Page 177 of Silver in the Bone

Neve and Olwen had already scrubbed themselves clean and changed into some of my and Cabell’s clothes. While they chatted quietly on the couch, I returned to the kitchen to clean up the mess I’d left.

I retrieved the broom and dustpan, sweeping up pot shards, soil, the shriveled remains of Florence, and what looked like a trail of dead ants. Nearly three months of mail had piled up by the door, but the stack from my last night here had also fallen as I’d come in, along with my purse and my tarot deck.

Griflet batted at my boots’ laces as I gathered everything into my arms. I started to rise, only to spot a card I’d missed. It was partly hidden beneath the refrigerator. My breath caught as I turned it over.

The Moon card.

That feeling was back, churning in my stomach, turning my head light as air. I brushed a thumb over the image—the moon, the towers, the blue hills. The wolf, and the hound.

As I touched the card, a different image swept through my mind, thrumming with darkness. A different moon, a mere sliver of a thing, was swallowed by the growing black of a starless night. Beneath it, a pack of black dogs tore through a field of mist, howling to the shadowed figure that waited ahead.

Say my name.

The answer was the whisper of an unfamiliar woman’s voice, a song that faded to silence.

Lord Death.

“Tamsin?”

I startled at the sound of my name, breaking the horrified reverie.

“Tamsin?” Neve said again, leaning around the doorframe. “I think someone’s at the door ... ?”

Another knock sounded.

“Oh—it must be the food,” I said, shaking myself out of my daze. “That was fast.”

I rose, brushing my hands against my already filthy jeans, wondering if Neve could hear the way my heart was still pounding as I passed her.

Sliding the cash out of my pocket, I unlocked the door. “Sorry about that—”

The bills slipped from my hand, fluttering to the floor.

The man standing there was dressed in a rumpled suit. He fiddled anxiously with the brim of the hat in his hands, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his face.

“What ... ,” I whispered, unable to catch my breath. “What are you ...”

He looked younger than I remembered. The lines on his forehead had smoothed out, and his many scars were gone. His skin had a healthy glow, rather than the red of too much sun or the pallor of someone who had locked himself away in a dark room with a bottle of rum. And his eyes—a silvery blue, sparkled with humor and emotion.

Neve and Olwen hovered protectively behind me as they eyed the stranger.

Not a stranger—Nash. Alive.

Nash.

“Tamsy,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. “My gods, you’ve grown.”

If my shock had been any less palpable, if I’d been able to move even an inch, I would have slammed the door in his face.

“What are you doing here?” I asked faintly. “You’re dead.”

“Yes, about that—may I come inside?” he asked, casting a wary glance up and down the street. “I need to speak to you. It’s important.”

“The time to talk to me was seven years ago,” I bit out. “Before you abandoned us.”

His eyes shut as he drew in a breath. “I was trying to find the Ring of Dispel.”

“I know,” I cut in, my hand squeezing the door. “To break Cabell’s curse.”

When they opened again, the glitter in his pale eyes was gone. They were graver than I’d ever seen them.

“No, Tamsin,” he said. “To break yours.”

---