then but when the stake went into the earth and into my chest, my heart, we connected with something. I touch my chest, feel the slight indentation scar left from the stake, and I look at Gabriel and he says, “The earth is the answer for me.”
Mercury was clearly jealous of Ledger but also impressed by her. She does sound completely unlike any White or Black Witch I’ve ever come across.
I ask Nesbitt, “Did Van say what Ledger was like?”
“Glad you asked that, ’cause as it happens I asked that very question and Van said, ‘She’s remarkably calm, pleasant, and reasonable.’”
So this is beginning to look more straightforward. Calm, pleasant, and reasonable: at least it doesn’t sound like I’m going to have to fight her.
I say, “So we get to Ledger through the map room, and the map room is here,” and I point to the map.
Nesbitt grins. “Yep. In the cellar of the house in Philadelphia. The address is here in the diary.”
“Easy then,” I say. “Are you sure you’re not going to come?”
Gabriel sees that Nesbitt’s considering it and adds, “I don’t think there’ll be any Hunters there. Might be interesting.”
Nesbitt smiles and says, “I’m sure it will be interesting.” But he shakes his head. “If you don’t mind, fellas, I’ll leave it to you.” He gets up and makes to leave, then turns back, saying, “Nearly forgot. You need to be thinking about what to take with you. A token, I mean. Something to show you’re making a peaceful visit.”
“What did Van take?” I ask.
“She took a fancy diamond necklace from Mercury’s collection,” he says. “It was a weapon—kills anyone who puts it on.”
“Nice.”
“Van brought the necklace back.”
“She did give Ledger half of the Vardian amulet. That’s probably more rare and precious than diamonds,” Gabriel reminds us.
“True. Well, I’ll leave that with you. I’m going to cook dinner. The last supper together, eh, boys?” And he wanders out, saying, “Mercury has some decent wine here as I recall.”
The Last Night
After Nesbitt goes to the kitchen, I leave Gabriel in the library and wander around the bunker. But really I’m not wandering; I know where I’m heading.
The bedroom that Annalise and I shared is just as we left it. The bedclothes are rumpled and creased; there’s even a dip in the pillow. I remember lying there, Annalise’s head on my chest. There’s the small vial of potion on the chest of drawers: the one I used to wake her. The bowl of nightsmoke is still there too. We stood here in front of the bowl and kissed and caressed and I loved her. I loved her so much. She was gentle and kind and sweet. It was a beautiful time we had together here—only a few days but special. And I can’t work out if she changed or I changed or we both did or what. I don’t think I changed that much but maybe I did. From the age of eleven we knew each other but maybe not that well. Maybe we just saw in each other what we wanted to see.
I look at the bed. It seems strange to think that I lay there with Annalise, talked with her, kissed her, and now I feel nothing for her at all except loathing. My anger, my fury, has changed to simple hate.
There’s something on the floor under the bed and I pull it out. It’s the silk nightdress Annalise took from Mercury’s wardrobe. She looked amazing in it. I remember holding her, the silk against her skin, against my skin. And kissing her and everything we did was so good.
And now I detest her and I wonder how she feels about me. I know she thought I was getting more like my father. Marcus was always the problem. We never spoke about him but she knew I loved him and she didn’t understand that. I think she hated her own father and expected me to feel the same way about mine.
I remember a conversation we had about Marcus when we were working for the Alliance. She asked me where he slept. I told her, “Away from everyone. Where he won’t be disturbed. Where he feels safe.”
“In a tent?” And I think she asked that because she knew it was unlikely.
“No. In . . .” And I was going to tell her about his den that he grew around himself. A thicket of brambles like the one I stayed in with him. I said, “I’ll take you sometime.”
“I’ve