Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

Zinnia

The force of his rage had me cowering, his roar so loud, the windows rattled. The sounds of the forest went silent.

He stared blindly ahead, not seeing me, so lost in his despair and rage, he saw nothing else.

"It's me, Zinnia… your Stella," I choked out. "Mors, it's me."

He blinked, his gaze clearing just for a moment.

I cupped his skeletal face. "I came back."

One of his hands snapped out, and he caught me by the throat, his face contorting. "You left," he said, his voice rolling through the room like thunder, lifting the hair on the back of my neck.

I shook my head. "I'm right here. Your beloved. Look at me, please. I'm right here."

He snarled, his head moving in an odd way before he lurched forward, yanked me onto the bed, and shoved me down. I lay still while he loomed over me, searching my face, his features contorted in rage. "Stupid little witch," he said in a voice that sent ice down my spine. "You should never have come back here, because I will never let you leave. Whatever deal we had is void." There was nothing but rage in his voice.

He had completely reverted to the male he was when I first came here—I felt it—but worse. He was so hollow, like a husk of himself. Mors was buried deep beneath the surface, and Death was fully in the driver seat.

I reached up to touch his face again. "Mors—"

"Do not call me that," he snarled. "I am the God of Death."

"And I am your consort," I said softy. "Yours."

He shook his head. "You never came back."

"I did. I'm right here. You have to believe me. I came back, but—"

One moment, he was looming over me; the next, he was up, hauling me off the bed. He slammed open the door, dragged me down the hall and into my old room. "Stay out of my way." He shoved me inside and walked away, leaving me to be forgotten like the others, so deep in the cloak, so deep in denial.

I wasn't giving up; I would bring him back. He said he'd let the cloak take him if I left, but the darkness and shadows couldn't have him. He was mine.

I grabbed the dresser to hold myself up, a rush of dizziness making my limbs weak.

"My lady?"

Egon stood at the door, his face etched in concern. I held up my hand. "I've lost some blood. How good are you with a needle and thread?"

Color drained from his face. "You're injured. Sit. I'll return momentarily."

Sitting heavily on the bed, I rubbed my hand over my face. I needed rest for the fight ahead. I would bring him back one battle at a time until I won the war. I had to; anything else was unacceptable.

Egon rushed back in with his basket of healing supplies, and I carefully unwrapped my hand.

The demon gasped. "What happened?"

"I cut it off. It was the only way to get back to him," I said, pain radiating up my entire arm. "There's some balm in my pack. Use it after you sew it up."

Egon nodded, mixing a tincture with a sedative and antibiotic herbs to prevent infection. He handed it to me, and I gulped it back, then lay down and gave in to the tiredness. I was back. I'd made it back to him.

I woke in the early hours of the morning drenched in sweat and shivering. The tincture hadn't worked. Egon had sewn me up and used the balm, but my hand was tight, obviously swollen. Infection had set in, and I had a fever. I struggled to regain consciousness, but it was impossible.

"My lady?" Egon was sitting beside the bed. He quickly got up and lifted my head, spooning a tonic into my mouth. I felt him unwrap my hand, checking it; then the scent of Else's healing balm reached me, and I instantly missed her again. Tears welled in my eyes before the tiredness took over again.

* * *

Death

Noises were coming from downstairs. Banging and crashing and talking. Shoving myself up off the bed, I strode to the door and flung it open. Whoever the fuck was disturbing my peace would pay with their head.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped, surprised at what I saw.

Egon had ignored my order to leave the castle as it was and to remove himself and leave me here alone to rot.

Instead, he'd allowed more people into my home, and they were cleaning the destruction I'd caused in the main room and, by the sounds of it, in several other parts of the castle as well. "Egon," I roared.

Egon rushed by, ignoring me, carrying a bowl full of something strong smelling.

I grabbed his shoulder, stopping him, fighting back the savage rage that lived inside me now, that had returned stronger than ever before. "What the fuck are you still doing here? And why are all these people in my home? I want everyone gone." I wanted to be left alone.

He looked up at me stubbornly. The demon had been with me for centuries, and never once in all that time had he given me so much as a look of defiance, but that was what I was looking at now. "Do not test me, demon. You will do as you are told."

