Page 23 of The Unweaver

“Getting shot at by Teddy’s vinegary spinsterof a sister has depleted my limited patience for the Walcotts. Not even you can deny what an infernal shit Teddy was. He made a lot of enemies.”

Grief solidified into anger. A burning anger that slithered into her belly and around her empty heart.

“I know!” she spat. “I know what Teddy’s like. I know him better than anyone. He can be vapid and impulsive, I won’t deny that. He’s a flawed man. I know all of his flaws and I love him just the same. And he knows all of my flaws and loves me just the same. Two billion people in this world, and Teddy is—was—all I’ve got. He’s the only one who cares whether I live or die.”

She swiped away her tears. That chasm into an unbearable emptiness gaped open before her. Pulling herself back, she forced her gaze on Bane. “Could anyone say that about you?”

Something stirred in his depthless eyes. He regarded her with an indecipherable expression. Perhaps her outburst was just a miserable curiosity to him. Another variable for calibrating the human calculus he’d reduced her to the moment she barreled into his office.

Turning away, she stared at her twin’s blood on the floor. “I can’t leave Teddy to suffer like this. He should be at peace, not… I need to find him. I need to find who’s responsible and make them pay. Teddy deserves a reckoning.”

“I don’t know about that, but I do know that this MO doesn’t fit any of the London gangs. The Profane Arts are too subtle for that wanker Verek. The Pyromancer burns it down and asks questions later. You’re sure Edwina isn’t involved?”

“No, Teddy is—was—too useful. He’s the best Animancer in London. Not even you can deny that. He would’ve sensed her genuine feelings. Mother’s also too cautious. I’ve never known her to dabble in dark magic.”

“You don’t know your Mother. Edwina Morton does more than brainwash orphans.”

His words fed her growing suspicions.What happens when Teddy’s gone?All the assassinated politicians, slain children, and maimed corpses she’d made Cora pry the secrets out of like juicy worms to feed her insatiable appetite for intrigue. Had Teddy been desecrated for his secrets?

“If his spirit isn’t in the Death Realm,” Bane said, “it might be alive in another.”

Her heart turned over in her chest. His offhand comment sparked a perverse hope inside her. In spite of all she had seen and heard and knew to be true, she clung to that hope. “You mean, Teddy might not be… truly dead?”

Cora was certain she’d be truly dead in the silence that followed. She felt the heaviness of his silence like she was trapped at the bottom of an hourglass, drowning one grain of sand at a time.

“Depending on the Profane curse, his spirit could be in another Realm or trapped between Realms.”

The possibilities unspooled in her mind. Curses could be undone. Death was not always permanent. The spirit could be rewoven into the vessel of its body, regardless of its degradation. From horrendous reanimation favors, Cora knew a body would reject the wrong spirit, limbs spasming and mouth foaming until it was more lifeless than before.

But if Teddy’s spirit wasn’t truly dead, and his body could be found and healed, she might reanimate more than an empty husk of him. A shade of Teddy was better than nothing at all.

Hope was like a stowaway on a sinking ship. Barely enough to keep her afloat in a sea of misery. If it sank, so would she. She clung onto it like a life raft.

Closing the distance between them, she implored, “Can you find his spirit, Realmwalker?”

He considered her. “There are countless Realms, one stacked right atop another. I’d need to know which Profane curse to know where to begin looking.”

“The red pentagram, heart removal, and missing spirit doesn’t narrow it down?”

“You’re clearly not familiar with the Profane Arts.”

“Then how can I find out which curse?”

“Without his body or spirit or the person who split them? Not fuckin’ likely. Even if you found them, not every Profane curse can be broken.”

His curt reply dashed her fragile hopes. She gripped the cigarette holder in her pocket like a talisman. Through the crushing disappointment drifted a sullen thought:How long can you live without hope?

“Can you try searching for him?” she asked, quiet, desperate. “Please. I would do anything to get Teddy back.”

His gaze flicked over her, lingering on her lips. “I’ll look into it.”

She reached out when he made to leave. They both stared at her hand, perplexed to see it gripping his arm. Soft fabric and hard muscle under her palm. She let it fall.

“How will I know if you find him?”

“If I find him, I’ll come find you.”

Questions spun in her mind but only one came to her lips. “Why are you helping me?”

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