A Torch Against the Night (An Ember in the Ashes #2) - Sabaa Tahir Page 0,76

here until you can.”

“I need to get to Kauf.”

The Soul Catcher turns her back on me. “Then you better get started.”

«««

Tristas refuses to speak with me. He first tries to attack me, but unlike when I was unconscious, his fists fly through my corporeal body. When he realizes he cannot hurt me, he rushes away, cursing. I try to follow, calling his name. By evening, my voice is hoarse.

The Soul Catcher appears beside me when the Forest falls full dark. I wonder if she’s been watching my ineptitude. “Come,” she says tersely. “If you do not eat, you will only weaken and fail again.”

We walk along a stream to a cabin filled with pale wooden furniture and handwoven rugs. Multifaceted Tribal lamps of a dozen colors light the space. A bowl of stew steams on the table. “Cozy,” I say. “You live here?”

The Soul Catcher turns to leave, but I step in front of her, and she collides with me. I expect cold to jolt through me, like when I touched the wraiths. But she’s warm. Almost feverish.

The Soul Catcher jerks away, and I raise my eyebrows. “You’re a living thing?”

“I’m not human.”

“I gathered that,” I say dryly. “But you’re not a wraith, either. And you have needs, obviously.” I look at the house, the bed in the corner, the pot of stew bubbling over the fire. “Food. Shelter.”

She glares and darts around me with unnatural swiftness. I’m reminded of the creature in Serra’s catacombs. “Are you an efrit?”

When she reaches for the door, I sigh in exasperation. “What harm is there in talking to me?” I say. “You must be lonely out here, with only spirits to keep you company.”

I expect her to turn on me or run away. But her hand freezes on the door handle. I move aside and gesture to the table.

“Sit. Please.”

She eases back into the room, black eyes wary. I see a flash of curiosity deep within that opaque gaze. I wonder when she last spoke with someone who wasn’t already dead.

“I am not an efrit,” she says after settling herself across from me. “They are weaker creatures, born of the lower elements. Sand or shadow. Clay, wind, or water.”

“Then what are you?” I say. “Or”—I take in her deceptively human form, save for those ageless eyes—“what were you?”

“I was a girl, once.” The Soul Catcher looks down at the speckled pattern cast upon her hands by one of the Tribal lamps. She sounds almost thoughtful. “A foolish girl who did one foolish thing. But that led to another foolish thing. Foolish became disastrous, disastrous became murderous, and murderous became damned.” She sighs. “Now here I am, chained to this place, paying for my crimes by escorting ghosts from one realm to the next.”

“Quite a punishment.”

“It was quite a crime. But you know about crime. And repentance.” She stands, severe once more. “Sleep where you wish. I will not disturb you. But remember, if you want your own chance at repentance, you must find a way to help Tristas.”

Days blur together—time feels different here. I sense Tristas but don’t see him. As the days pass, I plunge deeper into the woods in my increasingly agitated attempts to find him. Finally, I discover a part of the Forest that looks as if it hasn’t seen sunlight in years. A river rushes nearby, and I spot an angry red glow ahead. Fire?

The glow intensifies, and I consider calling out to the Soul Catcher. But I smell no smoke, and when I get close, I realize it’s not a fire I saw but a grove of trees—enormous, interconnected, and wrong. Their gnarled trunks glow as if consumed from within by the flames of the hells.

Help us, Shaeva. Voices within the trees cry out, the sound grating and harsh. Don’t leave us alone.

A figure kneels at the base of the largest tree, hand stretched flat against the burning trunk. The Soul Catcher.

The fire from the trees trickles into her hands and spreads to her neck, her stomach. In the space of a breath, her body is ablaze, smokeless flames of red and black consuming her. I cry out, rushing toward her, but as suddenly as she is consumed, the flames die and she is whole again. The trees still glow, but their fire is muted. Tamed.

The Soul Catcher crumples, and I pick her up. She’s as light as a child.

“You should not have seen that,” she whispers as I carry her from the grove. “I did not know