27. The Ferrier

Chapter 27

The Ferrier

I didn't take a full breath until the mists parted, and we passed into the living world. Behryn's appearance had unsettled me more than I cared to admit. Katrin, to her credit, was practically dancing by the time I prepared the carriage. If she had any lingering anxiety about what had transpired, I couldn't see it.

I, on the other hand, still struggled to control my trembling hands hours later. My thoughts vacillated between relief and rage. Tyr Anigh had been my safe haven, my sanctuary. It was the one thing I still possessed from my life, and Death had tainted it just as surely as he had the other aspects of my existence.

In a flash of firelight, he'd nearly undone my vow to Katrin. Her gold may not be enough to free me, but it would see me closer than I'd ever been. Once, I'd contemplated the worth of trading her outright, her life for mine, but Behryn had reminded me who the real monster was between the two of us. I would not stand to see her taken by such a demon even if it meant my freedom.

The weight of our bargain pressed down on me. Combined with the constant pull of my indenture, I felt like I was being torn in two.

"Evander." Katrin's voice floated to me through the small window into the carriage.

I sighed. The first time my name had spilled from her lips, I'd been too shaken to offer more than a clipped response. Now, the sound of the name I'd left behind scratched at something I kept buried deep inside. When Behryn used my name, it was a cruel reminder of the man I used to be. With Katrin, it was a call to the man I could be again. It grated on my cursed soul, and yet, I did not correct her again.

"Miss Fil'Owen?" I pitched my voice low, verging on menacing.

"Why are we here?" Her breathy words managed to reach me over the din of the horses and carriage wheels, my attention snagged by the wary shift in her tone.

With a start, I realized she might be fearing for someone she loved, a friend or relative.

"My territory covers only this kingdom. I've no jurisdiction beyond its borders. The souls beyond do not call to me." I trailed off as the rumbling hoofbeats grew louder, wishing I could see Katrin through the tiny grated opening. When only silence answered from within the carriage, I cleared my throat and pressed on. "You have nothing to fear, your town is not our destination for tonight."

Was she pulled home the same way I was toward the recently departed? Did her feet point the way without her realizing?

It occurred to me to tell her what I'd witnessed at her family home—that her parents mourned her as though she'd died. I'd held onto the information for selfish reasons, but now things were different—or were they? I shook my head. Something had shifted between us, brought on by the involuntary tell-all that I'd been unable to stop.

I pulled my hood lower over my face though there was no one around to see the heat that rose to my cheeks. My face contorted into a grimace, knowing she'd borne witness to my humiliation. She hadn't mentioned the incident, aside from using my name, but in her eyes I'd seen the difference. The concern. The understanding. The pity. Everything I'd shielded myself from, all those failures, now reflected in her deep brown eyes.

Felwyck came and went without another sound from the cabin. We followed the road as it wound through the countryside, the shifting winds carrying the scent of pine from the distant mountains. As the next village came into view, the small farms of the outskirts gave way to tightly packed hovels.

The horses stopped before one such home. Little more than stacked stone with a thatched straw roof, the structure leaned into its neighbor like old friends sharing a secret.

I leapt from the carriage, landing in a cloud of dust that coated me from head to foot. The door of the cab swung open, and Katrin peered out from the darkened interior.

"Stay," I ordered.

"But—"

"No."

Her chin drew forward, mouth puckering in an effort to contain the fire she wished to spew. Though my features were hidden beneath my hood, I returned her obstinate glare with one of my own.

One of the horses stamped his impatience, effectively ending our silent battle of wills.

With a huff , Katrin flopped back against the bench, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine," she said. "But at least leave Storm and Inky with me."

I cocked a brow, freezing as her two sentinels broke away from my shadows without my command. They took up positions on either side of the door like actual guards. Recovering my wits, I closed my mouth and nodded once.

"Fine, then." I turned on my heel and strode for the hovel, squashing the seed of fear that sprouted at the thought of leaving Katrin. There was work to be done, and her distractions would see my task unfinished. Something about that niggled at the corner of my mind, but I turned my attention to the soul within.

The door to the ramshackle dwelling clattered as it swung on a single hinge. Parts of the frame had crumbled, and the remnants of a primitive lock lay scattered in the dirt before me. I hesitated before the narrow opening, waving back the shadows that had gathered around me. The interior was dark enough without their presence.

I ducked inside, and my stomach dropped when I beheld the scene within.

Funeral customs rarely varied among those in my territory. By the time I arrived to shepherd the soul, the empty vessel would be cleaned, dressed, and laid out for final farewells. Some nights, I arrived before those rites could take place. If it was a sudden death, or one that occurred late in the evening, most would wait until morning to begin those rituals. Even so, a level of care would be evident.

Then there were nights like this.

A single room lay beyond the busted door. Embers were all that remained in the small brazier, casting the scene in a warm glow that contradicted the harsh reality. Every piece of furniture was upended. Broken bits of pottery littered the ground around an overturned table. I traced strewn bits of straw to what remained of a crude pallet in the corner. The few cabinets were open and, upon further inspection, bare.

