Belladonna

SIGNA DIDN’T WAIT TO SEE THE FATE OF PERCY’S SPIRIT. WHETHER HE chose the afterlife or to linger, or whether Death claimed Percy’s soul as his own, she had no desire to know. She sat with her back against a tree just outside the garden and barely felt the bite of the snow sinking into her clothing or the smoke still in her lungs, even as the garden fire was snuffed out.

It was over. After all this time, the Hawthornes would be spared from their torment. Or at least those remaining would, though Signa didn’t want to think about that. She curled her arms around her knees, trying to process all she’d seen and done, and only looking up when two pale, translucent feet appeared before her.

Lillian sat down beside her, no longer so terrifying. The wounds around her mouth were healing, and her eyes were no longer so hollow. She was more a woman than a spirit. A young, mournful woman with damp eyes that watched the smoke dissipate in the sky.

“Thank you,” Lillian said. The words were soft and a little scratchy from disuse, as if she struggled to remember how to form them. Signa turned to peer at the spirit, who set a hand upon her arm.

Signa felt her hesitant touch like one might feel the brush of the wind against skin, gentle and a little cold. “You have nothing to thank me for.” Her voice was harsher than she intended. “I couldn’t save them both.”

Even as the sound of Percy’s laughter as he’d spun her across the parlor rang in her head, she couldn’t regret her choice. Percy’s remaining years would go to Blythe; it was the least he owed her. But the callousness of the decision had surprised her. She’d known what to do so quickly, so easily, and she hadn’t once hesitated.

Signa truly was a reaper. And though she didn’t know what it meant for her or her future, there was no going back.

Death emerged from the garden gates, his shadows slipping away to reveal the form of Sylas, only with silver hair in place of black. Her eyes drifted to the earnestness in his eyes, and she glanced away. She’d talk to him soon, but with Lillian here, it wasn’t the time. Death scratched the back of his neck, understanding that simply enough. Nothing in his expression revealed Percy’s fate. Perhaps Signa would ask about that, too, someday. But not yet.

Death extended a hand toward Lillian’s spirit and asked in a soft, smoky voice, “Are you ready?”

Lillian’s brows pinched together, and she started to lift her hand until her attention was pulled to the sound of hoofbeats fast approaching. She whipped her head to one side, letting out a soft gasp as Elijah appeared in a wild-eyed haste atop his mount. His eyes found Signa’s immediately, for she was the only one he could see before he turned to the smoke.

“The garden.” The sound Elijah made as he looked to it was something between a choke and a cry as he slipped off his horse and stumbled to the gate.

Lillian turned to her husband, clutching her hands over her chest. Over her mouth. There was a quiver in her bottom lip as she stepped toward him ever so slowly and set a hand upon his back.

He drew breath at the touch. Spine stiff, eyes wet, he turned to Signa and whispered, “Is she here?” Every word was fragile. Every breath threatening to break him. “My wife, is she here?”

Nineteen years Signa had spent avoiding the truth. Avoiding all that made her different. But no longer did these powers of hers feel like such a bad thing. It seemed there could be beauty in them, too.

“Yes,” she told him as Lillian pressed her forehead against her husband’s back, winding her arms around him. “She’s right here.”

Elijah reached a trembling hand toward where Lillian’s arms wound around him, his body shaking. “I knew you were. All this time, I knew you were still with me.”

“Yes, my love.” Lillian spoke clearly, the only hesitation in her words coming from a tremor of emotion that she was barely keeping down. “I’ve been with you this whole time.”

Though he couldn’t see her, probably couldn’t even hear her, he dipped his head against the garden gate and shut his eyes as they poured tears. “I should have taken better care of this place,” he said. “I never should have shut these doors.”

A breeze picked up, easing the gates fully open. There was no sign of Percy inside. No sign of anything but snow and charred trees, and wisps of smoke still fading into the night.

“So open them now,” she whispered against the back of his neck. Her body was beginning to disappear at the edges. Signa knew she’d remain forever if she could, but there was no time. Her spirit was wisping away like the wind itself. “Open them and enjoy my garden. Visit this place and think of me.”

Death took a step forward. “There’s not much time left if you wish to pass on,” he said, not sternly but with finality. Whether Lillian chose to go or not, her spirit was not long for this world.

Lillian clutched her husband tighter. “I am still with you, my love, and I will always be. When you wish to see me, look at the child of our love, and there I’ll be. Take care of her, as I will take care of our son.” She drew away until her hands fell to her sides.

As though he were able to feel her absence, Elijah spun around. “Stay. I will do better by you, I swear it. But stay, Lillian. Stay. I don’t know how to be without you.”

Through her tears, Lillian smiled. “Then you will learn.” She took a long, final look at her husband and then turned to stroke Mitra’s mane and plant a final kiss upon the horse. Mitra’s ears flattened.

“I was happy in this life,” Lillian told Signa. “I was the happiest I’ve ever been here with him, and I wouldn’t change any part of it. Tell him that for me, would you?”

Signa bowed her head, her eyes hot. The two before her had the sort of love she’d spent her life dreaming about. It may not have been perfect, but it had been true. She looked to the shadows beside Lillian where Death waited, and she wondered what an eternity with that love might feel like. “I will,” Signa promised her, earning Elijah’s attention just as Lillian took hold of the reaper’s hand.

Death cast one final look at Signa as Lillian took her final steps in this world. I’ll be back soon. And I’ll explain everything.

Signa looked forward to it; she was tired of puzzles. But for now she turned to Elijah, and she told him gently, in the softest voice possible, “She’s gone, Elijah. She’s finally at peace.”

And then she held him as he fell to his knees outside the garden gates and cried.