32. Katrin

Chapter 32

Katrin

I n the times that I'd accompanied Evander, we had never come across any mourners. Presumably, Lord Rencourt's family had retired to bed after a day of funeral rites and Eunice had been alone.

Tonight, the soul in question stood beside his own body. Another man—a living man—knelt between the divided parts of the first, hiccupping sobs rending the otherwise silent night.

"What do we do?" I whispered, unwilling to intrude on the scene.

Evander hesitated. He hadn't yet donned his hood and indecision flickered across his face as he glanced at the sky. "It is early in the night. We could wait."

I glanced at him sharply. "Is that what you'd usually do?"

By his answering glare, I knew it was not. I likely didn't wish to know what he'd do without my presence there to temper him. He lifted his hood, face vanishing as he became the fearsome Ferrier. I took one look at his gleaming scythe and knew what I had to do. For the second time that night, I scrambled to overtake Evander, stepping into the small clearing before the spirit could notice the shadows roiling around him.

"Good evening," I shouted, my voice a thunderclap compared to the gentle rain of the living man's tears. I lifted my hand in a wave and pushed down the feeling that I was barging in on something private.

The soul glanced at me, startled. He was younger than I would have guessed, barely into manhood, with unkempt blond hair and a wiry frame he'd never get the chance to grow into.

"Who are you?" he asked, eyes darting around nervously. "What are you doing here?"

"My name is Katrin. I've come with a friend, and we're here to help." I couldn't see Evander, but I didn't want his presence to come as a surprise for the soul. Risking a tentative step forward, I glanced down at the empty body and immediately regretted it. I snapped my gaze back to the soul and attempted to school my features into their practiced neutrality. "What's your name?"

The soul looked back down at the grieving man then back at me. "Theodore."

I smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Theodore." As I stepped closer, I hoped the moonlight masked the mark on my face. Just in case, I angled my head away from spirit. It was not my intention to scare the poor soul. "Can you tell me what happened?"

There was nothing in the immediate vicinity to suggest a fight or struggle and yet, the body on the ground was drenched in dark blood.

Theodore shook his head and looked back at the man kneeling in his spilt blood. "He won't leave."

I looked down again, eyes darting past the blood to take in the other details. The living man was just as young as Theodore, likely a year or two younger than I. His face still held onto the roundness of youth, though there was definite strength in the width of his shoulders and the corded forearms revealed by rolled-up sleeves. He was missing a jacket, but I soon found it balled up into a pillow beneath the body.

"Who is he?" I asked. Their love was a palpable thing. From their dissimilar looks, I figured they weren't brothers. Friends? Lovers?

"He was my world," Theodore whispered, voice cracking. He reached for the other man. When his hand passed right through, he looked at it as if something valuable had just slipped through his fingers. His face crumpled, and he dropped to his knees beside his lover, both mourning the same tragedy.

I watched the sundering of two bonded souls with tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. My thoughts strayed to Evander and he stepped to my side as though summoned. I felt his attention glide over me. The brush of his hand against mine was a silent question, one I didn't know how to answer. When his fingers twined in mine, I gave them a grateful squeeze.

"We can wait a while," Evander said.

I leaned my head against his shoulder and let my tears fall.

Hours later, when the sobs had quieted and the moon had traveled to the other end of the sky, the living man pressed a kiss to his lover's forehead. Slipping his arms beneath the body, he pulled it to his chest and heaved out a great breath. With a jerk, he planted one foot on the ground, brow contorted in concentration as he lurched forward. He staggered to his feet in the inelegant manner of someone who bore too great a burden but remained vertical. His steps were labored but unfaltering as he carried away Theodore's body.

Theodore's spirit floated over to us as though suddenly untethered. He didn't remark upon Evander's presence. Judging by his unfocused gaze, it was possible he didn't notice the Ferrier.

"What now?" he asked no one in particular.

"You go on," Evander replied. "And so does he. It won't be easy for either of you, but you'll make it and maybe, someday, you'll find each other again."

Theodore looked unconvinced. His gaze swept from shadows to scythe, finally taking a good long look at Evander. "Did you do this?"

My heart skipped a beat at the question, but Evander's shoulders drooped as if he'd fought this battle too many times.

"I am not Death. I am merely here to guide your spirit to the Afterworld."

"I assure you he is not your enemy, Theodore." My voice hitched despite my attempt to remain calm.

Theodore's eyes took in our still-conjoined hands and his expression morphed. I had only an instant to recognize the rage directed at me before he was swallowed by shadows.

I yanked my hand from Evander's, whipping an accusatory glare his way. Yanking his hood off, he returned my glare and lifted a gloved finger between us.

"Before you go accusing me of cruelty or voicing any of the other hateful things reflecting in your eyes, remember that your safety is my primary concern, Miss Fil'Owen. We still do not know to what capacity you can be harmed, but I am not willing to risk it for the sake of some poor soul whose feelings are completely warranted."

I blinked at him, at the finger still quivering between us. Whatever indignation I'd felt for the soul had melted away in the face of his honesty. "Alright."

Evander lowered his finger, though the frown didn't leave his face. "He can hate me if he wants. So can you, I suppose."

"I don't hate you, Evander." My comment struck his back as he turned and set off toward the carriage. I followed closely behind but didn't reach for his hand again.

The shadows had loaded Theodore into the cabin, an endless stream of curses and shouts echoing from within. Without speaking, Evander helped me into the driver's seat. The whisper of fabric was the only sound as he pulled himself up behind me.

This time, as the horses lurched into motion, I didn't get the sense of purpose I had with Eunice, nor the tickle of curiosity I'd felt with Lord Rencourt. Rather, I just wanted the night to be done. I was weary in a way I'd never experienced. Was this how Evander felt all the time? I couldn't imagine an eternity of souls ripping away at pieces of me until I became immune to the bite of their words, the burn of their anger, and the pain of their despair.

I regretted that I could not spend this time with Theodore's spirit. Though young, I was certain he had stories to tell. You didn't find a love such as he'd had without great tales to accompany it. I hated to think of those memories disappearing with him but comforted myself in the knowledge that, for now, his lover held a part of them.

When Evander left to escort Theodore to the bridge, I bid farewell to the troubled spirit and slipped into the safety of the coach. Even without the ability to see my surroundings, the four walls felt more secure than being out in the open.

Geese honked from far above. I craned my neck to look for their silhouettes against the light of the moon but was thrown back against the cushions as the carriage suddenly surged forward. What little was illuminated by the lanterns and the moon outside the window became a blur of darkest gray as we sped on.

After a moment to right myself, I pushed off the bench and collapsed gracelessly onto the other side. I managed to open the small window to Evander but could see very little past the jet steeds running at breakneck pace.

"What's happened?" I called over the frantic beating of the horse's hooves, or perhaps it was my own heart.

"Nothing yet." Every trace of emotion was gone from his voice. This was the Ferrier I'd met that first night. Cold. Commanding. "Stay inside. Close the windows. Draw the curtains and keep quiet."

"But—"

"Now, Miss Fil'Owen!"

Then the howls began.