“Adelaide.”
For a moment, I completely forgot Ransom even existed. All I can remember is Bram, and I search the skies for whatever it was he hid from. The things that made him duck beneath my bed and tremble in the corner. But I see nothing. Nothing but crimson and black dripping against the branches.
“Thorn.” Ransom’s voice is at my back again, and I pivot.
He is framed in blood red, sweat slicking his brow in the sickly moonlight. His green eyes are not on me, not exactly. I look down to my hand and at the bell. It is humming in my palm.
“What’s it doing?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Shouldn’t you? You knew where to find the bloody doorway.”
Ransom hesitates, like he’s afraid of giving up too much information. He shovels a hand through his hair. “My father—Look, I only learned bits and pieces before he died.”
Right, of course. I want to slap him.Of course, he knows how to get us into this mess but not through it. Fine. I’ll just figure it out myself.
I lift the bell, watching the metal vibrate in the cold air. The air that smells like… My stomach twists, and I shove the bell into my pocket amongst its wrappings. The air is scented of sulfur and iron. Like red-capped mushrooms freshly sprouting along the bank of the River Thine.
Iknowthat smell. My eyes search the trees. Ransom scrambles in the leaves.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
The word buzzes in the back of my throat like a yellowjacket poised to sting. “Souls.”
Ransom’s hand snicks into mine, the creases of his skin damp and warm. He slips behind me, a wisp of smoke at my back. Fear ties knots in my belly while I wait for the dead thing to show its face.
“How do you know?” Ransom’s breath is hot on my neck.
There are monsters in the wood. Souls. But I do not have time to speak the words aloud, to wrestle with how my motherknew.
Something snaps and I spin, dragging Ransom behind me.
There are two of them—the souls—bobbing at the trunks of trees. The smoke morphs and takes form. I close my eyes, unable to see another dead face. Another mouth opening to ask me to bring them home. I have already sold my soul to Erybrus without knowing the price. My heart should be flipping in my chest, but it isn’t. If anything, it calms.
I straighten, open my eyes.
“Adelaide—”
“Be quiet.” My words are quick, eyes faster.
The souls edge closer, wisping trails of smoke across the rot of the forest floor.
The miasma of eggs and blood turns to something sharper. Something familiar. The twist of lemon rind, the upturn of dank soil. I take in a greatbreath of the stuff. And then the ghosts come so close the scent rolls off them in waves. I choke, one thought bleeding from my mind. Is one of them Mother? I reach out a hand, but Ransom moves to stop me.
“Are you stupid?” he hisses between his teeth. “You don’t know what those thingsare. They could kill you.”
Anger blooms in my chest, my fist thrashing out and tightening around his collar. “If you ever call me stupid again, Ransom Black, I’ll killyou.”
I don’t know where the boldness comes from, but it tastes like wine between my lips, and so I drink. My grip stays firm on him when I turn back to the forms of smoke.
“Are you the ones who came to me from the trees?”
I do not have to wait for an answer. They coalesce, then begin to take shape. Faces forming from mist, hair drifting around their cheeks as though I’m seeing them through water. Faces I know.
“Bloody hell.” It is Ransom’s voice behind me.
I turn, watch the color drain from his cheeks. “You can see them?”
“What are those things, Adelaide?”
