Page 105 of Godsbane
“As soon as you’re healed, I’m going to whoop your ass for putting that job on me.”
“I’m counting on it.”
The physician holds out a vial of green liquid, presenting it to Henry for approval before removing the stopper.
“Just something for the nerves, Captain,” the weaselly man says as he grips my chin and forces the bottle between my busted lips.
The bitter liquid burns as it slides down my raw throat. An invisible heaviness weighs my body down as visions of Ivy dance in my head. A smile that outshines the sun, eyes that sparkle like the finest emerald, a ferocity that burns like a fire.
One thought fills my mind as my eyelids slip closed. One thought that will haunt me until I can say it to her face:I love you; I’m sorry.
CHAPTER 39
IVY
Death is an endless chasm of black.
I am another lost soul tumbling head-over-feet through an infinite void of darkness. The inky abyss is nothing and everything at the same time. I am weightless and heavy. Cold and warm. Alive and dead.
My magic is dormant, completely spent. Only a spark hides somewhere deep within me, a trivial flicker where a great fire once burned.
Not enough to take me back home.
Not enough to take me back to him.
Spots of light appear, tiny sparkling punctures in the obsidian fabric of space and time. The stars grow brighter, morphing into clustered constellations. They’re gorgeous. My hand shoots out in a futile attempt to catch one of the passing orbs before sharp, sudden pain radiates from my right side.
My falling stops as I crash against the cold, polished stone floor. The darkness feels different here. Lighter, thinner, as if there’s only a veil covering my face and if I remove it, I can see again. My eyes adjust, slowly taking in my surroundings.
The room emanates coldness despite its luxurious contents. Oil paintings and woven tapestries cover most of the walls,depicting headless men, faceless beasts, and women with blood trailing across their bare breasts. It’s hard to tell if they’re locked in battle or in the throes of carnal pleasure. Great streaks of white cover the spaces between. Walls made entirely of bone.
I suppress the shiver that tries to run down my spine at the realization, forcing my eyes to the large mahogany desk that sits in the center of the room. Used parchments, forgotten mugs, and a vase filled with wilted godsbane blooms litter the top, accompanying the black leather chair askew behind—all indicating the occupant’s quick departure.
A massive fireplace crafted of exquisite black marble takes up the long wall behind it. Great onyx serpents with gleaming emerald eyes snake across the golden grate keeping the sweltering fire within. The crackling and popping of flames is the only sound throughout the cavernous space.
The ceiling overhead is made entirely of glass, the sparkling stars of night visibly dancing across the obsidian sky. But those aren’t stars, not really. The last glimmers of desperate, seeking souls illuminate the room that I now stand in, and I feel their hopelessness in the pit of my stomach calling out for help. They want to be led and they seek me as their shepherd.
“What are you doing in here?” The voice is pure ice, stinging my ears and freezing the marrow in my bones. The hulking mass of a man steps forward, shadows covering his face. Glowing eyes in a haunting shade of green cut through the darkness, examining me from head to toe.
I am exposed, stripped bare before him as if he can see beyond my skin and is scrutinizing the fabric of my soul.
“Why are you here?”
My tongue feels heavy in my mouth as I try and fail to form words in his language—a language I have only heard spoken once before, yet I somehow understand every word. Ancientsyllables and sounds that haven’t been spoken to mortals in a millennia make perfect sense to me.
He moves towards me, stepping into the firelight to reveal a chiseled jaw more appropriate for a statue than a man. Stark white hair, a perfect match for the bleached bone walls, falls in effortless waves to his shoulders. He is devastatingly beautiful, so beautiful that a mere mortal might freely give over their life for a chance to look upon him forever. But it’s his familiar eyes that hold my attention.
“Do you know where you are, girl?” He says it so casually, so lackadaisically. As if I could stand in the presence of my perpetual stalker and not recognize him. He is the source of the call that has beckoned me my entire life. Him I know—but how I ended up in Death’s study is a mystery.
Unlike other souls, I guess I will not be ferried across the blood rivers to the Eternal Meadows after all. I killed a god, and the punishment for such an act is to face the Dark God himself.
The tiny spark of the destructive magic within me awakens in his presence, a single ember of power flickering to life. A shadow of my full power and not nearly enough to kill another god.
I don’t mean for the huff of breath to escape my lips. The scoff was meant for me—for the absurd thought that I could kill the unkillable. Death’s nostrils flare as he takes another step, scenting the blood that still coats my face.
“You smell like her.” His voice is a growl now, his eyes narrowing to snake-like slits. He’s more animal than man. An ethereal sheen coats his perfect porcelain skin.
Another step closer and my eyes catch on the black veins that spider across his forearms. Not veins—tattoos. Scrawling lines of magical ink swirl across his glowing skin, constantly changing shape.
