But I don’t have to say it.
He has made the same connection.
If Ezra was a mortal descendant of Dante, then so is he. Which means Jude Vandenberg is part angel. And Rafe is, too.
My mind spins.
My blood pounds.
Here, too, is the reason for the brothers’ long-standing enmity. The beginning of the feud. In Ezra’s attempt to kill Seraphina, he accidentally killed Raphael, then begged her to bring him back from the dead. She did, and in so doing, he imprisoned her and Raphael came back different.
Jude turns to the second entry, written a year later.
My brother’s life in exchange for my heart. I had believed myself spared from her curse, for after I sealed Seraphina away, my heart beat whole.
But no longer.
My dearest Molly. I loved her, and she loved me. Yet somehow, he deceived her. He seduced her. He delighted in her ruin. And in her shame, she died by her own hand. This was no cruel accident. Raphael has ensured I understand as much.
I took from him the object of his devotion. Now he has taken mine. His life for my heart, and mine is lost. Broken. Ravaged.
My brother is no longer the man I knew. He is a creature remade in bitterness. Seraphina has cursed my blood and corrupted his.
Can blood be evil?
The question reverberates in my mind. It was first penned by Isaiah. A question about Lucian, who had Reuben, who had Frank, who had Thomas, who had Rafe. I picture him whispering to Lainey, and Twig, stuck under the trailer. And I know the answer.
Yes.
Blood can absolutely be evil.
I keep reading.
Raphael is gone now. He departed but recently, setting sail for England and leaving wreckage in his wake. I say good riddance, though our mother weeps.
For her beloved sons, who have become sworn enemies. For his absence, and for the sorrow that has settled in my soul. I have told her I shall not take a wife. I shall not bear heirs. This curse upon my blood shall perish with me.
Jude has gone ghostly pale now as he turns to the third and final page. The entry is written almost twentyyears later.
I am ashamed. I am weak. A fool, and worse still, a fool who hath acted foolishly.
I saw her in the house of God, wearing a locket I have seen a hundred times before, though never in waking life. It has haunted my dreams, always upon Seraphina’s neck as she drives the blade into Molly’s heart. And yet, there she stood, adorned with it.
She told me she purchased it from a traveling peddler, who sold charms and oddments from a wooden cart. In that moment, my reason faltered. The sight of that wretched locket turned my heart to fury. I forgot my vow.
I was drawn in not by love, but madness, and hunger for what once was. I took pleasures where I ought not to have taken. What else could I do but offer her my hand? I would not leaveher disgraced, as Raphael left Molly. I would be the better man.
Yet I do not love her. My heart is no longer capable of love. It lies buried with Molly in a grave left nameless.
But now I am afraid, for she is with child. And what if the curse passes to him?
I depart for war in a fortnight. Before I go, I must do all I can to protect the truth. To keep her sealed away forever. I have found the amulets Raphael hid. In their place, I have left clever facsimiles. The key and the compass are hidden within the Word of God. The truth is buried beneath sacred ground. Should my brother return, his depraved soul shall not venture near either.
My mind spins as dots connect with cataclysmic speed. The compass, thekey, the Bible. Three pieces of the same puzzle, separated over the centuries, and now, brought back together. By me, a girl Ezra foresaw. And Jude, a descendant of Dante.
I pick up the charcoal sketches, which would later become a painting. And in that painting, the locket was Seraphina’s.
She wore it in his dreams.
