Page 13 of In the Ravenous Dark
“While you’re not hard on the eyes, you’re also kind of creepy,” I say.
“But you’re not afraid,” he says. It isn’t a question.
“Maybe I would be if I weren’t dying.”
He shakes his head gently. “You’re not dying, either.”
“Then what is this?”
“You’re somewhere in between the living world and the underworld. Your spirit has been guided here after your body was placed into a near-death state. But you’re still alive.” His voice is so flat, so calm, my first impulse is to disturb it, like throwing rocks into a still pond.
Caution, I tell myself. Aloud, I say, “Why was I brought here?”
“Because I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Ivrilos.” He holds out his hand.
I eye it, remaining on the other side of the chamber. “I’m not sure I want to meet anyone who requires allthisfor an introduction.” I hesitate. “Especially someone who doesn’t know that colors exist in the world.”
He smiles slightly. “There aren’t many colors where I come from.”
“Where do you come from?”
“Originally from Thanopolis, like you.”
“And now?”
He cocks his head. “I think you know. You just don’twantto know.”
I scoff. “Right. Thanks for the insight, whatever it means.” But something scratches at my thoughts, an unpleasant suspicion. I take a step back.
He takes a step forward.
“What do you want from me?” I ask, my voice climbing higher.
“Like I said, to meet you. You and I are going to be companions… for a while.”
And then I remember where I’ve seen such strange eyes before: on the guardians, the dead men. These eyes are the same. Cold and dark and flat.Dead.
He’s one ofthem.
“Oh shit,” I say. I take another step back and meet the wall of the chamber with my heel.
He cocks his head to the other side, looking almost catlike. Predatory. “I must admit, it surprises me to hear you say that.”
I force a laugh, and it comes out like a bark. “Ladies don’t curse where you come from, either? No colors, no cursing… it must be terribly dull.”
“There aren’t as many ladies as men, truth be told. But no, most of them don’t curse much.”
That doesn’t make sense. The underworld should hold the shades of as many women as men. But now isn’t the time to ask about that. As he’s spoken, he’s taken another step toward me.
“They can’t talk, then, these dead ladies?” I ask, trying to sound calm.
The dead man’s mouth quirks up at one corner. “So youdounderstand where I come from. And no, it’s more that they are well bred. Manners prohibit vulgarity.”
“Do you live in a palace in the afterlife?” I ask as if trying to piece together a puzzle, when in reality I only want to keep him talking until I find a route of escape.
“Something like that.”
“Well, I’m not well bred, so why the surprise?”
