Page 140 of Lamb

My eyes were locked on his dark, mysterious figure as he backed into the flurry of the crowd, smile unfaltering, and between a single beat of a couple dancing past, my vision blocked for half a second, the giant vanished, along with any hope of an answer.

I was left standing alone, the extra weight against my thigh holding me in place long enough for our song to end and another pick up into a jauntier tune.

Warmth swept against my back, and I knew who had saddled up uncomfortably close to my side. My goosebumps softened as he wrapped his arms around me, hands rubbing up and down the places Charon had touched. Despite the Grim Reaper’s lustful charm, he had been gentlemanly and, putting aside his parade under my dress, his hands had never drifted anywhere inappropriate.

Lamb’s gaze met mine, the inferno that had burned so feverish and fierce moments before was smothered by something else; his eyes were sharp and something akin toconcern began to creep forward beneath the cracks in his mask. “Ash, remember to breathe.”

“What—”

“Alexandria,” a voice cut in, and it took a moment for me to realise that they were speaking to me. “Your presence is required.”

The surreal calm I had fastened tight to my mind began to slip. Panic and fear echoed in the distance like rolling thunder. It was not here yet, but it was coming.

A sharp, tight squeeze, so strong it was almost painful, wrapped around my hand. Lamb pressed down on the tingles, and the numbness swelled, and the cold leeched from my fingers. He did not look at me, his eyes tightly trained on the waiter, but I felt him with me. Felt his warmth roll over my skin, and slowly, the music my heart played on my ribs changed from a gallop to a steadier canter.

This was the finish line. The final battle.

This was not the time to falter.

Sucking in a steadier breath, I returned the tight grip, our hands softening into a steady hold with interlocked fingers.

“My name”—I let out a slow, whistling breath—“isAsh. And youwilladdress me accordingly.”

The man, dressed in the impeccable attire of the wait staff, refused to address my outburst and instead nodded his head towards Lamb as if I had not even spoken a word. “You have been requested, as well, Mr. Black.”

Requested thistime,notrequired.

Lamb’s hands tightened on my arms, hostile and defensive glowers sent to the waiter who acted none the wiser. I bit back my tongue before I thought to say anything else fruitless to the older man, and instead remembered what we were here for. What we were doing.

Lamb, on the other hand, looked ready to commit murder for even the suggestion of going anywhere other than home. It did not show on his face, of course; his mask was impervious steel as he held the older man’s weighted stare.

“Remember.” I turned back to him, pushing up onto my toes, chin to chin, as my words whispered over his lips. “This is our plan.”

My plan.

Guilt laced my lips as I kissed him, the taste bittersweet as calmness from his touch settled over my nerves. My heels touched the floor again, and I waited for him, watching the cogs go round behind those warm brown eyes.

They searched mine for a moment much longer than time would allow, before he took an arming breath. He did not relax, or soften beneath my touch. Instead, his muscles tightened as he pulled an arm around my waist and tucked me into his side.

“Lead the way.” Lamb gestured towards the dense crowd.

The waiter nodded, turned, and the crowd parted just enough for the man to get through, but not a single strand of hair, or hem of a tailcoat, touched him. In that gap, we followed behind.

I tried to walk confidently, but with the world falling out from underneath me, I feared I could not pull it off. This was what I wanted. What I needed. But no matter what I wanted, or needed, there was one thing I could not control. One thing that gripped me tight and would never let me go.

Fear.

Chapter Thirty-Six

ASH

Ihad never been to a funeral.

I imagined them to be sombre and heavy, thick with thoughts and emotions. An atmosphere much like the one guiding down the hall, charioting me towards my own inevitable funeral.

Gloomy silence was a dense shroud around us; even our footsteps were swallowed by the thick, plush carpets of the hotel as we were led deeper. The further we walked; the more scattered people became until not even ghosts glided amongst us.

I stared down at the soft red carpet beneath my shoes, the colour reminding me of poppy fields that had sprung up in no man’s zone at the end of the First World War. The same fields were cursed to be burnt to ash, as the Second War was declared little more than two decades later.

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