7. Katrin

Chapter 7

Katrin

A top a gleaming carriage of ebony sat a man cloaked in shadow. At least, it had the vague shape of a man. Darkness writhed around him like a living shade, the figure beneath little more than a formidable shape swathed in night. At his side, a long, curved scythe glinted in the moonlight, a shining beacon of death.

A large cowl covered the reaper's head, concealing his features completely. Though I couldn't see his eyes, I could feel his gaze like icy claws raking across my skin. I refused to flinch under his scrutiny. For once, I had nothing to hide.

"What cause have you to keep a reaper from his duties?" asked the Ferrier, his tone indifferent and condescending. If he was surprised at being halted by a mortal woman, he did not show it.

I stiffened at the sound of his voice, shocked by how human he sounded. With all the rumors surrounding this creature, I'd expected the screams of a banshee or the growl of a beast. Though cold, the rich, silkiness of his words drew me in like a siren's song.

I straightened my spine and lifted my eyes to the approximate area of his own. "I've come to bargain with the Ferrier of Souls." My words slipped over one another in their reluctance to leave my mouth, but their meaning was clear.

The Ferrier's attention slid away from me, and I sagged like a spell had been broken. "I do not bargain with the living."

I bristled at the finality in his tone. He likely intended the words to cow me, but I merely brushed them off and dared a step closer. Smoothing back my windswept mane, I angled my head so the moon highlighted the markings on my face.

As accustomed as I'd become to covering myself and my mark, I might as well have been standing before him naked, even as I remained fully clothed.

Baring the ruined side of my face, I cleared my throat pointedly, trying and failing to capture the Ferrier's attention once more. The horse nearest me nickered, and I had the vague impression that it was laughing at me. I shot the massive creature a baleful glare but gave it a wide berth as I scurried past, planting myself directly in the Ferrier's line of sight.

The second his attention returned to me, he froze. Even the shadows that surrounded him ceased their constant motion.

He did not speak, but I felt his gaze tracing my mark from my hairline to my collarbone.

"As you can see, I have been marked for Death." My voice cracked on the words that had brought me so much pain and heartache. I lifted my left hand, splaying my darkened fingers as further evidence of my shame.

The Ferrier remained silent, but he didn't turn away again. Taking that as a good sign—or at least, not a bad sign—I approached the carriage. My eyes never wavered from the reaper, though he made no move to stop me. Dirt crunched under my feet, but it was a soft purr compared to the persistent roaring in my head that screamed for me to abandon this mission and retreat. Yet, I could not allow this chance to slip through my fingers. I would not , not when I had come so far.

The wood was smooth and surprisingly warm beneath my feather-light touch. Until that moment, I could have been dreaming. My mind had been known to conjure such images for lack of true adventure, but this carriage—this man—was wholly real before me.

I swallowed thickly as I turned my face up to the dark creature that held my life in his hands. Even close enough to touch him, my vision could not penetrate the shroud of darkness to see the man beneath. He was an enigma, and though I knew I should be wary, the mystery called to me. I was overtaken by the sudden urge to reach out and touch the reaper's cloak, a desire so repulsive I nearly recoiled.

Keeping my hands firmly planted on the rail, I changed tactics. "Surely you can see that I have barely begun to live. It is nigh my twenty-first year on this world—"

"And I have taken souls far younger than yours."

"And do you feel nothing for those you pry from their mother's arms?" I countered. "Do you not suffer an ounce of grief? Are you so heartless?"

The Ferrier leaned forward, and I found myself mirroring the action like we were two school children sharing secrets. My heart raced. In fear? Anticipation? I didn't know, but I rose up on tiptoes to catch his next words.

"If you hope to appeal to my humanity, you will be disappointed."

My heels slammed to the ground as dismay landed heavily upon my shoulders.

