This last line tugged at my heart. And he was right; Iwasn’tthinking. I hadn’t let myself think beyond saving Jack. Because I could never be happy inanyfuture life if I had a way to save him and didn’t. It didn’t matter how Jack had changed since our parents died. It didn’t matter that we’d grown apart. Jack was my twin, and he would do it forme.
He already has.Continuing in a job that was eating his soul away. Spending his free hours inside a bottle because it was the only way he could bear it. When Da first took him to the mines, he used to talk about running off to seek his fortune. He once told Da he wanted to go to sea. Probably he’d been thinking about the smugglers along the Cornish coast, which people loved to tell stories about. Da told him the work was no easier and the food was worse, and for a week he had hardly spoken to any of us.
What had kept him from just walking away after Mum and Da died?
Me.I had no one else. He stayed because ofme.
Now it was my turn.
All this was too much to expect Harker to understand in this moment, so I settled for, “There is no happiness waiting for me in a life where I choose not to save my brother.”
He closed his eyes, jaw clenching. I took a long breath and glanced at the window. Twilight had fallen, and the clouds had cleared. A bright moon hung in the sky, silvering the heath below.
“Even if we set every other argument aside,” said Harker, his tone finally softening, “we can hardly assume this would be the end of it. Ifwe give in to this, Goosevar would likely only keep at us. Find more ways to compel us.”
“But it would buy us time,” I said. “Everything continues. We keep working together to discover a way to stop him. And Harker, I could help you in other ways. Ways that might make your life easier.”
His eyes came back to me, flashing. “You of all people should understand what it means to get that close to me.”
Refusing to flinch from his gaze, I replied, “I understand that when we’re careful, we make do. You have your laboratory, and I ... well, I could keep to this room at night. This chair is like sleeping on a cloud compared to my straw mattress at home. And it wouldn’t have to all be torture, Harker. Think how we could ease each other’s loneliness. Think how we have already.”
His eyes narrowed. “You hardly need convince me of what light you would bring to my life. I’ve gotten a glimpse of that myself these last days. But never mind the bloodlust; have you thought about the normal temptations? Married in the eyes of God, always in one another’s company? You might be able to bear it, Mina, but I ...” He trailed off and shook his head.
He does feel something of what I do.Gazes lifting over open books. Hands brushing as we passed teacups. Huddling before the hearth on cold winter nights.
“It wouldn’t be easy,” I admitted, trembling now. “For either of us.”
Harker raised his hand, thumb and fingers pressing his temples. “Even if we found a way to stop Goosevar—to sever his connection with my family—there is no reason to thinkIwould change. There is no reason to think I’d be anything other than what I am now.”
“And what are you, Harker?”
He dropped his hand, frustration drawing his brows down.
“A kind man,” I continued. “A gentle man. A brave man. A man willing to deny himself for the sake of others. These are things Goosevar has failed to take from you.” I held his gaze. “Don’t make my sacrifice out to be greater than it is.”
His expression one of mild shock, his eyes drifted to the hearth. There were long moments of needed quiet, the soothing sounds of the fire drawing the charge out of the air.
It wasn’t nothing, the fact that I might never have a true family of my own. But unless we were children, decisions couldn’t only be about what we might like best. Jack had taught me that. And if Harker agreed to my proposal, I would havehim. I would have Jack. And I would have Mrs. Moyle, because Harker would never ask me to give her up. Did I really need more than that?
Finally Harker shifted, sitting up in his chair. “After what you did today, I would give you almost anything you asked for, and not for that reason alone. But this ...” He shook his head, and my heart sank. “I know how worried you must be about Jack, but I need to leave it for now. I need time to think. And there’s something else we must speak of.”
Steadying myself with a breath, I said, “Of course.”
He bent toward me, elbows on his knees. “When I was dying, I saw something, too. Different from before—more like a memory. I lived it as if it were my own, but when I woke, I knew it wasn’t. It was Goosevar’s.”
My brows lifted. “Tell me!”
“It began with an artifact that had a likeness of Goosevar hammered into it. A silver ceremonial bowl filled with blood.”
The scene he then described sounded very much like it could be the story of Goosevar’s beginnings. His history. But I found much of it puzzling.
“Did you understand who any of the people were?” I asked.
“Not at the time. But while you were sleeping, I consulted what books I have on the history of Britannia, and I believe I do now. The robed chanters were druids. Does the word mean anything to you?”
I nodded. “Mum talked of druids sometimes when we left offerings at the sacred well in Coldvreath. She said they were holy men of the old religion, before priests, and that they, too, had once left offerings at the well.”
“That’s right. Druids were the priests—and priestesses—of this isle before the Roman army invaded.”
