Chapter Nine
Gilbert sensed eyes all about him, yet he could not garner the attention he needed. Raven, he commanded silently. The curling dark mist wrapped about his legs and torso, and he knew the Raven awaited somewhere, taunting him with their silence. He flicked out his wrist again, seeing through dual worlds towards the target: a stuffed propped dummy imitating an illegal contractor.
All he had to do was send the Raven out and attack. Dive, snatch, or even – so the histories say – shoot out a burst of blue flame and incinerate.
He had to just. Keep going.
He reached out in the mists and stepped forward again. Little ripples touched each step, as if he walked on water. This strange place, a realm between the physical world and the Abyss, was supposed to be where he and his Chain communed. Reim Lunettes, who headed the tests, described this space as "the metaphysical interstitial," but Break had a much catchier name. "It's the hollows of your soul," he said, in an oddly poetic moment before he tossed Gilbert into the target range. "The place where you forget what it means to be alive but you know you're not dead yet."
"Raven!" he screamed. Sweat dripped from his forehead. His clothes were soaked with sweat. He had no idea if he had been in this space for minutes, hours, or days.
A shuddering shadow in the distance.
"Come!"
Squawking chatter reverberated about him mockingly.
"Listen to me," he said through gritted teeth. He wiped his brow.
The chatter's volume seemed to increase, drowning out his words. A hundred individual silhouettes suddenly emerged from the darkness, inky black against ebon, and funneled toward him in a rush.
The wind of two hundred wings drummed into his ears and the scent of carrion and dust filled his nostrils.
Around him came the multiple voices of his Chain.
We hunger.
"Rave-" Gilbrt reached out with all his internal might. The hand he had visualized struck backwards, covered in a dozen papercuts.
We hunger, mortal.
An onrush of feathers. The cries grew louder and louder. The unkindness of the Raven moved around him, nipping and clawing, Gilbert's limbs were being wrecked, his throat was full of feathers, he felt a blinding panic overcome him-
"R-"
"Raven!"
We hunger, we hunger, we hunger we hunger hungerhungerhunger
"Hey, Raven!"
Gilbert woke staring at the ceiling, his body crumpled upon the hard wooden floor of Pandora's indoor practice range. Reim and the other Pandora researchers surrounded him in a wide circle, as if afraid of touching him. As soon as he sat up, however, Reim rushed over.
"Are you well?"
"How… how much?" Gilbert saw the target dummy a hundred yards ahead, swaying slightly. "Did I?"
"Um… the target moved. But it was barely a push. I'm sorry."
Gilbert groaned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "And how long was I gone?"
"Half an hour. I'm sorry the summons hadn't worked as well as you wanted, Raven." His new code name fit him like a set of clothes tailored slightly too big; he shuffled, slightly lost, beneath that moniker. But Raven was Gil and Gil was Raven, now. It was a mark of distinction, a sign of awed respect.
But it was all for show. A week since Elliot's birthday party and Gilbert had made no progress. The Raven was bitter and temperamental and fidgety, hard to control. The researchers were willing to put Gil through more testing, reluctant to declare the Chain contracted but untamed. At least, Gilbert was trying his hardest to fight that assessment.
To fail meant two strikes against the Nightray family. First the uselessness of the Dormouse, and then the Raven.
And it also meant botching his chance to save Oz.
Tear sprung from his eyes at the thought, and Reim offered a towel, a look of compassion on his bespectacled face. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Gilbert," he said gently. "Your health hasn't fully recovered yet, and straining yourself isn't helping."
"I understand."
We hunger, screeched the Raven in his brain.
"We can try again tomorrow. Please take the rest of the day to rest." But Reim couldn't hide the notes on his clipboard fast enough. "Assessment day three incomplete."
He pushed himself to his feet and avoided Reim's attempt to pat him on the back. "I shall, sir," he replied curtly, before heading toward one of the private washrooms off the range, extremely eager to change out of his Pandora uniform into his normal clothes.
