Page 51 of A Vow of Shadows

Chapter 35

The Ferrier

Katrin lay limp in my arms as I carried her into the small cottage. When Behryn’s beast had captured her, a familiar rage had taken hold of me. It had been too reminiscent of another time—another woman—but I would not allow Death to steal from me again.

Sam walked ahead of me and quickly cleared off the small dining table. A fellow reaper, Sam was the closest thing I had to a friend in The Between, and even that was a stretch. Decades had passed since I’d last seen him, but I was counting on his hatred of Behryn to overcome any deficiencies in our personal relationship. True to form, he hadn’t taken much convincing.

I cradled Katrin’s head as I set her down on the table, brushing loose strands of hair out of her face. Her mark had spread. Where once the shadows had stopped at her temple, they now stretched from brow to hairline, plunging almost the entire left side of her face into darkness. Only her eye remained unmarked.

Pain contorted her features even in rest, small lines visible at the corners of her eyes and mouth.

I stepped next to Sam as he inspected her wound. Blood had soaked through my hasty bandage. Though it seemed to have clotted, vivid red lines streaked away from the punctures. The Fang’s venom needed to be counteracted before we could set about healing the injury.

“At least the bite was clean,” Sam murmured. “There’s no tearing and the bones appear to be intact. It could have bitten clean through her leg if it had wanted.”

“They were likely under orders not to maim or kill,” I speculated.

“Lucky for you.”

I grunted in response. Nothing about this felt lucky.

Behryn shouldn’t have known I was harboring Katrin unless I’d let something slip during his visit. But then, why wouldn’t he have pounced on it then? It didn’t add up.

My power over shadows felt woefully inferior compared to Death’s arsenal. The misty forms hung back as though shamed by their failure to protect Katrin—or maybe I was projecting. I motioned to the deeper pockets of black within the room. “Whatever you need, they can fetch it.” The shadows surrounding us perked up at my suggestion, eager to aid.

Sam rattled off several herbs, and they scattered to the wind—all but Katrin’s two personal shadows who hovered nearby.

Before me, he placed a rag and a ewer of water. “You look like you need something to do.”

I grabbed the rag and set to work cleaning the wound. Any time she flinched, I gentled my ministrations. The task took longer than it should have, but it kept my mind and hands occupied long enough for my shadows to return with the requested herbs.

Sam mixed a tonic and a poultice. Half the tonic he poured over the open bite marks. “The rest she should drink when she wakes,” he said.

As I watched, the lines on Katrin’s face smoothed, her body relaxing from its contracted state. By the time her leg was rebandaged, she was snoring softly.

Sam crossed to the other side of the room. With a snap of his fingers, a fire blazed to life in the hearth. It would be some time before the heat fended off the chill in the air. Regardless, I tore off my cloak, sickened by all that it symbolized. I debated throwing it into the flames but thought better about sending literal smoke signals of our location to Death. Bunching it into a tight ball, I threw the garment at the corner. It hit the floor with a less-than-satisfyinghiss, but I was happy to be rid of it.

Two arm chairs occupied the area in front of the fireplace. I chose the one facing toward Katrin and collapsed into it, my limbs weighing more than they had in years.

“She’ll live,” Sam said, eying me curiously from where he leaned against the mantel.

My hands fisted despite the good news. I dragged them through my hair under the guise of tying it back, but Sam’s keen eyes missed nothing.

“The venom was concerning, but after a couple days of excruciating pain, she would have been fine. Her wound was not life-threatening.”

“But Behryn is,” I growled.

“Ah ha.” His dark eyes lit with interest. “And you care because…”

I cursed my mental exhaustion for making me loose-lipped. “We have an arrangement.”

“Right.” Sam’s tone suggested he knew there was more to this story.

“She’s my ticket to freedom, nothing more,” I snapped, my temper on a short leash. Even if I’d thought about her being more to me, our relationship would be doomed from the start. She had a whole life to live. Her big plans did not includeabandoning her dreams for a self-imposed sentence in The Between.

Sam raised his hands in submission. “Whatever you say, Van.” He picked a bottle off the mantel and began pouring, appearing to let the subject drop.

He’d been roped into reaping the same way I had, by losing a bad bargain. Unfortunately for him, his territory was far less populated than mine, which meant he relied on less savory means of acquiring coin to pay his debt. Still, he’d taken to his afterlife easier than I had.

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