Belladonna (Belladonna #1)(26)

Talking to Death felt like listening to a riddle. She could barely resist rolling her eyes at how long-winded he was and had to press two more berries to her tongue.

“Tell me whether I can do more with your powers,” she said, firmer this time but keeping her voice low in case Sylas was nearby. “You said that night that you could explain, so do it. Quickly.” If Death had eyes, she imagined she was glaring straight into them.

The trees fell quiet when he spoke. “Here, in this space between the living and the dead, it would seem as though you are able to do more than pester me, Little Bird. I don’t know the extent of your abilities, but I do believe you’ve barely scratched the surface.”

Signa swallowed down the fear that festered in her throat, her suspicions confirmed. “How is that possible? What have you done to me?”

When the ground beneath her feet trembled, Signa understood she’d asked the wrong question. “Because you are so quick to blame me,” Death said, “let it be known that I have not done anything. I am not responsible for your gifts. I am not responsible for what happened to your aunt, though sometimes I wish that I was. The things she put you through… Had you not wanted her alive, I might have taken her long ago.”

“My wanting someone alive has never stopped you before.” Her body was a tensed coil ready to spring. “Am I to believe you had nothing to do with the deaths that follow me wherever I go? That I alone am responsible for them?”

Night pulled closer as Death drew forward. “You bear no responsibility for those deaths. Magda’s was the first life you took. Even I was not expecting it.”

If what he said was true, and even he hadn’t been expecting that to happen, then…“How?”

The wind itself seemed to whisper the response. “There’s a reason you can see spirits, Signa. There’s a reason you’re able to cross the veil between life and death. Though I’ve not been able to confirm why, it seems your suspicions are correct. When you’re here—when you have crossed the veil and are able to see me—it seems you have access to an arsenal of skills similar to my own.”

So strange was the mix of relief and horror that Signa felt. Bile rose to her throat at the confirmation of what she’d done. None of the other deaths were her fault, which of course was a relief. Yet Magda’s death was her fault. Her aunt had died by Signa’s hands, and the thought alone made her want to curl up against the nearest tree and let herself be sick.

“Listen,” Death whispered. “Important rules were broken that night. Life and death is a game of balance, Signa. A balance that must always be maintained, otherwise you will bring chaos into this world. Magda was not meant to die that night. When a life is taken, another must be spared. Do you understand?”

His words, yes, but the actuality of them? Signa was barely comprehending any of it. Death’s sigh blew across her cheeks as his shadows drew around her. “When you killed Magda,” he explained, voice tiring, “I had to give life to another who was meant to die that same night. It was Blythe who I gave it to.”

Her eyes snapped up. “Blythe would have died?” Though their meetings had been short, Signa had seen how fiercely Blythe’s soul blazed. The girl was too young, too innocent, and too full of will to die before she’d gotten the chance to truly live. Though Signa knew it shouldn’t have—knew it wasn’t right—knowing that Aunt Magda’s death had saved Blythe made her feel… better.

Like something she’d be willing to do again, if given the choice.

“You saved Blythe?”

“You saved Blythe,” Death corrected her. “Though you killed another to do it. Do you understand what I’m telling you, Signa? There is a cost to everything.”

For a long moment Signa was too hung up on his words to speak.

She had saved Blythe.

She hadn’t doomed Blythe to a sudden death. She hadn’t cursed her or killed her or been the reason behind her suffering. Rather, for the first time ever, Signa had saved someone.

Mind reeling, she pressed her hands to her thundering chest as though to still her heart. In this space between life and death, she had the reaper’s powers. If that was true enough to both take and give life, then what else could she do with such powers? In the back of her mind an idea was brewing, though she needed to learn more before she could act on it.

“Lillian contacted me last night,” Signa admitted suddenly, whispering as though her spirit might overhear.

“I’m not surprised,” he said. “Your actions already saved her daughter once. You and Blythe are connected now.”

“Did you know this would happen?” Signa asked, braver than she’d ever felt as she peered into the depths of his shadows. “Did you know I’d end up here at Thorn Grove?”

“I knew Blythe would die that night, just as I knew the Hawthornes were your last remaining family. I spared her so that you’d be welcome here, though I cannot take her ailments away.”

Perhaps it was unwise to challenge Death, but she didn’t care. “Am I truly welcomed, or are you the reason I’m here? What sorcery must you have cast upon the Hawthornes for them to accept me?”

“There was no sorcery,” he told her. “I merely helped speed along the process with a letter. Despite what you may think of me, I want you safe and in a stable home. Had I chosen someone other than Blythe, that opportunity would have been lost.”