Raven (Legends Saga Book 2) (29 page)

“
Noah, stay back
!” she screamed to be heard over the roaring in her mind. “I can’t trust myself to unleash him here! It’s too risky for
all
of you!”

“A noble monster is it?” Craning his neck, Young Rip forced her to meet his stare. “I wonder if that boy you murdered thought so
. Did he call for his mommy? Beg to be spared before you embedded your axe in his spine?”

N
oah ignored her warning and lunged, snapping her cloak open and ready. Ridley dove to stop him, snatching a corner of the fabric and yanking it back. Voices rose; their debate quickly becoming heated. Above her came a jolting shudder as Rip launched himself onto the back of Young Rip. Wrapping his wiry arms around his youthful doppelganger’s neck, he thrashed and twisted in his best attempt to free her from his clutches.

Unfortunately
, none of this mayhem reached Ireland. She was already gone; transported by a simple look. The pits of hell awaited in Young Rip’s irises. One direct glance and she was sucked through their scorching ring of fire and plunged into the depths of madness.

26

Edgar

The
porcelain teacups were unusually heavy on the tray. Their burden weighed them down like a loaded pistol cocked and ready to fire. Desire to fling his entire cargo against the wall rose, Edgar only managing to squelch it by biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste the coppery rush of blood. He had poured the amber liquid with trembling hands, all the while praying for another alternative to reveal itself. None did. Instead Edgar found himself peering into the unknown, fearing and doubting his own motivations while anguish seized his heart in a crushing grip.

“Edgar!”
Lenore called from the veranda. “The sun is setting in the most gorgeous display! Come watch it with me!”

Tray in hand, he trudged across the house. H
is lead feet dragged him forward as if bound for the hangman’s noose. His spirit lifted, in the most bittersweet of ways, the moment his gaze fell upon her. Gilded light from the low resting sun illuminated the room, adorning Lenore with a haloed radiance. Hair like spun gold, danced over her shoulders in the faint breeze. Sleep had worked its healing magic over the last week. Only a trace of the gouge over her eye could be seen. The scar on her cheek reduced to a mere shadow. The fractional bit of beauty death had stolen from her had been restored—at least externally.

“Hurry, sit!”
Taking the tray from his hands and easing it down on the table, she bubbled her enthusiasm like a giddy child.

Edgar took a step toward the
spot reserved for him, only to have his gelatin legs fold beneath him. Splayed on his knees before his queen, he gathered her hands in his and pressed them to his face as if in prayer.

“From the second my gaze first fell upon
thee, you claimed my heart.” Barely contained emotion clipped his words to a raspy tremor. “Even in my grave, all will not be lost. For my soul will still ache for you.”

Retracting one
icy hand from his grasp, Lenore brushed her fingers across his jaw line in a delicate caress. “I would never doubt otherwise, nor do I believe there is a force on this earth strong enough to tear us apart. Even so, why do such dark thoughts plague you, my darling?”

“My own inadequacies make me
a failure unworthy of you and—” his voice breaking, Edgar swallowed hard and tried again, “—for that I am forever sorry.”

Bronze light from the sinking sun reflected off
Lenore’s pale skin in an enchanting illusion that she glowed from within. With one finger under his chin, she tipped his face to hers. “You have
never
failed me, Edgar. You love me with every fiber of your being and I beg you not to apologize for that. In your eyes I see the depth of your devotion and it renders the meager word ‘love’ insignificant.”

Edgar squeezed his eyes shut and leaned in to her touch,
nuzzling into the palm of her hand.

Too soon for his liking,
Lenore retracted both her hands and rested them daintily atop her knees. “Now then, the sky is a lovely painted canvas. I wish to enjoy it with a strong arm holding me tight and I have found yours to be a perfect fit for the task, n’est-ce pas?”

“How could I deny such a request?”
Edgar attempted a smile despite the ache of his crippled heart. Arranging himself onto the settee, he draped an arm around her and guided her head to his shoulder. Reveling in the sweet torment of her body pressed to his, he gazed out at the haphazard brush strokes of pink, purple, orange, and yellow that zigzagged across the sky.

Beside him, Lenore reached for her cup
… and the world slowed. No longer could Edgar linger in the moment’s perfection. Hell’s reign was about to descend upon his life. The dainty cup met her lips in a tender kiss, russet liquid spilling into her mouth. He forced himself to look away, the urge to slap the cup away and suck the tainted liquid from those red, supple lips growing too strong to bear. He clasped his hand down on his knee to steady his leg that began to shake with anxious jitters. With slow, leisurely sips she drained the cup. Each one taking a blink—or a lifetime. Then, flicking her tongue across her top lip to relish the lingering sweetness, she returned the empty cup to the table.

The effects of the dogwood did not take long. They never did. Yawns hidden behind the back of her hand
; blinks made long by heavy lids. Like a contented cat she curled against him, her rhythmic breathing purring from parted lips.

Burying his face in her hair,
Edgar breathed in her mingling floral scent and let his tears slip free. Twilight’s brisk breath slapped against him, sending icy prickles through his hollowed core. The time had come, he knew by the atmosphere of sorrow he breathed in. Extracting himself from beneath Lenore’s sleeping frame, he allowed his body to be ravaged by one more anguished sob. Then, wiping his face on the back of his hand, he capped his emotions tight and forced himself to task.

