Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

Zinnia

There was a soft knock at the bedroom door. "My lord."

Death jolted beside me, waking instantly. "What is it?"

He'd been restless in sleep the last few hours, and I'd been lying here awake, frustrated and contemplating my situation.

"We've had another breach," Egon said in a hushed, urgent voice.

Death stilled completely. "Fuck."

I felt his eyes on me, and I kept mine closed. Whatever this was, he didn't want me to know. I felt it. The tension was a dense wall between us. The way he eased off the bed, trying not to jostle me, told me I was right.

Death wanted my trust while he kept so many things from me. He quickly dressed and slipped out of the room.

I could just lay here and do nothing, stay in the dark and blindly do as he instructed, or I could do what I always had and protect my soul and my heart and choose the truth—whatever it was.

I'd rather be faced with all the horrors and ugly parts of a person, see all their scars on full display, than live in ignorance for my own comfort. Pushing back the covers, I quickly dressed, shoving my feet in my boots. Hemlock scurried across the bed, squeaking at me. "You have to stay here, okay? It's too dangerous." He hissed, then turned his back to me and wriggled under the covers, showing me he was not happy.

Better that than something happening to him.

I slipped out into the hall. At night, the whispers of the souls here were louder, as if the darkness amplified their thoughts and feelings. Ice slid down my spine as I rushed along the hallway. It felt as if they were right behind me, their mouths to my ear, telling me their secrets, their regrets—the darkest marks on their souls.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I stuck close to the wall. Death was talking with Egon. The demon nodded at whatever his lord said, then strode away, and Death spun and walked out. With the coast clear, I rushed across the room and eased the door open, slipping out.

Death was striding down the skull path, shrouded in shadow. I hung back, following at a distance, using all the magic I had to try and conceal myself from him. It wouldn't last. I could only summon a thin and fragile barrier that would wear thin, then dissolve completely from the strength of his power, but that was okay. It just needed to hold long enough for me to learn what the hell was going on.

He lifted his hand, and a path appeared through the trees, one I'd never seen before. We were close to where I'd been attacked by Alga. Where I'd seen Death remove her head, then carry her wriggling corpse away in a sack moments later.

An awful shriek came from up ahead—the same awful sound I'd heard from the undead female while she'd circled me, swiping at me, clawing me.

The shadows thickened before his cloak swirled around him, his staff appearing in his hand a moment later. He didn't pause but kept walking as the shriek came again. We carried on for a little longer, and then Death stopped. I quickly stepped off the path and pressed my back against one of the large trees. Leaving the path was risky, but I had no choice. I didn't want him seeing me, not before I knew what this was. Sliding my knife free, I hung back and watched.

Death turned to his right and said something, his voice low, rough, and then he held out his hand. Bony fingers appeared first before one of the undead stepped awkwardly from the forest beside the path, its movements jerky and disturbing. Its clothes were hanging off bones draped in old skin and tendons. She took Death's hand.

"Come now," I heard him say. "You know you're not supposed to wander."

As they passed a tree with sparse foliage, light from the faux moon shone down on her. She had her skeletal face upturned, looking at Death, and from what I could see of her hair, it had once been black and wavy.

Death didn't remove her head or shove her in a sack like the last one we encountered; no, he was talking to her, his low voice drifting back while she said the odd, garbled words and walked jerkily at his side. As if they were going on a midnight stroll together.

What the fuck was this?

They carried on for several yards, and I followed, keeping a good distance between me and them. Then they stopped, and I realized the path had ended. Death cupped her skeletal face—then pressed a sweet, soft kiss to her bony cheek before he straightened, lifted his staff, now glowing with power, and iron gates appeared. Shrieks filled the night, moans, garbled voices calling for him. As if he had some undead army behind that gate that worshipped him.

Had I been right? Had Death amassed some fucked-up undead horde? With his evil bitch of a mother and her army of demons right next door, I guessed it made sense for him to amass his own, but no matter how you looked at it, this was wrong. It was twisted and cruel. If he had done this, then he wasn't the male I thought he was… hoped he was, not at all.

Nausea gripped my stomach as he opened the gate and the undead female stepped through. As soon as she had, he pulled it shut, and the gate vanished.

Death turned then, and I had two choices, either hide and run through the forest, hoping I'd beat him home or—

I dropped the gossamer thin barrier of my magic that remained and stepped out of my hiding place and onto the path. I wasn't the kind of female to hide or run, not when the danger concerned someone I cared about, consequences be damned.

Death went still.

"Who's your friend?" I asked, legs braced, waiting for the impact of his anger.

He started toward me, his cloak flaring out behind him as he walked, his staff gripped tight in one hand. The volatile emotions rolling off him were intense , and it took everything in me not to step back as he strode right up to me, towering over me.

"Your new girlfriend?" I asked, refusing to cower under that ferocious glare. "I guess it makes sense that Death would be up for some necrophilia."

