Page 101 of Dead Vengeance

The scene explodes in my mind’s eye: the chandelier falling on him, the blood everywhere, the limbs poking out…

Then Fabian today, that stake in his chest, blood on Archer’s hands…

My fingers fly across the screen. ‘Can necromancers really bring people back to life?’

Yes.

Yes, they can.

Holy shit.

No wonder… No wonder he saw all the same horror I did and didn’t think a trip to the hospital was really necessary. Because he knew they would be okay. Because… because he did that!

My pulse is pounding in my ears, my eyes seeing nothing but that text on the screen.

Necromancers can raise the dead.

I swipe my finger to Archer’s messages, tap out the start of a new one, then delete it.

Do I really want to do this? Do I really want to go back into his world, face this thing that I’m not sure I can handle?

And then… maybe make a choice—a mistake that’s… unnatural. A thing of horror. A Pandora’s box that I cannot ever close again.

Would Archer even help me if I asked him?

Just then, three little dots appear at the bottom of the screen.

I watch them, tense, hoping that whatever he’s about to say can make this decision for me.

A little emoji of a black bird pops up. Then another. Then another.

It should be creepy, but already there’s a slight smile on my face because I think I know what’s happened. Despite everything, a laugh finds its way out, breaking what feels like hours of tense and sad silence.

Three more ravens, then the dots again. Then, ‘I’m so sorry. Sorry. It wasn’t me. Sorry.’

I can virtually hear Archer’s voice, scolding Edgar, who’s probably there on his bedspread next to him pecking at his phone.

The scene’s so delightful in my imagination that even if I’m still miserable, still confused, I tap back, ‘It’s okay. Tell him I said hi.’

Dots, dancing on my screen for so long.

Then gone.

Then a new message pops up: ‘I miss you already.’

Of all the things he might have said.

I pull the phone against my heart and roll onto my side, holding it there.

I can’t help but imagine him doing the same, all the way out there in his weird, lonely, isolated house. With his raven and his ghosts. And that thing.

I click my phone onto silent and put it on my bedside table for the night.

I don’t know what to do.

All I know is, I do miss him. I miss what I’d hoped today was going to be. I miss all the daydreams of what I imagined this might become.

I miss feeling hopeful for the first time in so long.