Chapter 19
nineteen
There is a scream in my throat when I wake. I am lying in my bed, but the room is different, darker. There are no windows, only the musty smell of closed-up spaces. Rascal’s warmth has vanished, and I shiver in the sheets.
I am alone. The ghost of Ransom still lingers against my lips, but I press the memory away.
“Rascal?” My voice is a hushed thing in the blackness. “Hello?”
I push myself against the headboard, bringing my knees in tight against me.
“Bram?” But even when I open my mouth, I know he will not answer.
The darkness presses down on me like some unseen force, a kind of monster ready to swallow and devour me with its slick, black tongue. I reach for the stammering of my heart I am sure is there, but it is gentle. This is who I am, this pain, this wrong beat. And if it is gone, who am I?
What am I?
I open my mouth to call Bram’s name again, but there is a click of light in one corner, and my breath hitches, turns sharp.
“What a pretty living thing,” a voice says. “Sure to catch a good price.”
I gasp, choke on cold air. “Who’s there?”
A shadow crosses the brightness. It happens so quickly.
A match is struck, a lantern lit. My suspicions were right. I am no longer in my room, and Rascal is gone. The ceiling here is lower, damp. The walls drip with condensation. I squint in the sudden light, wrinkling my nose at the smell of mildew and rot.
“Look at me, you pretty little thing.”
I grind my teeth and turn to the voice, to the gnarled hand holding the lantern. “Show yourself.”
There is laughter—thick and rotten, like a raven choking on peach pits—and then a face appears above the flickering light.
The innkeeper. He stands against the wall, jawbone sticking out like the ribcage of some shored fish.
My arms buckle, and I press myself back against the headboard, wood creaking. “Where am I?”
He chuckles, something wet gurgling in his half-exposed throat. “Let’s just say I gave you our special room. Where we put all the livings when we get one, which is far and few between, mind you.” He points to the darkness beyond the bed. “There’s a door there. You can’t see it now, but it’s there.”
I scratch at the sheets and say a quick prayer that the bell is still within reach. “Where are my friends?”
My body is ringing with terror. I could reach beneath my pillow, use the bell, and go home. But what if this man followed me? And what of Bram?
The innkeeper’s jaw cracks with the force of his smile. “Let’s talk about you first, my dear. Call this place a cage of sorts. A trap.” He leans in against the light, shadows dancing across his corpse. “Tell me, would you like to make a deal?”
My stomach fizzes. Bram’s words echo in my ear. Don’t make deals with these people.
I lift my chin. “Tell me where my friends are.”
The innkeeper drops to a chair. “You know, pretty little thing, I was told by someone very important to send all living souls to them if I ever ran across any. I would be paid in redemption, my own soul taken back home, where I could live forever. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
I fight to spit a laugh. No one can live forever. “You aren’t answering my question.”
He raises a brow, his bones crackling beneath his skin.
“One of your friends is already gone. Made his deal early this morning. I can tell you where he went, or I can sell you…but for the right price, I could tell you where your friend went and let you go.” He slides his chair closer to the bed.
A stink comes off him, like spoiled meat. “Want to make a deal?”
Before I can answer, before I can ask who has already left, something stirs in the corner.
“Ah,” the innkeeper says, rising from his chair. “The dead one.”
The lantern illuminates another corner, where Bram and Rascal are tied to the floor. Rascal’s lips peel back, revealing sharp white teeth. I scramble in the sheets, my chest skimming with sweat. No.
The innkeeper laughs.
“Won’t catch a price for these two, them being dead and all. But you—” He turns to me.
“Adelaide.” Bram’s voice is weak. “Don’t do it.”
In the shadows, I slip my hand below my pillow, fist the bell. But I can’t bring myself to ring it, not without Mother. And not without Bram.
“Name your price.”
The innkeeper smiles. “I will set you loose and tell you where your friend went, but you must do something for me in return.”
“Anything.”
“Addie—” Bram’s voice is cut short with a growl from Rascal’s throat.
The man laughs. “The girl seems to know what she wants, man. Let her make her deal.” He inches closer to the bed. “I’ll make this easy for you. I’ll tell you what you want to know, and if you get back to the land of the living, you send someone here.”
My heartbeat thuds in my ears when I realize the meaning behind his words. “You want me to kill someone?” Dread coils in my stomach, and I think I might get sick.
Bram’s presence is steady in the corner.
“I’m asking exactly that, pretty little thing.”
Cold seeps into my bones. What will this make of me? A murderer, just as everyone already believes? I steal a glimpse of Bram from the corner of my eye.
If I can’t uphold my promise to him, that makes me something worse. A liar.
I concentrate on the bell in my hand, run my thumb along the brass. It is like a rifle in my hands, aimed at some target I cannot see. I draw a deep breath, hold it, steady my aim, no longer able to hear the sound of my own heart.
My mind goes blank, eyes training distantly on the man before me. The dead man.
He tips back and folds his arms, like someone who already knows he has won.
“I’ll do it.”
Bram groans, and the man’s grin spreads so wide he might swallow his own bones.
“Sign.”
Bram is quick as a whip, on his feet, straining against his bonds, but I ignore him, eyes still trained on my target. Rifle raised.
The man holds the knife out to me, produces a flask of wine from his pocket. “On my hand,” he says, holding out a gnarled palm. “Sign.”
I stare at the knife, the lantern light reflecting on the metal. Bram is stiff, fear rolling off him in waves. Rascal whines. I crawl to the foot of the bed and grab the knife, not giving myself time to think before bringing the blade down against my flesh. The skin sears, blood beading.
The man’s eyes widen. “A Reaper. Well, this is fun.” He offers me the flask of wine, pours it over the cut.
I grit my teeth.
“Addie.”
Once more, I ignore Bram. We have to find Ransom. There’s no telling what he will do.
The dead man’s hand is rough and dry beneath my tender flesh, but I sign my name. The letters look strange in red, unfamiliar. As though they no longer belong to me. The man smiles, his teeth slipping in his jaw.
“You have yourself a deal, little Reaper.”
“Tell me where our friend went.”
He squeezes the blood between his brittle fingers. “There’s a castle a short distance from here, back the way you came and a little to the west. Here it has no name, but back on the other side of the wood, back home, people called it Blackbourne.”
Every bit of energy drains out the soles of my feet. “Blackbourne Castle?”
“Aye, that’s the one. One of the few buildings left. Your friend seemed all too interested when I offered him his deal. When he heard who lived in the castle, he was quite eager.”
Curiosity prickles at my neck. “What was his deal?”
The innkeeper clucks and shakes a blood-stained finger. “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. You’ve enough troubles of your own.”
Bram ignores him. “Who lives in the castle?”
The innkeeper turns. “I’m not making deals with the dead today.”
“Then tell me, please.” I scramble closer to the edge of the bed, the bell still hidden in my palm.
He faces me. “You’ll kill anyone I ask you to?”
I will make myself the monster if it means getting my mother back. “Yes.”
“They say a lady lives up in the castle. A Lady Black.”
My eyes meet Bram’s, fear and recognition alike on his face.
I glance back to the innkeeper. “And who is it you’d like me to kill?”
His mouth gapes open, letting out the thick scent of decay. “A man who lied to me. Told me I would see my daughter again when I died. But she isn’t in this place.”
“And who is that?”
“The vicar of Rixton parish, one Felix Thorn.”