The reaper continued as if he hadn't dashed my plans against the road. "I have not been plagued by such weaknesses in over a century. I am a courier, nothing more. It is not my place to weave fate's thread as my own nor question Death's plans. "

Frustration mounted in me like a wave. For years, I'd been told that there was nothing to be done for my condition . That I had no choice but to sit back and watch my life fade away into nothing. I'd kept my voice pleasant—albeit a little pleading—thus far, but now, it exploded out of me. "Perhaps you should question Death's plans. I know I do. I question everything! What does this mean?" I waved my shadowed hand for effect. "Why is this happening? Why me ?! And you ! You who see countless wasted lives, will you do nothing when the chance comes to save one?"

My breath sawed out of me, but the Ferrier sat unaffected by my tirade.

"I am no knight in shining armor," he replied evenly. "I can neither heal you nor remove you from harm's way."

"I am not sick," I spat. "I have reason to believe Death will claim me soon. I'm certain we can come to an arrangement that is agreeable for both of us."

The Ferrier cocked his head. "Why does Death seek you?"

I shrugged. "It is just one of my life's great mysteries." My mother would have been appalled at my tone, but my well of patience was dry.

I stared into the depthless black beneath his hood, daring him to see the earnest truth in my eyes.

"What is it that you want from me?" the Ferrier asked.

Though his words promised nothing, I stuck my foot in the door he'd cracked. "Take me with you to your home between worlds. Hide me from Death and keep me alive until I can find a cure for this curse."

He barked a laugh. "Only a fool would promise something so vague. It could be years before you solve your little problem. Decades, if you figure it out at all. The Between is not a sanctuary to harbor those afraid to die."

Adjusting the reins in his hands, he turned toward the road. Panic overtook me. I lunged for the carriage, planting my feet on the small step and holding on for my life. He would not be able to brush me off so easily.

"Until the day of my twenty-second birthday, then," I cried out. "On the eighth day of the eighth month, one year from today, you will return me to my family unharmed." I'd spent the hours before I'd left cultivating the ideal phrasing for such a bargain, one that would grant me everything I desired with no loopholes to fall victim to.

"What is your name?" he crooned.

I'd been warned against giving my name so freely. There was power in names, but I could win nothing if I didn't show my hand. Freeing one hand from my white-knuckled grip, I dipped into a shallow curtsy befitting my station. "My name is Katrin Fil'Owen."

"And what do you offer to bargain, Miss Fil'Owen?"

"Ten gold pieces—"

The Ferrier chuckled, dark and humorless, the sound reigniting my body's desire to run.

I cleared my throat, doing my best to look down my nose at him though he towered over me from where he sat atop the carriage. "Ten gold pieces for every day you keep me safe, paid when the year is up. Plus a good-faith deposit of three hundred and fifty gold pieces."

He was silent for a long time. So long I feared he would say no.

"You are offering me four thousand gold pieces to keep you from Death for one year."

I nodded. Finally, I had his attention.

What use the Ferrier had for gold, I could only guess, but legend claimed he took two silver coins from each soul as payment for safe passage to the Afterworld. It was a tradition that loved ones honored by placing a silver coin in each hand of their dearly departed before the death rites. When someone suffered a loss, the townspeople would litter the bereaved doorsteps with copper coins to alleviate the financial burden of the so-called ‘death tax'. That kindness meant one less thing for the mourning to worry about, but it still begged the question of why. What did the Ferrier of Souls need with all those coins?

"Show me," he said.

I hesitated only a moment before stepping down from the carriage and reaching behind my back to untie the sizable coin pouch.

It is said that to meet the Ferrier, the living must journey to the crossroads on foot. I'd done exactly that, praying that no thieves would cross my path as the jingle of hundreds of coins accompanied my every step.

My feet still ached from bearing the weight of nearly four hundred coins, but it was worth every second of agony to see the way the reaper stilled when I revealed the gleaming treasure.

