Grave Destiny (Alex Craft, #6) - Kalayna Price Page 0,106
“You need practice. More than you can acquire in a single evening.” He leaned forward. “And I do expect you to practice. I want to see consistent growth in your abilities.” As he said the words, I felt the debt tighten around me, binding his instructions to my very soul. It was not a comfortable feeling. The Mender continued, not noticing or not caring about my distress over the debt he held against me. “In the meantime, carry the box with you whenever you enter Faerie. You will likely find opportunities to free trapped souls, even if you cannot complete the full task yet. Each soul you release will whittle away your debt.”
I nodded reluctantly and looked down at the box that wasn’t really a box, unsure of the best way to carry it. It wasn’t like it would fit in my back pocket. I rose to my feet, planning to put it in my purse, and the Mender shook his head.
“The shape of it is unimportant, only the function. And that you keep it with you always.” He waved his hand, and the box faded. It reappeared a moment later as a locket on a long necklace. “Is this a more convenient shape?”
“That works,” I said, and when the Mender tilted his head, one eyebrow lifting, I unclasped the chain and hooked it around my neck. I was afraid it would be unnerving having a compacted ball of the land of the dead hanging over my sternum, but I barely noticed it. If I reached for it, I could feel the ball of reality, but it wasn’t distracting.
The Mender nodded as if satisfied, and his face shifted to that of an old man again. “Then I should be on my way. You’ve felt the weight of the debt you owe me. I am giving you no timeline, but if you do not collect enough souls to repay that debt during life, you will still owe me a debt in death. You do not want that.”
I gulped. That last sentence was the understatement of the century. Usually death negated a debt. Apparently not for the leader of the soul collectors. I stared down at my purple-streaked hand. Unless I die in Faerie.
“I have thought of that,” he said. “That is one of his greatest fears. That you will disappear into Faerie, never emerge, and he won’t know if you are alive or dead and trapped for eternity.”
I looked away. I knew he was talking about Death again. And I knew it was something Death worried about. He’d told me as much more than once.
“Keep that locket close, and you will always be tied into our lands,” he said, and my hand flew to the locket. He smiled. “I know you think me some powerful tyrant for my strict rules, but I do care. Now, I must go.”
With that, his form faded from the room. After he was gone, I turned, intending to have a conversation with Falin and then collapse into my bed and sleep at least twelve hours. Then his voice said, “And find the cure for your magic. Sooner rather than later would be best.”
I whirled around. “So it’s possible to cure basmoarte?”
No one was there and he didn’t answer. I waited, hoping he’d come back or say more. He didn’t. Eventually I shuffled back to my bedroom, but though I was exhausted, I felt lighter. A little more hopeful.
Chapter 18
I woke to the sound of loud pounding on my door. I rolled to my back and squinted at the window above my bed. The sky was still dark. Way too early to be awake.
The knocking sounded again, and I pulled the pillow over my head. It was probably Falin. I’d gone to talk to him after the Mender left, but he’d still been at the winter court. I’d texted him letting him know I needed to talk to him before we started working on the case again. I hadn’t meant before dawn.
The knocking stopped.
Nothing that can’t wait until morning. I rolled back over.
The door opened.
PC jumped off the bed, barking and growling. He charged the intruder with all the ferocity contained in his six-pound body.
I sat up, fumbling for my knife as I moved. PC knew and liked everyone who lived in the castle. He wouldn’t bark at them. Which meant someone who didn’t live here had just walked into my room.
I blinked, trying to see in the near darkness as I scrambled to my feet.