“Do you really believe that?” I step closer, studying her face. “Do you honestly think I want to hurt you?”
Her certainty wavers for just a moment. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“Then ask me what you really want to know.”
“The skulls!” The words burst from her like a dam breaking. “I’ve been trying not to bring it up because of Hans, but Jesus Christ, Blue. There are seven skulls in your house!”
“I know.”
“You know? That’s all you have to say? You know?” She gestures wildly at the portraits above us. “Margaret, Eleanor, Vivian, Catherine, Sophia—they’re all up there as skulls while their portraits smile down at us like some twisted fairy tale.”
“Yes.”
“And I saw Cordelia at the Dryad’s Dance. Alive. Breathing. Crying. But her skull is upstairs with a nameplate. How is that possible?”
I wait for her to finish, letting her fury burn itself out. She needs to say all of this, and I need to hear it.
“Look, I know you kill people,” she continues. “I’ve never judged you for that. Hell, I’ve joined you. But keeping their bones upstairs with name tags? What kind of person does that? What did they do to deserve death? Were they threats? Were they criminals? Or did they just ask too many questions?”
“Are you finished?”
“No! I’m not finished! Because this isn’t just about murder, Blue.This is about trust. This is about all your damn secrets, about what you’re planning for me, about—”
“Follow me.”
I head for the stairs, not waiting to see if she follows. Her footsteps echo behind me, laced with anger but curious enough to keep pace.
We climb to the third floor, walk through the hallway of skeleton keys that sway gently as we pass. At the blood-red door, I pull out the raven key and unlock it.
“After you.”
Saylor steps into the room, and I watch her face as she processes what she’s seeing. She’s been here before, but now she’s looking with different eyes, searching for answers instead of just recoiling from the horror.
“There,” I say, pointing to an empty eighth table. “That’s where your hunter would go.”
“My hunter?”
“Brutus Crow,” I say conversationally. “His intent is to kill you. When I finally get him, his skull will be sitting on that table with your name on the placard. In due time.
“The skulls aren’t of the women—they’re of the women’s hunters. Each skull represents a man who was hired to kill the woman whose name is on the placard.” I move to stand beside her. “I know it may seem twisted that I keep their skulls, but I like to keep reminders. Just like my cemetery in the garden for all the souls I couldn’t save, or the portraits of the ones I did to remind me of the good, I wanted to keep these to remind me of the bad, the darkness, the reason I’m trying to not be like them. These are my reminders.”
“So all the women on your wall...”
“Are alive and well, living under new identities far from whatever danger brought them to me in the first place.
“Margaret was running from an abusive ex-husband who had connections in law enforcement. Eleanor needed to disappear from a stalker who’d killed her sister. Vivian got on the wrong side of a human trafficking ring.” I point to each table in turn. “Catherine had evidence against a cartel. Sophia witnessed a political assassination.The sixth woman—Penelope—was a federal prosecutor whose family was threatened.”
“And Cordelia?”
“Cordelia was the first. Ten years ago. She was Brutus Crow’s girlfriend, but she got smart and tried to leave him.” I run my hand along the edge of her table. “She came to me because she’d heard rumors about what I do. Begged me to help her disappear because Brutus doesn’t let anyone walk away alive.”
Saylor is quiet, processing. “So you faked their deaths.”
“Your father and I gave them new identities.”
“So all these skulls are actually bastards?”
“Every single one. Men who threatened, stalked, or tried to kill the women I was protecting.” I point to the table labeled Margaret. “That’s her ex-husband. Tracked her down three times before I convinced him to stop permanently.”
