We arrived back at Invermoore Manor by midday. Annis and Peter were skinning the wulver she had killed for Lleuwinda in Invermoore's outdoor workshop and black smithery that was roofed in with rafters and ivy. It had taken all winter to get the beams right.

Annis paled as she saw me. Her claws were out and bloody, cutting the hide. She crossed herself. "Is it but Death in a carriage, kindly stopping for – for me?" Annis nearly fainted, but Peter caught her.

"This is no Ankou, dear Annie, but a much more familiar face. Laird Black! My favorite drinking buddy," Peter said gaily, setting Annis down in the shop chair and taking off his tricorn hat to bow to Samael.

Samael helped me out of the carriage. His lip smirked, and a tooth poked through – a rather sharp canine, but nowhere near as sharp as mine.

"Ah yes, Peter Stonecroft, my favorite pub mate."

I drew my mouth into a thin line. "You two are friends?"

"Ah, yes, I used to be a horse jockey in London, Lady Abigail," Peter smiled, his black beard having bits of Annis' egg tart in it. He wiped it away. "Laird Samuel Black always placed handsome bets on me in my teenage years, and I always won. But what brings him here, and to you, dear Lady?" Peter's joy took a backseat to confusion.

Annis was moon pale. She crossed herself. "Your friend t- tis Death, Peter! What a fool you are to – to not see it. No human man i-is as pale as a corpse. Has eyes like glass. They cut."

Peter looked dumbfounded. "Oh... Samuel... Samael. But he eats and shits just like a regular man! I have held his hair back from beer sickness in an outhouse."

I blushed. Samael chuckled. "Yes, that is true, dear Peter Stonecroft. I do have a tendency to overindulge when the day's work wears down on me. Tell me, what brought you to Sedgewood?"

"Your suggestion about the wild palominos! To think, wild horses in Scotland, in a land with no master or English yoke." Peter winked at Annis. "But I will admit, something else has stolen my heart besides monster hunting. A certain mystery maid keeps leaving me tarts of all kinds – plum, persimmon, beet, egg custard, chocolate, crème brulee..."

Annis hid her face, drawn away from her Traveler prayers against Death. "It is not me!" she squeaked, not stuttering in the least, her copper curls wild like the moors of Scotland.

"Of course it's not," Peter and I said in unison, sharing a knowing look.

"Marry the tart maid, Peter," Samael said kindly. "It seems I am to join your retinue of monster hunters. My kind friends, a foul creature lives under the Sedgewood, and I fear it will bring terrible misfortunes to Invermoore, and all of Scotland, if it is left unchecked. It is why I have kept my post in the Sedgewood for over three centuries, monitoring the slumbering beast, and all the upstart monsters that spring forth from its generative flesh, like Cadmus' teeth sown in bone meal. I see, here we have a lady of Black Annis, a dhamphir, and Peter... are you just a human?"

"Just a human? Pah!" Peter beat his chest. "I'm as bold as any French Legionnaire, as stoic as a Knight Templar of Malta, and twice as dirty as the Franks! I can keep up with these two lasses, and they are not of woman born. Well... Abby technically is."

"Then we will do well," Samael smiled, "joining forces against the darkness."

"Oh, join us?" Annis began to cry. "I – I would never ha- have given my Lady that blasted letter if – if I knew this terrible fate would bef- befall us!" She turned to run, out into the rain, and did not look back.

Peter whistled low. "Why is Annis so scared of you?" Peter asked quietly.

I sighed. Samael looked reserved. He toyed with his cufflinks.

"It is her bestial nature," I explained reluctantly, "her ancestress, Black Annis, is one of the worst Unseelie," I said. "Annie was raised in the Pitch Castle of Black Annis, before turning twelve and becoming my lady-in-waiting. The horrors dear Annie saw there, one can never know."

Peter paled to a light tea shade. "Oh, what a foul ancestress."

"I fear I triggered dear Annis. I visited Pitch Castle often to bring back the dead," Samael sighed, hitching our horses and carriage in the stable. "She must loathe me."

"Well, to answer your question, Laird Black, I am but a human, hailing from Tunis, who stowed away on a ship for merry old England before I cut my first tooth. My parents were merchants, and I wanted to see the world."

"A street rat," Samael joked. "Who climbed his way through the world as an excellent horseman – and drinking buddy, too."

They high fived. I was taken aback.

"I cannot believe you two knew each other..." I said.

"It is a small world, when one is Death," Samael grinned.

I smiled. "Thank you for driving me home, Sam. I will go check on Annis."

And so, I gathered my tartan skirts and mantle, and made haste to Invermoore. A lone candle lit the maid's quarters, and Annis was sobbing in the window. She looked out at the heath forlornly.

I came to her quarters, unsure of what to say.

"What a dreadful man," Annis poo-pooed. "To - to think, he will be joining us. Intends to marry you."

"It... would not be so bad."

"Wh – what?" Annis pouted. "I can think of – of nothing mo- more dreadful!-

"To have the Angel of Death's protection over Sedgewood. He told me many things, some of which I am reluctant to believe. But the magicians keep coming to Sedgewood, seeking something deep in the oak and heath. Invading our territory with their mechanical, alchemical armaments. And I think Samael could help us."

"I suppose w - we may have him as a guest," Annis sighed, burying her face in her knees. "I – I have not told you much of Pitch Castle," she cried, her freckles burning like holes in her reddened face. "But my foremother Black Annis sent enough dead children to fill a village, every week, to the barrow. And Samael – he just came, collected the good and wicked, indiscriminately. I hate Death. Stealer of joy... stealer of souls. There is no good deed th – that goes unpunished when it comes to Laird Black."

I held her hand, stroking her soft knuckles. "I'm so sorry, Annie. We both had terrible childhoods, mine when my uncle and aunt murdered in cold blood, you before you came to Invermoore, then when Puther and Redelia drove me into hiding."

Annis sniffled. She hugged me, hard. "Whatever you choose, Abigail, I will support you," she acquiesced. "But know this. The Witchfather is a dangerous man."

"I know," I soothed her, glad for her friendship.

What would I do without her? Be lonely. Be afraid of my own shadow. In truth, Annis gave me courage to face the extraordinary dangers of the Sedgewood, and all of Scotland. When we had been reunited after I had slain my treacherous vampire family, we had simply sobbed for a week in each other's arms, living on bread and water. For all fall and winter, bread and water was all Invermoore had on its cursed soil.

But it came back to life with Lleuwinda's blessing, and we worked hard, turning hay, tilling soil.

"I will never leave you, Annie. That is what you are truly afraid of – that I will leave to walk the Reaper roads?" I soothed her.

Annis looked at me with moony green eyes. "Your soul already walks the ley lines, like a ghost." She sniffled, holding my hands to her shoulders. "I will never let him steal you away."

I laughed. "I promise, dear Annie – I would put up a fight."

She brightened. "O – okay."

It was a lie.

Something called me, in Samael's laconic eyes.

A feast of the unknown.

A treacherous road.

The Black Moor.

And it was mine to walk, hand in hand

With Death, and Death

Alone.