Emily sighs again and picks up the sticks.
It has been two days now since our battle in the Underground, and things seem to be returning to normal. That is, if normal is living in a house with a mesmerist, a lightbringer, a werewolf, and an angel. Oh, and a faerie.
We are gathered in the parlor, and while Emily and Darby play jackstraws, I finally gain the courage to ask Gabriel a question that has been plaguing me. I take a breath. “Have you . . . died before?” I ask him. There. I’ve said it. “Do you have to die to become an angel?”
I feel like an absolute beast for prying, but how can I resist? There is an angel in the parlor.
He works on his harp thoughtfully, tightening the little pins that hold the strings in place. “There are things I cannot speak of,” he says. “From the world beyond. But I can tell you that death is not the end, Jess. Your mother and father are at rest, and their souls have passed on to a place with no pain or suffering.”
These words almost make me weep, but I take another breath and my heart is suddenly filled with a sense of peacefulness. “What will you do now?” I ask him.
He looks at me, and I see that same fierce gaze he wore in battle. “Evil still exists in this world, does it not?”
“Yes.”
“That means our work is not yet done. We swore an oath. Remember?”
“Yes,” I tell him. “I do remember.”
We are interrupted by Balthazar, who strides into the room. He looks to Emily and Darby, and then to me and Gabriel. He holds a small black box in his hands. “Ahem,” he murmurs. “Please. Gather round, if you will.”
I rise with a slight pain in my side. The wound from the ghoul is healed, but every now and then I feel a cold, lingering ache. Maybe it will be with me forever, a reminder of the day I avenged my parents.
“Long ago,” Balthazar starts, “when the League of Ravens was formed, we worked in the shadows, for that has always been our way. But now a new day has dawned. There is no need to hide, and we should be proud of the work we do, for we hold the line against the dark forces that exist in this world.”
He reaches into the box. Cradled within black velvet are several rings. He pulls one out. “Jessamine Grace, wear this ring to show your belief in the power of good over evil, and as a testament to those who have died for our cause.”
I take the ring from his hand. It is beautiful, and I know the emblem on the white cameo well—?a raven’s head surrounded by a wreath of golden leaves. I place it on my finger. “Thank you,” I tell him. “It’s quite lovely.”
He gives Emily and Gabriel their rings. Gabriel takes his without a word, but Emily raises her hand in the air and turns it to and fro, admiringly. “Pretty as a penny, innit?”
I turn to Darby. She should have something too, I realize. After all, without her help, we may not have survived. Fortunately, Balthazar seems to think the same.
“As for you, Darby,” he begins, “you have shown great courage in defeating a foe that many would flee from. Do you wish to relinquish your role as servant and serve a greater cause?”
Darby looks to me and then back to Balthazar. She opens her mouth but closes it again. Emily nudges her with an elbow. “C’mon, wolf girl,” she says. “Time to hang up that apron, yeah?”
Darby smiles, revealing her crooked teeth. “Yes, sire,” she says. “I’d like that very much.”
Balthazar leans forward and looks her in the eye. “It’s Balthazar,” he says with a smile.
He straightens up and tugs at his waistcoat. “Well then,” he continues. “Jessamine. I believe you know what comes next.”
And I do.
I retrieve the spear from the corner of the room. And as we draw the curtains and initiate Darby into our order, I realize that there is no place I’d rather be.
I find Balthazar in the parlor the next morning, eating a pomegranate. I watch closely to see if he truly does eat, but he interrupts my spying by sliding a newspaper across the table. My eyes scan the page and land on a curious article:
THE DAILY TELEGRAPH & COURIER
* * *
Man Dies in Underground
An unidentified man has died in a disturbance in the newly constructed Underground. Scotland Yard reports that the man’s death came during a trial run of trains operating on the South Eastern Railway’s Paddington to Farrington route.
Several piles of smoldering ash, which emit a foul odor, have also been found at the scene. The tunnel roof was destroyed, and inspectors are not certain of the cause. Anyone with information as to the dead man’s identity, or the mysterious ash, is urged to come forward to their local constable.
I raise my eyes to Balthazar. “They’ll never really know, will they? That a creature of the underworld was in their midst, sending the city into madness and death.”
“No, they will not, Jessamine, and I am certain they are better off not knowing.”