Susannah was only the most recent. She wouldn’t have been the last. Unsealed, Brooke would never have been safe again. And neither would the rest of us.
But a sealing could be undone.
Death was a bit more permanent.
In the morning, I drove to St. Paul to speak with Esther.
According to my grandfather, she was still feeling under the weather—which the events of the past few days had only worsened. The news of the elders’ deaths had come as a tremendous shock to her. She agreed to see me, however, and Charles led me into her sitting room, where she was resting in her large plush chair, drinking coffee against doctors’ orders. She had a book open before her, and a pair of bifocals sat on her nose.
She glanced up at me when I entered, removing her glasses and setting the book in her lap. “I take it you are not here to inform me that Lucy has agreed to consider my proposal.”
I sank into the seat across from her, looking her over critically. Now that she was out of the hospital, she seemed more like herself. Her face was less sunken, her eyes less vague. Her hair was impeccably groomed, and the familiar scent of the rose perfume she wore wafted to me. But there was still a sense of frailty about her that I was unaccustomed to. I noticed how thin her frame was beneath the business suit she wore. When she raised the coffee mug to her lips, her hands had just the slightest tremble.
“Nor are you here to offer me condolences on the deaths of my associates, I suspect,” she continued, after setting the coffee mug back on the little table beside her chair. She lifted her bifocals to her eyes once more, leaning forward and observing me. “I’m told you witnessed one of the attacks. Are you well, Audrey?”
Her words flustered me. I supposed I knew, in an abstract sort of way, that Esther cared about my well-being, but she’d never questioned me on it before. Though her voice still had a slight rasp in it, it lacked its familiar edge. As she watched me, her expression was solemn, not sharp. And so what came out of my mouth wasn’t a polite comment or a flippant remark. It was the truth. “I’m scared,” I said.
“You are not alone in the sentiment.”
“I need to ask you something,” I said. But I didn’t say it immediately. I waited, biting my lip. I thought of my Nav cards, and how I had tucked them away in my closet, in an old shoebox filled with postcards and handwritten notes. I had set them inside and shut the lid. That was the day I’d lied to Gideon. The day I had told him he was Kin. I hadn’t touched the cards since. I had decided, then, that there were some things I didn’t want to know. Places I didn’t want to look.
She is with the worms, I heard Shane jeer.
I hesitated so long that Esther arched her eyebrows and said, “Yes?”
I had come this far already. The time for retreat had passed. And this wasn’t something I wanted to know; it was something I needed to. I looked up, meeting her gaze. “I want to talk to you about Brooke Oliver. The Remnant.”
I Knew it then, before she even drew in a breath.
It didn’t come to me in images or impressions; it wasn’t some memory that crept into my thoughts. I saw it in the way Esther’s eyes flicked from mine, just for a moment, to gaze down at her hands, in the way her jaw tightened. I heard it in the silence that lengthened between us. It crackled in the air around us. My heart stopped. My lips parted, but no sound came out. I wanted to rise from my chair and run from the room, but my legs wouldn’t obey. I sat frozen.
“Tell me,” I said.
Esther’s mouth was set in a hard line. When she spoke, her tone was clipped. “There is nothing to tell.”
“They killed her,” I said. They’d really done it, as Shane had said. They had cut her open and let the poison out. I rocked back in my chair, covering my mouth with my hand. I stared at Esther. This was the secret she’d been keeping, I realized. I had sensed it that day at the hospital—the worry that had weighed on her mind, troubling her thoughts. “They killed her and you knew.”
Her gaze sharpened. “I didn’t.”
“But you guessed. You found out,” I accused. There was a lump in my throat.
Esther didn’t answer. We looked at each other, unspeaking, and now another Knowing came to me, some stray memory that surfaced. It wasn’t an image of Brooke, as I’d expected. It was of a young woman holding an infant, her fingers twining in the soft down of his hair. She rocked him gently, cradling him against her, and though a smile curved her lips, there was an element of sadness about the scene, a sense of mourning.
I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to Know whatever grief Esther held close. There was a sinking feeling in my stomach. A sense of futility, like I was underwater, being weighed down even as I clawed toward the surface. “You found out,” I repeated.
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t stop it.”
“No.”
“You let them butcher a girl whose only crime was existing. Do you know how completely messed up that is?” I felt sick. Tears stung my eyes, and I wiped them away angrily.
Esther didn’t even flinch. Her gaze remained steady. “Are you awaiting some justification? I don’t know that it was justified. Only that it was the decision they made.”
“Well, you definitely picked the wrong person to succeed you then, because there is no way Mom would go along with decisions that involve murder.”
“I know.” Esther stood, moving toward the window, where the thin morning light pushed in through the curtains. “I remember Lucy as she was in her youth. A more willful creature I had never known. She wasn’t just rebellious, she was wild. Completely heedless of others. Angry at everyone and everything. But she had so much strength of spirit. She had heart. You could never grudge her that. Adrian softened her edges somewhat, but the steel was always there, underneath. She fought so hard against his sealing. She begged us to wait, to find another way. At the time, I believed there was no other option. The Kin needed protecting. Verrick needed to be stopped. I understood the cost, and so did Adrian. But I look at my son now, and I wonder if we made the right choice. If perhaps I should have fought harder.” She cleared her throat, turning to face me once more. “As for the girl. The Kin are safer for the death of the Remnant. But I cannot say if we are better for it. And it has occurred to me that perhaps we could benefit from a little disagreement.”
Disagreement was certainly one of Mom’s specialties. “That’s why you want Mom to take over?”
“I don’t know that the right choice was made. I do know that it was the same choice we have made throughout history, and that it is a choice we’re sure to make again.” Her expression turned wry. “But if there is another path to tread, I have no doubt Lucy will be the one to find it.”
“Brooke will still be dead,” I whispered.
“As will the elders, so it appears the question is moot now, isn’t it?” She sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m tired, Audrey. And I have no desire to discuss morality with you further. We have other matters to occupy us. There will be more death soon enough. The elders were merely this demon’s opening act. I fear there is far worse yet to come.”
I felt a prickle on the back of my neck. “Worse how?”
“His choice of targets was deliberate, not random. It was a culling. It was a statement of intent.” She strode across the room toward me, reaching out and gripping one of my hands. I tried to pull away, but she held fast. Her skin was chilled. Her face was grim. “We are not simply being hunted this time. We are being Harrowed.”