Graveminder

understand.”

Rebekkah stared at the clothes. “It’s like a costume shop.”

“Graveminders like texture, miss. The master likes to assure your pleasure if he can ... which he definitely can .” Marie said the last words hurriedly—and with a blush.

As the girl started pulling out the edges of dresses, Rebekkah fought the urge to reach out and stroke them.

Maria continued. “I know they’re not ones you’ve picked, but the seamstresses are on standby. We have your measurements sent to all of them, but there are some lovely gowns here already.” She pulled out the edge of a dark purple skirt. A second sheer layer in pale lavender shifted over the underskirt. “This one would flatter you.”

Rebekkah gave in and took the material in her hand. Tiny jewels were scattered over the underskirt. It took effort not to sigh, but she dropped the material. “I’d like a pair of jeans. I don’t have time for this.”

“I’m sorry, miss,” Marie said. “What about this one?”

With a grimace, Rebekkah shoved her hands into the wardrobe and flicked through the amazing textures of fabrics she’d never be able to afford and some she couldn’t even identify. She settled on a two-layer green dress with sheer sleeves. It covered everything—from shoulder to wrist, from chest to ankle; it had neither a plummeting neckline nor back; and it was loose enough to allow free movement. All told, it seemed to be the plainest, most utilitarian option.

Hurriedly, Rebekkah dropped the robe and stepped into the dress. Marie fastened it, and Rebekkah turned to see herself in the large cheval glass. The dress had looked innocuous in the wardrobe, but when Marie held out the second layer, its innocence vanished. The outer layer of diaphanous material with sheer sleeves tightened just under her breasts. Like the skirt under it, the outer layer fell straight to the floor, where the extra length of material would puddle or trail behind her. As Rebekkah moved, the sheer layer flared to the sides and revealed more of the dark green silk of the dress.

While Rebekkah debated the possibility of finding a more sedate dress, Maria retrieved a pair of comfortable green low-heeled slingbacks that matched the gown—and were Rebekkah’s size.

Like the dresses ... and who knows what else.

She folded the robe and laid it on the foot of the bed. “Can you take me to see Charles?”

“There are ear bobs and—”

“Please?” Rebekkah interrupted.

After a small nod that might’ve been more bow than sign of accord, Marie opened the door and gestured for her to follow. Silently, the girl led her to an immense ballroom. At the far side of it, double doors opened onto a balcony. And standing with his back to her was Charles.

He stepped aside and gestured to a table on the balcony beyond him. “Come. I thought we could dine out here tonight.”

Rebekkah could see two place settings on a linen-draped table. A bottle of wine chilled in a silver bucket, and crystal glasses sat waiting. Arrangements of orchids and verdant plants covered every conceivable space on the balcony; the effect was of a small hothouse gone slightly wild.

“Marie, tell Ward that Ms. Barrow and I are on the east balcony.” Charles pulled out a chair. “Rebekkah?”

Rebekkah crossed the room and stepped onto the balcony. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you did, but I’m not here to be your friend.” She took her seat. “I’m here because I had to come.”

“True, but why should that have anything to do with our being friends?” He poured them each a drink.

She accepted her glass. “I was just shot at. My grandmother died. I’m sitting with a dead man. Byron is somewhere out there”—she motioned to the seemingly endless city that sprawled as far as she could see and then looked back at Charles—“and I’m almost certain you know a whole hell of a lot more than you’re saying about all of it. Byron’s father brought him here, and then died . People ... dead people shot at us. Something is attacking people at home and ... I’m here to make sense of what’s going on, not have dinner.”

“Perhaps I can clarify parts of your confusion. The Undertaker will be here shortly; you have my word on that. Until he arrives, you shall stay here, where I can be certain of your safety. Some of my unrulier citizens shot at you, and they will be dealt with for causing you harm. A dead child is killing people in Claysville—and you, my dear girl, are exhausted and in need of a meal.” He motioned to the man who stood waiting with a tray full of salads and bread, and then he looked back at her. “So we shall eat, and then we shall discuss work.”

Rebekkah waited while the dead man stepped onto the balcony and served their food. Charles stayed silent the entire time, and she felt his gaze on her all the while. His attention felt like an almost physical assessment—and a challenge.

Once the server had returned inside the opulent house, she slid her plate aside. “I was taught to give food and drink to the already dead. I never knew that Maylene did that to keep them from waking, but I do now. So what happens to me if I eat with you?”

“You enjoy yourself, I hope,” Charles replied. “The food here is delicious in a way that you’ll never find over there.”

She folded her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. “Why did those people shoot at us?”

Charles lifted his napkin and dabbed his lips. “They aren’t always obedient. Do know that I’ll be addressing this matter with them.”

“Who were they? Why were they shooting? Why did you keep them from hitting me?”

Charles caught her gaze. “Because you are mine , Rebekkah.”

When she didn’t reply, he broke a piece of bread from the loaf and held it out to her. “Please do eat. The food here is safe for you. My vow on it. Afterward, we shall deal with a few of those questions you’re trying to make sense of. But you must keep your strength up if you’re to go off to battle, right?”

Ignoring his offered food, she lifted her own fork. “Your vow that this is safe and that it has no consequences in any way?”

“My vow. It is only food. Delicious food, of course, fit to serve my lovely new Graveminder, but food nonetheless.” Charles took a bite of the bread he’d offered her. “Not everyone here is civilized, but their sovereign is.”

“Their sovereign?”

“Did I not mention that?” Charles’ eyes widened in feigned shock. “They call me Mr. D, and this, my dear, is my demesne. All that you see is under my control. Only one person”—he smiled at her—“has the ability to truly stand against me ... or beside me.”

Rebekkah wasn’t quite ready to ask what it meant to stand against him. “Who are you? What are you?”

Charles looked at the city behind her, but she was pretty sure that he was looking far beyond the landscape she could see. “I’ve been called many things, in many cultures. The name doesn’t matter—not really. It all means the same thing: they believe in me, and I exist. Death happens. Everywhere, to everyone.”

“Death?” Rebekkah stared at him. “You’re saying that you are Death and that you exist because people believe that Death ... that it ... you exist?”

“No, my dear. Death simply exists .” He swept his hand out in a wide arc. “This exists.” He laid his hand over his chest, where his heart would be if he were truly a man. “ I simply exist ... and you, Graveminder, exist because of me.”

Chapter 30

BYRON FELT THE WALL VANISH AS HE FELL FORWARD ONTO HIS HANDS and knees. He hadn’t done anything differently in the past moment than he had been doing the past couple of hours. There was no sense in questioning it, though: he was free now, and he needed to get to Rebekkah.

He stepped into the gray world of the dead and wished he had a map. Unlike his first trip to the land of the