Page 52 of The Crow Games

He cocked a snowy brow at me. “You think a crow like me is going to die?”

I rolled my eyes. “Awfully arrogant of you to assume you can’t, considering you’re a traitor to the gods who is actively attempting to defy them all again and flee your prison. That seems like exactly the sort of thing that could get a man—even a reaper—killed.”

“Hm. I take your point. All right.” He tucked his journal and pen away in his inner pocket, then sat up straighter. “What am I trading for?”

“If I die,” I said, my words measured, “I want you to make sure no warlock can have my remains. It’s not just an issue of pride or decency. If some fool got ahold of my bones, even a novice could turn Wulfram into a crater. It’s in everyone’s best interest that such a thing doesn’t happen.”

All pleasantness bled from his face. His expression slipped into that placid mask, and his magic roiled around him, the choppy waves of an angry dark ocean. Despite wanting to leave the Otherworld, perhaps he disliked the idea of his home being destroyed. “I wouldn’t let anyone have at your remains, Trouble. Ever.”

“Not the Old One either,” I said sternly.

Asher scowled. “Of course. Because you hate him the most. But he didn’t make these trials you despise alone, you know. He’s a ferrier like me. His duty is only to the train. The Old One and his crows helped build the Otherworld. Should he now leave it to the other gods to claim it? The gods who make monsters for their amusement or create vicious beings like giants and then abandon them to do as they please, no matter who they hurt? An agreement had to be made to stop the gods fighting. If they didn’t, more mortals would pay a blood price. At least this way only . . .” His words fell away.

“Oh, don’t stop now on my account,” I said scornfully. “I assume you were about to say that at least this way the ones paying the price are guilty, worthless prisoners who earned their lot? Doesn’t matter to me whose games they are or why. The only things the gods have ever been good at is looking after their own interests and making my life difficult.”

“I don’t think that describes the Old One, and I don’t think guilty or worthless describes you. At least the Old One consistently does his job down here. He tends to the dead, and he treats the prisoners with respect instead of malice. He feeds and clothes them. No one is forcing him to do that.”

“He damned me here—and it’s debatable whether I deserved that,” I insisted.

Asher snorted. “You attacked him unprovoked. You definitely deserved it, you villain.”

“That’sdebatable.” Whether or not I agreed that the games should exist, Death had taken my sister to a place I could not go. That’s all I needed to know about him. “Either way, I don’t want my body animated to push a cart around for all eternity. If you can’t burn me to ash, don’t let my fate be as a faceless servant who brings you drinks and fluffs your pillow until the end of time.”

“The souls of every revenant on the Schatten are ferried safely to the life after. They aren’t trapped in servitude. Their essence isn’t on the train at all anymore. It’s death magic that preserves them.”

“I don’t want that. Even if they aren’t the horrid kind of revenant with a damaged soul trapped inside them. Don’t do that to what remains of me.”

“Then I’ll carry your body out to the desert,” he said, expression smooth, magic tumultuous. I didn’t know his voice could be any lower, but it dropped further still. “I’ll carry you to where the hills turn purple at dusk. Out where no one living or dead could reach you.”

“Thank you,” I said, the words sounding weak and inefficient compared to his eloquence. “If you die—”

“And I will visit you there,” he continued, dark eyes squinting like he was imagining it all. “Every night, even after your remains are dust, I’ll come and see you. I’ll talk to you so that you have company. I don’t know if it’s true that your soul will be able to hear me visiting you in the life after, but I like thinking that it is.”

“I . . . That’s very generous,” I said, voice throaty. I swallowed to clear it. “What would you like me to do for you?”

He was ready with his answer. “At the very back of the train, in the last passenger car, the souls of the youngest are ferried. Being with other children helps keep them calm.”

My heart pinched. “Oh?”

“I like to see to them.” The ghost of a smile played across his lips. “If something happens to me, I want you to visit them at night before bed. Just talk to them a little. Tell them they’re safe. Tell them the train always leaves on time and they’ll be with their loved ones very, very soon.”

“I’ll do that if something happens to you. I’ll visit them every night.” Stretching out my right arm, I held my hand up to him in the old way.

Asher laced his long fingers with mine and squeezed my palm tightly, sealing our deal. He peered at me through powdery lashes, inky black eyes flecked in deep blues and browns, lips pursed, his sharp chin at a tilt. I couldn’t help but admire how well he hid his otherworldly prettiness by being so intimidating that it was difficult to notice anything else. Like the sleek beauty of a panther isn’t notable until the predator is safely behind the bars of a cage. Otherwise, all you see when you’re up close is the sharp teeth and devastating claws.

“You know what we could do instead?” I said, resisting the urge to grin.

“What’s that?” He cocked a platinum brow at me.

“We could forget trying to break out of the Otherworld and just kill the Old One instead. Claim the train for ourselves and never go back to Wulfram ever again. Let the gods fight their own wars for a change.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or have just gone insane.”

A chuckle slipped out of me, giving my puckishness away. Technically, I wasn’t joking, but I also wasn’t insane enough to try it. I’d already attempted to kill the Old One once. He was so powerful, just a portion of his magic had been enough to smother me. Even with the help of one of his reapers, I’d never be able to destroy him.

Asher was indeed very handsome, though.

And he was still holding my hand.

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