Nevermore (The Never Sky #2)

Chapter 55

55

W ith a sudden, jarring wrench, the vision of Winter’s death dissolved, the icy landscape shattering into a million glittering shards that rained down around me before fading into nothingness. I found myself sprawled on the cold stone floor of Alastor’s hidden chamber.

With a groan, I pushed myself up on shaking arms. He’d loved her so thoroughly, so perfectly. And somehow I had to walk out of this room, look him in the face as if I knew nothing, as if I hadn’t violated a sacred, precious memory of his, and carry on about my day.

Alastor watched me with an unreadable expression. He’d loosened his tie and rolled his sleeves, sitting back against a table with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Why? Why force me to witness his pain, his loss?”

He tilted his head. “I didn’t choose what you were shown, Huntress. The Remnants can be quite ruthless when it comes to memories.”

“But they weren’t my memories, and that’s fucked up. But let me guess, such is the way of gods. I seriously hate you all so much.”

He smirked. “She does learn.”

I glared. “I have the name of another broken soul to give you. Do you want it, or are we going to continue these ceaseless lessons?”

The plan was dangerous. But if Harlow was broken because of her lost power, then maybe Jasper was a lost soul as well. Maybe the realm was crawling with them and I could end this bargain today.

Alastor pushed off the table and strode over to me, narrowing his eyes. “Give me the name.”

“Don’t you want to send your Remnants to violate my personal space first, or was that just for fun?”

“The name, Huntress,” he demanded.

“Jasper Boon.”

He dropped his chin to his chest and scowled. “Jasper Boon is not a broken soul. He’s nothing more than a clumsy fool and mediocre cook. Consider this your first and last warning. Lie to me again, and I’ll make you wish you’d died from that poison.”

I hadn’t looked Thorne in the eye the whole way back. And based on his lingering stares, the throat he cleared a thousand times, and the tension building between us, I could tell that it was making him crazy. But there were no words. There was nothing I could say that wouldn’t just be hurtful. I would guard that memory of his with my whole heart.

“So, who was it?”

Winter’s frozen fingers flashed into my mind. I shook the image away. “Who was what?”

“The broken soul,” he said, unlocking the Parlor’s door and pushing it open so I could enter first.

“Harlow,” I said with a heavy sigh. “And before you ask, he never meant to mend her. I’d hoped he would, but he only took down her name.”

He walked straight to the bar and poured two drinks. “But if she was one, then?—”

“I tried. I gave him Jasper’s name and pissed him off.”

“He is a moody fucker. All right, so that’s one down, three to go. How’d you figure out Harlow?” He held the glass out to me.

“Can we maybe eat something before we get morning drunk? I mean, I’m not judging, but I’ll be asleep in an hour if I drink that right now.”

“Oh, we’re making smart decisions today. Perfect. Let’s head over to the house, grab something to eat, and see if we can catch Tuck. You can tell me about Harlow on the way.”

“There’s not much to tell. Apparently, when broken people are in a low state of mind, their aura sort of glows black if their soul is broken. I saw it on our trip.”

He shook his head, leading me back out the door. “Doesn’t really give us anything solid to search for unless we want to start hanging around the graveyard.”

I drew back. “Are you ever shocked by your logical thinking or are you so used to yourself you don’t recognize the genius in that mind of yours?”

“I don’t… I’m not?—”

“It was a rhetorical question, Thorne. Don’t ruin it with an answer.”

He nodded, swiping his fingers through his hair and grinned until his dimple showed. I couldn’t hide my smile as I slid my fingers through his and we walked back to the house. That damn smile of his called to my soul, and he had no idea. But to be fair, I’d only just now realized.

We’d been at the house for hours. The Salt had rallied around the children, taking turns with the little ones as Briony established a schedule. They used the dining room for learning, the study for nap time, and they’d split the chores. It felt like the Syndicate house in Requiem. Where everyone knew their role, everyone had a job, and things got done with ease. They’d even planned for a garden and several members of the Fray had committed to collecting seeds from the unsuspecting Silk they worked for. All with Briony at the helm, sliding into a role she was born for, it seemed.

“We were at the Vale today,” Thorne was telling Tuck, who sat in the kitchen with his hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, the only sign of his torture, the one jagged scar running from his ashy brown hairline to his brow. “Barrows was down there, dealing with a masked jeweler. Know anything about it?”

“We’re testing him out. Either Alastor hasn’t caught on that Barrows is working for us, or he’s taken a liking to our Paesha and he’s giving us the in to trade directly. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the latter. When’s the last time Alastor didn’t know what was happening in the Vale?”

Thorne nodded, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, a hand towel tossed over his shoulder from when he was drying dishes. “That was my guess, too. We need to make sure Briony has everything she needs for the kids. Have Barrows start coming by to check on her.”

“You shifting the chain of command, boss?”

They exchanged a glance. Something so subtle I don’t think anyone but me picked up on it. “There’s something else that needs my attention right now. I’m hoping I can count on you and Archer to head the Fray, get yourselves organized, keep the wheels rolling.”

Tuck’s eyes flashed to where I stood at the sink, and guilt flooded me. But I had to be selfish, no matter what he thought.

“It’s a smart move,” Tuck said, surprising me. “If you pull back from the Parlor and make it obvious your marriage is your priority, the heat will likely fade. We can move easier if that happens.”

“Jasper should be coming into the city with Walters later today. Archer was supposed to let him know last night on his way home. I want everyone to lay low for a while. Do nothing unless we’re desperate. No missions, no heists, no jobs at the Parlor. Everything is by the books until I say otherwise. Do what we must to survive, and nothing more. Farris is up to something dangerous.”

Tuck sighed. “Who’s going to let Archer know?”

