37. The Ferrier

Chapter 37

The Ferrier

I didn't wait for Sam to show us to the bedroom. It was easy enough to find. There was only one other doorway off the main room besides the front door. A beaded curtain partitioned it from the rest of the cabin, swaying in a phantom breeze.

Katrin's weight at my side was a welcome distraction as I helped her into the adjoining room. I gripped her tightly, knowing it wasn't just her injury dragging her down.

What Sam had said…my hands clenched in memory of the hurtful words—words that had hit their target if the expression on her face was any indication. They'd struck a chord with me as well, but if Sam had hoped to sway me to his side, he'd failed. If anything, the urge to protect her had intensified.

Katrin may not be fighting for something as foolishly noble as love, but maybe if I'd had the sense to fight for my own life, I wouldn't be stuck in perpetual purgatory. I wouldn't let the same fate befall Katrin.

The beads jingled as I pulled the curtain aside. Katrin tensed at the sound but didn't hesitate to enter the room beyond. Together, we hobbled toward the only piece of furniture in the room.

The bed was modest with a simple wooden frame and a mattress barely large enough for two people. Worn but tidy linens lay haphazardly overtop.

I slipped the cloak from Katrin's shoulders, marking the blood and dirt upon it. For a moment, I'd forgotten she was mortal. Forgotten how vulnerable she was in this place of ghosts and monsters. The bright red of her blood had been a harsh reminder.

My fingers lingered on her shoulders, seeking reassurance she'd survived.

She sighed beneath my touch, and I yanked my hands away as though I'd been burned. Worried she'd felt my sudden recoil, I reached out to help her into the bed. Her delicate fingers were dwarfed by my own, but the strength of her grip was true to the stubborn woman I'd come to know.

Her eyes remained downcast as I pulled the covers over her legs.

"Kat." I kept my voice low, but I knew she heard me from the flicker of movement at the corner of her mouth.

"I knew you called me Kat."

The knot that had formed in my chest eased at the sound of her voice, though she still refused to meet my gaze. My hands itched to touch her, to hold her hand and run my fingers over her soft skin.

I fisted my hands and sat at the foot of the bed a safe distance away.

"Are you alright?" I asked quietly.

She looked at me then. Silver lined her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled until she captured it between her teeth.

My hand reached for her, settling upon the small mound of her foot beneath the blanket.

She blew out a breath and a single tear traced a line down her shadowed cheek. "Do you think I'm a fool?"

"Not at all," I answered honestly.

"But I'm selfish."

"You are not selfish for wanting to live."

She stayed silent for a long time. "Was it all for naught?"

"What do you mean?" My brow furrowed as I leaned closer.

"It is the nature of living things, is it not? That we should die. Who am I to prolong the inevitable? Who am I to alter fate's design?"

My thumb stroked small circles atop her foot. "It is human nature to desire control over your destiny. Do not let Sam or anyone else tell you otherwise."

"You did the same when you bargained with Death."

I nodded slowly. "Livia and I had been engaged since we were children. Our parents arranged it when I was eleven." Katrin shot me a look, and I shrugged. "I didn't mind. We grew up together, and I loved her. Everyone loved her, and I thought I was in love with her." I shook my head to clear the memory. "She was bright and joyful, kind and beautiful. She was everything I wasn't. But then she fell ill."

When Katrin's hand landed on mine, I didn't pull away.

"The doctors had done all they could for her, but it wasn't enough. You know the rest. I made a fool's bargain, but it did the job. It saved her, and I never saw her again."

"Would you do it again?"

"What?"

"Knowing what you know now, would you sacrifice your life for hers again?"

I considered my answer carefully. "I don't regret what I did, though I'll always wish there could have been a way for us to be together. I wouldn't choose differently."

"I would."

Katrin and I startled apart at the sound of Sam's voice through the doorway. His dark form passed through the beads a moment later.

He'd donned his top hat and cloak, looking more aristocrat than reaper.

"Duty calls," he explained. "You heading out tonight, Van?"

