev screamed with each piece of his melted skin tearing away with them. She recited apologies like a prayer, tears streaming down her face. The vile chains formed a pile by her feet, strips of his decaying flesh sticking to the thick links. The silver left burns crisscrossing from his neck to chest, all around his back, continuing down his legs.
Dyna quickly laid a blanket around his waist and brought a waterskin to his lips. The icy water smoldered down his dry throat.
“Please. Let me heal you.”
“No,” he said, his voice but a raw whisper. “Don’t.”
“Why do you do this to yourself? These burns can become infected.”
“No!” Zev growled, pulling his hand away. The injuries and the disfigurement were a penance he must wear. His own eyes welled at the sound of her soft crying. “I’m sorry.”
He looked at her again, finding she still faintly glowed. Her disheveled red locks shrouded her bowed head. One of his tunics hung on her thin frame, falling off a narrow shoulder smeared with dried blood. Her bloodied petticoat lay in shreds, torn by what must have been his claws.
Zev grimaced as he forced himself to sit up. “Dyna, what happened?”
She couldn’t have escaped with any significant injury, but he didn’t see any on her. Her dried blood smelled odd. It was mixed with another, much sweeter scent he had smelled before.
“Is that Cassiel’s blood?” Zev asked in disbelief.
Dyna nodded. “He helped me restrain you ... I think he healed me.”
Zev’s eyes grew wide as he looked her over. For Cassiel to have done that meant only one thing—he’d had no choice.
“How bad was it? Tell me the truth.”
She wouldn’t look at him.
He reached out to her, and she recoiled. At the phantom of fear on her face, misery swallowed him.
How many more of his family must the Other kill before his end? Zev pulled at his hair as the Madness screeched in his thoughts.Bringer of ruination. Seed of misfortune. You reek of death.His wolf snarled within the confines of his consciousness and fur sprouted along his body as it dominated over him.
“No, no, I’m all right! I’m alive! Don’t listen to its lies!” Dyna wrapped her arms around him. She murmured reassurances until the mad whispers faded. Her scent had changed. It was slight, lingering under the surface. She smelled ethereal. Like Cassiel.
“Forgive me. Please.”
Dyna shook her head. “There is nothing to forgive. It wasn’t you.”
