22. Katrin

Chapter 22

Katrin

S omehow, I hadn't anticipated evading Death would be so boring. Honestly, I'd had very little hope my last ditch effort to save myself would work. I thought I'd be fully immersed in the Afterworld by now, or at least anxiously awaiting my departure in my family manor.

I thought of my parents, going on with their lives in my absence. If I could have spared my parents the pain of waking to find their only child gone, I would have, but it would have only prolonged their inevitable heartache.

Hopefully, they had gotten my note. I'd been vague about my intentions, not wanting either of them to follow me. Perhaps there was a way to get word to them that I was safe—that I hadn't passed to the Afterworld. I would have to ask the Ferrier, which was a trial in itself. It hadn't been difficult to sway him to my side at the crossroads, but ever since, he'd been far less accommodating—even if he was currently procuring me food. For some reason, seeing him without his Ferrier cloak today had made it harder to accept his supposedly lost humanity. Now, I was a confused ball of emotions, fretting away in a cold kitchen while I awaited my not-savior's return.

I'd explored more of the manor, got lost a few times, and stumbled across a ballroom, a salon, a wine cellar, a greenhouse full of dead plants, and a library whose books looked well on their way toward crumbling to dust.

There was still an entire wing left to explore, but hunger had eaten away at my curiosity. I'd run to my room for a small bite to eat then returned to the kitchen to stew.

Few of the Ferrier's shadows remained, most having accompanied him on his outing. The ones that stayed floated around the corners of the room as though making their presence known. I had no doubt these strange creatures could hide away or blend in with the shades of the house. Instead, they'd chosen to let me know that I wasn't alone, and for that, I was grateful.

I smiled at the one closest to me, and it appeared to perk up at the attention, puffing up in size. It rolled toward me like a storm cloud, and I resisted the urge to flinch from its approach. When it came within my reach, it stopped, bobbing benignly as though in wait. With slow, cautious movements, I slid my arm off the table, extending my unmarked fingers toward the shadow. My eyes flicked up, seeking approval from a nonexistent face. The shadows inched closer, and I watched, transfixed, as my hand was engulfed in darkness.

The cold hit me first. It was a chill unlike any I'd felt before. A chill of death. Even my first brush with the shadow upstairs had not been so frigid.

I nearly jerked my hand away at the unwelcome sensation, but then the darkness shifted, dancing and weaving through my fingers. My right arm appeared and reappeared while it flowed around me like a flowing river. As it coursed up my arm, I couldn't help comparing it to my marked side.

I looked at each of my hands disappearing into darkness and gasped. Just as quick, the shadow retreated back to the corner, chastened.

"I'm sorry," I croaked, trying to calm my heart that threatened to beat from my chest. "I just…" I trailed off feeling foolish for speaking to a shadow, but also for the words I was about to utter. I'd just seen myself fading away into nothing like a real-life nightmare.

The worst part of my curse wasn't that I had to die, though I wasn't excited about that part either. I wasn't through experiencing all that the living world had to offer. No, the worst part was losing myself—becoming nothing. When the little parts of my identity slipped away, I constantly had to redefine who I was, until I was existing only within the tiny box approved by the rest of the world. That box had grown smaller and smaller over the last eight years, and even now, without it, I didn't know how to keep myself from disappearing completely.

I'd already lost so much of what I was: student, peer, lady, intended, friend. They were words that no longer defined me, each shadow on my skin marking another bit of me carved away by fear.

Laying my hands flat on the table, I stared from one to the other. The mark hadn't changed me, so much as it had other people's opinions about me. But without their mirrors to stand before, I was looking for me in a sea of shadows. It didn't matter that the mark had remained. People would always see me for what I lacked. I was a glass vase, invisible but for what I could offer others.

I was still staring at my hands when the Ferrier appeared. He materialized out of the shadows, and if I hadn't already been so thoroughly spooked, I may have jumped out of my seat.

His hood was thrown back, giving me a clear view of his face. For a moment, he looked familiar, like someone I knew in a dream. I shook off the strange sensation as I took in his tense jaw and the downward slope of his brows. My whole body went on alert. He stood casually, hands tucked into unseen pockets, but everything about him radiated danger.

Our eyes met, and I bit down on the overwhelming desire to flee, knowing there was nowhere I could run where he couldn't find me.

"What's happened?"

"Are you alright?"

We spoke at the same time, and I ducked my head to hide the smile that snuck onto my lips.

"Nothing has happened," I assured him. "I was merely contemplating my existence when you stormed in."

He looked around as though questioning my choice of location for such thoughts, but shrugged it off. "You'll find that is a common pastime in The Between." His mouth turned down in distaste. "And I did not storm in."

I smiled fully this time, oddly pleased to have gotten under the skin of such a terrifying creature. His tone was brusque, but I brushed it off as impatience. He'd taken time away from his task to find food for me, and I could only be grateful. My stomach made its appreciation known with a loud growl that he mercifully ignored.

