him, the veil was a fantasy created by people who could not face the finality of death. But sitting there with Silas, the line between what was true and what was not blurred suddenly. Kate had never fully shared her uncle’s skepticism toward the veil, and she could not help believing that at least part of what Silas was telling her was the truth.
“If that is true,” she said, “why isn’t Artemis one of the Skilled? He is a Winters.”
“As I told you before, the Skilled are a dying breed,” said Silas. “The ability is not always passed down through blood, and fewer are born with every generation. Your father had the ability to see the veil, your uncle does not. It is not unusual to see a difference within families.”
Silas’s crow shook its feathers and flapped up onto the fireplace, where it stood pecking at its claws.
“Are you one of the Skilled?” she asked.
“I was an ordinary man once,” said Silas. “Now I am something else.”
“But . . . when you send your crow after people . . . you can talk to it, can’t you?”
“My relationship with the veil is very different from that of the Skilled,” said Silas. “Animals use the veil far more than any of us. They understand it. All I have to do is listen.”
“Then . . . you can hear what it says?”
“No. But there are ways to communicate that go far beyond the basic senses. You experienced that yourself when you saw through Da’ru’s eyes at the boardinghouse. You were not using your own eyes at that time, you were using the veil. That is what I do. The crow’s eyes become mine. We hunt together.”
Kate tried to imagine how such a link could be possible, but after what she had already experienced of the veil, she realized that she was in no place to judge what was possible and what was not anymore. “If Da’ru almost died doing what she did to you, what makes her think that I won’t?” she asked.
Silas leaned forward in his chair, his eyes meeting hers, as if this was the question he had been waiting to answer all along. “Because the book—Wintercraft—was never meant for someone like her,” he said. “Each person has his own level of potential, and Da’ru reached hers long ago. However much she might deny it, her level of Skill is accomplished but not extraordinary. Her ambition far outweighs her talent, and it has taken her a long time to accept that. Wintercraft was written by your ancestors and was meant to be used by people with a far greater level of Skill than Da’ru. Your parents both came from families with strong Skilled abilities and you may well be the last of a pure Winters bloodline. Generations of potential exists within you. You are Da’ru’s best chance of using Wintercraft to get what she wants. She does not care if it will kill you or not, but she intends to make you try.”
“But . . . I don’t know anything about any of this,” said Kate. “The Skilled . . . the veil. And if you are one of Da’ru’s men, why didn’t you hand me over to her? What do you want me to do?”
Silas stared at her as if the answer should be obvious. “I had to judge your abilities for myself,” he said. “You may be the most vital part of my preparations; the key to something I have looked forward to for twelve long years. You, Miss Winters, are going to help me to die.”
Chapter 10
Memories
Kate was sure she had misheard him. “You want me to . . . what?”
Silas’s frown deepened. “It is not as simple as it sounds,” he said. “This body can no longer die by any ordinary means. What I need is something extraordinary. Someone capable of reaching beyond this world to the place where the real damage was done. What I need is you.”
“But if you can live like that, why would you want to die?” asked Kate. “Surely for you . . . for anyone . . . not being able to get hurt would be a good thing.”
“My body may heal quickly from the cut of a blade, but I still feel it,” said Silas. “The tearing of metal against flesh, the hot smell of blood . . . Life is pain, Miss Winters. I am simply forced to endure it longer than ordinary men, and that is not