Inaccurately,I think, but bite the word back.
I will deal with Noah myself if I have to.
Etienne Duval.
I take the third bend down the right wing.
His wife Sarai Duval and their two sons, Augustus and Bernard Duval. The two who murdered my boys.
My bare foot sinks into a wet patch in the carpet.
The candlelight shifts and shivers beneath the phantom draft snaking from the endless darkness ahead. My shadow leaps and expands across the damp walls.
Julen Duval.
Julen.
Duval.
His wife Adela Duval.
Their children Noah and Patricia Duval
Patricia is only fifteen. I almost understand sparing her life. I almost feel it’s poetic. I was fifteen when I lost my parents. But she won’t have an Eliah or Ames to keep her safe. I don’t anymore either, but because her family killed them. Snatched them away.
Etienne Duval.
His wife, Sarai Duval and their two sons, Augustus and Bernard Duval.The two who murdered my boys.
I turn another bend. The fire dances. Cobwebs brush my skin. Tangle in my hair.
We can’t let Noah live. It’s reckless. But maybe if he has his little sister to look after, he might reconsider any notion of retaliating.
Julen Duval.
His wife Adela Duval.
Their children Noah and Patricia Duval
Maybe it would be a mercy to let Patricia join her family. The world is so cruel.
Etienne Duval.
His wife, Sarai Duval.
Marcus waits in the corridor outside his bedroom when I finally return. His sweet, gray eyes reflect in the light of my candle. The shadows pool in the curves of his face, giving him an almost eerie complexion.
“I woke up and you were gone,” he says when I reach him. “You had me worried.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” I confess. “I thought a walk would help.”
The corners of his mouth bend into a frown that mirrors the pull of his eyebrows.
“You should have woken me.”
He’s worried I’ll try to hurt myself again. Telling him I have no intention of leaving this world until I see every one of our enemies in a puddle of their own blood at my feet won’t matter.
“I will.”