With a wave of his hand, a vast shadow swept the table, leaving a small banquet in its wake. Bread, meat, cheese, eggs. My mouth watered at the sight of the potatoes. He'd done well, better than I'd expected of a man who hadn't eaten in years.

I briefly considered where he'd acquired it all. So much food was sure to be missed. Deciding I'd rather not know, I willfully ignored the moral dilemma and swallowed my pride.

"Thank you," I told the Ferrier, hoping to soften some of his icy demeanor.

He inclined his head, looking anywhere but at me. Finished with me, he turned and strode for the door. "I've taken the liberty of fetching some more of your clothes as well, Miss Fil'Owen. I've sent them to your room—"

"Wait!" I scrambled to my feet, closing the distance between us as he continued toward the exit. "You went to my home? Did you see my parents? How are they? Why didn't you tell me you were going to my home?"

"Because I didn't want you to come along."

I stopped short. "What? Why? It's my home."

"Yes, and you left it. You really think the best place to hide from Death is exactly where he expects you to be?"

I hadn't considered that. He'd mentioned my home, and every nagging thought I had about leaving my parents returned tenfold. I could, however, see the logic in his decision, even if I didn't like it. "Fine. What of my parents?"

The Ferrier regarded me, and I searched his face for the answers he withheld.

"What is it you want to know? Do you want to hear how they are mourning your departure as if you had died? Or that they've moved on completely as though you'd never existed? Neither answer would ease your worries, likely they would exacerbate them."

"You act like those are the only two options."

"Are you so eager for news of your former life, Miss Fil'Owen? Or should I call you Lady Fil'Owen?"

I bristled, hating the formal title. "Just Kat is fine."

"Please allow me to make myself clear, Miss Fil'Owen , I will not be addressing you so informally. Not now nor any time in the future. We are not friends. We are… temporary allies."

"Well then, my dark ally, I thank you for your continued assistance toward our mutual goal. However, in the future, I would appreciate not being kept in the dark, as it were." I shot him a wry look. "Particularly regarding matters involving my life and family."

"The life and family you abandoned?" It was his turn to return the sardonic expression.

I huffed, a rebuke on the tip of my tongue, but he had already faded away into the shadows.

Stomping my foot, I released a roar of frustration. The remaining shadows scattered at my outburst, and my cheeks reddened in mortification. "Why is he so irritating?" I ask them, hands curling into fists at my sides. "I'd like to punch him in his frustratingly beautiful—"

His face.

He had looked familiar, but not from a dream, I realized.

I flew through the doorway. Rooms blurred together as I raced through them, an endless display of neglected opulence and flickering candlelight. My lungs burned by the time I reached the stairs, and I cursed my pathetic endurance as I began the trudge up to the second level.

A surge of icy cold engulfed me. The world turned black, and I screamed as my feet left the floor. My hands scrabbled for purchase, unable to find anything through the inky black.

Just as quickly as they'd come, the shadows fell away, depositing me upon the landing of the second floor. I whirled and caught the last of them scattering to the darkest corners.

"Thanks for the lift."

Snatching a candelabra from a small table, I silently thanked my past self for leaving a few tapers lit when I'd left. I took my time retracing my steps to the end of the hall, stopping at the door opposite the Ferrier's rooms.

I scrubbed my hands down the front of my skirts, wiping the perspiration from them. If what I suspected was true, it changed nothing—meant nothing. Yet I couldn't help the anxiety that bubbled up inside of me at the mere thought of unraveling part of the mystery of the Ferrier.

The door swung open at my touch. I held my light high, keeping the shadows at bay as I entered. My footsteps didn't falter as I crossed to the painting. I already knew what I would see, but when I saw the Ferrier's face, it was like the entire painting had been made anew.

No longer were these strangers. Well, I had no idea who the woman was. Some former lover, I assumed. Perhaps even his wife? But here was the Ferrier, human, alive, and happy.

How did one go from this to being the Master of Shadows?

Did that mean this enormous manor had been his? I'd assumed it had belonged to the couple in the painting long ago and that the Ferrier had taken it over as his residence when they'd passed. Clearly, I had some part of the story wrong if the Ferrier was the owner all along. He was still here, even after life—or a normal lifespan.

I looked at the woman again, the beautiful woman teeming with joy and life. What had happened to her?

My little adventure had created more questions than it answered. Now, my curiosity was thoroughly piqued.

Everything I knew about the Ferrier told me to leave well enough alone, but I knew I couldn't just let all these unknowns lie if I were going to spend an entire year living with him. I itched from all the questions burning inside me.

Knowing I'd find no respite from my own nosiness, I decided to wait for the Ferrier's return and confront him about what I'd learned. It was lucky that he'd brought food because my hunger was the only thing that kept me from tearing apart the room for further clues to his past.