In the washroom, he removed the cloth around his neck. Beneath the wrapping, a slightly rough, hardened scab, about three inches long appeared on the side of his neck. The Raven's wound.
A yellow eye stared inside the mirror.
Gil cried out, blinked, then saw nothing but his blanched reflection and the ugly wound. He'd never get used to the Raven's disembodied appearances.
Darkness flashed over his eyes as he felt the Raven coast past his mind.
Pathetic humans and their simpleton games, the Chain muttered, landing among the mental chains that formed in the corners of Gil's mind. This time, the Raven reduced itself down to one bird, but loomed as a creature as large as himself. Gilbert still wasn't comforted by this loss of independence, knowing this Chain was lurking, watching, witnessing everything...
Feed me, the Raven commanded.
Quickly, Gilbert repeated the secret ritual that he did almost every night since contracting the Raven.
He took a penknife from his pocket and wiped the blade a few times on a soft cloth to clean it. He didn't even need to press it into his flesh, but worked it beneath the half-healed feathered scab at his neck. Blood pooled from his artery wound and dripped down, following the contours of his collarbone. He caught the blood on his fingertips and watched it drip down toward his palm.
The Raven didn't manifest itself into the real world, persay, but beneath closed eyelids, Gilbert saw giant black wings enfolding him and that thick, purple-tinged tongue lapping up his blood. Precious Master, you taste of bittersweet night. Mine, the Raven squawked.
"You belong to me, Raven," he corrected, feeling the warm liquid on his fingers as he pressed them against his lips.
A low, throaty chuckle. So you say, Master.
A warm taste of rust bloomed on Gilbert's tongue and when he opened his eyes again, the neck wound staunched itself already. He removed his fingers from his mouth, swallowed, and turned the faucet on to wash the evidence off his hands. He scooped up water in his cupped palm and drank it to wash out the taste.
Gilbert had to keep paying the blood debt until the Raven was satisfied. That was how you tame a Chain: through sacrifice and discipline. That was what he had come to understand.
If Chains had human feelings, Gilbert would have wondered if the Raven felt insecure over Gilbert's accused infidelity. He only wondered how much the Raven would demand from him.
What satisfaction, the Raven said smoothly, calmer now that it had been sated.
Gilbert rubbed his neck after changing the bandage. Fingers lingered over the spot above the wound, the place where Vincent pressed his drunken lips to his skin. Did his little brother suspect Gil's ritual with the Raven?
A flush came with the thought, and pushing it aside, Gil asked, "Tell me, how goes the search for the thief?"
The Raven's feathers prickled again. This I don't understand. My selves can sense it, but it always eludes us. But, soon, the thief will be caught. Soon.
"And then will you obey me?"
Then you will only be mine.
Satisfied, Chain spread his wings and Gilbert felt him vanish from his head. Thank goodness that creature never lingered much after being fed. Gilbert wanted to call it a day and return to the manor, but he needed to check on Vince first before calling a carriage. A long-time habit, traveling together from headquarters, and lately, whenever Gil had to return alone, he felt an odd loss of company.
Slipping out of the washroom and walking down the hallway, he overheard, "So, where can we find the Sleeper now?"
A mocking laugh. "Nightray's pet? In the back library, reading scrolls."
"That's what they call napping now?"
Gil turned away as hot embarrassment flushed over him as the officers walked own the hall, chuckling. "The Dormouse" was Vincent's official code name, but people kept calling him "The Sleeper", since more often than not, Vincent was found nestled in the hallway, snoozing away. Didn't they understand how much that Dormouse weakened him? Gilbert resisted snapping a sharp comment toward his co-workers, choosing to stick close to the wall with his head bowed and hurried his step instead.
Gil was all too self-conscious about his little brother. If everyone joked about him behind closed doors, what did they think of Gilbert? Was he just another "pet" of the Nightrays? Gilbert hated the gossip vines that snaked their way through Pandora.
