“It’s much more pleasant out here.”
Eilonwy looked around the room. There was barely space for anything but the bed, and yet the walls were lined with narrow bookshelves. These were covered in books, knickknacks, and photos. The ceiling, nine feet up, had bunches of dried flowers and herbs hanging from sticks.
“Did you live here when you were alive?”
“Yes. He kept me prisoner after I broke up with him. This was his bedroom when he leased the place. I was locked in here for weeks with nothing to eat but a strange gruel made of marigolds,sunflower seeds, and oats. He gave me cups of green tea that tasted like honey and lavender.”
“Did he ever talk to you about reliquary?”
“Yes, he was always going on about the dead and preserving heads, arms, and organs for some kind of honorific worship.”
“Do you think that’s what he was doing to you?”
“He said I would be his greatest work, but it doesn’t make sense. Art is only art when everyone can see it.”
It didn’t make sense to Eilonwy either, but she knew that people rarely made sense when trying to figure out why they did the selfish things they did. “How so?” she asked so Haley would continue.
“He said he loved me, but he locked me in here, and for some reason I was glad to do what he asked me. I didn’t feel like I could escape, and I didn’t want to. Why?”
“You were probably mesmerized somehow,” Eilonwy offered, not because she was guessing, but because she knew there was no way anyone would submit to this without being mesmerized in some way.
“I’ve felt shame and embarrassment every day since I died. I feel like I should have seen the signs. He had books about preservation and blood rituals. He wanted me to drink his blood, and I laughed. I thought he was a funny goth guy.”
Eilonwy understood. Her family owned countless books of dark arcana. One of the reasons Ric was so grief-stricken was that he knew his brother also had this knowledge. It never occurred to him that Ewan would use it to kill those close to him.
“My mother felt guilty for not seeing the evil around her until it was too late, and she was brilliant. Don’t take it hard that you didn’t see what was right in front of you, especially whensomeone is manipulating you with magick,” Eilonwy surprised herself by saying out loud.
“I loved him. I loved him, and he did this to me.”
“I’m sorry. Sometimes we love people who are terrible,” Eilonwy said, her throat hurting from holding back a sob.
Haley was quiet for a long few seconds, and then she started to cry. It was a soft gasp at first, but then she wept. Eilonwy wasn’t sure what to do.
Taran poked his head around the door. “Is she okay?”
It was a silly thing to ask. Haley was dead and had been for twenty years. Her brother was as kind as her father had been deceitful.
Eilonwy shook her head.
Then they heard the laughing. It was deep and far away but nearby, from the bathroom.
Eilonwy turned to see Dante’s reflection in the medicine cabinet. He looked like an evil bird with large eyes, his head dipped slightly.
Haley stopped crying.
“You are admiring my work? She is quite beautiful, isn’t she?” Dante said in a deep voice.
Taran entered the room, holding the mallet and chisel.
Eilonwy’s first instinct was to take Taran’s chisel from him and break the glass.
Then she realized where she’d seen those symbols before.
He was a raven shifter, one of the dread Fae, but he wasn’t supposed to be out of the homelands. If he was here, he was a fugitive, and she could use that to her benefit.
“You are a long way from home, Raven,” she said, matching his contempt.
“So are you…cousin.”