I shook my head, glancing at Katrin fast enough to catch the relief that flickered across her face. I'd felt the call of a soul since the sun had set, but I wasn't keen to leave her without protection. The soul could wait.

Sam raised a brow knowingly but didn't comment. Strolling from the room, he called over his shoulder "I'll be back before sunrise."

I stood to follow. "I should let you rest."

"Evander."

The note of panic in Katrin's voice halted my feet.

"Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep. Please? I don't want to be alone right now."

I scrubbed a hand over the rough stubble on my chin, a refusal poised at the tip of my tongue. The blanket draped over her form accentuated the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist. Her cheeks flamed at my open perusal, but she didn't rescind her request, didn't apologize for her boldness.

My arguments died before I could voice them. I loosed a breath and motioned for her to move over. "Make room, then. I'll not perch at the foot of the bed for hours like an animal."

She pushed back on the bed unable to hide her smile of triumph.

"Do not expect this to be a regular occurrence."

"Of course not."

I slid onto the bed, the space she'd occupied still warm beneath me. The mattress sagged in the middle, and I fought against the force that threatened to pull me to her side. With a thought, the shadows expanded, blocking out the firelight from the room beyond.

My sight adjusted quickly in the dark, once again honing in on the peaks and valleys of her body. Though her eyes were closed, her breathing had not yet slowed to the easy rhythm of sleep.

She rolled toward me and winced, tension forming lines around her eyes and mouth.

For once, I didn't stop my hand from reaching out to soothe those lines. She jerked at my touch, eyes darting open. I pulled back, but she captured my hand in hers before I could mutter an apology.

"I'm sorry," she said. "People don't—" She bit her lip, hesitating. "People don't touch me. Not of their own volition and not skin to skin. And certainly not with gentleness." As she spoke her fingers traced the scars and calluses marking my hand.

I slipped free of her touch. The edges of her mouth turned down at the loss of contact. Again, I reached for her face, but this time, she didn't retreat.

"It has been some time since I've touched anyone this way as well," I said, gliding over her shadowed skin. "Your mark has grown since I met you."

Katrin nodded. "I'd hoped it would disappear completely in The Between, but it seems my clever scheme is not enough to save me from Death."

Guilt twisted in my gut. I'd promised to protect her, but I'd done nothing to help her out of this predicament, too enamored by the idea of someone to share in my misery. It wasn't fair to her. She deserved the life she desired. A real life, free from the shadow of Death.

"Tell me about your mark."

Her eyelids fluttered shut. The bed creaked as she rolled onto her back. She was quiet for so long, I thought she would refuse, but then her voice floated to me through the dark, detached and unfeeling.

"I had just turned thirteen when we noticed a dusky tinge to my fingertips. I thought it was dirt at first, but it didn't wash away. The surgeon called it gangrene and threatened to cut off my hand. My father refused. When the shadows spread, he got a second opinion then a third. We saw countless doctors before he expanded the search. It wasn't until we met an oracle in a nearby town that anyone came close to the truth. She'd called it ‘the Devil's stain', a mark from Death himself. Still, my father refused to believe it. I've been poked, prodded, cut, bled, submerged in freezing water, all in the name of fixing me."

I heard what she'd left unsaid: the pain, the loneliness, the fear. "It just appeared?"

"Yes. One day it wasn't there, the next day it was. There was no injury or incident, not that I can recall."

I felt more than saw her gaze return to my face. "It doesn't make sense with the pieces we have, but Behryn must have some reason for wanting you. Something he knew about eight years ago but decided he needed to wait to claim."

"That's the strangest part. If he wants me so bad, why not take me at thirteen?"

"Indeed."

The conversation left me unsettled. I could only imagine how Katrin felt after so many years without answers, and I'd done nothing to help her.

No more.

As her breaths deepened, I vowed that I would see her returned to the world of the living. And when her body, heavy in sleep, curled into mine, I pulled her closer and offered what comfort I could, taking no small amount of satisfaction in the sigh I drew from her.