No, he wouldn't be like Vincent. He'd earn his Chain's power in a way that commanded respect. Enough that no one would dare ridicule him or his brother.
"Yo, Raven!"
An arm encircled his shoulders as Break pulled him close. The stick of a sugar lolly stick out of the corner of his lips. "How goes training?"
Gilbert narrowed his eyes. He started to despise his new codename.
"Not well, I gather?"
"The bastard doesn't listen. The Raven only makes demands and never reciprocates." He crossed his arms, shoving off Break's hold. "Any thought about when Lord Barma officially orders for the rejection of my contract?"
"Aw, Gil, I wouldn't be so harsh." Break cracked the hard candy and chewed loudly, shifting the stick from one side to the other. "What does the Raven tell you?"
"Other than being hungry all the time?" Gil snapped. And dwelling about that thief…
"Have you been feeding it blood?"
Gilbert startled. "How did you know?"
"All Chains crave blood. It's part of their nature." Break removed the stick and tossed it onto the floor. "Don't you recall your lessons? The illegal ones kill out of bloodlust, demanding more sacrifices that only the contractor can provide. Our contracted Chains only ask for as much as we are willing to give." He arched an eyebrow. "I'm not surprised the Raven craves blood, but there should come a point when the Chain manifests itself in the physical world in order to feed. But the Raven never comes when you summon it, right?"
Guilt twisted inside Gilbert's gut. No, the Raven hadn't appeared in the real world yet, but now he can't admit that he had been feeding the Raven improperly. Would that cost him his contract?
"I'm sure if I hold out longer, it'll appear then. Must be just a matter of time." Gilbert pushed his hat down lower over his face. "Vincent's in the library. I must meet him."
Break touched his arm. "Maybe we should try and provoke the Raven. Present it an opportunity to fight as a means to draw it out."
"How?"
"I have a lead on a case I'm working on about an illegal contractor sighting in the Narrows. You should come."
"But I'm not field ready," he protested. "Wouldn't this get us in trouble?"
"I'll tell Barma it's an apprentice mission. That I don't expect to see combat or for you to engage in it."
"I'm not sure..." He shouldn't make a bad situation worse.
"Suit yourself." Break whirled around. "I'll go and see what Reim's latest status report says..."
"Fine," Gil snapped. "When and where shall we meet?"
"Midnight. At the Central Bridge. We can discuss strategy then." Break gave a half-smile and a departing wave. "See you later, Raven!"
Gilbert sighed, pressed the bridge of his nose between two fingers, and headed straight to the Pandora library. The guilt he felt earlier transformed into anxiety. Was it right to be bullied into a mission without approval? What kind of scheme was Break planning?
Like the labyrinth of hallways in this place, Gilbert felt like he had to be careful not to get lost amidst the lies, backstabbing, and power-plays went on between the noble of Pandora. Some people were fantastic – Reim Lunettes and Sharon Rainsworth were prime examples – but everyone else seemed driven by this self-serving, thirsty need to know more about Chains that permeated the walls of this very building. Sometimes, all of this trickery made Gilbert feel in over his head, drowning in a sea of deceit.
He could never escape this blackness, no matter where he went.
When he reached the library, sure enough, his younger brother was alone among the stacks of the great Pandora archives, languid but composed as always. A chessboard with a half-played game was set-up on a table piled with scrolls and other paperwork. Vince found it entertaining to play against himself, though for what reason, Gil had no idea.
"Hey," he greeted bluntly.
"Hello, big brother," Vincent put down the magnifying glass he held in one hand as he draped a bookmark in the yellowed record book lying across the table. In the other hand was a fountain pen he used to take notes. "I heard the most delightful gossip about my codename," Vincent said, lowering his pen hand. "People call me the Sleeper agent."
