Page 43 of Tortured Tones

She jumped at the sound of my voice, but she shot me a sheepish grin. “Research,” she said, motioning to the stacks of books before her.

My library housed an eclectic collection of books, most accumulated when I was alive, but some I’d bartered and traded for in The Between. It was the latter that she had surrounded herself with.

They weren’t all in demonic script, but very few were in languages that I understood.

I nudged her with my knee, and she moved aside for me to join her on the couch. “Any luck?”

Her hair fluttered with her heavy exhale. “Not at all. I don’t even know what I’m looking for and the only books I’ve found that I can read are histories of the living world.”

“Tell me what I can do.”

She looked ready to reject my offer to help but seemed to think better of it as she surveyed the mess around her. “Can you tell me how you ended up enslaved by him?”

I flinched, unprepared for that line of questioning.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, I only thought it may help—”

I held up my hand to silence her. “I don’t mind. You’re right, it might help. I am, after all, a prime example of what not to do when dealing with Behryn.”

Katrin angled her body toward me, drawing her feet up and resting her head on her hands along the back of the couch.

“I made a lot of mistakes in my initial dealings with Death,” I began, glancing away like I could see back to that first day. “Desperation does not make smart men. My fiancée had just died.”

“The woman in the painting?”

Glancing down at my hands, I nodded solemnly. “I forget I still have it sometimes. I can’t bear to look at it, but neither can I destroy it.” That room was the one piece of her I still had. Sometimes, when I felt particularly self-loathing, I would step into the perfectly preserved memory and remember why I had been willing to give so much. I drew in a deep breath and shook off the melancholy train of thought.

“After her passing, I could think of nothing beyond bringing her back. I met her reaper as you met me. There were methods of calling one that have since been lost to mortals. I tracked him down to a place he was bound to pass and demanded he bring me to Death. I had nothing to offer the reaper, but my request amused him. He called for Behryn and he appeared. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on that demon that I would do everything in my power to keep her from his clutches.”

Katrin rested her hand atop my clenched fist. I forced my grip to relax and gave her a tight smile. Centuries had passed, but the memory of that night burned like an open wound.

“I was a wealthy man so, naturally, I offered him money first. Everything has a price in the mortal world, and Iwasn’t accustomed to being denied anything.” I shook my head ruefully. “He laughed and told me to take my money elsewhere.”

It should have ended there, but I was a man broken by the institution of love. My worth was reflected in her admiration for me. Without her, I had nothing. Iwasnothing—or so I’d thought.

I scrubbed my hands over my face, lapsing into silence. To her credit, Katrin didn’t prod, though concern shone from her deep brown eyes. I knew if I didn’t want to continue that she would let the subject drop, but I was determined to keep this woman from Death’s clutches, too.

“I fell to my knees. It was the first time I knelt before him, and he’s been forcing me to do it ever since. I asked him what it would take to bring her back. For whatever reason, he looked at me and saw something he wanted. The price, he’d said, was my soul in exchange for hers. It had seemed a fair trade, though I was reluctant to make it. In the end, I knew that she was more deserving of life than I.”

“Why do you say that?” Katrin asked.

Her brow creased in bewilderment and I mirrored the expression. “I may not have had powers over darkness and shadows, but I have always been as I am. A black sheep, if you will.”

“Being different does not make you less worthy,” she insisted. “If anything, our differences should be celebrated, not punished.”

“Most would disagree, but thank you. Unfortunately, Death does not deal in fair exchanges. Whereas my fiancée’s soul would have been free to travel the bridge to the Afterworld and live in whatever peace can be found there, I became the Ferrier, enslaved to Death until my debt can be paid. The price of a soul, the price of my insolence.”

“I’m sorry.”

I huffed a laugh. “You owe me no apology. Together, perhaps we shall both be free of Death.”

She hummed noncommittally. “I should like nothing better than to greet him when I am old and frail.”

“I would like that for you, too.”

Chapter 30

Katrin