by Sarah Fine
Eli frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Galena stared at a loose tea leaf in her little cup. Drowned. “Eli, is there any other way to make me immortal?” She looked up, struck by sudden inspiration. “Do you think Moros would make me a Ker? Would that work?”
Eli’s eyes half-closed. “No, Galena, that’s not possible. Not for you.”
But Galena’s blood was suddenly pumping with the same excited urgency she always felt when she was on the verge of a breakthrough. “Why not? I mean, you’re bulletproof. Even stronger than Dec or any of the Ferrys. And you didn’t have to marry anyone to become that way.”
“But I did have to give up my soul,” Eli said quietly. “Moros reached inside me and pulled it right out. It still hurts, even though it’s not there.” He grimaced and rubbed his hand over his chest. “It’s how he controls us. All of us.”
She leaned forward. “But he doesn’t control everything you do.”
“As long as I’m doing what he wants.”
“But he wants me to finish my research. He said so himself. If it’s so important to him, why can’t he make me like you?”
“You’re saying you’d give up your soul to finish this research?”
She sat back, that hollow feeling growing inside her. “I already feel like I am, Eli. That’s what tonight feels like.” What made it even worse was that Dec was having to do the same.
“But Dec really cares about you, G. He won’t hurt you.”
It’s not him I’m worried about. Her memories were there, always there, just waiting to break free. “Do you think Moros would talk to me? Would he even consider it?”
Eli’s jaw clenched. “No. He wouldn’t. Because you’re not qualified.”
“Why not?”
“Do you know what I do every day? I Mark people for death. I touch them, and then, just with my thoughts, I determine how they’ll die. Heart attack. Car accident. Gunshot wound. You’re all about saving lives.”
“So are you! You’re a paramedic, for God’s sake!”
“I do try to save lives, G. But I’ve also taken them. A lot of them.”
“Well, yeah, when you were in the army, but—”
“No, G. Not when I was in the army.”
Galena stared at her brother. “What are you talking about?”
Eli let out a slow breath. “Nothing. I’m just saying that Kere have to take lives, and it’s not the kind of thing I want you to have to do.”
The waitress came and set down two bowls in front of them. Eli thanked her while Galena gazed down at the thin noodles floating in orange-red broth, already knowing she wouldn’t be able to take a single bite. It’s not the kind of thing I want you to have to do.
She looked at her brother as he hunched over his meal, slurping up the fiery noodles. She couldn’t bear to tell him what she was thinking. She didn’t want him to hurt more for her than he already did, but she couldn’t help the swirl of betrayal coiling inside her.
Eli didn’t want her to have to end people’s lives.
What he didn’t realize was that it felt like she was sacrificing her own instead.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Shit,” Dec said as he took in what lay before him. In the center of the room was a massive wooden table, its unusually tall legs decorated with images from Greek mythology of Charon, the ferryman of the dead. In the center of the table was etched the symbol of the Ferry: the raven, wings spread for flight. Their family motto, Fatum Nos Vocat, was carved along the edges of the table. And at the head of the table was a chair. His chair.
He looked down at himself. He was wearing a suit, minus the tie. He couldn’t stand ties. But now he wished he’d gotten over himself and worn one, if only to give him something to tug at when he felt the invisible noose tightening.
Every time he thought about tonight, he felt a completely confusing mix of excitement and guilt. He didn’t know whether he was looking forward to being with Galena—or dreading it. “It’s what she wants,” he told himself. “She chose this.”
But only because her other choices were even more hellish.
“I chose it, too,” he mumbled.
For him, there really was no other choice. Not one he could live with, at least.
The door to the room opened, and Cacy walked in. For once, his little sister was dressed conservatively. Her black hair was loose around her shoulders, and her dress was a simple deep-purple sheath. Her eyes met his. “Eli and Galena are going to come down in a minute. I wanted to see how you were doing.”
He laughed weakly and ran a hand through his hair. “How should I be?”
