Her eyes pierced him, the brown vibrant in the slant of light through the tree branches. “I’ve always seen you. Mama saw you too. Never knew why, but I reckon those sorts of things weren’t up to us. Must be God given.”
An unfamiliar sensation twitched in his chest. This was not the regular begging of the sickroom, the damned pleading for him not to take them to their final resting places as he claimed their souls. This was simply conversation. “You believe in God?”
“Sometimes.” She gazed off in the distance.
“Come, let’s get you ready.” He held out his arm, firm and dark brown, as real to her as it was invisible to others.
They didn’t speak as they reached her low cabin, situated at the far back of the plantation, edged by dense forest and brambles. The cabin’s condition was poor—even by human standards—with rough-cut windows providing little light and poor ventilation. A shoddily hewn door that gaped, somehow managing to both trap the heat of the day and allow in the creeping chill of night. Wooden wattle peeked through the rough white tabby walls as jagged bits of oyster shell glinted in the dim light. A crude fireplace sat at one end, a pair of lumpy pallets at the other, next to a small stand holding a washbasin, a pitcher, and two chamber pots, the fetid smell of sick rising in the cabin’s thick heat. A square wooden table, two chairs, and an assortment of pans and dry goods comprised the rest of the cabin’s contents.
He helped her to the closest pallet, where a small book rested on the stained cloth, its cover bright yellow. He moved it and settled her down. Once she lay back, it was as if all the strength had fled her body. He sat in one of the spindly chairs, surveying her.
“Where is everyone?” he asked, more for conversation than anything else.
“Once the overseer took sick, they moved everyone healthy to Master’s brother’s home and boarded up the Big House.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
She gestured to her skin, mottled with rash. Her eyes gleamed with fever; she had sweat through her dress. He’d seen humans abandon their young for less.
“So, what now?” she wheezed. Blood covered her hand where she’d coughed.
He considered her question. “I take your soul, and we transcend this place.”
She nodded, accepting the fact. “Will it hurt?”
“You’ll leave this pain behind.”
“That would be good. It’s all I’ve known.”
She reached for her book, and Death handed it to her, first reading the title.
Robinson Crusoe.
“Is that important to you?”
She nodded. “My father—I mean, Master Carter—read from it when I was small. I can read it myself now, having listened to his stepdaughter Mary’s lessons.” She dragged it up to her chest. “It brings a bit of comfort.”
“You can’t take it with you.” Although people were always trying. Gold, jewels, papers, and once even a prized pig. Worldly goods held no value in the next place. He nodded toward the book. “What’s it about?”
He didn’t particularly care, but he wasn’t ready to collect her—not yet.
She wiped her hand on her skirt, the blood smearing. “A man who goes on an adventure and sees all the sights to see. He is made a slave and then finds himself free.”
Death examined her. “Is that what you would do?”
She nodded adamantly, wincing at the effort. “I’d give anything to see the world. My brother and I dreamed about it when we were young. How we’d leave our old place and travel. Silas was so sure there must be more to life than this.” She gestured weakly to the rough, craggywood floor where she made her home. A coughing fit filled her lungs, wet and thick.
It wouldn’t be long now.
By rights, he should take her and ferry her soul, but ... he found he didn’t want to. All he wanted to do was carry on speaking with her.
“Tell me, where would you go if you could?” he asked, delaying the inevitable.
“Away from here.”
“Anywhere more specific?”
She was quiet as she considered the question, probably having never been asked anything like it before. “I’d want to go everywhere. Places I’ve only heard about, like Paris or London or where my mother said her father was from. I’d like to see the world and its wondrous things. I’d like to be free,” she said, her breathing ragged.