Gilbert flinched at that causal cruelty. "What kind of joke-"
Vincent went on to say, "I like it." He rested the tip of a fountain pen against his lips for a moment, staring out the widow. "Better than the Snorer, right?"
How typical of Vincent, smoothing over the harm with a disarming smile. Gilbert was relieved for this small respite.
"How did the assessment go?"
Instantly, his mood sank. Gilbert slumped to a cushioned chair beside his brother. "Training's been a pain. But Break offered to help. I'm going on an apprentice mission with him tonight. See if that can motivate the Raven."
"Oh." Vincent twirled the fountain pen between his fingers. "I'd love to keep Gil company instead of the Mad Hatter." Another tiny smile. "I'm sure we can figure out ways to draw the Raven out."
In Gilbert's mind, a memory echoed —
"Gil wants me."
Next thing Gil realized, he glanced over at Vincent in askance. "Vince…"
Vincent watched him, his red eye glinting. Two words, said slowly, in a tone barely above breathing. Tenderly. Carefully.
"Yes, brother?"
Gilbert blinked and cleared his throat loudly, getting to his feet. "I'm going to call a carriage. Would you like to accompany me to the manor?"
Tension riled along his shoulders. Gilbert placed an arm on the table, as if to snatch the fountain pen from his hand, but instead, laid his fingers across the dark green felt that covered the surface.
Responding, Vincent's hands trailed up Gilbert's sleeve. He tugged a stray thread from the seam, twisting it between silken fingers, eyes lidded and focused intently upon that captured little bit. The thread snapped, causing Gilbert to flinch. Vincent met his eyes and Gilbert detected an unspoken hesitation flit across his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but then, Vincent turned toward the scrolls laid out before him.
"How considerate," he said wistfully. "But Lord Barma actually requested I finish this work before I leave."
Vincent turned toward the table, away from Gilbert, which made the older man realize how that, unthinkingly, he had leaned across the desk toward Vincent in expectation of an answer. "Oh." Gilbert withdrew, and that strange magnetism receded, relaxing that tightness between his shoulder blades. "Will I see you at dinner tonight?"
"I'll be sure to come home soon."
Vincent placed a pen nib against his lips as he watched the tall graceful figure of his brother leave the room. He tasted ink on his tongue and wiped the blotting cloth against his mouth. He had been marking in red ink and stained the cloth pink.
Languidly, Vincent look a sip from a goblet beside him, letting the white wine wash the pigment away. Oh, how much he wanted to follow his brother to the carriage, where no prying eyes could see what they did. No, despite how much he wanted to go, Vincent dare not miss his appointment, and he could not have Gilbert know where he slipped off to tonight.
Gil had been so preoccupied since the party, obsessed with mastering the Raven. Usually now, he's also followed by at least two of Duke Nightray's personal guards as well; it wasn't only Vincent who realized the increasing danger surrounding his brother and his newfound powers. So how lovely it was to be alone, and Vincent felt quite tempted... but no.
Besides, Gilbert asking for him and then denying his request made his heart lift. Vince wanted to test those bonds. Tease them, pull at them, before wrapping them around his fingers and knotting them tight.
whatcha doing master?
The Dormouse nosed its way into Vincent's awareness.
"Reading."
about what?
"Looking for a certain Chain..." Vincent flipped through the old record book. Nothing about her, so far, nothing at all...
but why? The Dormouse scampered across Vincent's mental landscape, which he molded to resemble a wooded forest for his Chain. He had gotten quite good at that, steering his mindscape to resemble actual physical spaces. The Dormouse ducked around a tree and poked its head out again between some low-lying roots.
aren't i useful to you?
"You always are, Dormouse..."
does master want me to find
new Borderlands
to explore for him?
Occasionally, he summoned the Chain to Pandora, usually before the researchers, who ran their tests as Vincent sat in the corner drinking tea and reading more ancient tomes. The Dormouse behaved, remaining docile and unresponsive. Unbeknownst to them, it later scampered away into the Borderlands of any napping colleagues, which he found much more interesting than returning to the Abyss.
