Zachariah

A cold wooden floor. Distant voices. Sounds coming in waves through a tunnel. The vibrations of footsteps thrummed against the back of my head. I knew then I was on my back, but I didn’t know where I was. I just knew everything hurt. My only solace was the darkness behind my eyelids.

Reality settled in slowly as I listened to muffled voices, deep in conversation. I was back. It should have felt like a victory, but the pain of loss echoed through me as much as the blood in my veins. I was a damned fool. Death had taken my friend in the worst way possible. And if I wanted Rowena’s soul saved at all, I had to kill eleven-thousand people. Quickly. Before she was swallowed by the Abyss forever.

If only Death had taken my hearing too.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” came a posh feminine voice. Sharp and clipped. The click of heeled boots came toward me.

“She’s probably just recovering. It was likely a hard battle,” came an accented male voice. It took me a moment to place Dash’s voice. Everything had a sort of echo to it.

“No Zachariah is breathing. Rowena isn’t! She’s not breathing, Levi!”

Rowena…

Sparks of light danced across my eyes as I opened them. Stifling a groan, I rolled onto my side. Knuckling my eyes with one hand, I propped myself on my other arm and looked around.

I was in Myra’s bedroom, and six pairs of eyes now stared me down. I didn’t know how long I had been unconscious, but it was definitely long enough for someone to lay me on my back next to the window. Rowena’s body was laid out next to me along with the shifter’s. Both were utterly still. She was still in her dress, the dark color contrasting with too-pale skin. Her eyes were closed, face relaxed. Rebellious strands of raven hair fell out of the fancy knot it was tied into. The only thing that was different was her neck. Where there had been rows of Marks, there was now only one.

A brief moment of silence passed, and then the questions started. And I was in the deepest of the Hells.

Myra and Levi knelt next to me, asking questions in tandem and interrupting one another in their haste. Their gazes drifted to the bodies of Rowena and the Shifter again and again as they spoke over each other. I was able to hear the common questions between the two of them.

Where was Rowena?

What happened?

Was the Shifter dead?

Were they coming back?

Why was I awake?

Why wasn’t Rowena awake?

Where was she?

The room came into focus as I glanced around, unable to get a word in edgewise. Then again, I wasn’t in any hurry to answer their questions.

Myra’s mother stood in the doorway along with Lord Beaufoutonte, their faces pinched in concern.

“Peace you two,” Dash said, cutting Levi and Myra amidst their endless stream of questions. He was breathing hard, his coat and tie disheveled. I remembered how he had helped to grapple the Shifter right before Rowena sent us on the journey that would end her existence. He placed a hand on Levi’s shoulder while meeting Myra’s eye, his voice calm and low.

“Give the man room to breathe.”

Numbly, I nodded my thanks to him, but I knew I couldn’t delay forever. The room finally fell quiet as I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Gods, I wished I could find a way to explain. But nothing seemed to encompass it all. What could I possibly say? The Marks on my neck seemed to burn as the seconds turned into an eternity.

I vaguely registered more footsteps before Rowena’s father knelt next to her body. He pushed his glasses up his nose, hiding his eyes as they glinted in the everlight lamp. Violet eyes. Rowena’s eyes. Eyes that would never open again.

Black hair with shoots of gray fell into his face as he bent down, pressing a finger to her neck. His face was a blank mask as he waited to feel a pulse, but of course it steadily fell. A line formed between his brows as he straightened finally. He looked at me before turning to the rest.

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And that’s when I finally found the words. Rowena’s father wouldn’t give this news. I would. She deserved that much.

“Death destroyed her. She’s gone,” I said, swallowing hard.

A beat passed, everyone going still as statues.

“No,” Myra said thickly, shaking her head. She crossed her arms as she glared at Rowena’s corpse.

“You don’t like me enough to die for me, Miss Rowena,” she said, silver gathering in her eyes, “So wake up!”

She bowed her head, swallowing hard.

“Please.”

Levi had already knelt where his father had, mirroring the man’s actions. His jaw hardened as he searched for what wasn’t there.

“Come on, Wen,” he murmured. It settled on him in phases, his focus shifting to me gradually. Suddenly he pivoted to face me, pinning me with his eyes.

