Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
The room spills into my vision, replacing the darkness where Ed was just standing.
He’s gone.
Valdemar is next to me on the bed, his hand resting on mine.
Pulling my hand from his grasp, I sit up, and so does he.
“Ed was there. He spoke to me,” I tell him, a little breathless by what I’ve just witnessed.
“I know,” he says.
“You saw it?”
He nods, his eyes watering, his face stoic.
“Then you know what he’s asked me to do,” I say.
“I’ve always known, and he’s right. It’s the only way.”
“There must be another way.” My words rush out quickly, quicker than I thought they would. Seven weeks ago, I’d have gladly thrust a knife through his chest to get revenge on the man who killed my brother.
But so much has changed.
I have changed.
I’m not who I thought I was. And neither is Valdemar.
Because Valdemar did not kill my brother.
My perspective has shifted. Priorities changed. Life is not about the past or how to contain it. Life is for living—and not living it alone.
Ed wants me to kill Valdemar.
“This was the plan all along. Ed asked you to ask me to kill you. And you did, that night at the party. You asked me to kill you, but then you gave me a choice. Why did you do that?”
“What I said that night was the truth. Before I met you, I would have happily fallen on a blade to end Ed’s suffering, but he told me it had to be you who took my life. He knew what was supposed to happen. But that night in the library, I was selfish. I wanted you. I still want you.”
“And what is it you want now?” I ask.
Valdemar raises his eyebrow as if this wasn’t the question he was expecting. I wonder if anyone has ever asked him what he wants.
“I want you to be happy,” he replies.
“Why?”
“Because that’s all that matters to me now,” he says softly.
I understand this, of course—because I just want Ed to be happy. But that’s because I love him.
My eyes shoot to his as something jolts through my chest, the sharp piercing of a foreign object.
Love.
It all boils down to love.
Ellison Rue’s love for my mother.
My father’s love for Ellison.
My love for Ed.
Ed’s love for Annabel Lee.
And now….
It’s a vicious circle. Each of us wanting to make the other happy out of sheer, blinding love.
Valdemar reaches for the bedside table, opens the drawer, and pulls out the knife I brought the other night.
“Ed said I was a Raven Hand,” I say.
“You are.”
His words are like confirmation. Me, a Raven Hand. I’m part of this. I have been all along. My curse of seeing the dead has been my gift, just like Ed’s gift, just like Valdemar’s and all the other Raven Hands. But I’m a woman.
“I thought women couldn’t be Raven Hands,” I say.
“You said so yourself how outdated that rule is, brought in during the early days when men ruled the world and women made sure it didn’t fall apart. Times change. Things change. The Raven Hands need to change, and I believe you are the one to make that happen. When I met Ed, I thought it was him, that he was destined to make the Raven Hands become something more than just a motley crew of disgruntled men who weren’t happy with the way the city was being overrun by lawlessness, but soon after we took the Blood Oath, I realised it wasn’t him at all, but you. I felt you through the bond, could feel you through Ed, and I knew then that you were destined for great things.”
My pulse floods my ears, the deafening pummel of blood rushing through my veins reminding me I’m alive, that this is real and not another dream I’ve stepped into. But this is how it feels, dreamlike, ethereal, as if Valdemar has been brought to me on the wings of a raven.
“What are you saying?” My words are slow, laden with uncertainty. I’ve always thought my ability to see the dead has been a curse, something to be afraid of even though it’s never scared me. But now…. Is this really what this is about, what it’s all been about? The fact that I am and always have been a Raven Hand?
“I’m saying there are hundreds of women throughout history who have been blessed, cursed—call it what you want—with gifts and should have had the sanctuary of the Raven Hands to help support them in making a difference, using their gifts to make the world a better place. But they’ve been denied this chance. Your mother was one of them.”
“My mother?”
“She had a gift, I’m sure. That’s why she ended up with your father, here at Corvus House. But she would never have been allowed into the fold, and that needs to change. And you, my angel, have the power to make that change.”
I’m about to challenge him. How can little old me make such a change? How can I bring about such a monumental turning of history, something women may have tried and failed to do before me? What makes me so special?
Then it dawns on me. It’s not what I have or what makes me special—it’s about the choice I have before me and whether I act upon it.
“You told me that if another Raven Hand kills the head of the Ravens, then they become the new leader.”
Valdemar runs his finger over the blade, his lips curling at the corner.
“So, if I kill you, I inherit your title, and I become the new leader of the Raven Hands,” I guess.
“The first ever female Raven Hand and their new leader.”
Pressure pushes down on my shoulders. I could make a difference, give a voice to all the women who have lived with gifts yet gone neglected all these years, give them a chance of help and support in dealing with whatever gift they’ve been born with. The Raven Hands could be something different. They could be a whole lot more than the vigilante group they’ve become. They could take back the city that once belonged to them. And I could make that happen. I have the power to change things for the better.
All I have to do is kill the man before me. The man whom I’ve grown to care about, the man who makes me feel safe, the man who has shown me my true self. The man who, right now, has my heart thoroughly in his grasp.
Valdemar places the knife in my hand, stroking my fingers as he rests it in my palm.
“This is no different from what I had to do to claim my title. To end someone’s life at their request. I know you can do it. I believe in you,” he tells me.
Ed appears at the side of the bed, reminding me that he’s affected by this just as much as Valdemar. It’s his eternity, his forever destination I have control of, not just the fate of the Raven Hands.
Fuck.
When did I become so important? When did the fate of others fall into my hands, hands that now wield a blade I must use?
There has to be another way.
What if Valdemar is right, and this is my destiny? This might be what I was born to do. And if so, I should know deep down what the right thing to do is. If I am to be the new leader of the Raven Hands, I must have some historical blood somewhere down the line that will show me the way, that will lead me to the right decision.
Closing my eyes, I inhale this new-found power. I let it run through my body, fill my lungs, and spread inside me.
This is me.
This is who I am.
For once, I am in charge.
And I must decide.