I stand and catch the mayor’s stare. His tears remain, but there is something else there too. Something I know all too well.
Hatred.
I toss the earth, the smack of it against the casket reverberating through the churchyard. Let them hate me. What does it matter?
“Ithrandril above, welcome Hester into your divine brilliance, where the shadow can no longer find her.”
The villagers echo the pronouncement, and the bell tolls while Father concludes the rites. Unlike Lilith’s service, no one files into the church. The village has gorged itself on death for long enough. I catch Clara’s eye from across the tombstones, her arm hooked through Liza’s. When she sees me, she turns away, and the rejection burns hot across my skin.
Merely strangers. No longer the friends we might have once been. She has seen my hard edges and knows there is no way to soften them now.
I am once more left alone amidst the graves. The rain pours down in steady streams, but I don’t mind. This is what they expect of me now, I suppose. Naked and dripping wet. Dancing with the shadow. At the bottom of the hill, the silver-barked rowans stand like sentinels. There is hardly a leaf left on their haggard branches.
Something shifts in the corner of my eye.
White smoke.
A slight ringing of tinny sound echoes in my ears.
I choke. Back away.No, not now.But my ankle twists in something, and Iam sprawling beside a tomb. I turn toward the white petals of flowers that shouldn’t be blooming this time of year and a familiar name etched in stone.
Bram Avery.
Bitterbloom vines catch my boot, their fibrous fingers a hare trap at my heel. I scramble, tearing at them, while their deep scarlet sap leaks across my hand. And I wipe it hurriedly on a gloss of wet leaves, knowing even a drop could kill me stone dead. Just another grave to be dug amongst hundreds.
When I glance upward, the smoke is closer. Panic rises in my chest, fingers scrabbling at the damp earth to get up, up, up.
My heart races, throws beats so hard against my spindled bones I think they might crack. I crouch at the crest of Bram Avery’s tombstone, tucking my head to my elbows and hurrying a finger to my throat. The answer that awaits me sends my blood boiling.
Doom-ed, doom-ed, doom-ed.
My chest seizes when the pain comes, the agony washing over me in nauseating waves. I try to rise, but I can’t. My legs are useless, tethered to the dirt. Nothing more than a prisoner. And this time, the bars are of my own making. My own flesh.
I dip my head to my elbow and draw a steadying breath, then reach into my pocket and feel for the bell. While I can’t explain it, the cold brass brings me comfort. A sense of grounding.
Get up. Just get up. It cannot hurt you.
But when I look back, the trees beyond the graveyard stand empty.
I breathe a sigh of relief, my sinew softening, heart slowing to a steady rhythm. My sweat-slick palm slides along the headstone when I rise shakily to my feet. Whatever was there is gone now, and even though my heart feels like it’s slipping wetly in my chest, it maintains course. I take another breath.
“Adelaide!”
Father. His voice clawing at my ears through the fog of fear. I peer at him through the undulating mist enveloping the graveyard. He stands beside Mayor Samuels on the hill toward the church, his lips a thin line. Father bows his hat to the mayor, mumbles words I do not hear, and turns toward me. His cloak whips about his knees like dusky shadows.
“What are you still doing out here?” he demands, trailing down the hill, dirt smeared on his gloves.
I say nothing, focus on the returning calm of my heart.
“Come here.”
I hold his gaze, challenge him, but I fail. His gloves tighten around his flexed hands.
He nods grimly while the ground squishes beneath my boots. Up close, he smells of tallow wax and stale wine. “What are you doing out here? It’s not safe.”
“Not safe for me?” I think of Mayor Samuels, the hatred in his eyes. “Or are others unsafebecauseof me, Father?”
His smile contracts, a stitch pulled tight and painful somewhere high on his cheek. “Do not play games with me, child. I do not deal in idle words.”
