The Book Eaters(90)
And if she could not win then she no longer had anything to lose. She would play with all she had because there was no other choice. In taking away her options, Ramsey had set her free.
All she had to do was figure out a plan of her own.
26
SOMETHING ROTTEN IN DENMARK
PRESENT DAY
They call it mind eating. They look at me as a monstrous thing, a feaster of brains, something akin to the myriad flesh-eating and blood-drinking monsters of human legend. My own family saw me as heinous.
But I know the truth, now. This is not eating. This is sharing, this is communion. What I do is the ultimate experience of divinity, the merging of two souls into a single body; the partaking and elevating of life into new, transcendent forms.
This is a miracle. I, am a miracle.
Bless me, Father, for I am divine.
—from Killock’s private journal
“Say something,” Devon said into the silence that followed her story. The wind picked up, scattering leaves and twigs, rattling the trees. “Please.”
“Say what?” Hester retorted, arms curled around herself. “That I feel angry? Of course I do! Everything was bullshit and you are here to get us killed! That fiasco on the train … losing my gun, my purse … that was fake, too, wasn’t it? I can’t believe you of all people would work with knights!”
“I’m not working with them through choice. Didn’t you hear what I said? I’m exploiting them because I must. And I’m not trying to get everyone killed, I only need Redemption for Cai. The Ravenscars are free to leave before the knights descend. I would have given you warning!”
“Free to leave? Are you serious?” Hester’s laughter sounded hysterical. “How generous of you to let us go on the run! When was this all going to come out, then? Did you think about our lives at all when you set out this plan?”
Above them, the sky was beginning to darken as clouds gathered. Another bout of snow or sleet waiting to drop.
“Did you think about the thirty-odd people from your own family who died in Killock’s pointless coup?” Devon shot back, and the other woman recoiled as if slapped. “What is there to save? Look at this household. Weston hasn’t been left behind. You’ve only transplanted him to a new body, a new house. Same bullshit, same bastard. Now with a fucking cult growing up around him.”
“How does that justify the reasoning behind betraying us? You didn’t know the situation here before making that decision.”
“The Ravenscars are a Family like any other. I assumed you’d be just as bad as the book eaters I left behind,” Devon said, shielding her eyes against the persistent winter wind. “When in fact, this is worse.”
“Oh, piss off! Who gave you the right to pass judgment when you’ve known us for barely two days?”
“I’m not wrong, though, am I? Killock has created a gathering of monsters who steal locals to feed on for their twisted communion. Tell me that isn’t worse than your average Family setup?” She took a step forward, dried foliage cracking beneath her still-bare feet. “Be real, Hes. It was only a matter of time before someone would have descended. If not me and the knights, if not the other Families, then human policemen. Killock was fucked the moment he ate his patriarch and lost himself to feeding. On some level, you must know this.”
“Does that make your choice any more ethical?” Hester swung the empty gun up between them like a club. “What happens if I go to tell my brother? Will you stop me? Kill me, like you killed Matley? I should just hand you in!”
“You’re too smart for that,” Devon said with a calmness she didn’t feel, and scraped windblown hair out of her eyes. “He’d kill all three of us. Me for my lies, you for bringing me here. By telling you this, I’ve made your situation impossible.”
Hester gripped the gun so tightly that it seemed she might dent it. “Then why the hell did you bother talking to me?”
“Because you’re trapped. As I was once trapped. And I want”—the truth unfolded, even as she said it out loud—“for you to come with me and Cai, when we go. We’ll take all available Redemption, we’ll flee, we’ll get somewhere safe. Together.”
“What?” Hester stared. “That’s beyond absurd!”
“Why? Aren’t you unhappy? Aren’t you regretting the coup, wishing you could leave? All those things you told me earlier.”
“It’s absurd because it isn’t possible,” Hester hissed, furious—and Devon heard in that denial an echo of her own objections to Jarrow, so long ago. “I can’t even … It’s so … Godsakes!” She turned away and strode back toward the house through the woodland. Face stormy and dark like the sky above them, rifle held tight to her chest.
Devon jogged after, body angled awkwardly to face the other woman. “Hes, answer me this. Why do you think so few women run away? Why do you think nothing really changes for book eaters, century after century?”
“How should I bloody know!”
“We lack imagination,” Devon said, relentless. “Even if we used Dictaphones and scribes, we’d never be able to write books the way humans can. We struggle to innovate, are barely able to adapt, and end up stuck in our traditions. Just eating the same books generation after generation, thinking along the same rigid lines. Creativity is our world and yet we aren’t creative.”