Chapter 20

Istared into the gold mirror hanging in the Syndicate house, wondering about Ro. Wondering if all mirrors would call to her or only special ones. I hadn"t thought to ask, had never needed to know. Lifting a hand to test the magic, I was nearly there before I hesitated and drew my fingers away from the ornate filigree adorning the sides. I'd never gotten it right. How to have relationships with people. How to judge the sincerity of someone's words. I understood the feelings, though. The way Ro's attention had eased a broken part of my soul and how turning me away had wrecked other parts. Our friendship had always been on her terms. Only hers. Whether she would see me or speak to me depended on her mood. Maybe that's how it was supposed to be, but maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was supposed to be something more like Althea and Paesha, who'd screamed at each other this morning for over an hour, but now sat together on the front porch of this patchwork house, laughing, and talking like true friends while Quill chased that white dog through the open field before the tree line.

There'd been a meeting of some type behind closed doors just after breakfast. A few people came, and, though I'd tried to eavesdrop, Elowen had kept me in the kitchen, as was likely her only job. Something was happening around here, and the secrets were only stacking.

I walked away from that mirror, disappointed. I'd seen my father's eyes stare back at me in the reflection, and I could nearly hear his voice telling me to run. That these people, no matter how curious I was, would never really want me here, and I couldn't trust them. I knew in my bones I couldn't. I'd only be staying long enough to figure out why Orin had been able to kill a man. And if Paesha knew where the Life Maiden was, that was bonus information.

My reflection had been scary. Hair tangled, my face gaunt, I looked as if I'd aged twenty precious years in the last week. I stared at the dirt beneath my nails and wished for a bath more than anything. I was a mess. But I wasn't sure I could bring myself to use a public bathhouse. Not because I was shy, but because I couldn't be properly armed.

I crept down the stairs and into the kitchen, sneaking fruit from the counter. Elowen followed, her watchful eyes full of questions.

"I'm not taking your knife."

"An apple isn't going to sustain you for the day. I'll have dinner on the table at sundown. Don't be late."

"Oh, I'm not…" I didn't know what I was doing, actually. "Okay."

"Okay," she echoed.

"Do you know…" I looked down at my shirt. "It's just…"

"For heaven's sake, child, spit it out."

"These are my clothes, but I didn't bring them here. Do you know if I have others? Or where they came from?"

"No, but I bet Hollis will have something. He's in the garden out back."

I walked to the door, resting a hand on the knob. "Why aren't you afraid of me?"

She wiped her fingers on her apron with a laugh. "People have come and gone from this house for years, Maiden. Some stick around longer than others, some are dangerous, some are shy. Some are broken, some are healing. But all are human, and we have our own burdens and stories. The way I see it, you probably haven't been shown a lot of kindness in your life. I'm sure you don't quite know what to do with any of us. But we're only people, like you, trying to make the most of our situations. I am not afraid of you, only worried for my son and that power inside of you. But I think you have a story to tell, as well. And just maybe, you'll find a space here to share it."

I opened my mouth to respond, and nothing came out. I hated that I was feared, but there was comfort in the boundaries. Solace in the solitude. Her words were unnerving.

"The back door is down the other hall on the right."

Hollis, wrist-deep in dirt, was still impeccably dressed, wearing a leather wide-brim hat, though the clouds had lingered. When he saw me coming, he stood, wiping dirty hands on a cloth before pulling out his golden pocket watch to check the time. "Hello, Little Dove."

I wanted so desperately to ask about his sister. She was younger, but already gone. Had been gone for at least twenty-six years. Which meant she'd succumbed to the madness, and it devoured her. She'd killed too many, too fast, and had paid the ultimate price.

"This might seem strange, but Elowen thought you would have a change of clothes for me."

He stroked a thumb over his chin, gesturing for me to turn. I twisted slowly, feeling every bit the fool I must have seemed.

"I'm a tailor. Clothing is precisely the right thing to ask about. I have a simple outfit. Not your usual leather, I'm afraid, but I can make you something soon. Wait here."

As he made his way inside, his gait a bit slower than most, I knelt and continued pulling the weeds he'd been working on in the slightly overgrown garden. I didn't have a clue what I was doing, though, and when a particularly stubborn weed plopped out with a tiny carrot on the end, I jerked upright, glanced at the door to make sure no one was watching, and shoved it into my pocket. Taking three giant steps away, I tucked my hands behind my back and waited, content to leave the gardening to the old man.

He strode from the house with a gentle whistle, carrying a pile of neatly folded clothes. I didn"t really care what they were, as long as they were clean and fit well enough.

"Just some pants and a buttoned shirt for you. I hoped you could manage the buttons with your wound."

"Oh, umm. It's not bothering me much today."

"Good. There's a river that runs along the east there, just over that small hill. It's private, and the water's usually still warm for a few more weeks before the frost sets in." He dug into his pocket and laid a bar of soap on top of the pile. "It isn't the nicest smelling, but it'll do. Most that come to stay for a bit use it, and I haven't had a complaint yet."

I didn't remember to thank him until I was already out of earshot.

The path leading to the riverbank was lined with lush vegetation, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. The scent of wildflowers and damp earth filled the air, rejuvenating my senses. Beyond the hill, just as he'd promised, in a small clearing, the river flowed serenely, shimmering like liquid silver under the scattered rays of sun battling the clouds.

The water's surface danced over rocks, with ripples enticing me to immerse myself in its cool embrace. I removed my clothes, feeling the weight of the world gradually lifted with each layer discarded. The air was slightly chilly, but I knew the river's touch would be revitalizing.

The riverbed beneath my feet was a symphony of smooth stones and soft silt, its texture grounding me to the earth. I waded until the water reached my waist, and then, with a graceful dive, I fully submerged myself in the refreshing stream, feeling only a small ache where I'd been stabbed.

