Page 10 of A Vow of Shadows
I stared into the depthless black beneath his hood, daring him to see the earnest truth in my eyes.
“What is it that you want from me?” the Ferrier asked.
Though his words promised nothing, I stuck my foot in the door he’d cracked. “Take me with you to your home between worlds. Hide me from Death and keep me alive until I can find a cure for this curse.”
He barked a laugh. “Only a fool would promise something so vague. It could be years before you solve your little problem. Decades, if you figure it out at all. The Between is not a sanctuary to harbor those afraid to die.”
Adjusting the reins in his hands, he turned toward the road. Panic overtook me. I lunged for the carriage, planting my feet on the small step and holding on for my life. He would not be able to brush me off so easily.
“Until the day of my twenty-second birthday, then,” I cried out. “On the eighth day of the eighth month, one year from today, you will return me to my family unharmed.” I’d spent the hours before I’d left cultivating the ideal phrasing for such a bargain, one that would grant me everything I desired with no loopholes to fall victim to.
“What is your name?” he crooned.
I’d been warned against giving my name so freely. There was power in names, but I could win nothing if I didn’t show my hand. Freeing one hand from my white-knuckled grip, I dipped into a shallow curtsy befitting my station. “My name is Katrin Fil’Owen.”
“And what do you offer to bargain, Miss Fil’Owen?”
“Ten gold pieces—”
The Ferrier chuckled, dark and humorless, the sound reigniting my body’s desire to run.
I cleared my throat, doing my best to look down my nose at him though he towered over me from where he sat atop the carriage. “Ten gold pieces foreveryday you keep me safe, paid when the year is up. Plus a good-faith deposit of three hundred and fifty gold pieces.”
He was silent for a long time. So long I feared he would say no.
“You are offering me four thousand gold pieces to keep you from Death for one year.”
I nodded. Finally, I had his attention.
What use the Ferrier had for gold, I could only guess, but legend claimed he took two silver coins from each soul as payment for safe passage to the Afterworld. It was a tradition that loved ones honored by placing a silver coin in each handof their dearly departed before the death rites. When someone suffered a loss, the townspeople would litter the bereaved doorsteps with copper coins to alleviate the financial burden of the so-called ‘death tax’. That kindness meant one less thing for the mourning to worry about, but it still begged the question of why. What did the Ferrier of Souls need with all those coins?
“Show me,” he said.
I hesitated only a moment before stepping down from the carriage and reaching behind my back to untie the sizable coin pouch.
It is said that to meet the Ferrier, the living must journey to the crossroads on foot. I’d done exactly that, praying that no thieves would cross my path as the jingle of hundreds of coins accompanied my every step.
My feet still ached from bearing the weight of nearly four hundred coins, but it was worth every second of agony to see the way the reaper stilled when I revealed the gleaming treasure.
His actions confirmed what I had already guessed. For whatever reason, the Ferrier wanted the money. My relief was temporary as the dark figure descended from his perch in a swirl of darkness. I jumped as he reappeared before me somehow taller than he’d seemed in the driver’s seat.
“What say you, Ferrier?” I’d laid it all out. Every request, every bargaining chip. He would either help me, or I would die.
I glanced back down at the small fortune between my hands. It was a meager price to pay for a life. I only hoped it would be enough to entice the reaper.
The Ferrier’s gaze burned along my body, assessing. “You’re sure about this?”
I nodded, standing tall under his blatant scrutiny. He would not find me lacking.
And perhaps he saw the truth in my eyes, saw that I stood at a breaking point, one I would not rise from if he turned medown. No matter what he’d said, it would take a foul creature to look into the eyes of an innocent and sentence them to death. Though I’d promised myself I would not give up until the Ferrier acquiesced, his next words knocked me off-kilter.
“Very well. You have yourself a deal, Miss Fil’Owen.”
I recovered quickly, dropping my chin to hide the relief that lit up my features. A leather-clad hand stretched toward me, barely discernible from every other dark part of his body. It was perhaps the most foolish thing I’d ever done, but I took the Ferrier’s outstretched hand without pause, only then realizing that he’d offered his left, forcing me to do the same. The smoke and onyx flesh of my marked hand blended with his darkness, making it hard to distinguish one from the other.
The leather gloves were supple, a stark contrast to the strength I felt contained within them. His grip tightened, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to hold me in place as his shadows sprang to life. I watched, captivated while they twisted around our enclosed hands like a serpent claiming its next meal. In a blink, our arms had disappeared into their darkness, only the oddly comforting pressure of his fingers let me know they remained.
Just as quickly as they had appeared, the shadows dissipated, leaving only our joined hands exactly as they had been. Though no words had been spoken, I got the sense that something unbreakable had been forged. I had drawn a line in the sand, and he’d pulled me across. There was no going back—no undoing what had been done.