Page 73 of Ashes
A violent shudder grips my spine. Despite the fact we’re in public, and next to Ragnor, Mother reaches for my hand. Her palm is clammy. She closes her eyes as the coffin approaches.
“What’s in there?” I ask, dread settling in my stomach.
She doesn’t answer me, just closes her eyes.
Gently, Andre and the others lower the coffin to the ground. Ragnor nods at them. “Go,” he says. “Back inside. All of you.”
Mother starts to walk away too, but Ragnor catches her by the wrist. “You’ll stay, Kayla,” he barks at her. “Your son too.”
Usually, when he speaks to her like this, I see fire in her eyes. But at this moment, I see pain and fear. Mother lowers her head, licks her lips in submission, then slots her hands together behind her back and stands stock still. Watching.
I move to stand beside her. I can smell the fear coming off her now. In waves. But Ragnor and Eve aren’t afraid. They’re excited.
Eve kneels and smooths her hands over the coffin lid. She presses her cheek to it. “Not long,” she whispers. “You’ll be back with us soon, and what a sight it will be.”
“Ragnor.” Mother’s voice is a deep growl. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
He doesn’t look at her. He’s kneeling on the other side of the coffin. “You are a spectator, Kayla. That is all.”
I try to meet her gaze, to tell her it’s not too late for us either; we could run. Right now, we could run away from him and this place and never return. But she simply stares vacantly ahead, as if what’s about to happen is now inevitable.
When Ragnor prizes open the coffin lid, the stench of death fills the air. It congeals in my throat. I gag and throw my hand over my mouth. Mother coughs and looks away.
But Eve is smiling. “There she is. Hello, my pretty.”
Ragnor’s face has changed. He’s smiling. Gently, like he’s picking up an infant from a crib, he reaches into the coffin. When he sits back up, a woman is cradled in his arms.
A dead woman.
Thick, gnarled skin stretched tight over her bones. Sunken cheeks, flesh eaten away, gaping open, exposing white flashes of bone beneath. Thin hair, wiry, black.
A little more than a skeleton, but a lot less than a person. She is an unmoving zombie.
“Elena,” Ragnor breathes, stroking his index finger down thething’s face.
A small mewing sound escapes Mother’s lips. She looks as if she is about to vomit.
“It’s time, my sweet. Time for you to return to me.” He kisses her forehead. As his lips press against her rotting flesh, a swirling mass of dread and fear rushes through my veins. “I did what he asked. I found the Phoenix. I did it for you, my darling. I did it so you can come home.”
Mother lets out a sob. It wracks her chest. She arches her back and clutches her stomach.
Eve claps her hands. “I’m so terribly excited,” she coos.
“What now?” Ragnor asks, his features sharpening as he looks up at Eve.
“Now,” Eve says softly, “we call the King to Earth.” She reaches over and places one hand on Elena’s chest, the other on Ragnor’s. “We give him the Phoenix. He brings your love back to you, and together… we raise the underworld.”
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