“What happened?” he asked, though I saw his hand was still on her neck. Still feeling for a pulse.

“What. Went. Wrong?” Levi asked as I slowly pushed to my feet, his voice dropping like Rowena’s.

I pulled in a deep breath.

“Everything.”

Nobody said anything as all of us stared at her body, too still in the bedroom. Silent as any graveyard. There was only the crackle of the fire, and the pull of the Marks on my neck and back. Rowena’s father was the first to move, turning away and walking toward the door.

“At least she is on the Far Shore with her friend now,” he said calmly.

No, I thought, She isn’t.

Like he was discussing anyone else besides his own daughter. He nearly made it to the door before Levi was striding toward him, Myra on his heels. Son outpaced Father and barred his way through the door, a storm brewing in his face.

“Your daughter is dead, Father, and you can’t even remember the love of her life’s name?” Levi asked, and I saw Dash step up behind him. The large man kept his silence, but I didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed on Lord McAlister.

The older man didn’t even blink.

“She hadn’t been part of this family for ten years. Not truly. She made that very clear. Be glad I said even that,” he said evenly, adjusting his coat more evenly on his shoulders. And with that, he shouldered his way past his son and walked down the hallway.

Nobody seemed to know where to look. Levi and Myra stood together their hands clasped as we struggled to figure out what came next. Lord Beaufoutonte and The Matron were murmuring to them tensely.

Voice still echoed from downstairs as the guests filed out, Stone’s deep commands keeping command. Gods. Stone. He still didn’t know.

Lord Beaufoutonte and The Matron came toward me

“Zhat zhing is dead? Zhe guests are safe?” The Matron asked, looking at the half-transformed corpse. I managed to nod.

Lord Beaufoutonte met her eye briefly before nodding.

“We must summon Addie to prepare the bodies,” he murmured, his shoulders slumped.

Narrowing my eyes, I sent him a questioning gaze.

“That one,” the Lord said, pointing at the shifter’s body, “for disposal.”

He looked briefly to the doorway where Rowena’s father had vanished and gave the barest shake of his head. He then redirected his hand to Rowena’s body, his gaze softening.

“And since it appears Miss McAlister will not be welcome elsewhere, she will be buried in the Beaufoutonte family crypt. As thanks for my daughter’s safety and–”

I shook my head, cutting him off. Everyone watched as I walked to her, stooped, and picked her up off the floor.

I knew a better place to bury her.

*******

I didn’t expect to sleep that night, but eventually, I succumbed to exhaustion. One moment I was resting at the base of a tree in the small clearing, and the next I was walking through a field of mists.

Nearly a thousand different people were speaking somewhere far away, but I couldn’t make out the words.

“You hear them. The voices of those whom you carry,” someone said behind me. I rounded, even though I knew what I would face.

Lorian stood behind me as he had in Purgatory, his wings spread.

“Why am I here?” I asked, trying to relax. Lorian stared down at me, his shoulders set.

“You called me. We who are touched by Death are…connected.”

I frowned, feeling the mist gather thickly around us.

“Rowena talked to you like this?” I asked.

“Your friend’s soul is…different. Her rage blocked us from visiting her, although Lera often tried to send her whispers,” Lorian explained, dropping his chin.

“Can Death hear us?” I asked looking around, but there was nothing but drifting fog.

“Only those invited to the plane can hear,” Lorian said, looking around. He made a complete circle, before looking at me again.

“You have questions,” he said, meeting my gaze with those unsettling red eyes. I swallowed and considered him.

“You said that events needed to take place,” I said, curling my hands into fists, “Did they?”

Lorian’s eyes softened suddenly before his face turned blank again.

“Something is coming for humanity. Something that your friend lacked the ability to fight. You are where you must be, and so is she.” My jaw hardened as he finished, but I didn’t have time to argue.

He closed his eyes, his shoulders dropping as he retreated backward into the mist. I tried to follow him, but he was somehow faster. Eventually, he was nothing more than a silhouette, his voice carrying above the others.

“The changing of the guard has come. What is honorable, what is smart, and what is right are three different realities. Humanity will need one who knows how to combine them.”