As if on cue, the kitchen door swung open. “Let Archer know what?” he said, strolling in, snatching a coin he’d tossed from the air, only to flip it again. “Oh, sorry, everyone. I didn’t realize we were having a meeting today. Har!” he called over his shoulder. “Meeting in the kitchen.”

“Well, it’s an impromptu meeting, but pull up a seat.”

Harlow strode into the kitchen, eyes tired, but her dress was as perfect as her posture. “Do we have news?”

“I have some where you’re concerned.” Thorne tossed the towel from his shoulder, and walked to the center island, leaning against it as he stood across from her. “The Story Snatcher was in the Vale this morning.”

I was certain everyone could hear my tiny gasp at his admittance, though no one turned. Thorne hadn’t mentioned that little tidbit to me. But there’d been no child in the Vale that I’d noticed. Unless I had it wrong and it wasn’t that creepy boy I’d met my first hours in Wisteria. Or maybe the Story Snatcher changed forms.

Thorne continued. “While Paesha was in her meeting with Alastor, he and I had a talk. You don’t have to answer this now, certainly not with an audience. But the choice is yours. As of this morning, Willard no longer remembers the Fray. His view of us aligns with the rest of the Silk. He has no memory of it. Not a single mission.”

She stumbled back in shock. “I didn’t mean?—”

“You know him better than we do, and you don’t trust him. Which means, we can’t either, even if he’s made some great choices for us in the past. We have to do what’s best for these children, Har. I know he’s a decent man with good intentions, but that’s not enough. It’s never going to be enough.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“He still remembers you. None of that was touched, unless it was tied up with the Fray, and if it was, those memories were replaced with half truths. Just enough for him to believe himself disconnected from the Lord of the Salt. However, if you wish to break away from him, you’re free to do that now. There’s no threat to us.”

Harlow’s entire posture changed. She grew inches. Color blanched her cheeks. Tired eyes opened. She was free. Thorne had freed her from a man that’d weighed her down so thoroughly, she’d grown to know nothing else. She didn’t hide the tears as she flew across the kitchen and threw herself into his arms. “Thank you. Oh, gods. Thank you. I was so tired of burning.”

“I’m still going to call him Wee Willy,” Archer mumbled.

“Well, it’s not a lie,” Harlow said matter-of-factly, and walked out of the kitchen beaming when her brother groaned and covered his ears.

Hours later, Larcan, the fiddle player, tapped his foot in the corner of the study as Lianna and two of the other children danced around me. It wasn’t quite ballet, but they were trying, and dance was my second language. One I’d almost stopped speaking. Harlow and Briony were taking turns reading books to some of the little ones, and Archer hunched in the corner with Reuben and two other men as they explained to the boy Maid Marian. But Archer had secretly already taught Reuben how to play, and they’d won three consecutive hands.

Watching the children dance and laugh, seeing the Fray bond with the children, my heart swelled with a bittersweet happiness. This crew had become so special to me in such a short time. The thought of leaving them behind tore at my soul a bit, but it also felt like a sliver of a conclusion. As if all of this was pushing me toward the end of the path. Each of these things we’d done had been for Thorne’s cause and were, in turn, a step on the path.

As if sensing my mood, Thorne glanced at me over the paper he was reading. “Five more minutes with our favorite dancer, ladies,” he told the children. “Then, I’m afraid we need to get going.”

I smiled at him and turned back to the eager faces of Lianna and the other girls. “All right, my little ballerinas, let’s make these last few minutes count, shall we?”

As I clapped my hands, Larcan struck up a lively tune on his fiddle. “First position, arms rounded, chins up!” I called out. The girls scrambled into place, spines straight as arrows, toes pointed.

I walked among them, gently adjusting an elbow here, tilting a chin there. “Remember, grace comes from the core. Imagine a string pulling up from the top of your head, elongating your neck.” I demonstrated, and they followed, looks of intense concentration on their small faces.

“Now plié… and relevé!” They bent their knees in unison, then rose up on their toes, arms floating at their sides. “Beautiful! You’re all naturals,” I praised.

Their faces glowed with pride and joy as they moved to the music, leaping and twirling with abandon. For a moment, the darkness of the world fell away, and there was only the pure innocence of orphaned children.

We left in a flurry of ?goodbyes’ and ?see you soons’. The warm evening air carried us all the way back to the Parlor. We passed Tuck at the door. He dipped his chin and shared a wink with Thorne and kept walking as if we hadn’t seen him at all.

An eerie silence greeted us within the Parlor, broken only by the haunting melody of a lone violinist perched on the stage. The usual din of chatter, clinking glasses and raucous laughter was conspicuously absent.

I glanced around, unease prickling along my spine. Something was wrong. And we’d wasted hours of this day at the house. The gaming tables stood abandoned, their felted tops bare of cards and coin. The bar, usually a hub of activity, was deserted.

Thorne’s hand found the small of my back, a reassuring touch that did little to quell the growing sense of wrongness.

“Where is everyone? It’s never this empty in the evening.”

“Tomorrow, we do everything we can to get you home. We’ll perch at the graveyard and can even go to a temple if we need to. But we don’t need to live every moment at the edge of our seats.” He turned to me, cupping my face in his hands as he looked down. “What if there’s only passage for one on whatever your path is? What if I can’t go? What if the gods decide they need me here more than there? I know you want to go. You think you have to. But give me one single night to convince you to stay.”

I gazed up into his eyes, every emotion surging through me. He didn’t understand. I’d told him everything and still he hadn’t understood.

“Thorne, I…” My voice trailed off, the words sticking in my throat.

He leaned down, his forehead pressing against mine. “Just one night, Paesha darling. That’s all I ask. Let me give you a reason to stay.”

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath as I completely lied to him. “Okay. You have one night to convince me.”