I ignore him and focus back on the visage before me.
Lilith Corley and another girl from the village, Ethel Lawler, who died well before my mother. One of the first dead girls of Rixton.
Ransom’s hand slicks hot with sweat, tries to drag me away, but I pull from his grip.
The ghosts draw near.
“Lilith? Ethel?” It comes out as a plea, a desire to have it all make sense. But the words land like stones. The time passing slow while they edge closer. Each second a pebble tossed into a pond, letting one ripple fade away before another can begin.
There is something wrong with them. Pieces missing.
The viscera in my chest tightens.
Ethel is harder to remember, was almost as old as I am now when she died. But Lilith…The air swims with bitterness. Her rouged cheeks are gone, cut away, one eye sloughing into nothing but emptiness. I open my mouth to scream, but there is no sound. She nears, and the scent settles in the folds of my stomach. I gag. Ransom’s hand is damp at my waist.
Find our bones, Lilith whispers.Find our bones and put us back.
I drop to my knees, shrinking against Ransom’s chest. Every breath a sob. If this is just another deal, another thing with an unnamed price, I have already lost.
“I cannot take you all with me,” I whisper, shoulders slack.
Ethel holds out a hand. It is cold against my cheek. So very cold. She, too, is missing pieces. Darkness dusts from her right temple to jaw, a half-face lingering in the crimson light.
Find our bones, Adelaide. Her voice rattles in my head, distant as a spring breeze.Find our bones.
It must be a trick. The wrongness of my heart seeping to invade my mind. I blink through helpless tears, and then they are gone. Nothing but trees and the crimson sky. Ransom’s arms wrap around me. My skin tightens at the touch.
No, no. I will not let him—but he only holds me closer. No one has held me like this in so very long, and my tears leave dark stains on his coat.
They are gone, the souls. The girls with missing faces. Girls I once knew. The smell still permeates the air when I unwrap from Ransom’s embrace. The cloying stench of citrus peel makes my stomach turn, and when I peer down to the earth beside me, I see why. My knees buckle, vision swirling black.
There are bones. So many bones leaking up from the dirt, covered in the twisting vines of bitterbloom.
I only wake when Ransom’s arm slips around my waist. My body courses with heat, and I hurry to my feet, brushing the dirt and twigs from my skirt. For a moment, I forget where I am. The trees stretch too tall, their trunks glinting like knife points in the vermilion light. Breath leaves me in great gasps, and I blink, trying desperately to make sense of my surroundings.
In a rush, it all comes back. Blurred colors, strangled voices, and the ringing of the bell.
We are in the rowan wood.
“You passed out.” Ransom is in fine form, blond hair mussed, dirt smeared on his cheeks. He smiles faintly, blinking the sleep from his eyes in the dull, red light.
My heart flutters. “Did I hurt you?”
“Why would you have hurt me?”
“I…It doesn’t matter.” I loose a breath, thankful I didn’t murder the only other living soul here. I hurry a hand to the pocket of my skirt and sigh in relief when the brass brushes cool against my fingertips.
Ransom props himself up on the earth.
“I have no intention of stealing the bell, Thorn.”
Part of me feels this is a lie, the ghost of his fingers still trailing my waist, but I push the thought away. Below me, the ground is covered in leaves. No more bones, no more bitterbloom. The light is red as rotting meat when I plunge deeper between the leering trees.
Ransom is quick to his feet.
“Are you going to tell me what exactly is going on?” He paces after me. “What are you doing anyway?”
“Whatever I have to do,” I snap.
