A name was written on theplate, between runes he himself had drawn a hundred times.
Emmeline Whitney Scott. Hehad never known her full name. But, of course, they had. They had stolen herfrom her life and, in their own way, thought they put her to rest at the edgeof the graveyard nine years ago.
Again, Benedict imagined teethbeing pulled—one tooth caught in the grip of a pair of pliers and being jerkedup, ripped from the jaw and gums and dragging the other tooth with it in abloody, mangled mess.
Elysium shouted, but the awfulmusic drowned him out, his mouth open wide and facered, as he lunged for their cousin and the plate. He would never reach in time.
Benedict stepped through thedoorway and right up behind his cousin. He had loved Theodore once, the wayanyone casually loves the relations they have no reason to despise.
His right hand tightenedaround the handle of the paring knife, arm thrusting forward and burying theshort blade into the other man's side. Benedict's chest pressed up againstTheodore's back, and his free hand shot out to catch the plate just before it fell.He pulled it safely to his side and jerked the knife up. It stopped againstTheodore's ribs, scraping bone. His cousin's body twitched, trying to get awaywith a forward lean, but Benedict walked with him. He kept Theodore's backagainst his chest and started pushing the blade forward, slicing his stomachopen until Benedict's knife-arm was all the way around him, hugging him.
It was all without sound. Hecouldn't hear Theodore's shoes scuffing the floor, couldn't hear if he screamedor gasped or begged. That would have been terrible—to hear him beg. He couldn'teven hear whatever sounds the knife made against the other man's shirt, flesh,and bones.
Benedict hugged him tightlywhen he began to convulse, thoughtlessly digging the knife in deeper, pushingin and up. He had no idea what kind of damage he was doing, or if he shouldpull the knife out and try again for something more vital. Wasn't it all vital?People were fragile animals; even in the arena of mammals, they wereparticularly soft.
Theodore sagged, legs finallygiving out rather than pedaling forward, and Benedict pulled the short bladeout of him and let his cousin fall.
The rampant music in the wallsstopped, his ears still ringing when he registered the thud of Theodorelanding on the rug. His knees hit first, and then he buckled forward. Hisforehead smacked the ground, body slumping over.
Hazel screamed.
Benedict turned to look at herfor the first time. She had propped herself against the wall. The big séancetable was upside down beside her, and her leg broken, her knee crushed, and hershin bending near the middle. Had the table landed on her? Had she managed toget it off? Hazel would. She had the will to overcome her own pain. That wasthe point, wasn't it? The Lyons had an excess of will—too much spirit. It hadallowed them to bully ghosts out of existence, and with all that will came awealth of ego to tell them they were right to do so—not bullies, but heroes.
Tears ran in thick streaksdown her cheeks, and bleary eyes fixed on her dead brother. She had losteveryone now, hadn't she? Everyone in this house anyway. Just two shittycousins left, and no one to take her side. Not evenElysium, who was in the same sinking boat.
"This isn't you,Benny," Elysium spoke. Was he yelling, or were his ears still ringing?Somehow, he seemed loud and far away at the same time. "This isn't youranger. It's hers."
"I know. You think Idon't know?" Benedict glanced down at the knife in his hand, momentarilyshocked to find his arm up to his elbow covered in hot red. He trembled, eyestearing but mouth pulling into a miserable grin. "Does the fact that it'sher anger make it any less meaningful? You killed her. You murdered her.Sacrificed her, for what? For me?"
"Ben, please!" Hazelcried, croaking up the words. Her whole torso rocked, and he knew she wanted tostand or maybe even just crawl toward them. She was a doer, not the sort to sitback and let the world roll over her. But that leg wasn't going to let her moveanywhere. "Smash the damn plate!"
He turned toward her, cockinga brow and holding the plate up. "This one? Youwant me to break this? Why? Convince me." It was cruel. Was it hiscruelty or Emmeline's? Did it matter?
"She's going to killus!" Hazel burst.
Benedict laughed.
She squirmed, groping at thewall, still trying to get to her feet. "I have kids!"
His laugh died, smile draggeddown. "Do you think that's a reason to spare you? To let you go home? Whatwill happen to them, being cared for by a murderer? You didn't even like me,Hazel. Imagine what horrible things you'd do for them."
She blinked at him, and hecould see all her anger bubbling under her skin, looking for a way out butstill wanting to convince him. She would say anything, if only she knew theright lie to tell.
"Please," shesettled on a plea.
He sighed like he hadgiven in. And then he rubbed his bloody arm across the plate. She screamedmiserably when he coated the dish in a new layer of color, painting over andsmearing the runes and that name, the name of a dead girl. He made sure to rubaway enough of it in those streaks of fresh blood before tossing the plate atHazel. It broke on the floor in front of her, thick shards skittering acrossthe hardwood. "You're welcome," he muttered.
Elysium hobbled past, andBenedict watched like a lazy wolf, following him one step out of the parlor.His brother marched a sloppy line for the front door, and Benedict waited.Somehow, he knew it was locked. He knew there would be no escape. Just as there had been no escape for her.
Elysium twisted the knob andjerked the doors against their frame. They rocked just a little, just once,before seeming to fuse together.
Elysium tried five more timesbefore swearing and turning, pressing his back to the door and staring atBenedict. "We're your family, Benny," he rasped.
Benedict rolled the handle ofthe
