“I’ll do it.”
Bram groans, and the man’s grin spreads so wide he might swallow his own bones.
“Sign.”
Bram is quick as a whip, on his feet, straining against his bonds, but I ignore him, eyes still trained on my target. Rifle raised.
The man holds the knife out to me, produces a flask of wine from his pocket. “On my hand,” he says, holding out a gnarled palm. “Sign.”
I stare at the knife, the lantern light reflecting on the metal. Bram is stiff, fear rolling off him in waves. Rascal whines. I crawl to the foot of the bed and grab the knife, not giving myself time to think before bringing the blade down against my flesh. The skin sears, blood beading.
The man’s eyes widen. “A Reaper. Well, this is fun.” He offers me the flask of wine, pours it over the cut.
I grit my teeth.
“Addie.”
Once more, I ignore Bram. We have to find Ransom. There’s no telling what he will do.
The dead man’s hand is rough and dry beneath my tender flesh, but I sign my name. The letters look strange in red, unfamiliar. As though they no longer belong to me. The man smiles, his teeth slipping in his jaw.
“You have yourself a deal, little Reaper.”
“Tell me where our friend went.”
He squeezes the blood between his brittle fingers. “There’s a castle a short distance from here, back the way you came and a little to the west. Here it has no name, but back on the other side of the wood, back home, people called it Blackbourne.”
Every bit of energy drains out the soles of my feet. “Blackbourne Castle?”
“Aye, that’s the one. One of the few buildings left. Your friend seemed all too interested when I offered him his deal. When he heard who lived in the castle, he was quite eager.”
Curiosity prickles at my neck. “What was his deal?”
The innkeeper clucks and shakes a blood-stained finger. “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. You’ve enough troubles of your own.”
Bram ignores him. “Who lives in the castle?”
The innkeeper turns. “I’m not making deals with the dead today.”
“Then tell me, please.” I scramble closer to the edge of the bed, the bell still hidden in my palm.
He faces me. “You’ll kill anyone I ask you to?”
I will make myself the monster if it means getting my mother back. “Yes.”
“They say a lady lives up in the castle. A Lady Black.”
My eyes meet Bram’s, fear and recognition alike on his face.
I glance back to the innkeeper. “And who is it you’d like me to kill?”
His mouth gapes open, letting out the thick scent of decay. “A man who lied to me. Told me I would see my daughter again when I died. But she isn’t in this place.”
“And who is that?”
“The vicar of Rixton parish, one Felix Thorn.”
twenty
