Page 9 of A Bond in Flames

Death shoved open the door to his brother’s bedroom. Egon was at Somnus’s bedside, using a cloth to wipe his face. Blood slid from the sleeping god’s eyes, nose, and ears, dripping onto the white linen pillow beneath him, staining it scarlet.

“He’s gone too long,” Egon said, his hand trembling as he tried to swipe away more of the blood.

Death moved closer and cupped his brother’s face. He said something low and guttural in a language I’d never heard before. Somnus’s eyes snapped open suddenly, and I gasped. They were black and glossy with distant stars, like staring into the night sky.

“Frater,” Death said, accent thick and in that same guttural voice. Somnus stared blindly ahead, and then his eyes closed again. Cursing, Death looked up at Egon. “Prepare my things. It’s time.”

I looked between them. “What’s going on? Time for what?”

Death turned to me. “You’ll need to pack for at least a week, but pack light.”

“Pack?”

“We leave in the morning,” Death said and strode from the room.

* * *

There was a soft knock on my door.

I opened it, and Egon walked in carrying a set of leathers—body armor—black with deep burgundy patches at random spots.

“The master wanted me to give you these,” Egon said and placed them on the chest at the end of the bed.

“He wants me to wear those when we leave tomorrow?”

“Yes, my lady.” He dipped his head and turned to leave.

I got in his way. “Why do I need to wear body armor, Egon?”

He shook his head, his glossy horns shining in the lamplight. “It is not my place to say, my lady.”

I’d told him to call me Zinnia more times than I could count, but he refused. “Wherever we’re going, it’s dangerous?”

He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It will be a… a difficult journey, yes.”

“Egon—”

“I must finish packing for my lord,” he said and rushed out the door.

If Death was going on some dangerous quest, why take me along? To him, I was just some weak mortal. A witch, yes, but mortal all the same. He was a god; I’d just slow him down. I rubbed my arms. He’d been playing his piano earlier, and the song had been so achingly sad, I still felt unsettled from listening to it. When he played, it was as if the whole castle stopped, as if everyone was caught up in his song, pulling emotions from those who listened and breaking their hearts into a million pieces.

It was agony.

Shaking out my hands, I tried to let go of it—the feelings his song had stirred in me along with the concern over this trip he was forcing me to take with him—and paced the room. I strode to the window and looked out at Death’s night sky. Stars twinkled down as if I were back home, but I wasn’t staring up at the same sky as Jasmine; no, Death had created it when he created this realm.

Movement caught my eye in the garden below.

I stepped closer to the window. He was down there. His chest was bare, and his smooth skin glowed while deep shadows highlighted every ridge and muscle. His head was tilted back, his gaze aimed to the heavens, while his lips moved.

Was he praying?

I moved closer to the window to get a better look and gasped. The shadows covering his body moved, reforming his appearance. They transformed him, his face reshaped by darkness into a skull, his chest and arms, a skeleton, and his eyes were black, as if reflecting the night sky, just like Somnus’s had looked earlier.

He jolted suddenly, and his eyes cleared, the shadows moving and reshaping, his face and body returning to what they were before. I quickly stepped back, my heart beating hard in my chest.

Whatever I’d just witnessed, I got the feeling it was a sign of things to come.

I needed to be ready for anything.

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