Egon squared his shoulders. "I will not. Her ladyship is unwell. I won't leave her in that state, and I will not allow her to live in squalor."

Every muscle in my body seized, razor blades eviscerating my insides. Her ladyship? A snarl was torn from me. "Do not mention her in my presence again. She made her choice. You are delusional. That female is never returning, now leave."

Egon blinked up at me several times. "Are you so deep in darkness that you do not know a dream from reality? She has returned. She returned last night." He rushed past. "Come and see for yourself if you don't believe me."

He was wrong. It was only a dream. She came home in my dreams, in my fucking nightmares. I had them every night. I shook my head, trying to clear it. Was I still asleep? Was this some sick trick of my warped mind? I shook my head again, forcefully, but I didn't wake, because I already was. And even though I tried to resist because what he said wasn't true, it couldn't be true, I stormed after Egon, up the stairs and to her old room—where I'd thrown her last night, in a fucking dream .

The door was open, and Egon was murmuring softly. "Please swallow, my lady. You need to drink this."

I rounded the door—and an invisible fist slammed into my chest. "No… it was a dream," I choked. "I'm still dreaming."

"It is not," Egon said. "Now help me. She's fighting an infection, and she's far too hot. I need you to hold her up so I can feed her some of my tonic."

I grabbed for the door as my legs buckled beneath me. She was here. She was in her bed, in my castle.

I didn't trust this. How could I trust this? "What the fuck is this? Why is she here now?"

"You will have to ask her that yourself, but if you don't help me now, she may die. She's strong, but we could still lose her. So either stand there and stare and let her die, or get over here and help me."

I lurched forward, and my throat grew so fucking tight, I was struggling to breathe. "Where is she hurt?"

Egon motioned her bandaged hand. "She lost a finger," he said as I carefully lifted her head for Egon to spoon some of his tonic into her mouth.

"How?"

"She cut it off herself with an unwashed blade. She said she did it to get back to you."

I stared down at her, desperately trying to swallow. A snarl curled my lip in disbelief even as my heart thumped hard in my chest. "This is a lie."

Egon growled, surprising me again. "She is right there, my lord. In your arms. You have lost her so many times—I was here with you, and I know what that did to you—but, my lord, this time, she has returned. She came back…" He swallowed audibly. "She chose you."

* * *

Zinnia

I blinked up into Death's emaciated face. My sight swam, and my body ached. He stared at me, gaze hard. He took my wounded hand in his and lifted it. I tried to speak, to say something, but I was too damn weak. Then my eyelids were too heavy, and I let them slide shut.

When I woke again, a scream pierced the room. It went on and on. I wanted it to stop, but then I realized the scream was coming from me. Stabbing pain radiated through my body, and my limbs were so heavy, and I was so hot, so incredibly hot. I kicked at the covers. The T-shirt I was wearing was soaked, plastered to my skin. Egon was there; he held a straw to my lips, and I drank the cool water before my vision went dark and I was submerged again.

The next time I woke, I was so cold, my teeth chattered. I was in water. There was something hot against my back, surrounding me. The cold water stung so badly, I sobbed and begged for it to stop. A deep voice rolled over me. It was comforting, insistent, but the cold remained. They held me in the water until I thought I might die.

My eyes blinked open again. It was dark, the fire crackling and flickering across the room, bathing it in a muted orange glow. I was in my room at the castle. Lifting my hand, I looked at the bandages and wriggled the fingers I still had. The swelling had gone down. I'd beaten the infection.

"How do you feel?"

My head twisted to the chair beside me. I couldn't see him, but Death sat there, watching me from the shadows. "A lot better."

"Any pain?"

"Nothing I can't handle." The stabbing pain through my body was still there—no, not as sharp as before, but still very much there. I wasn't going to tell Death that, though, not yet. To him, I'd been gone a year. He felt betrayed, abandoned. I didn't want him to hold back or hide what he was feeling because he was concerned for me or thought me still in the throes of a fever and confused.

"Why are you here?" he asked coldly.

