He fought the darker thoughts in the back of his mind. They were always with him, and he was afraid they always would be.
Ridley Duchannes doesn’t love you. Don’t be a fool.
She doesn’t believe in you.
What do you believe in?
In yourself, and in how you feel about her? Even if she doesn’t feel the same way about you?
He closed his eyes.
Shut up.
I believe in the way I feel.
I believe I can love her anyway.
Isn’t that enough?
He leaned his head back against the wall of the dark passageway and wondered.
A few minutes later, he heard footsteps and looked at his watch again.
5:50 AM.
Right on time.
“Get to the Mile just before the sun comes up. Ravenwood’s cook will be there.” That’s what the Chemist said.
Nox waited for a glimpse of Silas’ cook. He probably should’ve asked the Chemist what kind of Caster she was, but it was too late now. He’d have to decide how to incapacitate her in the moment.
After she opens the door. His hands involuntarily rolled into fists.
Nox saw her shadow emerge from the street ahead of him, between two doors. There she is. Just like he said.
The woman wore a lightweight coat with the collar pulled up around her neck and the hem of her black uniform skirt peeking out from beneath it. Nox heard it rustle as she walked along the Mile.
A uniform. Of course.
Formal and pretentious. Like Abraham. And Silas.
Nox walked toward the woman, pretending to talk on his cell phone as if he was heading through one of those doors on his way to work, too.
She glanced in his direction, and Nox almost stopped walking. There was something about her—something familiar. She crossed the street in the Tunnel slowly, her crooked posture betraying her age. She was curled over, face to the ground, as if she was walking into a headwind determined to destroy her. This woman was bent by something more than just time.
Something more evil—and more powerful.
That was when he knew.
Silas hadn’t just inherited Abraham’s cook. He’d inherited the same cook who had worked in Abraham’s house when Nox was a kid.
He’d inherited Mrs. Blackburn.
It all came rushing back. Even back then, Mrs. Blackburn’s posture had been crooked when she leaned over the marble counter to knead dough or prepare tea service. By now she had to be at least sixty, by Nox’s calculations. Was he really going to knock out an old lady?
Someone who Abraham Ravenwood already spent his life tormenting? Someone who made me cookies after he tormented me?
I have to, he told himself. It’s the only way to find Ridley.
When Mrs. Blackburn reached the door, she rested her palm on the wood. Just as she began to whisper something, she noticed Nox and stopped.
He tried to act casual, as if he planned to walk right by her, but the old woman seemed to know better.
She looked him right in the eye and gasped. “You?”
Nox looked around, as though he thought she was talking about someone else. “Excuse me?”
Mrs. Blackburn shook her head. “I always knew you’d come back. But you’re too late,” she hissed.
Nox dropped the act. She obviously recognized him. “Too late for what?”
“You can’t get what you came for. The old bastard is dead.”
It took him a moment to realize she wasn’t talking about Silas. “You mean Abraham?”
The old woman nodded, her Caster green eyes staring at him. He’d always wondered how Abraham had persuaded a Light Caster to work for him.
What was he threatening her with all these years?
Nox glanced at the door. “I’m not looking for Abraham.”
She gave him a knowing look. “Silas?” Her voice rasped with age.
He nodded. “We have some unfinished business. You look like you might understand.”
Mrs. Blackburn shrugged. “There’s no other kind of business with Abraham and Silas Ravenwood.”
He took a step closer. “Mrs. Blackburn, you were always kind to me. And I don’t—I’d never want to hurt you. But I need to get inside.”
The bent old woman shook her head. “Whatever trouble you’re in, son, whatever you want with Silas, forget about it and get as far away from this place as you can.”
“I can’t.”
“I’ve worked in that house since I was a child,” she began.
“And I was a child,” Nox added.
She nodded. “Abraham brought my mother there, just like yours. Those Ravenwoods have evil running through their veins—black and thick—where there oughta be blood.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
“I know. But whether it’s hate or vengeance or money—whatever’s sending you back into that house isn’t worth it. Nothing is.”
Nox leaned against the doorjamb and looked down at her. “How about love?”
The word made her pause.
Then Mrs. Blackburn’s ancient eyes softened. “You were always a sweet boy. I remember how Abraham treated your mother, and I know it must’ve killed you to stand by and watch. If anyone knows how you felt, it’s me.”
Nox tried to keep it together, but all he wanted to do was break something.
Do you? Do you know what it’s like to hide, powerless, while the person you love most in the world begs for someone to kill her and put an end to the torture?
Mrs. Blackburn straightened the best she could. “But your mother’s gone now. Yours, and mine. It’s too late to save either one.”