Ch. 22: A Bargain

                                    

                                          
"No, that's a Banshee," Astreia said, hooking her thumb in my direction. She didn't stay to hear the Reaper's explanation, choosing to rush back to Yoko's side. I knew she would have a lot to say to me later about the Reaper, but for now, her mind was on other things.
"Banshee. Not Deathsinger. There's a difference," the Reaper grumbled as he followed me out of the woods. I appreciated his insistence on separating the two. 
"How is she?" 
The princess shrugged her shoulders and cleaned around Yoko's mouth. "Better now. Her breathing is deeper."
"She should be stable now that the Banshee is gone," the Reaper said. "Her Song was pulling on her soul."
"You're the Reaper from the prisons."
"You're the princess from the prisons," he countered. 
Eager to avoid this conversation, I jumped in and said, "For Astreia, will you explain the difference between that out there and..."
"You?"
He said it so cheerfully I wanted to hit him. Through gritted teeth, I replied, "Precisely."
"Originally, Deathsingers were created to guide lost souls to the Other Realm. They were only given the ability to pull souls from a body to fight against the High Elves, and even then, they often only Sing to remove the Blessing, making it easier for mortal weapons to kill them in battle."
Astreia nodded, none of this new to her while I soaked up every word. "And the Banshee?"
"I know the Elvish people use the term banshee interchangeably with Deathsingers, but Banshees are Deathsingers gone bad. Banshees Sing and–" the Reaper put his finger in his cheek and made a popping noise, then grinned when Astreia and I glared at him. "Anyway, they consume the soul, and any magic that the creature possesses belongs to them. They start out looking normal, but the more souls they consume, the more they look like Death."
"I heard some of those stories when I came to the palace, but I always assumed it was just Edreshian lies. My mother should have told me they existed, but then, maybe I was too young..." Astreia swallowed a sob and watched Yoko while she slept. 
"They're not supposed to be here. They were banished long ago to the human realm." 
Astreia nudged Yoko, a playful smile on her face. "I told you humans were real."
The Reaper looked at me, and I knew he was thinking about the Winter Woman in the palace. He hadn't mentioned that part about Banshees before. What else had he kept from me? 
"I think our world is feeling the strain of being disconnected from the portals. The veil between realms is tearing, and that's going to let things in. Monstrous things."
I touched my throat. The notes of the Banshee's Song stuck there, tasting like something soured. "She called me Sister."
The Reaper frowned. "She recognized like magic is all." He stepped forward and brushed his fingers over the scrapes on my face and arms. "Are you injured anywhere else?"
The wound in my side throbbed, but I wasn't about to raise my shirt in front of him. Not after his little comment about being in his bed. 
"Let's go back to the part about ripping fabric and dimensions," Astreia said, dragging my thoughts away from a dangerous path. 
"What part didn't you understand?" he asked, walking in a circle around our camp. 
"Are you always this difficult?" 
"Always," I replied to Astreia before I could stop myself. 
Shifting Yoko to a more comfortable position, she dropped the cloth into the warm water and rang it out. Then, she came to me and wiped away the bloody smears left by the vines and rough earth. Her touch was soothing and familiar despite the grim set of her mouth as she worked.