“No. But it’s what I need. This isn’t right. It isn’t healthy.” Una’s and Pierre’s faces spring back into my mind, the look they both gave me the other night when I told them I’ve been to see Valdemar, that I’ve been dreaming about him ever since.
“It’s better than the nightmares. It’s better than not sleeping at all. You’ve never slept better than you have in the last few weeks,” Valdemar argues.
“Yeah, but I started not being able to sleep after you killed my brother. You. You did that. And now you’re here trying to help me sleep by seducing me every night. Do you know how fucked up that is?” I snap. The thought of what would have happened to Ed if Valdemar hadn’t shot him has not escaped me. I know it was a mercy killing, but I’ve spent the last ten years knowing this man pulled the trigger, the act of which I was unable to do in Valdemar’s dream. Why couldn’t I do it? Because I love my brother and would never be able to kill someone I love, yet Valdemar managed to shoot Ed despite their Blood Oath.
And I can’t let go of the thought that my brother might have stood a chance of getting away from Fortunato, that he might have been able to escape, to fight back, to kill Fortunato before he bricked him up behind a wall, but because Valdemar shot him, he took that possibility away.
“I know I’m the cause of all of this. I know I am to blame, so you can understand how I want to help, how I want to put things right.” He holds his hands up, then places them flat on the table as if showing me he’s telling me the truth and has nothing to hide.
“But you can’t. You will never be able to put it right. You will never be able to give me what I want.”
“And whatdoyou want?” he asks.
“I want my brother back. I want to be loved the way my brother loved me—unconditionally, irrationally, the way that only twins can love each other. I want the connection we had. I want a family, someone to rely on, and someone to love just as hard as he loved me.”
The air swells as Valdemar runs his hand through his hair.
“My mother died giving birth to me and Ed. Do you know what it’s like to grow up knowing you killed your mother?” I let this hang before I continue. “Her death left my dad broken, unable to bond with us, so he threw himself into his work, his friends, his hobbies—anything to avoid spending time with the children who killed his one true love. And when he deemed us old enough to take care of ourselves, he moved abroad for his job.” I swallow hard. I’ve never spoken to anyone about my past before, so these words, although old in my head, feel alien now they’re out in the open.
“Ed was all I had, and that was fine, as we had each other. But then you took him, and now I have no one except the ghost of my dead mother who sits in my apartment day after day, smiling at me without having a single word to say. And I can’t even take comfort in the fact that I can see ghosts by seeing my dead brother, because he took some stupid fucking Blood Oath that’s now bound him to you even in his death. How fucking ironic is that? So, forgive me if I don’t relish the thought of falling into your arms every night in your effort to make me sleep better.”
Loss closes in on me, the loneliness that my life has been these past few years, and I can’t change that. Sleep won’t change it. Nothing will.
As if tasting my words, Valdemar sucks the air between his teeth. “There is something we could try.”
My neck jars as I straighten up as if on high alert. “What?”
“I could try to bring Ed into a dream.”
My eyes widen. The last thing I want is Ed standing there while Valdemar touches me.
As if reading my thoughts, he continues. “Not in the sense of our normal dreams, angel. Thatwouldbe fucked up. I could try to bring him into a dream so you could talk to him.”
“How?” I blink, attempting to understand what he’s suggesting.
“I don’t know. I haven’t done anything like this before, but for you, angel, I will do anything. But you’ll have to let me in. No more sedatives or sleeping when I’m awake.”
This might be my one chance to talk to my brother. The only chance.
I nod.
“I can’t promise anything. The dead don’t sleep, so I’ll have to talk to him and see how we can make this work.”
My insides tighten at the thought of him being able to talk to Ed. I know he said he can’t just dial him up, but even so, the idea that he can speak to him at all fills me with jealousy.
The last thing I want to do is get emotional, so I change the subject. “This is our last visit. Monday is your release day, right?”
“Yes. It doesn’t feel real even though it’s only days away. Ten years is a long time to be locked up. It feels like forever, yet at the same time like the blink of an eye.”
“What will you do when you get out?” The note springs to my mind, and I wonder how long he’ll last before someone tries to kill him, his enemies vast and plentiful.
My lips part to tell him about the note, but before I can say anything, Valdemar answers my question.
“I haven’t thought much past Monday. I know the Raven Hands are throwing me a party. It’s in very poor taste and not exactly how I want to spend my first night of freedom, but they’ve insisted on marking the occasion.”
My fists clench at the thought of them throwing him a lavish party, celebrating the fact that he’s survived his years behind bars for pulling the trigger and killing my brother. At this thought, my desire to disclose the note shrivels up. And I refuse to get drawn into some old feud. The last thing I need is to be drawn into a gang war.
“I was going to ask if you’d be willing to attend,” he says.
