The little fae’s face scrunched in thought. She’d clearly never considered what should be done with her body after death—most near-immortals didn’t dwell on such mortal details. “I hate this place. It is decaying all around me,” she finally said. “I want to be in the beauty and magic of Faerie. I want to be returned to the winter court.”
The queen nodded and turned away, satisfied the conversation was over. I had no idea what they’d do with her bones once they got them back to Faerie, but Falin carried the bag toward the car, so I dropped my hand from Icelynne’s arm.
I trudged after the queen and Falin. Ryese and Blayne had apparently gone ahead of us while I was breaking my circle, but Maeve and Lyell followed me, leaving a wide stretch between us that I could feel their suspicious gazes filling.
“Wait,” Icelynne called after me, her wings fluttering as she crossed the distance I’d already covered. “I’m uh, dead, correct? And they can’t see or hear me, but you can.”
I nodded.
“What happens now? To me, I mean?”
I opened my mouth, but then closed it again as I found I had no words that could offer her comfort. I’d seen the plane of light and life the soul collectors existed on, but that wasn’t where souls actually went after they moved on. I wasn’t even sure Death knew what awaited a soul on the other side. Telling Icelynne that likely wouldn’t reassure her. While most ghosts crossed into the land of the dead by the soul struggling against collector, Icelynne hadn’t chosen to stay behind, to become what she now was. I’d freed her from the prison of her bones, but only to release her into the purgatory of the land of the dead. Looking at her panicked features, that seemed like less of a kindness than it should have been.
“I’ll help you find a soul collector,” I finally said. From what I understood, souls were assigned to collectors at birth, but those born in Faerie didn’t get collectors because the collectors’ realm didn’t cross over with Faerie. Now that she was a ghost in the mortal realm though, any passing collector could help her cross over. At least, that was my understanding from the fact Death had promised he’d come for my soul when I died. He’d sort of adopted me. Kind of creepy in a way, considering he was my boyfriend, but reassuring to know that I wouldn’t end up wandering for eternity or get eaten by something nasty in the land of the dead. I assumed he wouldn’t have an issue with taking Icelynne the next time he visited. “He’ll help you cross over to whatever comes next.”
Shimmering tears rose again in her dark eyes. I’d have thought by now she would have run out of moisture. But one fat tear escaped, running a fresh trail down her cheek. “I don’t want to cross over. I want to go home. To Faerie.”
She was hovering eye level to me, but she still looked small, childlike. I almost wanted to hug her. I didn’t. She wasn’t a child. In fact, she was probably hundreds of years older than me.
“I don’t think you can,” I told her. Faerie didn’t have a land of the dead, or the realm of souls where the collectors existed. I’d seen one ghost in the Bloom before, but the Bloom was a bleed-over point between the planes, and I had no idea what happened to him once he passed into Faerie proper. I’d never seen any ghosts during my trips in Faerie.
In the distance, the sound of a car starting up roared through the trees and Falin called my name. I didn’t know what else to tell Icelynne, so I started walking again.
“You can’t just leave me here,” she called after me, her high-pitched voice thin, desperate.
I hadn’t planned to. And besides, even if I’d wanted to leave her behind, she was a ghost. I couldn’t have stopped her from following me. But she was new to this ghostly gig and didn’t realize that yet.
“Come with us to the Magic Quarter,” I said, beckoning her to follow.
She didn’t move. “You will not take me to a . . . collector?” The way she stumbled over the title betrayed her unfamiliarity. Of course, even among humans, whose life spans were tragically short compared to fae, the idea of a soul collector, angel of death, or grim reaper—whatever title you wanted to give them—was often more than people could accept.
I started to promise I wouldn’t take her to a collector before she was ready, but the words wouldn’t form on my lips. While it wasn’t a lie, it was too close to an oath I couldn’t guarantee I’d be able to keep. With as much contact as I had with collectors, the longer she hung around me, the higher her likelihood of encountering one. “I occasionally keep company with collectors, but I have no intention of slapping a bow on you and presenting you as a present. I work with a ghost and he’s managed to haunt me for months despite my other associations.”
She studied me for several seconds before nodding and fluttering up beside me. I turned in the direction of the road again, and began trudging back along the path we’d followed.