Vincent found this underhanded spy tactic quite useful. But it wasn't the only one he used.
"No need."
then why is
Vin
cent Night
ray
looking for another chain?
Vincent slammed the book shut. Did the Dormouse merely suspect Vincent was looking for that beastly skeleton from his past, or did the creature know? He was always uncertain how much the Chain could read his mind.
Dormouse, he berated. Who is your Master?
you are
Vin
cent Night
ray
you are
Vincent asked, And do Chains question their Masters?
hmmmmmmmmmm, the Dormouse tilted its head. what kind of answer do you want?
I wasn't being rhetorical, he scolded.
neither was i
Before he could say anything more, a tap hit the window. Then another.
Vincent went to the library door and propped chair underneath the knob. Then he walked to the far corner and opened the latch to the window in the far corner.
From the ground below, a dark figure draped around the opposite tree bough. A swift hiss of air and a thunk as the dagger hit the wooden paneling. Vince took a moment to glare coolly as the figure, who wordlessly bounded down and was now hastily treating across Pandora's rear gardens, before he snapped the window shut.
Lord Zai's men were quite uncouth. But at least straightforward.
The Dormouse twitched an ear. danger? it mused.
"Perhaps," Vincent replied aloud. He pulled the dagger out from the wall and unfolded the note wrapped round its handle. In block letters was the location and the time. MIDNIGHT. THE NARROWS.
The plans were coming into motion. Vincent intended to take Zai's offer to meet the Baskervilles. He wasn't sure how committed he will be to these noble bastards and their dreadful rituals that had started all of the chaos in this world. He recalled how they had chosen Gilbert over a century ago and shuttered. If he had the ability, Vincent preferred to destroy every single Baskerville instead of listening to them.
But...if these people could protect Gilbert from whatever machinations Fred plotted, he had to gather whatever allies he could. Should the Baskervilles demand his brother to serve as the next Glen again... well, Vincent will make them adhere to his terms, not theirs.
"We still have some hours to prepare," Vincent mused, throwing the note into the fireplace. "Let's see what reading we can get done before then."
Gilbert felt a bit disappointed to see one extra empty chair at the dinner table that evening. At least, that feeling was enough to shield against his growing sense of anxiety over the impending mission with Break. He started to cut the meat into tiny pieces on his plate, and once those were reduced to a pile of mushy, vaguely gray bits, he started doing the same to the greens.
Thankfully, Elliot and Leo, the only other guests at the meal, didn't seem to notice Gilbert reducing his plate into baby food.
"Have you killed any illegal contractors yet?"
"Tonight's my first patrol, Elly."
"I'd have killed dozens of illegal contractors by now," he proclaimed loudly.
Leo rolled his eyes. "I'm sure killing anyone – illegal contractor or not – would be equally illegal if you're not an officer."
"But that's what you are, Gilbert, right?" Elliot leaned forward, nearly getting sauce on his vest. The Nightray sword, which he wore holstered by his side despite clashing with his dinner attire, made a soft thud as he shifted in his seat. Instinctively, Elliot placed a hand on it to soften the noise. "You're a real Pandora officer with the Raven?"
"I'm apprenticing." A hard chink as his knife hit the plate. He gave a tight smile. "I'm sure Break would rather I not use criminals as target practice."
Elliot usually accompanied Gilbert and Vincent at dinner; the Duke and Duchess usually had social commitments most evenings, and the other Nightrays never bothered to take meals with their foster siblings. Gil was still getting used to Leo, and he found it unusual that a manservant ate at the same table as nobles. The fact the Elliot demanded this, despite any talk otherwise, buoyed his heart.
Having two people to converse with helped distract him too.
"How is working with Mister Break anyway?" Elliot made a face. "He's the weird guy with the doll, right?"