Cacy gave him a sympathetic look and then came over and hugged him. “You’re doing a good thing, Dec. I know it’s weird, but it’s still good.”
“I hope Galena agrees with you,” he muttered, staring at the table. “Does she know what’s going to happen?”
“Aislin and I explained it to her.” She made a pained face. “She’s pretty nervous.”
Dec turned as the door opened again. “Me t—” His words died in his throat as Galena walked in, accompanied by Eli, who was wearing dark slacks and a white button-down, and Aislin, in a black skirt and emerald-green top.
“Seamus is preparing his materials,” said Aislin, gesturing at the door at the rear of the chamber. Dec remembered the first time he’d met Seamus—he’d been sixteen and nervous as hell. Climbing up on that table and exposing his back had been the scariest thing he’d ever done.
Dec blinked as Galena walked forward. She was wearing a simple black dress with a V-shaped neckline, and it fit her body like it was made for her. It probably had been made for her. His gaze traveled from her slippered feet to her face, and he couldn’t help the primal pulse of desire that throbbed inside him. But then their gazes locked, and her green eyes betrayed her fear. He walked forward, drawn by the plea he saw there. “Hey,” he said gently. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks,” she said, eyeing the table. “Is that where I’m supposed to go?”
Dec nodded. “You ready?”
“That’s a really complicated question.”
He took her hand and looked over her shoulder at Eli, who nodded at him, a silent thank-you. “Come on,” Dec said. “I’ll talk you through it.”
Her fingers were cold in his as he guided her to the table. Usually during a Claiming ceremony, this room, which was in one of the basement levels of the Psychopomps tower, was filled with people. For people born into the family, it was a coming-of-age ritual. Dec had attended Cacy’s and had stood by his father’s side. Patrick Ferry had sat in the chair at the head of the table and held his youngest daughter’s hands while she was Marked by Seamus Ferry.
Today Dec would sit in his father’s place. He hoped Galena could take it. When they reached the table, she kicked off her slippers and looked down at the surface, her eyes tracing the wings of the raven. “How long will this take?” she asked in a small, quiet voice.
“Six hours,” Aislin said. “We’ll be done by midnight.”
Galena’s shaking hand gripped his, a tremor vibrating through Dec. He had the urge to put his arm around her and hold her close, but he didn’t know how that would feel to her.
The door at the back of the room opened, and Seamus walked in, pushing his cart ahead of him. On the top rack of the cart was his equipment: the tattooing needle, a bowl filled with black ink, and a knife. When Galena saw it, she went very still. “I,” she began in a choked voice. “The knife. I—”
“It’s not for you,” the old man said as he plodded forward, his gnarled hands and thick knuckles protruding from the sleeves of his long black robe. Seamus Ferry was one of the oldest Ferrys alive, though no one knew exactly how old he was. He hadn’t retired yet, just aged very, very slowly.
“A Claiming today, is it?” he said in a gravelly voice, his beady brown eyes focusing on Galena. “Mmm. Good. A Claiming.”
Dec could feel Galena’s horror through their joined hands, and suddenly i
t was too much. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and sighed with relief when she leaned into him.
Seamus pushed his cart against the table and gestured at it. “Well, get up here, dear. When you’re laid out, we’ll begin the Marking.”
Galena looked back at Eli and then up at Dec. Silently, she sat down on the table and scooted back, then turned onto her stomach. Cacy strode to the side of the table and straightened Galena’s skirt so it covered the back of her thighs. The soles of her bare feet, white and soft-looking, faced the ceiling. Dec tried not to stare at her body, but it was pretty much impossible.
“Who Claims this human as a Ferry?” Seamus asked in a loud voice, his Irish accent thick and lilting.
Dec cleared his throat and said his line, though it felt like it was coming from someone else. “I, Declan Cian Patrick Ferry, Claim her.”
“And who will witness this Claiming by your side?”
Dec felt a pit in his stomach. He’d wanted it to be Trevor. He looked around. “I . . .”
