“It took time, I’ll give her that. But my father started early. We never thought your mother would survive the delivery. She surprised us all. And that iron-clawed auntie of yours made sure to bring her here as quickly as possible. Alton took his own life,the damned fool. I was ten years old at the time. Even as a baby she was beautiful, your mother. A selfish, beautiful, wide-eyed, empty-headed thorn in our sides.
“I loved her once. I tried not to, but I was weaker then. For a time, I entertained the idea of our union as another means to our end. I even proposed, but she refused. We could have fed the two lines into one, the way great rivers are born, but she had a lover, like her whore mother before her. A university man here for the summer. They rendezvoused in the stables like animals in rut. I watched them hump each other silly. Watched that cuckold plant his seed in her. And then I choked the life out of him. That wasmyinitiation.”
Before he could go on, her sister started to moan from the floor. Her head turned this way and that as she fought to find consciousness.
Bennett leaned down, his grip on Cordelia slackening. He pointed the staff at Eustace. “What’s happening?”
Cordelia, seizing her chance, bolted from his arms. But he was fast for his age. Bennett slung the staff in an arc and the pillar beside her began to crumble, a great slab of stone threatening to topple from above.
Gordon threw himself against the pillar, using his shoulder and back to hold it in place just long enough for Cordelia to dash from the crypt, falling down the steps and racing across the promenade toward the house. Behind her, she heard a cascade of falling rock and prayed her sister and Gordon would be safe, but she didn’t slow or turn around, because unless he’d been knocked unconscious, Bennett would come for her. And the boy—Han. And they were both far deadlier to Gordon and her sister than the caving crypt. She needed to lure them away. She pumped her legs with as much speed as she could summon, burning with the effort.
Tearing through the solarium and kitchen, she racked hermind for anything that could help. All she could think of was the basement room, so she sped through the hall and library toward the secret door. Maybe, if she was lucky, that was one secret the house had not given up to the Togerses. Maybe she could hide. Maybe the runes would afford her some protection.
She heard the kitchen door bang against the wall as someone entered the house a moment later. Whatever had collapsed in the crypt as she’d fled was obviously not enough to stop Bennett or his nephew. One of them was in pursuit.
She neared the bookshelf door, hoping the basement would give her sanctuary, but her hopes were quickly dashed as it swung open. Arkin stood in the gap, staring down at her. Cordelia barely skidded to a stop before colliding with him.
He didn’t have his brother’s unnerving presence, but his eyes were flint as they met hers. He was not the simpering boor they’d thought. And he did not look kindly on her now.
“Arkin,” she said through gulps of air. “I–I—”
A crash sounded from behind, and she spun to see Han at the study door. He’d bumped into a library table and sent the double-globe lamp careening to the ground.
“Uncle said to be careful,” Arkin hissed.
Cordelia backed around the desk, trying to determine how she could wriggle out of being caught between the two of them at once. Her eyes tripped over the little pouch of rune-carved teeth, and she slipped a hand behind her, folding it into her fist.
Han glowered at his brother as if he might strike him.
“You might be stronger,” Arkin told him. “But I’m smarter.”
Han’s eyes narrowed devilishly, and in that moment Cordelia thought Arkin a bigger fool than any of them.
She tried to slither back a few more steps, till she was past Han and could turn and make another run for it. But his eyes darted after her, and as soon as he moved in her direction, she stopped.
“My sister always thought she was the smarter one too,” she said to Han, hoping she could distract him, keep him from boring into her with whatever infernal power he possessed. She still didn’t understand why their gifts seemed so different from hers and her sister’s.
“Don’t speak to him,” Arkin shouted.
Cordelia looked from one to the other. She’d never had the gift of reading people that Eustace did, but she saw these men for what they were—puppets. Keeping their secret had left them naive and uniquely gullible. They knew nothing of the world, groomed as they were to be servants of their uncle, who was groomed to be a servant of her family. Arkin, having gotten out more, was the better adjusted of the two, but weaker. Han, a channel of immense power, had paid a dear price for it. He had the temperament of a willful child.
It was her only advantage. She focused on Han. “You let him tell you what to do?”
He shook his head and made a guttural screech. She still didn’t know if he couldn’t speak or just chose not to.
“Stop it!” Arkin fussed at her. Above them, a light bulb burst. Arkin turned on his brother. “Don’t! Uncle said not to break anything.”
The bulb in the lamp on the desk exploded, and Cordelia jumped. Then the green glass shade shattered.
Cordelia slid one foot back, and then another. Han’s eyes fell on her. “Must have been hard all these years. Always being the one stuck inside. Always being the dirty little secret. Must have been hard to watch him get everything while you did all the work.”
“You shut your lying mouth,” Arkin cried, stepping forward. Han’s eyes darted away from Cordelia to him. “Don’t listen to her,” Arkin told his brother.
“There he goes again,” Cordelia said, a sly slant to her lips. “Telling you how to conduct yourself.”
Han looked at her, eyes glinting. He took a step in his brother’s direction as he lowered his head.
“He’s the weak one,” Cordelia whispered. “He’s always been weak. You’re the real heir of this family. Ifheweren’t around, you’d have all the power.”
