My skin rattles in sheer terror of it all, but I grind my teeth and straighten my spine. Kill my own father? I am here to seek his redemption, not to damn him—and myself in the process—to living death. But I could bring him back, couldn’t I? Carry through these dead man’s words and then bring him back? I fist the bell.
“You have a deal.”
His fingers wrap around mine, cold and slimy as worms, a grin cracking along his face. I do not know much of the world outside Rixton, but I have been taught that murder is a cardinal sin, one punishable only by the fiery tongue of Erybrus, and I have just damned myself by promising to slit the neck of my own father. But I will bring all of us back. Stitch our family together.
The innkeeper crosses to Bram and Rascal, cuts their bonds. “Looking forward to my prize, little Reaper.”
I hurry into my clothes and walk with Bram from the inn. His fingers are cold at my back through my blouse. When we reach the cover of trees, hegrips my wrist and turns me around. I bite back a groan.
Every inch of his face reads fury. The fire in his eyes, the twist of his lips, the way the light catches the shadowed hollows of his cheekbones. I hate it. But it’s the disappointment I hate the most. It ekes in the air like poison, covering him, suffocating me. I wrench my hand away, my mouth a severe line, nostrils flaring.
“What?”
“What?You know what. I warned you not to make a deal with these people, Adelaide. The dead are not forgiving. If you don’t follow through with your end of the bargain, that man, he’ll—”
“He’ll what?”
I am so close to Bram’s face. The delicate loosening of his skin is apparent, just below his eyes. A gentle decay. It hurts to imagine what he will become if I don’t bring him home. If I don’tsavehim too.
“He’ll hunt you down and take your soul to Erybrus.”
I try to ignore the dread pricking holes in my stomach and reach into my pocket, bringing out the bell. “You forget, I have this.”
A crease deepens between Bram’s brows. “How did you get it back?”
“I don’t see how that’s important.”
His jaw juts from the papery skin of his cheek, teeth grinding. He is going to shout at me, leave me here in the dark. And for the first time, I realize how much I need him.Wanthim.
“Bram—”
In the hush of the forest, he pins me against a tree. His face is arresting. All hard lines, dark stubble. His hands are at my waist, anchoring me. Something warm slips along the center of my core.
Bram Avery is unlike anything I have ever seen. His focus, his surety, his conviction…it’s striking. I fight the desire, the way he makes every inch of me tremble.
“You trust too easily, Adelaide Thorn,” he whispers, and then he’s walking away.
All I know how to do is breathe deeply and follow him. I can’t let him out of my sight. His anger is grounding. It is real. Perhaps the only realness in this world of dead things.
“You act as if you know everything there is to know about this place,”he spits. “Like you can just go making deals with dead people and suffer no consequences.”
“Bram, I—”
He whirls on me. “There are so many things you don’t know.”
The shadows in his gaze send a chill through my bones. Here, in the dim light, he looks more dead than alive for the first time since he appeared in my bedroom. His skin seems sallow and thin, stretched tallow wax. The violet stains beneath his eyes are wan and deep, dripping down to his chin like spilled ink.
“I’m sorry,” is all I manage, but Bram is already moving away through the trees.
“Don’t bother,” he clips back. “You’ve already made your deal.”
He disappears amidst the crooked white and silver trunks, and I am here, and I am not. I am tied to a chair, my mouth stuffed with words that are not my own, verses scrawled in Father’s hand.
“Are you coming or not?”
Bram’s voice sends me crashing back into my own body, chest heaving. My skin is slick with cold sweat, and a shiver runs the course of my spine. Bram stands at the tree line, brow dark, but with more concern now than anger. Rascal waits at his side, tail wagging. I clench my fists and move toward him, though the memory niggles at the back of my mind.
I am wicked; I am weak. If I were stronger, I would take the bell in my hand, send Bram home, and face this weary world without him. But he is right. I know nothing of this place, and I need him.