His actions confirmed what I had already guessed. For whatever reason, the Ferrier wanted the money. My relief was temporary as the dark figure descended from his perch in a swirl of darkness. I jumped as he reappeared before me somehow taller than he'd seemed in the driver's seat.

"What say you, Ferrier?" I'd laid it all out. Every request, every bargaining chip. He would either help me, or I would die.

I glanced back down at the small fortune between my hands. It was a meager price to pay for a life. I only hoped it would be enough to entice the reaper.

The Ferrier's gaze burned along my body, assessing. "You're sure about this?"

I nodded, standing tall under his blatant scrutiny. He would not find me lacking.

And perhaps he saw the truth in my eyes, saw that I stood at a breaking point, one I would not rise from if he turned me down. No matter what he'd said, it would take a foul creature to look into the eyes of an innocent and sentence them to death. Though I'd promised myself I would not give up until the Ferrier acquiesced, his next words knocked me off-kilter.

"Very well. You have yourself a deal, Miss Fil'Owen."

I recovered quickly, dropping my chin to hide the relief that lit up my features. A leather-clad hand stretched toward me, barely discernible from every other dark part of his body. It was perhaps the most foolish thing I'd ever done, but I took the Ferrier's outstretched hand without pause, only then realizing that he'd offered his left, forcing me to do the same. The smoke and onyx flesh of my marked hand blended with his darkness, making it hard to distinguish one from the other.

The leather gloves were supple, a stark contrast to the strength I felt contained within them. His grip tightened, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to hold me in place as his shadows sprang to life. I watched, captivated while they twisted around our enclosed hands like a serpent claiming its next meal. In a blink, our arms had disappeared into their darkness, only the oddly comforting pressure of his fingers let me know they remained.

Just as quickly as they had appeared, the shadows dissipated, leaving only our joined hands exactly as they had been. Though no words had been spoken, I got the sense that something unbreakable had been forged. I had drawn a line in the sand, and he'd pulled me across. There was no going back—no undoing what had been done.

"I have delayed too long, Miss Fil'Owen." The Ferrier gestured with his free hand, guiding me toward the awaiting carriage.

"Katrin, please. Or Kat, if you prefer." I had no idea why I'd just offered my nickname to the Ferrier of Souls. We were hardly on a first-name basis, but I hated being addressed so formally. It reminded me too much of the life I was meant to have.

Miss Fil'Owen was a lady of fine standing with a long line of suitors and a substantial dowry. Kat was a forgotten girl who hid from the world and had just traded her entire dowry for a year-long sentence in the world between.

The Ferrier made no remark at my request as he helped me into the coach, but it mattered not what he called me so long as he kept his word.

I paused on the step and turned to look into the dark depths of the reaper's cowl. Even inches apart, I could see nothing of the creature beneath. I hesitated, my hands itching to pull back his hood, to know something about the man behind the title.

Not that it would have changed anything.

Perhaps the shadows hid a disfigurement similar to my own. Perhaps, as rumor claimed, he was nothing more than a skeleton reanimated by magic, though I certainly hoped that was not the case. I could respect his desire to remain hidden when I'd spent much of my life doing the same.

Once inside, the door shut swiftly behind me. I whirled, watching through the small window as the Ferrier disappeared to the front of the carriage.

Tears came unbidden, an insistent stinging behind my eyes that threatened to spill over. I blinked them back, refusing to cry over something that was literally saving my life. After all, this was my chance to step out from under the dark cloud that had followed me since I'd first found the marks upon my fingers.

Finally, I would have the chance at a normal life. I just had to make it through one year with the most terrifying creature I'd ever known. One year and I could return to my family and live the life I'd always hoped for.

The carriage shifted, and I toppled onto the tufted velvet cushion as the horses sprang into motion. I forced myself to face forward, though everything in me yearned to glance back. There was no use reminiscing about the life I'd led until now. Those memories were nothing but ripples in a pond, and I had just thrown an enormous stone. Even if I'd only prolonged the inevitable, it was sure to make a great splash.