Page 33 of Grave Devil
I am not the past. I’m not them. Please. Let me go.I plead as I have pleaded with him in my mind a hundred times before.
His spiny branch-like veins mimic sludge beneath his leathery flesh, his inky blood twisting and winding around and around. Every part of him is alive as much as it is dead.Youbelong to the Wishing Tree. And the Wishing Tree belongs to me. Mine. We can pretend you have a choice for a little longer though.
My chest tightens as if there’s a weight on it. I breathe in through my nose and count to ten.The oath… He tricked me. I didn’t agree to this.
His resinous eyes glow bright inside their hollowed sockets. It’s as if the bone has fused to his face. It becomes his skin. His armor. Itbecomes.
You traded your life for his. For Nox. And you opened a gate with your blood, with the raven’s blade, allowing all of us to cross back through. Mia Harker. It was your blood that started this all.
He’s right. These are ancient wounds. An offense committed centuries ago. Not my fault, but somehow I’m paying the price. We all have. But my bill seems to be the most expensive. The nightmare men. The trauma and chaos they have caused… all because one woman refused to take the devil’s hand.
The crunch of leaves splinters his psychic hold on me. I shiver as the vines release me and retract back inside the Wishing Tree.
“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself, Trouble. It’s not safe.” Draven narrows his eyes at me before taking a long drag off his cigarette. The glowing red butt sparks in response, creating a vanilla-soaked stream of thick gray smoke around his head.
Fuck. If he only knew the irony of his question. “How is it that you can stand in the woods in a designer suit and still not look out of place?”
He shrugs, his gaze distant. “Luck, I guess. I don’t let the suit wear me. Were you talking to the Skelker just now?”
I close my eyes as a warm breeze encircles me. I inhale it, cherishing the scents of earthen soil and mossy grass. “It’s not safe for me anywhere, Draven. Not with him in my head.”
He nods in agreement. “I get that… more than anyone, I think.”
My blood still stains the bark of the Wishing Tree, a reminder of that night. I wonder if it’s marked forever now. “Aries has told me bits and pieces of our history. I never thought he’d be the record keeper. Of all people.” I chuckle.
Draven presses his palm against the symbol I carved. “Every one of our families played a part in the founding of Ever Graves. The Thorns have a lot at stake. They record everything. What else would you like to know about it?”
Everything. And sometimes nothing. I’m afraid that the more I find out, the more I will be tethered to it. As if the knowledge itself is what binds me. But I know that’s foolish. I am bound in this life and the next, no matter what I do. All I can hope for now is to minimize the damage.
“I found a parchment with my family tree etched into it. Willa Harker married Enzo Crane. It shows they had two kids. Ophelia and Ruben. Ophelia’s bloodline stops there. Whereas Ruben had a bunch of kids, which is Bones, Felix, and Lettie’s line. And then I am a direct descendant of Willa’s brother Vlad. I just think it’s odd that Ophelia never married. In those days, it was just what everyone did.” My mind races. Whenever I think of the past, I get a tightness in my chest and stomach. “And there’s no photo or paintings of her anywhere in the house. All the others are hanging in the halls. Isn’t that weird?”
“I don’t know why she didn’t marry. But we think she may have been ill. Her portrait might be in the basement. Sometimes in the old days, if someone looked sickly, they wouldn’t display their likeness as it brought shame on them. It’s hard to say. The Harkers had many secrets. Especially your grandmother, Emma… There’s also another theory, but it’s a very dark one.” Draven unbuttons his cuffs and rolls them up.
I gasp and grab his wrist. “Oh my god, Dray. Are you bleeding?”
He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks down. “It’s not my blood.”
I often forget who Draven Blackwell is. Ever since we fell in love and called a truce on trying to destroy each other, I’ve blocked out this part of him. The man who fights and kills and rages when he doesn’t get what he wants. My broken psycho man who wears his heart on his sleeve right next to his knife.
I fish his hand out and rub my fingers over his reddened knuckles. “Don’t let it swallow you. You’re more than just one thing.” I look up, and we lock eyes. “You did what you had to do. Now let it go.”
He pulls me to his chest. “Fuck. I love you, Mia.”
I wind my arms around his waist and hold him tight. “I love you too, Slick.”
My head buzzes as the faint whisper of the Skelker pulls at the edges of my mind.Not now, asshole. Go away.I need more of a distraction. “So where does the Wild Hunt fit in? Nox seems to hate it.”
Draven pulls back only to tuck me into his side. He guides me farther into the forest. “Well, that was the start of everything. The whole reason this town earned the devil’s ire to begin with. Come on, I’ll show you where it all happened.”
A little burst of adrenaline shoots through my veins. A field trip with this man is exactly the distraction I need. “Where in Ever Graves could you possibly take me that I haven’t seen already?” I can’t hide the excitement in my voice.
He chuckles. “So curious, aren’t you? First off, you need to know that this town wasn’t Ever Graves in the beginning. It was called Evigheden, meaningtime without end.”
My stomach knots, and all the hairs on my arms prickle. The echoes of the past are stored in my cells, sacred androoted like the branches of the Wishing Tree. They aren’t quite memories but more like imprints. Particles of another life that still shimmer around us like the little sparks that dot your lids when you pinch your eyes shut really hard.
I slip my fingers through his as we walk. He takes me past the Circle, to a part of the woods I haven’t explored. It’s hard not to think about our ancestors traveling these same paths hundreds of years ago. Their lives were different, and yet, somehow, we’re still plagued by the very same things that kept them up at night.
“I am taking you down the path of Imogen Bishop. It was because of her and her sister, Lucy, that no more virgins were sacrificed to Saint Nick. These are Imogen’s footsteps we’re retracing. It was the coldest winter; she almost froze to death. And she was close to starving. The Four Horsemen hunted her through these woods. First to a cave, then to a cabin, then to the land of false graves, and finally back to their estate.
