Page 5 of In Between Death and the Devil

“There you are. I’ve got you.” A woman threw a blanket over my shoulders and stroked my back in soothing circles. “You made it. You’re okay.” Her touch was so unexpected, I met her gaze without thinking. A woman with blue eyes, a pointed chin and short blond hair looked back at me.

Too late, I braced for a vision. Except none came. I stared into her eyes, waiting for it, but all I saw were the flecks of gray in her irises. Her expression was warm, welcoming. Overwhelming.

Blinking, I shifted my gaze to the woman putting a stack of clothing on the end of my platform. Her golden skin, brown eyes and dark hair shone beneath the balls of light hovering overhead. She gave me a small smile, but that was all I saw. Not how she had died.

Hope surged and my eyes darted to three others, looking, searching. Nothing. No visions. Either I had been right—there was no death to see since everyone here was already dead—or my curse had gone dormant. Perhaps it would rear its ugly head in a new and terrifying way when I least expected it. It would be no more than I deserved. I clenched my teeth to stop from imagining the worst. There was no point in worrying. It was gone, for now. I needed all my focus to navigate my new surroundings.

“Was your transition rough?” The blonde was still rubbing my back. “Mine was.” Her voice trembled.

“Yes.” I clutched at the blanket, torn between wanting to jerk away from her and lean into her touch. It was soothing. I didn’t trust it. My eyes dropped, catching on her other hand holding her own blanket closed. Underneath she was naked, as I was. I checked the end of her platform and saw a stack of clothes waiting. “Why aren’t you dressed? You’re shivering.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Her hand left my back as she pulled her blanket more tightly around her, but she didn’t budge from my side.

I took a closer look at her face, her features pale and drawn, and frowned.

“I’m fine. I just need a minute.” I jerked my head at her clothes. “Get dressed. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“So do you,” she shot back. “I’ll get dressed when you do.” Her chin jutted out in a way that reminded me of my brother, and I knew there would be no arguing with her. Ignoring the way my heart squeezed at the similarities, I got to my feet.

The top of her head only reached my chin so that I towered over her. I wasn’t that tall, just medium height, but she was very short and tiny. My generous proportions made her look like a bird in comparison. Still, she didn’t move or back down until I moved towards my pile of clothing.

It had been years since someone had made sure I was okay. It was… nice. And unnerving. I didn’t deserve it.

I looked down at my body as I bent to pick up the white shirt on top of the pile and let out a soft gasp. All the scars I had accumulated over the years, the recent cut on my palm, were gone. Rolling my shoulder, I realized the skin on my back no longer pulled awkwardly in places. The sisters had told us this would happen, but it was unsettling to see. My skin was unblemished, like my past had been erased. If only it were that easy.

I felt different, too, in subtle ways. I knew my body was no longer human, even if it looked like I was. Blood no longer flowed in my veins. They were now filled with the essence of my soul. I could feel it in my pulse. It felt brighter somehow. My stomach growled, and I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since the night before. Hunger and fatigue told me I would still need to eat and rest, but I also knew I wouldn’t physically age. I would always look twenty-four, for the rest of my existence. I shivered, wondering how long it would take to get used to.

Unfolding a pair of tan pants, a stiff green tunic, underwear and socks, I started to dress.

Most of the platforms were full by now and attendants walked up and down the aisles, checking on people. One of them eyed the diminutive blonde next to me appreciatively as she let her blanket fall to the floor so she could tug on her clothes.

“Hey, no gawking,” I said. “She’s trying to get dressed, not put on a show.” He glowered at me but moved off. Some things never changed.

“Thanks,” my neighbor said, a look of surprise on her face as she pulled up her pants.

“Of course.” Shirt and tunic on, I reached for my pants. A bit of a thrill went through me. I’d never worn a pair before.

“I’m Bea, from Resthaven, in the South. You?”

“Maeve. I’m from Fournemouth.” Fastening my waistband, I looked down at my clothes.

The pants were form-fitting just like the tunic and shirt, confining my curves, much like the restrictive dresses I’d worn growing up. With sharp shoulders and tailoring, gold buttons and embroidery, it reminded me of paintings I’d seen of military uniforms. The neckline and cuffs of the tunic were embroidered in gold thread, a repeating design of pomegranates and scales, and the fabrics felt like ones I’d worn before, but finer and more ethereal, behaving in ways that at times seemed to defy the laws of nature I was used to.

I grimaced, missing the ascetic lifestyle of the convent.

“Fournemouth’s in the North, right?” Bea asked. “Where the largest temple is?”

“Church. We don’t call it a temple.” I laced up tall leather boots.

“Oh, I guess that’s a southern thing. You came from a convent though, right?”

“Yes.”

“Nice to know we all came from the same kind of place. Did you join knowing you wanted to come here?” Bea shrugged on her tunic. It was perfectly proportioned to her small frame.

“Yes.”

“Me, too. The chance to help souls along on their journey—there’s nothing more sacred than that. Though I don’t think I really believed I’d be chosen, you know?”