A Shadow in the Reaping by Brynne Weaver
Chapter 33
"This place is fucked up," Ediye says to me in a low voice as a black carriage emerges from the fog, pulled by a line of souls. The chains dangling from their necks clank as they slacken and the carriage draws to a halt.
Tell me about it, I think as I look over with a weary half-smile. Her grip across my shoulder tightens.
There's a tug on the glowing chain wrapped around Ediye's throat. It's a warning from the guard that stands behind us, tethered to the other end: don't try anything stupid. Not that she could with an enchanted obsidian chain tied around her neck to mute her power. The guards don't even bother to bind me. I'm in no state to threaten anyone.
The carriage door swings open and Ember is the first to enter. Ediye and I are pushed forward by the Reaper guards behind us, Ediye entering next to pull me up with her. The guards follow and shut the door behind us as the carriage lurches forward.
"It's good to be back, don't you think, Lu?" Ember asks as she crosses her legs and regards me with a coy and devious smile. I give her my middle finger. Her smile widens.
I look away, watching the fog outside the window as we pass through the veiled streets of the Shadow Realm. I want to ask Ember a thousand questions about Ashen. I want to ask if he's okay, if he's awake. If he's injured or in pain. If he's safe, as safe as anyone can be here in this place. I want to know if he's tried to come for me, even though the corridor of his estate was still closed when we arrived there with Ember. She must have come another way. Maybe she was already in the Living Realm. Watching. Waiting.
Ashen's voice in my memory pulls a tight cord across my heart. If you're trapped in the Realm of Light, I will still find you. I close my eyes and lay my head on Ediye's shoulder, replaying those words in my mind, imagining the warmth of his touch on my skin. My heart is as sick as the rest of me, I think. I drift to the brink of sleep but it's an island I never reach in a dark and desolate sea.
It feels like every second is a minute, every minute an hour. Our carriage lumbers a winding path through the fog and twilight. Sweat still coats my body in a slick film. The numbness in my fingers comes and goes. Sometimes, the pins return to press on my eyes, but there are no seizures to follow in the confines of the black carriage.
Ediye taps my hand and I force my eyes open. It feels like it takes a lot of strength to do so. The thought crosses my mind for the first time that I might not just be sick. I might be dying. When I look at Ediye I can tell that the same thought is already embedded in her brain like a thorn. Her brow creases. I hear the erratic rhythm of her heart as her anxiety climbs. She tries to give me a reassuring smile but it comes out fake, like it's been painted on.
"Have you seen that before?" she asks, pointing to the window. The fog is less pervasive here. I can see for a distance. We're on a long bridge over a bay of black water that seems too thick and oily. The waves move unnaturally against one another as though creatures stir their currents beneath the surface.
"The Bay of Souls," Ember says, leaning forward and casting her gaze to the horizon. "It’s where the detritus of human civilization comes to suffer for eternity. Isn't it beautiful?"
"Not really," Ediye says.
I shake my head.
Ember smiles. The sparks and cinders in her eyes dance with amusement.
We reach the end of the bridge and the fog thickens, but I can still see the black marble blocks of a tall gate in the mist as our carriage passes the threshold. Gargoyles loom over the guards that stand watch, silver spears with points of flame aimed to the dim light of a hidden sun.
The road curves and we stop at a tall building of the same polished black marble as the gate, imposing and unwelcoming. Torches ripple on either side of heavy iron doors, a line of guards in armor standing either side. We exit the carriage and it lumbers away, squeaking as it rolls into the abyss of silver mist.
Our taxi isn't going to wait, I guess, I sign to Ediye. She has her fiercest, most badass face on, and I love her for it. Her only acknowledgement of my uneasy message is a twitch in her lip.
Ember leads our party up the wide stairway to the entrance, not bothering to check if we follow. The Reapers behind us push us along. The guards at the doors pull them open with great effort despite their strength, and we pass into a hall of shadow.
The rhythm of my heart doubles in the dark. I can't see as well as I normally can. Pins pierce my eyes and I stumble in pain. Ediye grips my arm and whispers encouragement close to my ear. Keep going, Lu. Focus on the sound of my voice. One foot in front of the other. The guard tugs on the chain in another warning and she snarls her own warning back at him. But she doesn't give in. She doesn't stop. She continues her soothing monotone, even when I trip and she pulls me back up. Even when I stop to vomit blood on the slick black floor. Even when I close my eyes and lean against her as we walk.
