Chapter 52
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
TWO MONTHS LATER
“To the best fucking headline we’ve had in years!” Una raises her glass, her hands clad in silver rings, nails painted a deep plum to match the new purple streaks in her hair. The glare of the stark lighting illuminates the champagne, making the bubbles look like tiny diamonds floating in a yellow ocean.
Pierre and I join our glasses to Una’s.
“To the ultimate headline,” Pierre says.
“To the best news,” I chime in, clinking my glass heavily against theirs before we all take a glug of champagne.
Pierre winces, bringing the glass down. “God, I hate champagne.” He shivers as if the bubbles are attacking him from the inside.
“It’s not my drink of choice either,” Una agrees.
“Then why the hell are we drinking it?” I ask. I’m not a huge champagne connoisseur—I can take it or leave it—but we’ve just split the cost of an eighty-quid bottle.
“This is too big not to celebrate, and you can only celebrate with champagne,” Una informs us.
“She’s right. I want to remember today, and you always remember champagne.” Pierre holds his glass by the stem and swirls the golden liquid.
“I don’t think any of us are going to forget today in a hurry.” Una raises her eyebrows before putting her glass down on the table. “When Captain found out that fire engines and police cars were surrounding the Fortunato mansion, I thought he was going to explode. He couldn’t get Dupin and me out of the building fast enough.” She lowers her gaze, and I wonder if she’s picking up on how similar today has felt to the night my brother died.
Twisting one of her silver rings, she asks, “But what the hell actually happened?”
“I know as much as you guys,” I reply, dodging the question as Pierre swipes at his phone, keeping tabs on the social media posts about today’s events. “Una, you were there. You must have some idea about what went down.”
“I took photos of Fortunato’s derelict mansion, the walls crumbled in on themselves as if the whole place had been made of cards and a strong gust of wind had come along.”
“We had confirmation that Adolphe Fortunato and Dr Tem-Pest were inside,” Pierre adds. “And Una took a great photo of two bodies zipped up in thick black body bags being carried out on stretchers, so it’s safe to say they’re both dead. But no one knows why or how.”
“People are guessing. A landslide. A freak earthquake. Structural damage to the house. Everyone has a different idea as to what brought that house down around them.” Una stares at me, the heat from her glare making my hands sweat. “Except you, Evangeline. You haven’t said a word.”
“So?” I say.
“So? Don’t give me so. You know.” Una stares at me, as if trying to pull an answer from me with her eyes.
“How could I possibly know?”
“This is us,” she whispers. “Pierre and me. No one else. We know you better than anyone—well, except him , maybe, but you can’t bullshit us. The Raven Hands were behind this, weren’t they?”
It’s painful, not being able to confide in my closest friends, especially after keeping so much from them for so long, but to do so would expose not just my gift but all the Raven Hands’. And I can’t do that. I won’t do that to my people.
After Una had been the first one to smell a rat concerning Valdemar’s culpability surrounding Ed’s death, there was no chance of me fobbing her off once I’d discovered the truth. But I’d been unable to enlighten her and Pierre as to what actually happened the night my brother died, as I didn’t want to compromise their safety, which Una accepted begrudgingly and Pierre accepted gladly. However, I did tell them Valdemar was innocent and that I was in love with him, something that’s taken them both a while to get used to, along with the raven tattoo now adorning my hand and arm.
As the weeks have gone on, they’ve come to accept that Valdemar is not the monster the world portrayed him to be, even if Pierre still won’t look him in the eye for fear of turning to stone.
And regarding today’s events, I don’t know exactly what happened. I can guess like the rest of the citizens who’ve been left scratching their heads. The only people who truly know what happened in Adolphe Fortunato’s house are Fortunato himself and Dr Tem-Pest—and maybe my brother and Annabel Lee.
Maybe.
I set something in motion, the wheels of justice rolling, in the hope that Fortunato and Dr Tem-Pest would be dealt with.
When I’d told Valdemar my plan, he’d laughed, wondering how the hell the ghosts of my brother and Annabel help could get rid of Fortunato.
“I’m going to ask them to haunt him,” I explained.
“This isn’t a scary story, angel. You can’t really think that a couple of ghosts will affect Adolphe Fortunato.”
“You don’t think the ghost of his dead daughter will affect him? I’m not talking about just seeing her in a dark room or her scratching at the windows on a rainy night. I’m talking about haunting him, terrorising him, sending him over the edge into the darkest place he’s ever been until he feels there’s no return.”
“This is Adolphe Fortunato we’re talking about. He bricks people up behind walls—alive. His whole fucking house is probably held up by the bodies of his unfortunate victims,” Valdemar pointed out.
“Then my brother and Annabel just need to find a way to make those walls fall.”
I had to wait a few weeks until I saw my brother again. It was the first time I’d seen him since he was released from Valdemar and reunited with Annabel. He looked blissful, an aura of calm and contentment surrounding him in a halo of pearlescent light. They both looked beautiful, shimmering in my kitchen as I got ready for work one morning.
I felt bad asking them. They probably wanted nothing more than to move on and forget what had happened to them when they were alive. But I knew my brother. He had started this war, and it wasn’t over. It was far from over.
I’m still unable to hear the dead, but they can hear me, so I asked them to wreak their vengeance on Adolphe Fortunato by driving him to the brink of insanity. Ed smirked and nodded before the pair vanished.
Back in the present, Pierre and Una are waiting for me to make my big reveal.
“I’m sorry, guys. I know as much as you do,” I say at last.
“God,” Una says. “What’s the point in having a Raven Hand for a friend if you won’t spill the beans.”
“There’s nothing to spill. I don’t know what happened in that house.” Putting my glass down, I rise from my seat, Una’s eyes following me. “Just going to the toilet.”
We’d chosen a small bar on the fringe of the city centre, knowing it would be quiet and we might get some privacy to discuss the day’s events. The bathrooms are up a small flight of stairs, which I climb, my limbs feeling heavy, like I’m scaling a sand dune. I head to the cubicle in the far corner and relieve myself quickly, glad of the peace.
I wash my hands at the row of porcelain sinks, the square units chic and modern, the chrome taps polished to a mirror sheen. Glancing at my reflection, I gasp as I see Ed standing behind me with Annabel next to him.
My breath catches in my throat. “Jeez, you scared me,” I whisper.
Holding on to the side of the sink, I stare back at the pair, trying to read the situation. It’s a strange place for him to visit me, but I don’t have time to wonder what he’s doing here before Ed reaches out his hand and places it on my shoulder, and a ringing fills my ears.
I’m about to ask him what’s going on when the mirror clouds, and Ed, Annabel, and I disappear.
What I see next is not what I expect.