11. Katrin

Chapter 11

Katrin

T he solitude struck me all at once, the reality of what I had done crashing into me with the force of a cannonball. Alone in the dark in an unfamiliar place, I felt the noose of anxiety slip around my neck. My breathing grew labored, my hands clammy.

I pressed back into the seat, seeking the contact of something firm and steady—something to ground me—but the plush, velvet cushions did little to assuage the panic clawing its way up my throat.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to cry.

I wanted to throw open the door and bolt after the Ferrier.

But I did none of those things.

Melting off the seat, I became a puddle of sweat-soaked fabric and trembling limbs. I squeezed between the two benches, drawing my knees up to my chest, and there I waited.

An eternity passed before the steady crunch of gravel alerted me to the reaper's return. At least, I hoped it was him. I had no way of knowing from my position on the floor and no chance to look without revealing myself.

I tried to quiet my heaving gasps, forcing calm, measured breaths through my nose.

The footsteps paused on the other side of the door, and every muscle in my body tensed. If it was the Ferrier, would he look in and think I'd left? Who else but he would be out here in the middle of the night?

Whoever it was, they made no sound as I contemplated all of this.

A thought occurred to me that made my blood freeze in my veins.

What if Death lurked outside the door?

It had to be after midnight and that meant it was officially my twenty-first year. I could have traveled all this way, paid all that money, just for Death to find me anyway. Unless the Ferrier had summoned Death. He could have pocketed the money and sold me out.

I'd been a fool to trust that one so close to Death would be willing to protect me from it.

My labored breaths turned to hiccupping sobs, tears flowing uncontrollably as I curled in on myself.

The door to the carriage flew open, but I didn't have the breath to scream. I scrambled away from the approaching darkness with renewed vigor. If this was the end, I wouldn't go without a fight.

Still on the carriage floor, I backed away until I came up against the other side.

A shadowed limb separated from the main body. Drawing one leg back, I delivered a swift kick. The creature recoiled, hissing in pain.

Seizing my opportunity, I reached up to unlatch the door behind me. I had only a moment to consider the wisdom of such a move when it swung open. My legs flew up and over my head as I plummeted, landing in a heap on the hard-packed earth. I managed to protect my head, arms taking the brunt of the fall. My hands stung and one elbow throbbed in protest as I struggled to stand. My foot caught on the hem of my dress, and I would have gone sprawling into the dirt a second time if two solid arms hadn't snaked around me at the last minute.

A scream escaped my lips as I was hauled upright. One of the arms disappeared from my middle only for a hand to clamp over my mouth.

I bucked and kicked, but nothing could dislodge my captor. My muffled cries sounded pathetic to my own ears, but I didn't dare go quietly.

"You'll wake the dead with that mouth, Miss Fil'Owen."

At the sound of his voice, all the fight drained out of me. I stilled in the Ferrier's arms, unable to completely relax in such a vulnerable position, though some part of me wanted to melt into his arms.

Knowing he couldn't see my face or read my expressions, I took the moment to marvel at the strength wrapped around me. He'd plucked me from the ground like a tiny child and I still felt dwarfed by his massive frame. His muscled chest rose and fell against my back, his warm breath caressing the top of my head.

I could almost close my eyes and picture myself in the arms of a lover.

My body jolted at the comparison. This was not some townsman come to rescue me. The Ferrier was an agent of Death, not some paramour I'd run off to see.

I twisted, and he finally saw fit to release me. I hoped he couldn't see the blush rising to my cheeks as I turned to face him.

"Do you want to tell me why you ran? Backing out of our deal so soon?" His voice betrayed no emotion, and his hood remained firmly in place, obscuring my view of his face.

If I hadn't just felt his thickly muscled frame wrapped around me, I might have thought the legends were true and he was only an animated skeleton beneath those robes.

"I thought you might be Death come to claim me." It felt foolish now, saying it aloud, but the fear had been real. I still felt the electricity of it coursing through my veins.

The Ferrier turned as though taking in his surroundings for the first time. "We have passed into the shadow realm. Death is often too preoccupied with the dead and dying to visit those in between, though it happens. You will know when Death is near."

"How will I know?" I whispered.

Deciding our conversation was over, the reaper held out his hand for me. I accepted his help back into the carriage, reclaiming my seat on the velvet cushion as he shut the door.

The opposite door remained ajar, and I stared at the point where Rencourt had disappeared, presumably to enter the Afterworld. Before I knew it, the Ferrier had crossed to the other side of the vehicle.

"He's really gone then?" I asked.

The reaper turned, following my line of sight, then nodded. "He is journeying to the Afterworld as we speak."

I frowned. "You do not ferry them there?"

"I take them as far as The Beyond. From there, they must travel alone."

"How long will it take him to get there?" I didn't expect him to answer. If I were the Master of Shadows, I'd certainly have better things to do than answer the questions of a silly, little girl, but the Ferrier surprised me again.

"There is no guarantee that he will, though I suspect he has a fighting chance. Each path is different, each fraught with its own obstacles. For some, it may take minutes. For others, years."

"And what of those that never make it? What happens to them?"

"They remain between."

I thought he was being intentionally cryptic, but talking seemed to ease my remaining nerves.

"And is it always like that?" I asked.

The Ferrier sighed, a sound so human I momentarily forgot where I was.

"Like what, Miss Fil'Owen?"

"So—" Biting my lip, I searched my mind for the right word. "Easy"

I shrugged, dissatisfied with the word choice, but unable to conjure a better replacement.

"No," he said. "In fact, it is very rarely ‘like that.'"

With that final, mysterious answer, he closed the door. It latched with a finality that drew me back to the present situation. I tipped my head back, closing my eyes as I listened to the Ferrier take his seat and set the horses in motion.

For a brief moment, he'd been surprisingly forthcoming with answers to my questions. I cursed myself for again forgetting to ask his name and endeavored to do so when we next stopped.