Page 97 of The Shadow Bride

“And I did.” Death speaks the words with relish. “Dear Mila fell quite ill after the turn of her family’s fortunes, and her dear brother grew quite desperate. They couldn’t afford a healer, nor the medicine required to treat her. Michal tried to steal some, of course, but a soldier caught him in the act and beat him with hot rods in the town square—a luckier fate than most. At least he kept his hands.”

Nausea threatens to rise at the images taking shape: Michal beaten, Michal broken, Michal young and frightened andhumanas he tried to save his little sister. And though I long to tear the insufferable smirk from Death’s face, I need to hear the conclusion of this story. I need to hear it more than I’ve needed to hear anything else in my life. “And then?”

“He found me,” Death says simply.

I blink at him in confusion. “What do you mean hefoundyou? How?”

“The same way everyone does. I am not difficult to find.”

His meaning doesn’t penetrate at first, as if my mind refuses to even consider such a thing. When it does, however, all the air leaves my lungs in a painful rush, and I clench my eyes shut at the onslaught of fresh images.Michal.

“A reckless plan, to be sure,” Death says idly, as if we’re chatting about the weather and not the most horrific of tragedies. “He’d learned about me from his late mother, who worshipped the old gods in the old ways. And when I came for him, he did not embrace me like the others. No. He bargained for his sister’s life instead—a new approach, even for me. I’ll confess I was intrigued.”

My eyes snap open in realization, and the sickness in my stomach turns to ice. “You turned him into a vampire,” I whisper.

“I gave him the power to save his sister at the cost of everyone else—including that hapless soldier in the square, and the pretty family next door, and the lonely woman up the road, and his father’s entire congregation. Andyou, Célie,” he adds. His eyes swirl brighter and brighter still, alive with thatsomethingI cannot name. I also cannot look away. “When Michal made his choice all those years ago, he sacrificedyoujust as assuredly as he sacrificed all those other innocents. Infuriating how things turn out, isn’t it? Your great-great-grandparents hadn’t even been born when Michal Vasiliev sealed your fate.”

I push to my feet, hands trembling with emotion. With fury, yes, but also with another I dare not look at,cannotlook at, for fear of it ruining everything Michal and I have built. “He didn’t mean to hurt anyone. He—he was just trying to save his sister—”

“He was selfish,” Death says, and he too rises, looming over me like a pillar of smoke, of shadow. “He did not think of his sister. He did not think ofyou, and he will reap his just rewards until the endof time—that was part of our deal, after all. It’s why you couldn’t sustain yourself on animal blood. To possess immortal life, vampires musttakeit. Life,” he clarifies darkly. “Just like me.”

When I still don’t speak, he steps closer for emphasis.

“Now,” he breathes, and it sounds almost like a plea. “Tell me of All Hallows’ Eve.”

His appeal falls on deaf ears, however. Not since Morgane tortured me have I felt such animosity at the loss of my own free will—not when Michal kidnapped me, not when Odessa compelled me, not even when Frederic sacrificed me. Perhaps this corrosive hatred stems from Death laying the foundation for everysingleone of our catastrophic problems, or perhaps he is the breaking point. Perhaps instead he is simply the inevitable, and I’ve grown sotiredof the inevitable that I want to scream. I want to scream, and I want to scream until my throat is raw, until someone explainswhythese horrible things keep happening to us. Tome. Am I truly the one to blame? Or is it Frederic because he slit my throat; Filippa because she loved him?

Does it even matter?

Casting blame will not change the past. It will not right the wrongs. From all directions, every road seems to lead me exactlyhere, yet my life is just that—mine. It cannot be inevitable. Itis notinevitable. And so a single word escapes through my tightly clenched teeth.

“No.”

Death blinks at me, clearly startled, but recovers just as quickly, his silver eyes narrowing as I struggle against our connection. “No?” He tilts his head in polite confusion. “Did you just— Célie, my sweet, did you justrefuseme?”

“I do not belong to you. I do not belong toanyone.”

“Is that so?” A dangerous smile touches Death’s lips, and his eyes pulse brighter. “Shall we test this brave new theory of yours? An education is clearly in order, so what will it be, Célie? The sun or the revenants?Wait.” His eyes pulse with excitement. “I know—let’s take a little field trip, shall we?”

He seizes my nape, and I cannot stop him from forcing my head upright and making an odd grasping motion with his free hand. In response, the scene around us—the pots, the grove, the veryforest—seems to ripple, bunching together like fabric.And it is, I realize in growing horror. Because Death is—he’s gathering the veil in his palm. He’spleatingit. Sure enough, in the next second, he releases me to punch through the folds, and a dark and familiar room appears on the other side. It smells of Requiem, of the castle.Of my mother.

All the air leaves my chest in a painful rush.

She sleeps fitfully in our bedroom, shivering despite the flames in the hearth. Though they bathe her face in golden light, she still appears pale and small against the stark black sheets. I count each of her breaths instinctively, anxiously, tracking the rise and fall of her chest for several seconds before tearing my gaze away to confront Death. “What do you think you’re doing? Ivan and Pasha are just outside, and when they—”

“She looks a bit peaked, don’t you think?” He doesn’t spare her a single glance, instead watching me with something like hunger. “A bit... unwell. Listen to that rattle in her chest.”

“If youtouchher—”

“I won’t need to touch her to stop her heart.” When my eyes flash in shock—inrage—he shrugs and leans closer, his own eyesglowing brighter than ever. He lowers his voice. “I don’t want to do it, Célie. I don’t even want to suggest it, but if you insist on rebuffing my better nature, perhaps my worser one will persuade you. I need to know what happened on All Hallows’ Eve, and I will do whatever is necessary to procure that information.” A meaningful pause. “Do we understand each other?”

His grip returns to my neck when I refuse to answer, and he squeezes hard. Gasping, I snarl, “You willnothurt my mother.”

“Good. Agreed. Then we have a bargain. You give me what I need, and your mother remains unharmed. Of course...” He hesitates with theatrical flair, tilting his head to consider us before bending low to murmur in my ear. I can feel his slow smile against my neck. “If my terms aren’t acceptable, youcouldstart feeding her your blood. She needn’t ever know. Just a drop of it in her breakfast every morning, and even I could not part her from you.”

“You’resick.”

He chuckles darkly before releasing me at last, turning away to kick over La Voisin’s ashes. “Just something to consider.”

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