“Briar?” Signa kept still and measured, and when Death drew forward, she held out a hand to halt him, not wanting to spook the spirit who blinked at her, forehead pinched.
As horrifying as it was to have the spirit’s attention, it was a good sign to have finally earned her awareness. Only, Signa wasn’t sure how she felt about having earned the attention of the others, too.
Several spirits had twisted to observe the only moving body in a ballroom that had gone still. In the corner of her vision, Death stood poised to strike.
There are too many of them, he warned. Be careful, Signa. One wrong move, and you could set off an avalanche.
Signa needed no warning. Her bones ached with the memory of possession, making each of her movements more cautious than the next. There was no guidebook for this. All her life, Signa had relied on instructions. She’d memorized The Lady’s Guide to Etiquette and Beauty from front to back. Had branded every rule of society and propriety into her mind and had been overly aware of every expectation placed upon her. Now she had only her own instincts to command her.
“There’s a reason that no one here looks familiar.” Though she stood face-to-face with Briar, the words were for all spirits listening. “Twenty years ago, you died here in Foxglove.”
Signa tensed as Death threw his shadows toward her, but there was no need. The spirits shifted but did not attack.
“I’m here to help you.” Signa exhaled a breath through barely parted lips as she stretched a hand to Briar. “You’ve been reliving the night of your deaths over and over again. But you don’t have to spend your days roaming these halls any longer. There’s so much more waiting for you, and if you let me, I’ll show you that this is only the beginning of your story.”
Although Briar remained still, Signa straightened in surprise as one of the twins stepped forward in her place. His eyes flitted from Signa to Death before he looked to where his twin stood. There was no mistaking the recognition that sparked in his eyes, and with a voice tired and cracked from disuse, he asked simply, “Alexander?”
The young man across from him flickered out of view, body spasming before he reappeared at his brother’s side. His lips were dry and peeling as he opened his mouth once, twice, then shut it promptly when no sound came out. Already his eyes were becoming a strange milky white, growing vacant again as his focus began to stray.
You can do this. Death’s words slipped through Signa’s mind, the very encouragement she needed to approach Alexander.
“Look at my skin.” She held her arm out to him. “Look at mine, then compare it to your own. Do you ever remember seeing such a glow upon yourself?” She could only wait, heart in her throat, as the spirit dropped his gaze. He turned his hand every which way, lips twisting downward.
“You are no longer meant for this place,” she urged. “You’re struggling because you’re clinging to the world of the living when you’ve already died.”
“Died,” Alexander echoed, slumping forward as he glanced at his brother. “We… died?”
Signa shared a look with Death, bracing herself. “You did. But that doesn’t mean you’re at your end. There’s more to come—would you like to see it?”
The spirit peered down at Signa’s offered hand, tensing when his twin approached and clasped him on the shoulder. It took a long moment until he relaxed beneath the touch, relief pouring over him as he turned to his brother. “Enough of this place,” said the first, the blue of his skin beginning to fade. “Let us take our leave.”
Color was blossoming on their once-translucent skin, and Signa nearly cried with relief as Alexander’s peeling lips and the sores around them healed.
One glance at Death was all that was needed for him to sweep forward. He had told Signa that his appearance often changed to give the spirits the face of whoever they most needed in their final moments. Though she could not see what the brothers did, neither spirit recoiled as Death approached. Rather, they softened as they took hold of Death’s hands, setting off a chain reaction of two more spirits who drew toward Death like he was a lighthouse in a storming sea, the haze from their eyes lifting.
“Hurry back,” she whispered, the spreading warmth in her body all the confirmation she needed to know that she had been right. This was exactly what she was meant to do.
Amid the spirits, Death glanced from Signa to Briar. His jaw clenched once before he nodded. “I will.”
He gathered the spirits who flocked toward him and was gone. Several remained on the outskirts, curious but afraid to commit just yet. Briar was among them.