Page 15 of The Crow Games

I lowered my dagger and straightened out of a fighting crouch. “If you want to know how I got here, go ask your god.”

“We know how you reached the train,” he growled. “What we don’t understand is why you breached the Otherworld in the first place.”

Then I was right. He was a spy gathering information for Death, not another contestant in the trials. My jaw clenched. “What I did before . . . I wasn’t myself. That assault wasn’t meant for your maker. He just . . . I only intended to pass through his realm. He didn’t need to damn me to this place. I’m willing to make reparations for the trespass.”

He scoffed. “That was more than a trespass. Be honest now. What would you have done if an intruder had ripped the roof off your home, then attacked you?”

Honestly? I would have pointed my revolver at their face and pulled the trigger. If Lisbeth had still been alive, I’d have squeezed the trigger a time or two more, just in case.

“I wasn’t myself.” The explanation felt even weaker the second time around. I rubbed at the space high on my abdomen, remembering how the god fire had burned behind my ribs, how it had fueled my fury.

“Which brings me back to my first question,” he rumbled, glancing down at the amulet hanging around my neck. “Besides trouble, what are you?” His dark eyes roved over me, not entirely black. Flecks of browns and cerulean blues fed into that bottomless darkness, the hue so deep I couldn’t find his pupils.

Gooseflesh prickled my skin.

“Are you going to kill me?” If it came to a fight, I wouldn’t make it easy for him. He’d find my soul particularly difficult to collect.

His shadows pulled back, suddenly reluctant, but his expression remained stony. His head cocked to the side, a raptor considering its prey. “We haven’t decided yet.”

“Would your god accept reparations? Would you tell him that I’m sorry?” It was a long shot, I knew. “Truly, it was not Death I was after. Not his home either. I was trying to get at Hel and the garm who wronged me.”

“Reparations?” His lip twitched. “But that’s exactly what this place is. Justice for the crime you committed against the Old One.”

My spirit shrank into my gut. Gray magic tightened my stomach, tugging my lips down into a deep frown. “Look around you. This place will kill me. What justice is there to be had in that?”

“But you’re not dead,” he said flatly, his expression impossible to read. If he decided to attack me, I wouldn’t see it coming. He was too stoic. “You should be grateful.”

“Perhaps it’s your god who should be grateful. If I had been after him, I would have . . .” My words fell away. Haughty, empty threats wouldn’t save me. I let out a slow breath, caging my temper. “Well then, if and when you do decide to kill me, you know where to find me.”

I sheathed my dagger in my waistband. The reaper watched me gather the water sacks into my satchel, motionless and silent. His shadows rippled and rolled beneath him, an angry black ocean crashing against pale, indifferent stone. I put my back to him, a grave insult to those of us old enough to know better, but he didn’t protest the gesture.

His shadows crept after me again, keeping close but never touching. My spirit was frenzied inside me at its nearness. His magical pursuit stopped as I rounded a corner into the alley. I reached the rubbish bins, and my spirit shrank inside me.

Nola and Ruchel were gone.

I couldn’t blame them—they’d warned me—but my heart pinched anyway. I checked high and low to make sure the spy wasn’t following, then I retraced our earlier path back to the main road, the most direct route to the clock tower. Without a guide, it was my best chance of not getting lost out here.

A whistle cut through the wind at my back. My head snapped side to side, looking for its source.

“Maven!” Ruchel hissed.

I spotted the taller Nola first, peeking around the doorframe of a stout building with a glass front, and I let out a breath. They waved me over. I jogged to them, my heart and steps lighter.

Ruchel hugged me around the neck, the gesture so warm and welcome I held on to her, stealing an extra moment of comfort.

“Did the crow follow you?” Nola demanded.

“I don’t think so, but it’s hard to be sure. There are plenty of shadows about for him to hide in.” I handed Ruchel her water. “Just out of curiosity, how many times did Nola suggest you leave me behind?”

The soldier snorted.

Ruchel’s grin went crooked. “Only twice. You must really be growing on her.”

“Just keep moving, you two,” Nola huffed. “No more delays. We’ve been lucky so far, but Hel beasts will awake in larger numbers the closer it gets to nightfall, and there are too many warlocks sniffing about as is.”

We set off at a brisk walk, keeping close to the buildings and the cooler shade they cast.

“What did the crow want with you?” Ruchel asked, lowering her voice as though speaking too loudly might summon him.

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