Chapter 24

Wendel I had been digging for an eternity. Breathing hard, he stopped and leaned against the shovel. Fog shrouded the outskirts of the cemetery, silvered by moonlight, transfiguring tombstones into crooked teeth.

Ardis knelt behind a mausoleum, her knuckles pressed against the cold wet grass.

“I hope this works,” she murmured.

Wendel II smiled grimly at her side. “My necromancy has always fascinated Thorsten.”

Grave dirt streaked his cheekbone; he had been the one digging for the last eternity. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Do you have blisters,” she said, “or are you nervous?”

His gaze dropped to his fingers. “Both.”

Wendel I dug even deeper, tossing earth over his shoulder. Ardis waited for the clunk of a shovel blade on a coffin, though she knew he had chosen an unmarked plot at random. It didn’t matter what he unearthed tonight.

“How many graves will we have to dig?” she whispered.

“As many as it takes,” Wendel II said, his eyes bright in the moonlight.

She leaned against the granite of the mausoleum, her hand reaching halfway to her jacket pocket, but she stopped herself.

Not yet.

His breath clouding the air, Wendel I hopped out of the grave. He glanced toward the mausoleum before tossing aside the shovel.

“Keep digging,” Wendel II whispered, though his doppelgänger couldn’t hear him.

The hairs along her arms stood at attention. Ardis scanned the cemetery, searching the cool light and inky shadows. Old trees clawed at the sky with twisted branches; the pruned topiaries lost their true shapes at night.

From the fog, a man strode with a lantern. A grave keeper?

The muscles in her legs tensed. Moonlight gleamed on the man’s pale hair. Thorsten Magnusson, making no attempt to disguise himself.

Wendel II drew the black dagger before seizing her hand. Shadows cloaked them both.

“Tell me when,” he whispered.

She squeezed his hand by way of answer.

By the grave, Wendel I grabbed the shovel with feigned nonchalance. “Thorsten.”

The Grandmaster dropped the lantern several paces away. “What are you doing?”

“Digging your grave.”

Ardis slid her hand into her pocket and touched gunmetal. She pulled out the pistol and hefted the reassuring weight, then opened the chamber, making sure it was loaded. It had been far too long since she had last fired a bullet.

Thorsten spat on the dirt. “How many times do I have to kill you?”

Leaning against the shovel, Wendel I shrugged. “Shall we find out?”

“Closer,” Ardis whispered, barely moving her lips.

Wendel II clenched her hand. Together, they crept out from behind the mausoleum. She placed every footstep with precision.

She wanted to fire only one shot.

“You aren’t alone,” Thorsten said. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Wendel I lifted his shovel. “Afraid?”

“Fear means nothing to me.”

Ardis dragged Wendel II even closer, borrowing strength from his grip, borrowing secrecy from the shadows of his dagger.

“I was afraid of you when I first met you,” Wendel I said.

Thorsten glanced into the grave between them. “How pathetic you were. Tears streaming down your face. Wouldn’t stop sniveling for days.”

“Not until you hit me.”

A dead leaf rustled under her foot–she halted, Wendel II clenching her hand.

Thorsten flipped a dagger from his sleeve. “You deserved everything.”

She clicked the safety and braced the pistol in both hands, but she was still trembling too much. Breathe. She had to breathe.

Wendel I curled his lip. “You deserve to die.”

He leapt over the grave, shovel held high, and swung the dirt-encrusted blade. Thorsten dropped to his knees. Missing, Wendel stumbled into a run, carried by his own momentum. Thorsten lunged to his feet in pursuit.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

Wendel II wouldn’t let go of her hand, her bones aching under his grip. She pried his fingers away and let the shadows fade.

No more fucking subtlety.

“Thorsten!” she shouted.

He whirled in her direction. She sighted down the barrel, slid her finger to the trigger–

“Ardis,” he said, “you–”

She fired.

The bullet hit Thorsten between the eyes. He dropped to the dirt.

His body, a discarded puppet.

Ears ringing, she lowered the pistol. It took her two tries to holster it with her trembling hands. Thorsten stared heavenward, shock frozen on his face, though he would be seeing hell soon. Blood trickled from his skull.

