Page 114 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

BEA

I’m sewing what I can remember of my naming dàn into a stretch of fabric ripped from my old dress when a branch snaps in the distance, and I bolt upright. My first instinct is to look towards the After, to where the lost souls will emerge when night falls, but the sun still has hours until it will dip below the brae.

The ghosts won't visit for some time, which means someone else is coming.

I square my shoulders as I search the treeline. Theo had warned me about the guardians in the village. He said he would do his best to keep them from coming here, but they've come before, and I'm certain they'll come again.

Through the trees, there’s a flash of gold, the hilt of a sword with skulls etched upon it.

It is a Dìdeanair, then. My breath hitches.

They step through the trees, and I leap to my feet.

“Brennen!” I cry, running toward him. I throw myself against his chest just after he passes the hollow log, ducking my head low to make sure my skin does not touch his as I wrap my arms around his waist. Sobs break free from my throat as I savor his solid body. His steady heartbeat and warmth.

Brennen goes stiff. He doesn’t embrace me back, but I don't care. I am no longer alone, and when the souls cry out for me to save them tonight, I will not have to endure it by myself.

“Why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?” he asks, his voice rough, and I shake my head against his chest, sniffling.

“No. Nothing like that,” I say, my voice tight. Where do I even begin?

He wraps his fingers around my biceps, forcing me back so he can look at me. His eyes start at the crown of my head, examining every inch of my face before dropping down until he reaches my toes, as if he doesn't believe I’m uninjured. His gaze heats my skin, and I blush, the flush spreading down my neck.

“If it's no that you’re hurt, then what is it?”

My lip trembles as I consider how to tell him what’s happened since he left. I know how it will sound, especially when I told him there was someone in the After before. Will it just be another reason for him to think I’m mad? I wring my hands, gathering my resolve.

“The cry I heard in the night before you left. You said no one was there, but it was a soul. One of the women who disappeared.”

Brennen narrows his eyes. “A soul?”

I nod, relieved he’s not immediately dismissing me. “First, it was one. Now it’s all the women from my visions. They come at night, moaning and crying, saying they won't let them into the After.”

“An Glèidheadair isnae accepting them?”

“I don’t know. They can’t tell me more. All they said is they won’t let them enter.”

He dips his chin, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind. His eyebrows furrow in thought, his jaw going tight.

“You’ve learned something,” I say. He lets go of my arms.

“Let's sit,” Brennen says, swallowing. He doesn't lead me toward the fire pit where, without kindling, the flames have completely died out. Instead, he turns away from the After, sitting down almost at the end of my chain length.

He faces the darkness, his eyes never leaving the curling black mist.

“You don't seem surprised at what I said about the After.”

He shakes his head, leaning forward and bracing his forearms on his knees. He takes a moment to speak, like he doesn't know where to start.

“The Cutter didnae take kindly to my warning. She doesnae believe the women you’ve seen in your visions are dead.”

My mouth falls open, his words settling like a stone low in my stomach.

“But they have to be. You believe me, right?”

He holds up his hands. “I do believe you. I dinnae think Betty would just leave her family. Nor the others. And if you’re seeing their spirits, it only confirms what we suspected. They have to be dead.”

“Did you tell her that? That you were certain?”