“I will,” said Cacy. She came to stand next to him, and he gave her a smile tinged with sadness. She linked her arm with his as Eli edged closer to the table where his sister lay before them. He looked a little pale.
“And what does the Charon say about this pairing?” asked Seamus, looking at Aislin.
She was silent for several seconds, and Dec’s jaw clenched. But then she said, “I offer my blessing.” Aislin lifted a flat wooden jewelry box she’d brought with her. “And a Scope, forged by the Keepers of the Afterlife.”
Seamus nodded. Then he looked down at Galena. “And you, my dear. Give us your name.”
Galena’s cheek was pressed to the polished wood of the table. “Galena Rachel Margolis,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“And do you consent to be Claimed by Declan, to be linked to him by blood and body, to affix your fate to his until death?”
She nodded, her lips pressed tight together.
“Speak, dear. We need to hear your voice,” chided Seamus.
Galena glanced at Dec, then looked away. But then she looked back, and their gazes held. He felt the oddest swooping sensation, like the floor had dropped out from under him. “I do,” she said, her voice a little louder.
“And do you understand the blessings and limitations of this bond? Do you understand that, should Declan choose to relinquish his Mark and Scope, or should he become incapacitated and unable to perform his duty as a Ferry, or should he be deprived of his title by the Charon, your status as a Ferry will also be voided, until such time as he returns to his duties?”
Every one of Dec’s muscles was knotted tight. This was it. She would be stuck with him, and he would be stuck, too, unable to retire even if he wanted to, unless he wanted to make her vulnerable again.
“I do,” said Galena, still looking at him, her eyes wide and trusting. Something about her expression loosened the tension in his body the slightest bit.
Seamus gestured at Galena’s back. Her dress was fastened by a row of small buttons from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine, a long, elegant line. “Declan, do the honors.”
Slowly, Dec reached down, and he caressed Galena’s cheek with his fingertips. “Yeah?” he whispered.
“Yeah,” she whispered back.
Her consent allowed him to move his feet, which carried him to the side of the table next to Eli, who stepped out of the way for him. This had to be weird for the guy. He was watching someone undress his sister. Dec purposefully did not meet Eli’s eyes as his fingers began to work the buttons, revealing Galena’s smooth, pale skin. She was so slender that the wings of her shoulder blades stood out sharp and fragile in the terrain of her body. Her flesh rippled with goose bumps as it was exposed to the cool air in the room. Dec fought the urge to run his palm down her back, just to connect with her, to offer her some warmth. It seemed to take forever for him to reach her waist, and he took a moment to look at her.
His bride.
Damn, she was beautiful. Dec returned to the head of the table, where he met her eyes once more. “Still yeah?” he murmured as he looked at the buttons that held this specially made dress together at her shoulders.
“Still yeah,” she said, her voice a little raspy.
Dec’s hands trembled as he undid the button on her right shoulder, then her left. He held his breath as he pulled the fabric away and tucked it under her arms, his fingertips only inches from the swells of her breasts pressed to the unforgiving table. Galena’s back was bare. The bumps of her spine, the faint ripple of her rib cage as she breathed . . . He could see so much, and the desire to see more tugged at him, a restless hunger he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Seamus leaned forward and poked Dec in the shoulder. Dec reluctantly tore his eyes from Galena’s body. “Take your seat, Declan, and surrender your blood.”
Galena blinked. Dec slipped off his suit jacket and handed it to Cacy. He undid the buttons at his right wrist and rolled his sleeve up to his elbow. As Seamus pushed the cart within his reach, Dec took his seat in the wooden chair at the head of the table, so he and Galena were face-to-face.
“G . . .” Eli said nervously.
“You are not authorized to speak, Ker,” snapped Seamus.
“It’s all right,” said Cacy. “He’s her brother.”
“Then feel free to stand there and look menacing, but don’t interrupt again.”
Eli’s eyes briefly glowed red, but he didn’t say another word. His gaze kept darting between the knife and Galena, who was now staring at the blade as Seamus lifted it from the cart and handed it to Dec.
