Between the Moon and Her Night (Between Life and Death #3)

Chapter 5

Aurelia

“ Y ou’re the potion maker?” I gasped as I flipped my hood down.

“That, I am.” Ezra performed an eccentric bow before she spun on her heel towards the man who stood beside her and said to him, “Before I forget. I have one more thing for you.” She patted her skirt’s pockets, looking for something. When she found whatever it was she had been searching for, her face lit up with a great big smile. She withdrew her hand and offered it to him, palm facing up. In it—a pebble.

I nearly fell over.

“Put it under your pillow when you sleep,” Ezra told him as he took it from her hand.

“I will,” he replied as he looked it over, his expression equal parts confused and mesmerized.

“I’ll be with you two in a moment,” she told us as she walked the man to the front door. She gave him a few more instructions and then bid him goodbye. When he was gone, she turned to me and said, “Now, would you like to tell me why you are trying to outrun the God of Death?”

The elderly man beside me turned a ghostly white, his wide eyes darting up to mine. “The God of . . .” He stumbled over the last word, unable to say it. Slowly, he stepped away from me. It was an acceptable response, considering not a soul alive wanted anything to do with the keeper of the dead.

Ezra’s piercing eyes landed on him. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, don’t be so dramatic. You’ll give yourself a heart attack at your age,” she scolded, placing her hands in the crook of her hips. She huffed at him before she glanced at me. “I’ll speak with you first.” She looked back at the man. “And you, after.”

“O-o-okay,” he stuttered, his hands clutching tightly to the scarf, which I was beginning to suspect belonged to his unwell son.

“Perhaps you should attend to him first?” I asked with a degree of uncertainty.

Ezra paused for a moment, glanced at the scarf, and then back to me. “No. You first.” She started for the stairs, calling over her shoulder, “Come along, goddess.”

Before I walked behind her, I gave the elderly man a final glance, finding only fear written in his eyes. I could only imagine what he would do if I were to tell him I was Death’s runaway bride.

He’d probably soil his pants. And rightfully so.

When we were upstairs, I walked around the room, taking it in .

The space wasn’t large by any means, but it wasn’t small either. Wood beams supported the slanted roof, vaulting to a high point in the middle. There was a table and four wooden chairs positioned by the only window in the room. It was small and round and locked closed with a brass latch. In one of the corners, two cozy but worn-looking chairs sat in front of a small, crackling fireplace. The fire gnawed away on a few logs of wood, chewing them up and spitting them into ash. Mirroring downstairs, shelves full of tonics and salves lined the north wall, as well as a small working station that had jars and vials scattered all over it, various ingredients strewn about.

“Busy day?” I asked her, eyeing the messy counter.

“It always is,” she answered with a sigh as she walked over to the table and sat down. She placed her hands in front of her, folding them together. “So?” She looked at me expectedly, the question she asked downstairs still standing.

“I made a deal with him. I exchanged Aurelius’s freedom for my own, but I cannot go through with it,” I expressed, walking over to the table. “I’ve spent my immortality appeasing one male. I refuse to spend any more of my time in servitude to another.”

“I cannot blame you for feeling the way you do.” She gestured to the seat across from her. I took it. “But the deal you made is not one that you can go back on. Tattooed bargains, as you know, do not work that way. Not to mention you made one with the God of Death, of all immortals.”

“I refuse to believe that, and that’s why I have traveled all this way to speak with the great potion maker.” Softly, I shook my head. “Little did I know that it was you I would actually find.” I chuckled. “Irony seems to have a sense of humor.”

“Meaning?” she asked.

“Well, I have come to the champion of freedom, asking for my own.”

She took a deep breath, slender shoulders rising. “I am sorry, dear, but as I said before, the deal between the two of you is not one that I can break.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she continued, “I’m not finished. Although I cannot break it, that doesn’t mean I won’t help you, child.”

Any mortal would have found a girl who looked to be no older than eighteen calling her elder a child strange, but to me, it made sense. Ezra and her sisters, the Goddess of Fate and the Goddess of Destiny, were said to be very, very old—even by immortal standards.

“So then, you will help me?” I asked, a shimmer of hope tinting my words.

She nodded. “I will.”

“That’s wonderful. But . . . how?”

She leaned forward, her eyes darting over my arms, as if she was searching for something. Then, she asked, “Has the rotting started?”

I gave her a funny look. “What do you mean by rotting ?”

“When the God of Death decides to call in your deal, if you choose not to accept, your skin will begin to rot, starting where the tattoo is. That is the price one pays if they do not deliver on their end.” She reached across the table and unfurled her hand, revealing a silver tin small enough it could fit in my palm. “Should that happen, this will help with the pain, as well as slow the spread. ”

I took the cool tin, feeling its light weight in my hand. Looking up at her, I asked. “So then because I have seen no sign of . . . skin rot, that means he hasn’t called in the deal yet?”

“That is correct.”

My brows wove together. “Why do you think he hasn’t?”

“Who knows.” She shrugged, pulling her hands back and placing them in her lap.

A sliver of hope trickled through me. “Do you think he has decided to let me go? To forget the deal?”

She cracked a smile and then burst into laughter. “Oh, I highly doubt that.” She shook her head. When her giggles trailed off, her tone became serious. “Death will always yearn for Life. It is the natural order of things.”

“So then . . . I will never be free of him?”

“No. No one is.” She reached across the table and patted my hand. “Don’t look so glum. You have your freedom for the time being. Perhaps you should find a way to enjoy it.”

“Enjoy?” I repeated. I hadn’t really thought about my own enjoyment in . . . well, I couldn’t remember the last time it had crossed my mind.

“Yes, enjoyment. You know. Drinking. Dancing. Eating.” Her gaze pinned mine. “Slipping between the sheets with a man. Or woman. Or both. There is no greater pleasure than the pleasures of the flesh.”

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

“You can,” she cut in. “I see no ring on your finger. Nothing stopping you from living as you should. What happened to the goddess who, a few minutes ago, said she no longer wished to live in servitude to a man? ”

She had me there.

“I will show you how to enjoy yourself and to live as a free woman. But first—” She pointed to the floor and then stood up. “I should help that poor man.”

I rose as well. “Are you going to be able to save his son?”

“That is a simple enough question, and yet the answer is nothing of the sort. Mortal conditions are not always easy to treat, and sometimes, the soul has a will of its own. If the unwell person is not able to make the journey here, then I ask whoever is coming to bring a treasured item on their behalf, so that I can get a feel for their will. If someone no longer wishes to be in this realm, then I will not prohibit them from leaving.”

“That’s why he brought a scarf,” I thought out loud.

“Yes,” was all she said.

A small passing of silence lingered for a moment.

“What do I owe you for this?” I raised the tin, pinched between my thumb and forefinger, and shook it softly. It felt awfully light to be full of salve.

She looked at it and then me, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “A night out. Where are you staying? I’ll have a carriage pick you up tomorrow, around eight.”

“At the Sitting Duck Inn.” It was one of the only rooms available in the entire city, and believe me, when I read the wood sign on the front of the building, swinging in the breeze, rusty chains snickering at me, I had aggressively rolled my eyes. To the point they felt like they were going to get stuck in the back of my head.

She gave me a peculiar look and then burst out laughing. “That’s about the size of it.”