So I focus on the things I can cling to as I drift on waves of unrelenting pain. How I can't give up, because Ediye needs me now as much as I need her. I have to get her out of the Shadow Realm. And I think of Ashen, that he's got to be here somewhere. That I need to find him, even if I don't have a spell to guide me. Even if it's only for a last look or a final word, to tell him how I feel. That I'm not just falling into love, I've landed in the very depths of it. It’s as consuming as the desperation of not knowing where he is. And I don't think I've got much time left to tell him, because I'm not going to make it very long like this. I might not get another chance.
We walk for what feels like an eternity. Our steps echo up the stone walls that encase us like a tomb. I try to picture the good things I can think of when pain threatens to drown me. I feel Ediye's steps falter beside me and I open my eyes.
The space opens to a wide room, many stories high. Black smoke cascades up the wall like a reverse waterfall. A dais stands before us, lit by shafts of light from a window behind us that must sit above the cover of fog. We slow to a halt.
There are three Reapers standing on the platform.
The one in the center is a tall man, older but still handsome, with streaks of grey in his dark hair and trimmed beard. His hand is folded around a long metal spear that rests at his side.
To the left, a woman with fair skin and waves of red hair that fall across her shoulders. Her hands are clasped together at her waist, her expression placid but observant.
To the right is Ashen.
I close my eyes and bend my head as relief overwhelms me. It floods my veins like a soothing serum, and for a moment I imagine it cools my burning skin and calms my pain. Tears sting my eyes and when I open them they fall, thick and cool on my fevered skin.
Ashen's expression is unreadable. I can see the rise and fall of his chest. I can almost smell the ink and tobacco that would comfort me if I could just feel his embrace. I meet his eyes and see the spark of flame in his pupils. I don't know what thoughts might live behind them. Everything is buried far beneath layers of armor centuries thick.
"Well done, Ember," the man says as Ember separates from our group, stepping closer to the dais. "When you spoke of a weapon to bring the Realm of Light to its knees, I hardly believed you. But now I see. She shines very bright indeed. I can see the stain of their promise on her soul."
I look from the man to Ashen and back again. My fingertips are numb. I don't feel them as I press my nervous grip into Ediye's arm.
"Not only that, Master Eshkar. She is Leucosia, the last of the original sirens. The one that gave Hakan an everlasting death on the island of Anthemoessa," Ember says, looking back at me with a smile of malice and delight. I hear the sharp intake of breath from the two unfamiliar Reapers on the dais as their shocked gazes shift between me and Ember. I look to Ashen. There is ferocity and determination in his gaze as he flicks it to Ember. He meets my eyes again and I wonder if he might tear this room apart.
"Truly?" the woman asks, and Ember gives a definitive nod. "How is that possible?"
"She faked her death. I'm sure the witch here had something to do with it. Perhaps my brother can confirm the specifics." Ember turns on her heel, pressing the sharp point on the stone as she locks her eyes to mine. "None of this would have been possible without him, after all."
My heart ricochets on my ribs.
"Gaining Leucosia's trust, luring her here... bringing her to the enemy... using her to uncover their secrets."
My lungs burn in the absence of breath.
"Releasing the pack of hyenas into House Urbigu was a particular stroke of genius on his behalf. Nothing grows trust and affection like fighting danger together, isn't that right, brother?"
I turn my gaze to Ashen. His eyes are fused to Ember. He says nothing. No affirmation. No denial. No acknowledgement that I'm dismantling right before him.
Despair crashes through my chest. I try to grip my heart, as though the shattered pieces will pierce through my skin. Needles of pain radiate through my eyes. My legs and arms tremble. I drop to my knees before Ediye can catch me. I seize but I stay conscious long enough for Ediye to pull a thermos of her potion from the hands of one of the guards, forcing the liquid down my throat. Ediye's arms fold around me until the tremors subside.