The shroud of shadows fell from Wendel II. Revealed, he stared down at his nemesis. Wendel I gripped the shovel and stood beside him. Neither of the necromancers looked at Thorsten with belief in their eyes.

“He’s dead?” Wendel II said.

Her heartbeat still hammered. “Didn’t you feel him die?”

“Yes,” Wendel I rasped, “but…”

Wendel II crouched by Thorsten, his fingers near his neck, not yet touching. He looked at him with such strange longing.

“No.” Ardis spoke in a rush. “Don’t bring him back.”

She had killed her father–the man who fathered her–and she didn’t want to face him after death. Inexplicable guilt twisted her stomach.

Though Wendel I looked at her, his doppelgänger spoke. “I need to know the truth.”

Wendel II touched Thorsten’s neck with a perverse imitation of tenderness. His face twisted as the muscles in his arm tightened.

Thorsten blinked, an echo of life, but stayed on the ground.

“Why did you do it?” Wendel said.

Thorsten spoke without feeling. “Because you had what I wanted.”

“Why did you hate me?”

“Because you never obeyed me.”

“Why–”

“Stop.” Ardis caught him by the wrist. “That’s enough.”

Wendel II wouldn’t let go, his fingers where Thorsten’s pulse used to be. He kept staring at the dead man, his face blank, his eyes hollow. She feared this would break him, that none of these truths would negate his nightmares.

“His memories,” Wendel I whispered.

Wendel II was seeing himself through the Grandmaster’s eyes.

“Wendel!” Ardis dragged him away. “You don’t need to do this. Please.”

He released Thorsten and wiped his hand on the wet grass, over and over again. Only then did she see his cheeks shining in the moonlight. Roughly, he wiped his face on his sleeve. Wendel I touched his twin on the shoulder.

“Help me.” Ardis held out the shovel. “Bury him.”

Wendel II pushed himself to his feet, refusing to look, and strode down a row of graves.

“Wait,” she said, but Wendel I stepped in her way.

“Let him go.”

~

Together, Ardis and Wendel buried Thorsten Magnusson. She kicked the last bit of dirt over his unmarked grave.

“I still don’t see your doppelgänger,” she said.

Wendel I wiped the sweat from under his eyes, streaking grime across his cheeks.

“He will come back,” he said. “Trust me.”

“This was why he traveled through time. There’s nothing left for him.”

“Nothing?” He narrowed his eyes, then tossed aside the shovel. “We can look for him.”

They found Wendel II under an oak tree, his knees against his chest, staring at the moon. He unfolded his legs and stood.

“It’s done?” he said.

Wendel I nodded. “We buried him.”

“Thank you.” Wendel II smoothed his hair under his hand, his head bowed. He wouldn’t look at either one of them.

“Are you all right?” Ardis said.

“Well enough.” Finally, he met her gaze. “I’m leaving for Constantinople.”

After the shock of it hit her, it sickened her to realize she had been expecting him to go. She struggled to catch her breath.

“This is goodbye?” she said.

He held her gaze, his eyes fierce, though it was a fragile sharpness like broken glass.

“Not forever,” he said.

Blinking fast, she flung her arms around him, her face against his chest. His heart thumped under her ear. For a moment, he stood motionless. Then he slid his hands along her back and tightened the embrace.

Still here. Still hers.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Don’t leave.”

“I can’t stay. You know that.”

She didn’t trust her voice enough to reply. Unspoken words ached in her throat. When he stepped back, she crossed her arms.

“What will you do in Constantinople?” Wendel I said.

“The Grandmaster is gone,” Wendel II said. “Another Thorsten shouldn’t take his place. There are assassins too young to be alone.” He blinked as if shaking away memories.

Wendel I cleared his throat. “Have you forgotten the bounty on your head?”

“A bounty that will go unpaid. I can… liberate Thorsten’s finances.”

“Perfect.”

“Regardless, I will see you again.”

“Every time you look in the mirror.”

Wendel II laughed, a glimmer of light returning to his eyes, before he turned his back on them and disappeared into the fog.

Somehow, it was easier to let him go in silence.