His nostrils flared. "Go back to the castle, Zinnia."

"You're not going to tell me who that was?"

His blue eyes glowed down at me. "No."

I ground my teeth. "Mors—"

"Do not speak."

What I felt coming off him was wild, unstable—goddess, a raging storm. My knees almost buckled under the weight of all that was pouring off him. I didn't understand it, what caused him to feel this way, but it was horrible.

"Talk to me. What's going on—"

"Go." He said it softly, but it was as if he'd roared it.

I flinched and backed up when the storm grew more violent. Pushing him right now would be a serious mistake, so I said nothing more and walked away.

He said he wanted me as his consort, he said he loved me, even if I hadn't actually believed it, but he constantly shut me out. I understood his trepidation, and I knew he couldn't tell me anything, but living with so many secrets between us wasn't going to work. His expectations were too high. He wanted too much from me without any of the trust and without giving me even a glimpse of the payoff. He couldn't even promise me a life.

The foundation I thought we'd been building, the closeness we'd slowly developed, had already been on shaky ground after his demand that I obey him. Now, after tonight, it was crumbling, slipping away beneath my feet.

Because it was built on nothing.

I glanced back over my shoulder. He hadn't moved, his dark gaze following me as I strode away. I got another wave of all he was feeling, and my knees almost gave out beneath me a second time. The anger inside him was breathtaking, and it was aimed at only one person—me.

* * *

Death didn't come back to bed after that. I'd lain awake, waiting, but he never came. He wasn't at breakfast the next morning either. I checked Somnus's room but found only the slumbering god.

"Where's Death?" I asked Egon when I walked into the kitchen.

He glanced up from the silver he was polishing. "He's busy with an urgent matter."

"What urgent matter would that be?" I leaned on the table.

"My lord has a lot of responsibility in his realm. Sometimes his attention is required away from the castle," Egon said and started polishing again.

"His army of the dead? Is that what has his attention?"

Egon stilled for a split second, then continued polishing. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, my lady."

"You do, because you came and got Death last night when one of them escaped."

He kept his head down, polishing the silver jug in his hand like his life depended on it.

"I followed him, Egon… I saw one of them. She's the second I've seen." I planted my hands on the table. "Please tell me what the hell's going on here."

Egon blew out a breath and placed the jug on the table. "You know I can't tell you, Zinnia," he said, using my name for the first time. "I wish I could tell you all you need to know, I truly do." His fingers curled tight around the rag he was holding. "You have no idea how much, but I can't. For many reasons—reasons I pray to the gods you learn, and soon."

I ground my teeth. "Death tells me I have to work it out for myself, yet I'm not allowed to wander around on my own or ask anyone else questions. How the hell am I supposed to figure out whatever it is he wants me to figure out when I'm being hobbled at every turn? I go back home in three days, Egon. That's another month away, and another month closer to my sister's birthday. I'm going to be trapped here with a god who is so angry with me, for reasons he won't share, that I'm starting to feel dread when I'm around him." I planted my hands on my hips. "What the hell does he want from me?"

"The answer is a simple one," Egon said, holding my gaze, beseeching me to read his damn mind.

"Only it's not," I said. "Nothing about this situation is simple."

I spent the rest of the day in my garden with my herbs. It made me feel closer to Jasmine, to my cousins and aunts, to my coven.

And I needed them now more than ever.

* * *

Death wasn't at dinner that night, and he didn't come to bed. He was absent at breakfast for a second day as well. Egon said nothing, but he seemed stressed.

I, on the other hand, was pissed.

After I'd watered my garden, I went up to Death's room and gathered Hemy's and my things and moved them back to my room. If he was staying away to avoid me, I'd make it easy for him.

When dinnertime finally came around, I left Hemy napping by the fire and headed down to the dining room. No Death. I sat and thanked Egon when he filled my glass with wine. Like the last three meals Death had missed, his place was set, which made it clear he wasn't communicating with Egon either.

I was hungry. I'd barely eaten the last two days, but thanks to my anger, my appetite was back.

The sound of the main doors opening and closing echoed through the castle.

I turned to the door, and a moment later, Death appeared. His gaze sliced to me as he strode toward the table.

My heart leaped in my chest. Do not give him the satisfaction . Forcing myself to freaking move, I scooped up some mashed potatoes and shoved them in my mouth.

"I hope you didn't rush back on my account," I said and stabbed some beans with my fork and shoved them in my mouth as well, then grinned to piss him off when he took his seat opposite me.

"I've had things to do," he said as he dished himself a plate of food.

"Oh, me too. While you've been gone, I've been super busy taking all my things out of your room and packing for my trip home."

He said nothing, didn't even look up as he started eating.

"So are you going to tell me where you've been?"

"No."

"Awesome." I took a sip of my wine and sat back. "Question time, big guy. Tell me, why are you angry with me? What have I ever done to you? I think I deserve to know that, don't you?"

