18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Evengi

T he ghost of Natasya's father is useful in one way, he is an endless fount of information when it comes to his daughter. It seems as though he has been haunting her since he died, and she began resurrecting his bones.

And now he has decided to unburden his soul by telling me everything he has witnessed. Perhaps he thinks that it will make me more likely to accomplish his dark purpose of killing his daughter.

I think the details he shares with me of her father's criminal dealings and how vampirism has tainted her family is supposed to make feel disgusted toward her. Disgusted enough to do what any proper priest of Neltruna would and kill the necromancer and kill her entire family of undead, criminal, heretics.

But in fact, it only serves to help me better understand this girl who has been an enigma since I came into Sunder Hollow.

She's just a lost soul who has been shaped into a heretic by her family. Not because she is evil but because she does not know any better.

Is it not my place a priest to try to lead her to the light? To save her from herself and the person her family made her.

The woman that Elwis the Eel created.

I ignore the fact that I serve a goddess of darkness. It isn't my duty to lead people to the light. It's my duty to hunt monsters.

But is Natasya truly a monster just because she is a necromancer? I know that she hasn't killed anyone, her father admitted it in one of his tirades. She's just a victim of her circumstances.

"And her summers she spends in the company of even more vampires," her father continues oblivious to the fact that I'm only half listening. "Even worse, the uncle of this closest friend is the most vile and powerful necromancer in all the land. I cannot believe my own flesh and blood would grow up to be such a creature." Her father sneers as he stares after her as Natasya makes her way through the woods. "It's why you must end her, think of the innocents you will save, and I will not have this guilt on my head."

"No, you'd rather I have the guilt of her life on my head," I say. I grimace as soon as the words leave my lips as I realize that I spoke aloud.

Natasya whirls on me. It's dark, but not dark enough to hide the determined set to her shoulders. "Who is here?" she demands as she steps toward me. "You say you can see ghosts, hunter, so tell me. Who is here with us? Who is giving away all my secrets?"

I pull my lip in between my teeth as I shift from foot to foot.

She stalks back towards me. I can feel the heat of her glare even if I cannot see it.

"Who, Evengi?" she demands.

"It doesn't matter," I reply as I try to step around her. "We need to find Brom and locate your father's remains. And then we need to figure out what we are going to do about this headless horseman."

She braces her hand on my arm, and I go still. "It matters to me," she says in a low tone. "Please, show me that I can trust you. My life already depends on your ability to keep a secret. Show me I'm not wrong to leave you capable of destroying me. I want to trust you. I want to be able to leave my fate in your hands. I don't want to take drastic measures…" she trails off as her tone becomes tinted with emotion.

"If you're worried about anyone finding out that you are a necromancer then you needn't fret so. I won't tell anyone your secret," I tell her. It may not seem like it with those hastily said words in the dark and damp night, but it's a solemn oath that goes against everything that I owe to the goddess Neltruna.

And yet, it feels as though a weight has been lifted off my chest as I say it. I don't want to be the one responsible for anything bad happening to Natasya. If that means I become guilty of harboring a necromancer's secret, then so be it.

"Prove it to me," she pleads.

Suddenly I'm able to place the emotion tinging her voice. Fear. She's frightened. And why wouldn't she be?

Her secret is out, her fiancé is missing, she's alone in the woods with a man who knows the truth about her, but she knows absolutely nothing about him.

And there's a headless horseman out there somewhere doing the gods know what.

"It's your father."

"What?" she demands sharply.

"I see your father's ghost," I say while the ghost hisses.

"Don't tell her that," he snarls as if I'd really listen to someone as despicable as this man. His hate for his daughter is partially responsible for how she ended up the way she is today.

"Elwis?" she gasps out as she goes limp. I surge forward, wrapping my arms around her to keep her from winding up on the forest floor.

"No, no, not that father. As far as I know, the criminal is just fine," I assure her even though I can't believe myself. It would be so much better for Natasya if her father were gone and no longer capable of corrupting her life. And yet here I am telling her that he's fine like that's actually a good thing.

"My birth father?" Natasya asks. She doesn't bother straightening but instead remains limp in my arms.

I press my lips together in a thin line. "I'm afraid so." I refrain from telling her that the only reason he is here is because he is tormented by her using his corpse in her necromancy or that he wants me to kill her. I'm not sure that's something she needs to hear right now.

A dry chuckle fills the air, and I look up to see Brom standing there a few yards away. He folds his arms as he studies me. "Look at you two. You seem so cozy there. I've only been gone for what? A day? And you're already moving in on my fiancée. I expect better from you, Ivan."

I straighten as I look up at him. "Brom?" I ask in surprise. "How long have you been here?"

Natasya pushes away from me, glancing around wildly. "Brom is here? Where?"

I raise my arm to point at him. "He's right…" I trail off as I look at Brom more closely. Despite the darkness of the forest and that I can only make out the outline of my hand even though it is right in front of me, I can see Brom clearly as if it's the middle of the afternoon.

Just like I can easily see Natasya's father. As if he is in a world where light and dark does not matter.

There is a thin line across his neck and a trickle of deep red liquid running down his collar to stain his shirt.

"Oh no," I whisper. "Brom no."

He smiles but there is no mirth in the expression. "About time you figured out that I was dead. And you both will be too if you don't get out of here. You must get out of Sunder Hollow. And most importantly, get away from the Heretic's Rest."