“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.
“Do you know many ghosts?” she asked as I stumbled over yet another tree root.
“Not exactly,” I said, ducking under a tree branch but then had to stop to catch my breath. “Ghosts aren’t rare, per se, but they aren’t common.” I straightened, still breathing hard. I’d never been a marathon runner or anything, but I wasn’t typically this bad off just from hiking in the woods. I guessed this was another side effect of fading. I needed to catch up to the queen and find out how to cement my tie to Faerie as an independent fae.
Icelynne seemed as though she had more questions she wanted to ask, but I was in no shape to answer them, so thankfully she let me trip through the woods in peace. By the time I reached the road, everyone else was already loaded up in the cars. The queen showed no inclination to get back out or even lean her seat forward, and for a moment I considered trying to climb into the back over the side of the car. My exhausted limbs were not agreeable with the idea. Falin slid out and motioned me around. I expected Ryese to slide over and take the seat behind the queen, but he just smiled, forcing me to climb over his lap. I may have “accidentally” stepped on his foot. Twice.
I all but collapsed in the backseat, not caring that I was so scrunched my knees touched my chest. Icelynne regarded the car skeptically. I wasn’t sure if that was because she’d never seen one before—some fae hadn’t left Faerie for centuries—or because in the land of the dead the mostly plastic car probably looked as if it was melting onto a pockmarked road. Still, she crawled in, cramming herself on top of the knapsack between Ryese and me. She then spent the entire ride staring mournfully at the bag under her. Not that anyone besides me noticed. I felt for her, but had no idea what I could do, so instead stared out at the growing darkness surrounding the car.