“Surrender your blood, that she may be Claimed,” said Seamus.
“You don’t have to watch,” whispered Dec. “Close your eyes.”
She did, tightly, and Eli gave him a grateful look, confirming to Dec he’d done the right thing. He looked down at the knife in his hand. This was the most sacred of commitments, and he’d only just learned his intended’s middle name. He didn’t even know how old she was or whether she was a vegetarian or what made her laugh or . . . if she could ever grow to love him. This was fucking insane.
Protect her and you protect the future, his father’s voice whispered in his head.
Dec brought the knife down and sliced the length of his forearm, the blood welling immediately as he held his arm over the bowl. It hurt like a motherfucker, but the pain came with an odd sort of elation. The decision had been made. Now he just needed to see it through. Dec stared as the shining red drops fell from his skin and into the bowl of ink. Galena flinched at every tiny plink, like they were gun blasts.
After a few minutes, the ink glowed bright, his blood slicking in luminous, shimmering swirls within the ebony puddle. “Ah, that’s enough,” said Seamus. “Very good.” He handed Dec a cloth, which he held over his arm to stem the flow. The wound would be healed long before this ceremony was over. Still, Dec could sense that the knife and the blood upset Galena, so he wound the cloth tightly over his forearm and slid his arm beneath the table, out of her line of sight. Eli nodded, and Dec nodded back.
Seamus stirred the bowl with the tip of the knife, then smiled. “Let’s begin.”
Dec took one of Galena’s hands and interlaced their fingers as Seamus turned on the needles, which hummed with promise. Galena closed her eyes and tucked her face into her shoulder, and it made Dec’s chest ache. During other Claiming ceremonies he’d witnessed, the Ferry sitting in this chair would murmur quietly to his or her intended, planting soft kisses on the beloved’s brow as Seamus did his work.
Dec lowered his head and spoke quietly into Galena’s ear, words only for her. “I’m in this with you, and I’ll do anything you need. If you want me close, let me know. If you want me to give you space, push me away. But you’re not alone.”
Galena let out a soft, desperate whimper as the needles pierced her skin, as Seamus began to draw the raven, not from a stencil, not from a pattern, but purely from memory. He’d do
ne it thousands and thousands of times before.
“I’m here,” Dec whispered again.
She squeezed his hand. Hard. And then her other hand slid over the table and rose to touch his face. Her fingers threaded into his hair and pulled tight. She was keeping him close. The world shrank down to the few feet around him. He was only aware of her.
Dec closed his eyes as the needles hummed, as he inhaled Galena’s honey-warm scent. It wasn’t much. It was only a beginning. But to him, it felt like a miracle.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Galena,” Dec whispered, “it’s finished.” His eyelashes fluttered against her cheek as he lifted his head.
“We’re done?” she croaked.
“Your Mark is complete,” said the old man. “Congratulations, and best wishes for a happy life together.” And then she heard the tinny shriek of the cart wheels retreating toward the back of the room.
She raised her head, blinking as her vision swam and blurred. But then they landed on the man in front of her. His dark hair was sticking up in places, and his blue eyes were shot with concern. She’d spent the last several hours clinging to the sound of his voice. Her fingers were still tightly entwined with his, and she didn’t want to let go.
“You did great,” he said, his thumb stroking over her knuckles.
A glass of water was placed in front of her. Cacy smiled and stepped back. “Thought you might need that. You’re all bandaged up and ready to go.”
After she took a sip, Galena looked down to realize her dress had been buttoned over her shoulders once more. She reluctantly released Dec’s hand and pushed herself up to sit on the table. Eli was leaning against it with an arm clutching his stomach. He looked like he was about to throw up. “You okay?” he asked, his voice tight.
“Are you?” she asked.
“Eli, she’s fine. Go,” said Dec. “I’ve got this.”
Eli gave Dec a hard, searching look, then disappeared. Galena rubbed her eyes. “There is no scientific explanation for that,” she muttered.