“But I didn’t do it, angel. I buried my head in the sand and hid away in prison for ten years rather than fight this war. You did it. You. So, hold your fucking head up high.”
“I just feel like it’s too little too late. All those people he killed. All the lives he’s ruined. All the things he’s done. It’s too late for them. Too late for Ed. Too late for Annabel.”
He shakes his head. “You can’t keep looking behind you. What’s done is done. Think of the people you’ve saved—the ones who were on his list, the ones who would have crossed his path in the future. You saved them all.”
“I guess.”
“Ever the humble warrior.” He smirks.
“I’m no warrior.”
“I beg to differ. Just because you don’t wield a gun doesn’t mean you’re not a fighter. You are intelligent, brave, and resilient, and I’m honoured to have a front-row seat in your life.”
“Are you getting soppy on me, Montresor?”
My effort at deflecting his compliment seriously backfires when he grips my chin and says, “No, angel, I’m getting fucking hard for you.”
He presses his lips to mine, and I’m enveloped by the taste of him.
“I wish we had time to extend that kiss, but unfortunately, we’ll have to postpone, as everyone is waiting for you.”
I furrow my brow. “Everyone?”
“You didn’t expect this to go down lightly, did you? You were the one who rallied them eight weeks ago with your promises.”
“I guess. I just….”
“What?” he pushes.
“I don’t know.” I shrug.
He smiles. “Take it as a win, angel. We don’t often get them, so enjoy it.” He goes to open the door, but I stop him, pulling at his arm.
“There’s just one thing before we go inside.”
Valdemar eyes me carefully.
“I want you to tell me what happened the night my brother was shot,” I say.
There’s a beat before he speaks. “You know what happened.” He regards me. “You saw it for yourself.”
“I know,” I say. “But Fortunato and Dr Tem-Pest are dead, so I want you to tell me.”
It takes a second before he realises what I’m getting at. Then Valdemar takes a breath and tells me everything, word for word.
When he finishes, I place my hand on his. He looks like a different man, like a weight has been lifted, like the shackles have finally been removed.
“How does it feel?” I ask him.
“Strange. Like the words don’t belong to me. I’ve been telling the lie for so long that I almost believed it was true.”
“I’m sure Jacinta and Jupiter will feel the same,” I point out. “I just wish we could tell the world.” I smooth over the back of his hand. We both know that can’t happen. It would reveal too much about the Raven Hands, who we are, what we can do.
“The world doesn’t need to know,” Valdemar says at last.
“But the Raven Hands do.” I smile.
“Then we shall tell them.”
