House of Ravens (14 page)

He lowers his head for a moment. The weight
of everything he’s been through in these five months is so
apparent. All the struggle. The self-loathing. All the learning and
accepting.

“
There are still bad
vampires out there, Born and Bitten alike,” he says. “I once
thought they all just needed to die. But now, I know. Most of them
didn’t ask for this. They were Born this way. And they’re not all
bad people.”

These words from Ian, they’re huge.

“
Alivia is a good leader,”
he continues. “She was Born to do this and she’s amazing at it. She
will keep us safe, and she’s not going to let those who live under
her rule do anything to cause you harm. So, you need to trust her.
And you need to help her in whatever way you can.”

He steps to the side, and I know everything
he just said wasn’t easy on him.

It takes me a moment to gather myself. To
move on from the weight of the confessions he just said out loud
for so many to hear.

Ian does love me. He couldn’t have said all
that, accepted all this, if he didn’t.

“
I swear,” I breathe,
fighting back emotion, “I’m doing everything I can to protect you.
So right now, we’re asking you to protect yourselves. If you have
guns, keep them loaded and ready. You can take as many of these
stakes as you think you need. And keep an eye open for yellow eyes
and snake brands.”

I back away from the podium, feeling
depleted and bare.

I expected them to bombard me with
questions. Surely, they have a million of them.

But they only sit there in silence.

So Rath does not waste any time in helping
me take my exit. He grabs my wrist, wrapping his other arm around
my waist, and ushering me toward the door. Down the hall we go, and
down the steps, back into the car.

“
I think that went a
million times better then I expected,” Ian breathes in relief as we
close the doors behind us. “This army will never see this
coming.”

We can only hope so.

THERE IS AN EXTRA BEDROOM at both the
Institute and the Estate. Over the next three days, we make them
into arsenals.

Guns. Grenades. Crossbows. Stakes. Spears.
Swords. Anything deadly and destructive, we get them.

I don’t ask questions, but Ian, Danny, Anna,
and Smith sure seem to know where to go to get these deadly
weapons. They keep leaving the House, only to return hours later
with another load full of deadly equipment.

Each of them seems to greatly be enjoying
the task.

As they walk in and out, I observe Markov
disappear and reappear, watching every move Smith makes. So far,
he’s done nothing to make me suspicious that he might betray
us.

Late one night, four days
after I spoke to the people of Silent Bend, I find myself nearly
alone in the House. The crew is out again, stocking up on weapons.
Others are on patrol. So I think it’s only Cameron and me at home,
and he’s been enjoying lots of his special snacks and is currently
being entertained by rerun episodes of
Sponge Bob
in his room.

So I find myself downstairs, standing in the
ballroom with the key twirling between my fingers.

With everything going on
with preparations for war and tracking people down, I’ve had no
time to try to solve the mystery of Henry and his location. But
it’s always there, in the back of my mind. The constant question
of
where are you?

Crouching down, I insert the key into the
hole where the raven’s eye should be and twist. The floor drops,
and I slowly begin to lower with it.

Just as Nial walks through the front door,
in full view of where I’m lowering into the floor.

Our eyes meet, his expression hopeful.

“
Come on,” I say, waving
him forward.

He hops down into the hole as the platform
completely lowers. We climb off and I close it back up, locking us
down here, hidden.

“
Things have been so busy
lately,” I observe. “I know you’ve been dying to get down in here
to investigate what Henry was working on.” I did give the laptop I
found down here to Lexington, but so far, he hasn’t been able to
hack into it.

Dr. Jarvis immediately heads over to the
bookshelf, reading the titles. “Your father certainly has done a
good job of shrouding himself in mystery.”

“
Hmm,” I agree
absentmindedly. I’m looking for any changes, to see if anything has
been moved since the last time I was down here. I don’t know how
I’ll react if I find Henry has been into the lab since I discovered
it, but I doubt it will be positive.

But everything is in its same position.
Nothing has changed.

“
Your father certainly had
an interest in genetic mutations,” Nial observes as he takes a book
off of the shelf, leafing through it for a moment, before replacing
it. “Most of these are on DNA. Genetic splicing is a popular topic
among these books.”

“
Maybe you should take a
look in the refrigerators,” I say, pointing in their direction.
“Particularly the blood. Different animals.”

Nial’s eyes widen in excitement and wonder
and he heads in that direction. While he takes a look at that, I
head to the filing cabinets, opening one drawer at a time.

The first five I open seem to be research
papers from people all around the world. Again, more topics of DNA,
genetics, and mutations. Things like reverse engineering the basic
make up of a human being. So many things that go completely over my
head.

“
These vials, Genesis Serum
12, 18,” Nail says. I look over my shoulder at him. He has the
fridge open, but he doesn’t touch anything until he pulls on a pair
of latex gloves. “And considering the vials of animal blood, I
wonder if perhaps your father was trying to re-create the method in
which Cyrus created vampirism.”

“
That makes sense, I
suppose,” I say as I turn to the next drawer. This one is full of
notes, written in a language I don’t understand. “Bats, tigers,
I’ve heard these were used in the creation. And everyone that’s old
has referred to Cyrus as the Genesis of vampires.”

Nial makes an affirmative sound. “But for
what purpose? Considering your father’s aversion to connecting with
our kind, I highly doubt he was using it to try to create his own,
new kind of vampire.”