"What is wrong with you, vampire?" Eshkar asks when Ediye hauls me to my feet. She knows me better than anyone. She knows I won't want to writhe on the floor. I wipe my tears and swallow my sorrow, raising my eyes to the man in the fiercest glare I can manage. "Speak."
"She can't," Ediye says.
"It's a lie. She can," Ember snaps.
"Not anymore. They burned it from her."
My glare intensifies as tears for another loss mount in my eyes. I turn my feral rage to Ashen. He looks back at me, the flame brightening in his eyes. The hand clasped around the hilt of his sword tenses.
"They started the process of turning her into a hybrid," Ediye says. "They have not finished."
Ember turns toward the dais. "Good. We will finish the job. Bring me Gallus and I will see it done."
The woman with the red hair nods.
"Not only have you brought us a powerful weapon that will win the war against the Realm of Light, but you found a great prize that had slipped away without our knowledge," Eshkar says as he turns toward Ashen. Ashen pulls his eyes away from mine and for a moment I think I see pain within them, but maybe it's just my own that I imagine there. "Your service to the Shadow Realm has been long and dedicated. You have earned a great reward."
Ashen's eyes narrow in confusion and question.
"Bring the soul."
For a moment, I think the guards behind me will push me to the dais. But there are no hands on my back.
I hear chains clanking from the shadows of the room. A Reaper pulls a thin and tattered soul toward the dais. A witch. I can tell, though I don't know how. I just feel it, the dead magic within her.
I look to Ashen. His breath is quickening in his chest. His lips part. His eyes dart from Eshkar to the soul and back again.
Eshkar looks to the woman next to him and sweeps his hand toward the witch soul. “Imogen, if you will, please begin.”
She gives a nod in reply and closes her eyes for a long moment, and then she starts to chant. When Imogen opens her eyes they glow with a brilliant green flame. She continues her chant as she descends the steps of the dais, raising her hands toward the soul. Black tattoos etched to her palms glow with golden light.
The chain clasped to the soul's neck breaks apart and clatters across the stone. The soul wavers on her feet but the guard holds her arms, keeping his grip solid as Imogen draws to a halt before them. She presses her palm to the soul's chest.
Golden light hums on the witch's skin. Static crackles in the air.
"Sag anir niggiggaa udmi nibzal zale," Imogen says.
Light explodes from the body of the soul. She crumples to the floor, naked and shaking. Black tattoos erupt across her skin as though carved from the inside out. A bird. Geometric flowers. Honeycomb. She turns over and gasps for breath, her eyes burning bright with white flame. On her chest, the face of a jackal above her heart.
The last of the black lines carve sweeping lines beneath her collarbones. They burn out like fuses in her skin. When the last of the golden light dies, the witch curls into herself, panting and shivering on the cold stone floor.
The Reaper who dragged her in lays a cloak across her naked body and pulls her to a seated position. She brushes long hair the color of honey and gold away from her face and looks around in confusion and fear.
Ashen takes a heavy step from the dais. He looks at me. For a moment I see every truth behind his eyes. That life is time and loss. It's choices and failures. It's holding on and letting go. And I don't think I fit in any of it. Not anymore.
"Ashen?" the witch asks from the floor. Just one word. It means so much to her. I can feel the time and loss just like I see it in Ashen. But I hear rebirth in it, too. Another chance at something lost long ago.
Ashen takes another step down the stairs. I see the doubt, the question in his eyes.
"Davina?" Ashen asks.
She pushes herself to her feet. She takes an unsteady step in his direction. He takes another down from the dais.
A sound of hope and disbelief pours from her and she rushes to him, crashing into his body, wrapping her arms across his back. Her cry is unlike anything I've ever heard. But it's everything I wish I felt. Ashen wraps one arm across her back, and then the other. He closes his eyes and I lower my gaze to the floor.
Eshkar pounds his spear to the dais. The sound ricochets across the walls around us. Two Reapers creep from the shadows as the guards behind us step closer and grip my arms. I look one last time at Ashen. Davina weeps in his embrace. His eyes are fused to mine over her shoulder, glowing with the brightest flame.
"Take the witch and the weapon to the cage," Eshkar says as his voice booms around us.
"The war against the Realm of Light has begun."