Page 102 of Between Life and Death

I looked around, searching for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. I swallowed, knowing this next part was going to be hard. I dreaded the words, and my brain hadn’t even formed them yet. I led with a question instead, looking down at the ground. “Do you know?”

Ezra stopped. Her hands went rigid, her curved shoulders sagging even more. “I know.” She shifted slowly as she moved to her feet. She reached a muddy hand out to me. “Come, let us go inside. And you can tell me. All of it.”

I took her hand and we walked towards the cottage.

After I started the fire and changed from my wet, muddy clothes, we nestled in on our old spot on the settee, steaming cups of tea in our hands and a hand-stitched quilt thrown over our laps.

I told her.

All of it.

Beginning to end.

And together, we wept.

Later that night, Von returned with Kaleb’s body. Ezra and I prepared Kaleb in the traditional way, washing away the blood and the dirt and wrapping him in a shroud—a white, winding sheet.

When the moon was set high and the crickets were singing, we laid him to rest beside the log shed, under the protective watch of the oak tree. Up above, on the oak’s barren branch, two ravens sat side by side. One was small, like the one I had seen before, but the one beside it was larger, its feathers unusually light. It almost looked . . . sickly. Its head slunk down, like it was struggling to keep it up. I felt Von’s eyes on me as I watched the ravens, his steady hand at the small of my back, his touch comforting.

Shifting, I turned back to look at Kaleb’s grave, the fresh, brown dirt heaping over top, contrasting with the lighter ground surrounding it. Ezra spread seeds over the fresh dirt so that next spring it would be decorated with wildflowers.

Together, Ezra and I marked the head of his grave with his trusty, old axe, his fingerprints worn into the wood. Von strapped a flat board across it, utilizing his magic to carve in his name, as well as the words:Beloved Son and Brother.

And it was the strangest thing because when the wording was complete, I could hear the faintest sound of metal striking wood. Ezra’s knobby fingers squeezed mine, a great big smile warming her solemn face. I knew she could hear it, too, that distinctive sound of Kaleb chopping wood.

Finally, the three of us were home.

Together, at last.

Iawoke early the next morning, my hand slipping from underneath my cotton covers, reaching for Kaleb’s empty bed. The sheets were thrown over, spewed about, the way he’d left it the last night he slept there. I made a solemn wish as I slipped from my padded down mattress that his sheets would always remain that way, just as he had always left them—unmade. The irony was not wasted that I used to get after him for not making his bed—Ezra did too—and now, here I was, cherishing those unmade sheets.

I scurried down from the loft, my stomach grumbling for the first time in two days.

The house was quiet. Ezra’s door was closed, signaling she was still asleep. Von, of course, was nowhere to be seen. I wondered where he had slunk off to, although I had a feeling it was probably to do with his search for the Crown of Thorns. The fireplace had been recently stoked, and so I assumed he had not left that long ago. I warmed myself by the fire before I headed to the kitchen, a grueling ten steps away.

I tapped my chin in thought, my breakfast options limited. The potatoes had sprouted enough eyes I wondered if they were watching me. The onion bread—or rather, what was left of it—was a lump of green-blue mold. I threw it in the garbage then glanced at the small basket of eggs. There were six. That gave me a place to start—if they weren’t rotten. I lifted one, sniffed the shell. I hissed—even through the shell, it smelled horrific. Sighing, I dumped those out too.

A thought—a dangerous thought—occurred. I dared a glance at Ezra’s shelves, dared a few steps forward. I stopped abruptly, remembering what horrors she stowed inside and shook my head. I was hungry, but I wasn’tthatdesperate.

It was too late in the season to visit nature’s produce store, and I didn’t have it in me to go hunting. Ezra would probably be asleep for a while anyway. I glanced at my wicker basket, hung in its usual spot just beside the door, and decided to head into town.

As I closed the protesting front door, the hinges a few swings away from calling it quits, I turned and bumped into something that felt like steel. Warm steel. Leather and amber enraptured me.

“Von,” I said, looking up at him.

Gods, he was tall. Inappropriately tall. Doorways must be a bit of an issue—I imagined he did a lot of ducking. That would be annoying, wouldn’t it? No wonder people stared at him. Well, there was his height, and then there was the way he looked—sinfully built, impeccably dressed, and his face, divinely made. Today, he sported a five o’clock shadow, which emphasized his chiseled cheekbones and masculine jawline.

Von raised one thick black brow—the one with the slit through it—and glanced at the empty wicker basket hooked on my forearm. “Going somewhere, Little Goddess?”

“Yes, to the village to get some food. Everything inside has gone rotten, moldy, or stale,” I exclaimed, my stomach grumbling, furthering my claim.

We both looked to my protesting stomach.

Eager to retrieve something to eat, I stepped around Von and began to walk towards the village. When I didn’t hear his footsteps behind me, I glanced over my shoulder and said, “Well, are you coming or what?” It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t ask it like one.

“Soverybossy,” Von chastised playfully, his words steeped in his rich, decadent baritone.

I made a point to roll my eyes just so he could see before I continued forward. In a few strides or less, he easily caught up with me.

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