Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
“He’s the gatekeeper at the entrance to the city,” Death explains with a hint of impatience. “He decides what faction the dead are put in.”
“I thought that was your decision,” I say.
“It is the Book of Souls’ decision,” he says. “I merely facilitate the process. The fate of everyone is decided the moment they take their last breath. The second I feel my runes pulse with their passing, their chapter in the infinity of time is finished, the end is written.”
“The Magician pulls a card,” Tuonen explains. “He shows the card to the newly dead. The card tells them where they’re going, and I escort them there.”
“He pulls a card?” I repeat.
“It is direct correspondence from the Book of Souls,” Death says, sounding impatient again. “They either draw Inmost, the Golden Mean, or Amaranthus. Whatever the book decides for them, the card decides the same.”
“Technically it’s not really the book that decides,” Tuonen interjects. He jerks his thumb at the girls who are still gabbing away on the riverboat. “Perhaps these ladies had plans later in life to run a few puppy shelters or donate their money to the homeless, but they know they’ve been living a benign life so far. Their souls aren’t awful, they aren’t altruistic either. It’s how people decide to live their lives that influences what the book chooses.”
“Wait, how do you know that they don’t have altruistic souls?” I ask. “Just because someone got drunk on vacation and died and happens to look banging in a bikini doesn’t mean that they’re not good or even great people. Judgmental much?”
Death lets out an amused huff, fixing his eyes on me. “You’re not even a Goddess yet, fairy girl, and yet you’re questioning a God.”
“He’s a lesser God, isn’t he?” I point out.
“Ouch,” Tuonen says, grabbing his heart in mock pain. “She knows how to get me where it hurts. You might make a good stepmother after all.”
He turns his attention to Sarvi, who is grazing on the grass nearby, like a normal horse would, though the longer I look at the skeleton unicorn, I realize Sarvi isn’t actually eating the grass, but instead sucking up insects from the ground. “So, what brings you and your steed out this way anyway?” Tuonen asks us. “Thought you’d be in a hurry to get married since your wedding was…interrupted.”
A low guttural rumble comes from Death. “Sarvi needed to rest,” he says gruffly, another cold breeze coming through and ruffling Tuonen’s thick black hair.
“I see,” he says. He turns to me. “Now, tell me, future mom, are you actually planning on going through with the wedding this time or are you running away again?”
I’m immediately defensive. “I didn’t run away.”
Another deep grumble from Death.
“Is that so?” Tuonen asks. He leans back slightly on one heel, folding his arms across his chest as he looks at me. I’m very aware that there are two very similar Gods of Death with skull masks on about to interrogate me. It’s a little intimidating, to say the least.
“See, I had heard otherwise,” Tuonen goes on, and from the tone of his voice I’m realizing he’s more like his father than I had thought. “Rumors fly all over this land, the Gods don’t have much else to do than gossip. One rumor said that Rasmus had stolen you, the other said you went along willingly, and had been plotting your escape with him all the time you were in Shadow’s End. And yet another rumor, this is probably the most chaotic of all, is that you were in cahoots with Louhi to infiltrate my father’s kingdom and bring about his demise.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I tell him. “Louhi just tried to kill me with her tongue. Did the rumors tell you that?”
I look at Death for him to corroborate the story, but he doesn’t say anything. His eyes remain cold under the mask.
“So then, which rumor is true?” Tuonen asks, a slight edge to his voice.
I have a feeling that neither of them will like the truth. Either way, I’m not sure I want to discuss this in front of him. This should be between Death and I, not a family affair.
“Don’t you have some dead bikini babes to take to the afterlife city?” I say, gesturing with my head toward the boat.
Tuonen bristles at that and I swear two black horns protrude a couple of inches out of his hair on the top of his head. I try to focus my eyes, wondering if it’s the wind messing with his strands or a trick of the low light.
“You better get on your way,” Death says gruffly to him.
Tuonen pats at the top of his head in haste and that’s when I realize, yes, he actually has two small horns there that seem to have come from nowhere. He gives me a curt nod, followed by a grunt, then turns on his heel and stalks off toward the waiting boat.