The chirp of the crickets pounded into Edgar’s already throbbing head
with the potency of driven railroad spikes as he crossed the yard to his work shed to retrieve his pry bar. With each step he prayed for divine intervention. Yet, the sky did not open allowing an angel to descend. The shrubberies remained silent and devoid of guiding flames. Perhaps God had indeed forsaken him for utilizing a curse that went against the natural order of things.

Or
, Edgar contemplated as his hand closed around the cold, iron bar,
perchance religion had simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry
.

Meaning he truly
was
alone.

Weighing
the bar in his sweat dampened hands, Edgar spun on his heel and marched back to the house, leaving the shed door open and creaking on the hinges behind him. He could hear his father’s gruff voice in the back of his mind, clear as if he stood beside him, belittling him for taking the coward’s way out. That may have been true, yet he could see no other way.

Stalking through the
veranda to the main living quarters, Edgar purposely averted his gaze from Lenore’s slumped silhouette. His waning conviction could afford no further distraction. Wood scuffed over wood as he hooked his forearm under the back of her rocking chair to scoot it aside. The floor boards were loosened, the nails removed in preparation. Wiggling the pry bar between the planks, it took little more than the flick of his wrist to pop them free. Palming each section, he stacked them in a neat pile behind him.

The fruits of his labor appeared in the gaping hole beneath him. A hand buil
t coffin, assembled with fresh dogwood, lay in wait that he had toiled over night after night. He drained the last of his savings to buy the lumber and have it delivered in the late evening hours. Forgoing sleep, he had ignored aching muscles and extreme exhaustion, and pushed on: building the box and lid, digging the hole, preparing her tomb, then hiding all his labors as the sun rose and her soft snores grew light before her wake. Now, the time had come to put his efforts to use and he could not loathe them more. He knew he was doing the right thing. The spirits had manipulated her once and they
would
do it again. Even so, he dubbed himself a heinous weakling for not being able to protect the one being whose life he treasured more than his own.

Far too soon, he was gathering his beauty in his arms. Her long, luxurious hair tickled over his arm in a cascade of yellow waves
, her face falling toward his chest. Staring down at her, he ached for her eyes to flutter open that he may dive into those pools of violet paradise once more. Unfortunately, such a fantastical plunge would not be granted. He had ensured that by doubling the dose of dogwood in her evening cup of tea. Experience taught him that under its effects she would not rouse for a full night, no matter what kind of ruckus he made—and tearing up the floor to dig the enormous hole had not been a quiet endeavor.

Cradling her like a delicate newborn,
Edgar eased her slight frame down into the dogwood box. Tears snuck from his lids in an unstoppable current, dotting the front of her dressing gown. Carefully, he arranged her hair around her shoulders and folded her arms over her chest in the same fashion she had been positioned in her first casket. The one she never should have risen from.

Stealing her pillow from their bed, he
claimed the pillowcase that held her scent, and respectfully slid the pillow under her head. A quick shake snapped the wrinkles from her favorite quilt before he draped it over her and lovingly tucked it in around her legs.  As he worked, her soft breath warmed his cheek—chipping away at his resolution. His weak and trembling arms gave, sending the broken shell of a man crumbling down on top of his sleeping love. Clinging to her, he let her heart beat a steady chorus in his ear as he soaked her gown with his gushing emotion.

“
Forgive me,” he wept. “I am a weak man. I-I cannot live in a world without you in it.” Tipping his head to gaze upon her, he indulged himself by brushing the back of his hand across her velvet cheek. “It is the monster that
I
planted within you that must be stopped. If I can find a way to reverse what I have done without harming your sweet soul, I
will
be back. I promise you that.”

Bending
his face to hers, he let his lips meet hers in one last, tender kiss.

“I love you, Lenore
Reynolds, my beautiful flower,” he breathed the sentiment into her.

Numb from the ache of his shattered heart, Edgar pulled himself from the coffin.
Never to suffer this loss would never to have been blessed by her in his life at all, and that he could not fathom. His last look at his golden angel came as the coffin lid slid into place … and he hammered the first nail in.

Every swing of the hammer. Every shovelful of dirt that rained down on her tomb. Every floorboard replaced, Edgar felt with crippling anguish. His heart had been ripped from its cavity and buried alongside her. The villainous hand responsible
? His own.

When the last plank of wood flooring
had been returned to its rightful place, Edgar collapsed in a quivering heap. Tears puddled beneath his head and seeped between those same boards.

“B-b-buried her deep, did
n’t ya, Eddie?” Edgar didn’t have the energy to flinch at the familiar sound of Dougie’s voice, he simply tilted his head toward him. “With her covered by Earth it seems you and I are free to play again and I have got some
wonderful
games in store! Buck up, Edgar! It’s time for you to shake off that horrible infliction of sanity and join me in madness—by choice or force. Either way the end result will be the same!”

Edgar’s forehead thudded back against the floor
, a faint noise beneath him causing a fresh shiver to creep down his spine. Muffled by the boards came the unmistakable
thump, thump, thump
of Lenore’s beating heart.

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