I picked my way through the debris to a slumped form half covered by the remains of a shattered chair. There were no visible wounds, but the unnatural angle spoke to what had happened.

In my many years, I'd seen plenty of violent deaths. The fact that there had been many did little to lessen the blow of each new one I faced. I turned from the empty vessel, knowing my quarry would not have wandered far. A soft sound caught my ear, and I whirled toward the source, black cloak billowing behind me.

Hundreds of years in the dark and my eyesight was no better for it. Squinting, I saw the vague shape of feet peeking out from beneath the open door of one of the cupboards.

I crept around to the side of it and saw a weathered crone huddled in a ball. With her hands holding either side of her head, I didn't think that she had seen me. Though it was possible she was hiding from me. I thought it more likely a result of her untimely death.

My heart ached for the woman as she trembled, holding on to the fears of the living even on the other side of death. Traumatic deaths often required more time and finesse. The shock of a violent end took time to wear off. Some never recovered.

I cleared my throat, and the old woman's eyes whipped to me. No sooner had she taken in my dark form overwhelming her tiny hovel, then she began to shriek.

Her wailing would go unnoticed by most of the living, but those sensitive to the other side would swear they heard a banshee on this night. Their rumors made no difference to me, but still I shushed her. Though I'd intended the sound to be gentle and raised my hands to indicate I meant no harm, I knew that I both sounded and looked like something not to be trusted.

Nights like this, I wished the reaper's uniform was something more gentlemanly.

The front door banged open behind me and Katrin burst in.

"What the—" she said, glancing around. Her eyes landed on the body, and she screamed.

Flinging out a hand, one of my shadows wrapped around her mouth, effectively silencing her. I still didn't know the extent to which Katrin's presence could affect the world of the living. She might be heard easier than the wailing specter.

"I told you to remain in the carriage."

Her answer was muffled by the shadow, and she glared at me until I waved it away. "I heard a scream and—"

"And you thought I was in trouble?" I asked. The quick aversion of her eyes told me otherwise. I pushed away the sting of her doubt. She wasn't wrong for it. I'd done little to earn her trust thus far. "Miss Fil'Owen, I cannot cause harm in this world."

Her gaze flicked from me to the spirit and back again, raising her brows in disbelief. "You may not be able to physically hurt her, but anyone can see you are frightening the poor dear."

"Do not involve yourself, Miss Fil'Owen," I warned, but Katrin paid me no heed, approaching the spirit with tentative steps.

She paused as though struck by a sudden thought. "Do you still ferry them if they can't pay?"

"Of course," I answered honestly. "My debt does not weigh against them. Everyone deserves the chance to enter the Afterworld."

She nodded and continued toward the frightened soul. As she neared, the spirit recoiled, milky white eyes darting around for an escape. Katrin eased to a crouch. "Please don't be afraid," she said, palms outstretched in a better approximation of harmlessness than I could muster. "My name is Katrin, and that is Evander."

I bristled at the use of my given name. The spirit flicked her eyes to me and emitted a small squeak .

"Lower your hood," Katrin hissed over her shoulder.

I raised a brow at the order, and though she couldn't have seen me beneath the shroud, Katrin raised one back. Sighing, I pulled the hood off my head, lowering the cowl until my entire face was visible.

Katrin smiled in triumph, turning back to the specter. "You see? He's really quite nice to look at under all that."

Though her words had been directed at the old woman, I felt the ground shift beneath my feet. I staggered a step and shook my head, righting myself before either woman could notice my distraction.

She thought I was nice to look at?

Despite my current predicament, I had to bite back a smile. I could count on one hand the number of times I'd smiled since becoming Ferrier. Every one of them had occurred since I met Katrin.

"My name is Eunice, and I'm waiting for Claude," said the spirit, drawing my attention back to her.

Katrin looked at me, her forehead crinkled, and I shrugged. With gentle hands she encouraged the spirit out of her hiding place. The old woman stood a full head shorter than Katrin, her back curved from what was likely a long, difficult life.

"Who is Claude?" asked Katrin.

The old woman's face lit up. "Claude is my husband. I'm waiting for him to return."

A glance around confirmed my suspicions, there was nothing to suggest anyone else lived here.

Katrin took hold of the crone's weathered hand. "Has Claude passed, ma'am?"

The light disappeared from the woman's face as deep creases formed between her brows. "I don't know. I can't remember."

"That's alright, Eunice. Don't fret." Katrin turned a beseeching gaze my way, but once again, all I could do was shrug.

Her eyes roamed the room, then snapped back to mine with a renewed gleam. "Actually, Claude sent us to retrieve you."

"He did?"

Katrin's head bobbed up and down. "He sure did. He's been waiting for you."

"Why didn't you say so?" Eunice bounded for the door, a new spring in her step. "Oh, but I must look affright!"

Katrin clasped the old woman's hand and pulled her in close. "You look beautiful."