“
That’s a terrifying
thought,” I say. “Different kinds of vampires, with different
strengths and abilities. Do you think Henry would be cursed like
Cyrus was for messing with nature?”

“
It’s fascinating, isn’t
it?” I hear Nial say from behind me. “That we exist, this
incredible mixture of science and magic?”

“
I still can’t believe
Cyrus managed to do it, all that time ago,” I say, shaking my head.
I squat down, opening a drawer closest to the floor. I pull it open
and don’t find folders as I expect, but old, yellowed, oversized
envelopes.

I pull the first one out and open the
flap.

Carefully, I slide the contents out, and my
heart skips about five beats in my chest when I realize it’s filled
with photographs.

Each of them is an image of the Conrath
Estate, taken down the drive a little ways, so that the House is
fully in view. The first one is somewhat yellowed, but the image is
fairly sharp. A date on the back, written in looping, perfect
script reads 1981. The next picture gets somewhat blurrier and the
date says 1946. The next one however, is fairly shocking.

The image is black and white, but it’s easy
to tell there are black scorch marks rising up from each of the
windows. Where the north and south stone wings of the house now are
placed, there is collapsed wood, the house severely damaged.

And lying before the house, are blackened
fields. Rows and rows of black, burned plants.

The date on the back of the photograph reads
November 2, 1875.

Just days after Elijah was killed. Just days
after Henry killed all those people in Silent Bend. Just days after
his home was nearly destroyed.

The last picture is yet again the Conrath
Estate, but it’s blurry, difficult to make out details. Rows of
perfect cotton plants stretch out all around the house. Its siding
is freshly painted white, everything is perfect. Beautifully
manicured hedges surround the house.

I squint, trying to make out all the
details, but it’s so old and the camera so rudimentary. I’m pretty
sure there’s a figure standing on the front porch. But the only
detail I can really make out is dark skin.

I check the date on the back—1852—and know
it’s likely the figure in the image was a slave.

For a short time, I worked at the bakery in
town. The owner Fred told me how once upon a time, the Conrath
family owned most of his family. I learned all about slavery and
the Civil War growing up, but it’s something that always felt so
far removed from me. Something I couldn’t really comprehend.

But here’s the reality, right here in front
of me. It happened right here in this house.

“
Nial, do you have any idea
when photography was invented?” I ask without turning around. He’s
continued his investigation into the contents of the lab, but I
haven’t been paying attention.

“
I’m not sure exactly, but
I believe it was in the early 1840s maybe?”

I glance over my shoulder to see him still
going through the contents of the refrigerator.

Turning back to the envelopes, I carefully
slip the pictures of the house back into their envelope. I set it
to the side and move on to the next one.

They’re pictures from around Silent Bend. I
recognize the church down by the river and Town Hall, though it’s
been added on to now. A shot down Main Street, which looks very
different now than it did then—1911 as it reads on the back of the
image. There are a few more pictures of the river, and in more than
one picture, I see the Hanging Tree, some where it is still alive,
but most where it is dead.

These pictures, they are historical
treasures. I marvel over the images of old, historical houses. The
one of Mayor Jackson’s house, the oldest in Silent Bend. The ladies
in their bonnets and the men with gold chains going from their
button holes to pocket watches. The horses and carriages.

I wonder who took the pictures. It couldn’t
have been Henry. Almost all of them were taken during bright
daylight, when it would have been impossible for him to go out.
Because back then, I am certain there were no sun goggles invented.
Though, I suppose I should not doubt my father’s ingenuity.

But no, I think someone else took the
pictures. Maybe to bring back to Henry so that he could still have
a view of the world around him, even in daylight.

I place the photos of Silent Bend back in
their envelope and move on to the next.

The face in the first photo stops me
motionless. The piercing eyes, the strong brows. The shape of the
cheekbones. There’s no mistaking who this is.

Elijah Conrath.

He looks a lot like Henry, but perhaps a
little more pointed. A sharper chin and nose, his eyes a little
more sunken than my father’s. His hair is long, reaching his
shoulders. He looks intense in this image.

He wears a high-collared jacket, a frilly
white shirt underneath it. He looks very much the part of a
Royal.

My family. This is my uncle.

The next image is a group shot. Elijah is
seated in the center and a dozen people stand or sit around him.
Five women and seven men, each dressed beautifully, regally. None
of them smile, no one ever did in pictures back then. But there’s
power in each of their expressions. These were House members, and
they knew their place.

I look closer at the individuals. It’s
difficult to see too many details, the image is somewhat fuzzy. But
finally, I pick out someone I’m sure of the identity of.

I don’t know Samuel and Christian’s father’s
name, but the man standing just to the left behind Elijah surely is
him. The same wide mouth. Same blocky nose. He is the man who
picked up the pieces of the House when Elijah was killed and Henry
refused to get involved.

I wonder if Christian or Samuel has ever
seen an image like this.

The rest of the photos are individual images
of some of the House members, though plenty of them seem to be
missing. The Kasks’ father is one of them. But they all look
powerful, as if they know their place in life.

I wonder how House life was different back
then. If they all lived with the scrutiny we suffer now, or if the
people were ignorant of the true nature of the new residents of
their town. At least, for a little while.