The initial shock of the water's chill claimed a breath, but as I resurfaced, revitalized, I let out a contented sigh, my muscles relaxing. I ran my fingers through the water. The gentle current caressed my skin, carrying away the sweat and grime that'd plagued me.

I could have stayed in that river forever. Might have tried, had bickering voices not interrupted my stolen peace. I strained to listen, my heart quickening as I recognized the familiar timbre of Orin's voice. I whipped around just in time to see him and Paesha moving down the hill.

I covered my breasts with my hands as if they could see me from there. If I swam to the bank and managed to get out of the water fast enough, I still wouldn't be able to dress before they arrived. There was no escape here. I pressed myself against the partially submerged trunk of a fallen tree, its branches providing some concealment.

But when I'd emerged, keeping only my eyes and nose above the water, I watched as Orin gently shoved her backward, clearly agitated by her attempted help, until he'd barked something rude, and she'd flipped him off before storming away.

He watched her leave, waiting for her to fall beyond the cover of the hill, then moved to the edge of the riverbed and gripped the loose bottom of his shirt. A gentle breeze whispered through the leaves, as if the forest itself held its breath, anticipating what was to come. I should have looked away. But gods help me, the second that shirt came off, I couldn't move.

He dropped his pants just as quickly, and my thundering heart should have given me away. Utter perfection stood on the bank of that river, as if he'd been crafted as my personal punishment for every one of my sins. Orin Faber was an indulgence I'd never let myself experience.

The bandage had already been removed, and had I not been holding my breath, I might have gasped at the condition of the wounds on his side, still fiery red and swollen. Though you could see each individual slash from that hellhound across his stomach, he was far more healed than he should have been. Interesting. He couldn't be hiding the Life Maiden and simply visited her. He hadn't left that room. Not a single person had wandered in either. He was clearly still injured. Still slow to move. But something was off.

Orin's healing was not the only mysterious thing about him. In fact, it might have been the least concerning feature when he faced my direction, revealing a heart so black it showed through his skin. Even the surrounding veins had turned black, growing from his heart like vines. For a moment, I thought it might be the most beautiful, intricate tattoo I'd ever seen, until it throbbed.

As he dipped his foot into the cool river, ripples cascaded outward. He winced slightly, the water's temperature seemingly colder than he had anticipated, yet he continued. Once submerged, he let out a satisfying sigh, and my mouth turned dry, the air heavy.

He smoothed a hand down his chest, holding his palm over his heart, tilting his head back. The sun filtered through the canopy, painting a mosaic of golden hues on the rocky riverbed, the golden light kissing his beautiful face, though I could see the anguish there. What was he? Who was he?

The silt below my feet gave just a bit, causing me to sink. The rippling water, though subtle, might've given me away, had he been looking, but rather than being aware of his surroundings and using caution as most of Requiem did, he remained unmoving, lost in his simple peace, his head staring up to the heavens as if in prayer while running his hands down his pained face. He did not fear this world.

After several moments, he turned back to the bank and grabbed a bar of soap. With slow, deliberate movements, he washed himself, the suds creating a lather that clung to his skin. His long, nimble fingers traced patterns across his chest, and I found myself captivated by the way he cared for his body, every motion exuding a sense of tenderness. My own body responded, forcing me to remember what it was like to have those hands on me. I wanted desperately to turn away, but I could not tear my eyes from him. Each drip of water cascading down his broad chest called to me, and I hated it. He should have been ugly. Monsters always were. Though Death was just as beautiful, and he was the greatest monster of all.

Orin swam closer to the center of the river, lying back carefully until he floated, moving those fingers through the water in a rhythm that told me one of his songs must have been playing through his mind. As if the music he crafted came from a place like this. Tranquil and quiet.

The second his eyes closed again, I shifted my feet, fighting the way the deep mud in the river pulled me down. The rippling water nearly reached him, and I prepared to dive and hold my breath for an eternity, but before I could, he stood, whipping around to face me. "You can come out now, Wife. The show's over."

I jerked, absolute mortification seeping over me as a tingling sensation raced up my back and across my neck, no doubt turning every trace of skin as red as possible. But I couldn't let him have this moment of victory. Each sparring match with him, verbal or otherwise, was a battle, and I would not lose.

Embarrassed as I was, I swam forward just as close to the bank as he was, keeping my breasts below the surface as I boldly stared him in the eyes. "I wondered when you were going to stop fondling yourself so I could leave in peace."

He crossed his arms over his chest, spreading his legs a little further, as if daring me to look. "You know it shrinks in the water, right?"

"Feeling paranoid?"

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Just warning you, in case that pretty color on your neck means what I think it does."

"There is absolutely no way in the heavens or hell that I'm ever going to need that warning." I pushed out of the water unabashedly, walking with every ounce of confidence I could draw from this world. Stepping past him, completely naked and dripping wet, I gathered my hidden things while his jaw hung open. I walked back, ankle-deep in the water once more, closing his mouth with my finger as I growled. "You'd have to get on your fucking knees and beg for it. And even then, I'd rather see you devoured by a hellhound."

He struck hard and fast, gripping my throat as darkness filled his eyes. "There she is." His fingers tightened until I could hardly swallow. "I wondered when you'd come out to play, Nightmare."

I forced a smile. "I'll happily come back to remind you who I am when you can stand up straight."

"It's just a scratch."

I grabbed his wrist and twisted. He gave in too easily, breaking contact because he didn't have the strength to fight beyond the pain of his injuries.

"Funny. Your scratch is bleeding again."

He looked down, and I took the opportunity to storm off, his growl of annoyance following me back over that hill, though he did not.