He chewed his mouthful. "You already know."

I snorted. "The fuck I do."

He lowered his knife and fork. "Maybe if you stopped talking and started fucking thinking, you'd work it out."

I stared across the table, confused and hurt and pretty sure my anger was close to matching his. "I can't read your mind, Death. You're going to have to help me out a little."

He slammed his fist on the table. "I can't."

It was as if he was reverting back to the Death he was when I came here. So full of darkness and rage. "Why do you even want me to? The anger I feel inside you now, it's almost as if… as if you hate me," I said, as an awful, gripping feeling in my stomach tore through me.

His nostrils flared. "Think," he said with quiet violence rolling from him and ignoring what I'd said completely. "Fucking think," he roared and slammed his fists on the table again, this time knocking over his wine.

I blinked across the table at him. For the first time in a very long time, I was filled with fear and dread. The full force of the god he was, was reflected in his face and his voice. It wasn't him I was scared of, but the thoughts and feelings he was capable of evoking in others. I'd stopped feeling it, the horror and woe, the soul-gripping fear and heartbreak that Death was capable of making others feel, but I did now, and humiliatingly, tears filled my eyes. The feelings he was summoning in me were so strong and awful, I wanted to curl into a ball and weep. "This isn't going to work," I forced out past trembling lips.

He glowered at me. "What?"

"Release me," I said, shaking so hard that he had to see it. I hated that as well.

"Never," he snarled.

"I found a way to hide from you before," I choked out. "I can do it again."

His gaze swept my face. "You will not. You try it, and I will drag you back here and never let you leave."

"Isn't that what you have planned already? Never letting me leave? Trapping me here in this hell with you until I die brutally?" I shook my head. "I'm not going to accept that. I'm not yours. I don't belong to you, and the fates can go and fuck themselves. I've given up enough because of you. I won't give up my life as well."

He sat forward. "You think you know what it is to suffer? You know nothing of loss."

I didn't know this version of him. This wasn't just anger; this was cruelty. He was trying to hurt me. To push me away even while he desperately tried to hold on. "No, you're right. I don't know the loss you have. How could I? I'm a mere mortal, not a god with an eternity of living behind him. But I do know loss, I know fear, and I know heartbreak."

He sneered. "What have you lost? Enlighten me."

My heart was racing, and I was trembling so hard now, my voice shook. "When I was fifteen years old, still just a child, a powerful god invaded my dreams and told me I was his—"

"I already know this story, little witch. Don't waste your breath," he bit out, a nasty smirk curling his lips.

"I was so scared," I said, pushing on, "that I took dangerous amounts of forbidden potions and elixirs to make sure I stayed awake. I didn't want the terrifying god to come back. I was afraid he'd hurt me, but most of all, that he'd hurt my sister, so I searched for help, and eventually, I found it." Death was staring at me, his eyes black, no blue left; not even the night sky was reflected in them, just pure blackness, but he didn't interrupt this time, and I had no intention of stopping. "I wasn't thinking clearly with the potions and the lack of sleep. I was delirious, confused, afraid. I heard of a demon named Fluke who could help, so I went to his cottage."

Death snarled and sat forward. "What did he do, Zinnia?"

"He got me to lay down. He drugged me and shoved his hand in my stomach. The pain was so bad, I lost consciousness. I don't know exactly what happened when I was out… not good things, I know that much. My entire body hurt when I woke with the markings on my arm." I ran my hand over the scar where I cut the mark out so Death could find me. I glanced back up at him. "I'm pretty sure he took more than my womb that day as trade." Death shot to his feet with a roar, his chair flying back and crashing against the floor. I stood as well. "So yes, Mors, I know loss."

"Fluke belongs to Nox," he said as he grabbed the end of the huge wooden table and flipped it, tossing it halfway across the room. "I will kill him. I will make him scream. I'll find a way to destroy my mother. I will make her wish for death."

Of course Nox, that twisted bitch, had a hand in what happened to me. She'd seen me coming. She'd found me when Death had. I could rage about the unjustness of it all, like Death was, but it was too late. It was done. One truth remained, though. "We're not good for each other," I said.

He was breathing hard. "You're not leaving me."

No denial—he knew I was right. "I've been here for a lunar month. I leave first thing in the morning. While I'm gone, I want you to decide if this"—I motioned between us—"really is what you want. If all this pain and anger you're feeling is really worth it to trap me here, when it's obvious neither of us want this. You don't love me, Mors. You don't. What you're feeling is a lie, a manipulation, a byproduct of the fates' meddling. Love isn't forcing someone to be with you… not when you've made it clear you despise me more than you truly want me."

"You're wrong," he choked out. "You don't understand—"

"Then make me understand. Give me something… give me anything."

He stared across at me, mouth gritted shut, eyes burning into me, but he said nothing.

His hands were tied.

Still, disappointment filled me as I turned away and strode from the room.