I pushed myself up. It was hard, but again, I refused to show him any weakness in this moment. "I'm here because this is where I belong, with my consort."

He went utterly still. "You expect me to believe you suddenly woke up one morning and decided you wanted to be with me?"

His voice was deep and broken and chilled me to the bone. I shifted under the covers so I was facing him, even though I still couldn't see his face. "To you, I've been gone a year. For me, only a month and eight days have passed since I left here."

"Is that right?"

He didn't believe me. "Yes." I slid my legs out from under the covers and pressed my feet to the cool stone floor. "I sent you a message that I'd be late. Magnolia said she got through to Lyle."

"I received no message, witch."

"Else was dying. I couldn't leave her or my family, so I stayed until she passed." I slid to the edge of the bed. "The night of her funeral… I finally learned the truth."

"What truth?" he said harshly.

"I lay in a field after her burial, and I slept." I eased off the bed. "I had visions of you… of us…" I swallowed, emotion clogging my throat. "All the things you wanted to tell me but couldn't. That you desperately wanted me to remember—"

"Lies," he snarled.

I ignored him and kept talking. "I was in the night sky… but then you left me all alone, and I missed you so much. Nox created me. She gifted me to you. We were so happy. I saw my belly swollen with our daughter, saw you take her in your arms when I gave birth to her." I stepped closer. "I remember, Mors. I remember everything. Every single life I had without you after that because I didn't know, because I didn't remember that you and Marigold are everything to me." I closed the space between us and reached into the shadows of his cloak, cupping his hollow face. "Every time I didn't choose you." I moved in between his legs. "But I know now, I remember, and I choose you, my love—"

He snarled and snatched my hand away from his face. Gripping my wrist, he stood. He backed me up until we stood in front of the fire. I didn't fight as he gripped my jaw and stared deep into my eyes. No, I wanted him to see the truth, to see me. His hand curled around the back of my head and his face went to my throat. I held still as he pressed his nose to my skin and dragged it up, breathing deep.

My pulse raced wildly. "Death…"

He pulled away suddenly, flinching, and a look transformed his face, like he'd been sucker-punched—pain, sharp and fierce filled his eyes, followed by brutal disappointment—then rage. "You are a liar, an imposter." He bared his teeth. "When I look into your hollow eyes, now that I finally can, I see nothing. I feel nothing. You don't even smell like Zinnia." His mouth twisted. "It's a good likeness, I'll give you that. You almost had me fooled there for a moment. Nox outdid herself this time, but you have no soul, creature. You're an imposter—"

"I'm not an imposter. I have a soul… It's me—"

"Zinnia has been gone an entire year. She left, she concealed herself from me, and she ran."

"I was trapped going from one damned soul to the next, trapped in the worlds you created for them. I couldn't get out—"

"Lies," he roared again. "You are one of Nox's creatures sent to torment me."

He searched my eyes again, and hatred flashed down at me. He truly didn't see me; something was stopping him from seeing me.

"Egon," Death yelled.

The demon open the door. "My lord?"

"Choose four demons to escort Nox's creature back to her. I won't have her here."

"But, my lord—"

"Do as I say."

"I won't do it," he said.

Death snarled and flung his hand out, slamming the door and shutting Egon out. I stared up at Death, begging him to see me. "How do I know everything I just told you? How can I know those things if I'm something Nox created?"

"Nox knows exactly what happened, and she has spies everywhere, as you well know," he bit out.

"You're wrong," I said, trying to pull from his hold. "Look at me."

He shook me brutally. "All I see when I look at you is a lie. Be thankful I don't just end you here and now. The only reason I'm letting you live is so you can deliver a message."

"What message?"

"She will never win." Then he dragged me to the door, flung it open, towed me along the hall and down the stairs. There was a group of demons sweeping the floor, and Death ordered them to come to him.

Four of them rushed over, and Death shoved me at them. "Take her to the Night Realm and deliver her to Nox. I want her gone tonight."

They instantly obeyed, towing me from the main room in only a T-shirt and underwear, my feet bare and fresh blood oozing from my bandage.

I called for Mors, but he did nothing, he said nothing.

He let them take me.

The demons dragged me from the castle and into the night.