"He's…a professional," Gilbert hedged. "I wouldn't be out if he wasn't."
A scoff came from the dining room doorway. "Dear brother, don't flatter him." Vincent stepped into the room, passing his coat to the servant waiting by the doors. "Pardon my lateness."
"Vince." Gilbert stood up and pulled the seat next to him. "I thought you wouldn't be joining us."
"I changed my mind." Vincent slid next to Gilbert, touching his arm as he lowered himself into the chair. "I wanted to be sure to see you off tonight."
Gilbert's heart seemed to beat a bit faster at the words and he swallowed hard. "I'm glad."
"Joseph brought in the evening's letters," Vincent added, pulling a note from his sleeve. "From our dearest Frederic."
"For me?" Elliot sprang from his seat, and this time, a spot of gravy did splash onto his shirtfront. Leon gave a sigh and offered his friend a napkin, which Elliot took to dab at the stain half-heartedly. "He said that he's set up saber lessons for me with a new teacher."
"For Gilbert." Vincent placed the letter in Gilbert's hand and for a moment, Gilbert caught the veiled flash of hostility in his younger brother's eyes.
He opened the letter and quickly scanned it. "More instructions about the ball, it seems," he reported to the table as his stomach clenched in even more worry. "The final itinerary for the evening has been set, and he wanted us to be informed. And he sent a copy of the final guest list." He took a sip of water to calm himself. Not this too.
His wrist seemed to ache, as if recalling the iron grasp of Fred's hold from Elliot's birthday party. One more week until the dignitary ball at Fred's southern estate, where Fred is going to present the latest research about Chains to nobles from around the nation and foreign dignitaries abroad. Gilbert showing off the Raven was scheduled as the main event.
Every day a new letter came from the eldest Nightray, along with new sets of clothes, Pandora outfits, and a growing invitation list of who was expected to attend. Gilbert had no idea if the man took perverse pleasure in showering him with details.
Vincent scoffed as he read over Gilbert's shoulder. "Fancy. Our dearest Fred arranges this party as if you and the Raven are getting engaged to be married or something." Vincent's warm breath hit his cheek and Gilbert felt that tight sensation rise from his gullet. He drank more water as Elliot snatched the note for his turn to read.
Everyone's role for the ball's events was enumerated point-by-point. Except for Vincent or Elliot.
The boy frowned as he realized this gap. "Vince, why aren't we on here?" Elliot turned the pages over, as if checking for anything missing. "I mean, can Leo and I go?"
"You'd have to ask the Duchess," Vincent replied smoothly. "This is a dignitary ball, not a family occasion, and you're not of age yet." Joseph stepped into the room and gave a little bow as he presented Vincent with his dinner. Gilbert couldn't help but stare at Vincent's hands as they deftly handled the silver cutlery. How come he had never noticed how elegant they were, how long the fingers and how slim those wrists…?
"But what about you?" Gilbert asked.
"I suppose I am not needed."
Gilbert hit his empty glass on the table. "That doesn't make sense. We are presenting the latest Chain research to the world and you've been throwing yourself into that work for longer than I have!" Fred wants to separate us. He wants to isolate me, the perfect target for assassination before the most powerful people in the country and the continent….
Vincent gave him a strange look. "It's an odd exclusion, is it not, brother?"
A little divot of worry pressed between Elliot's brows. "Why would Fred do that?"
Before any theories could be shared, dinner was interrupted yet again.
"Elliot!" Vanessa thundered into the dining room, the tailcoats of her jacket stirring in her wake. "There you are. I was looking all over for you."
"I'm still at dinner," Elliot protested.
"Second dinner," his sister sneered. "I don't know why you bother to sit for twice the meals. You know Mother and Father hate seeing this frivolous time wasted when you should be studying."
"We're already done with our studies tonight," Leo replied, glaring.
"I didn't ask you."
"Hey, don't speak to my manservant like that." Gilbert saw Leo react to "manservant," but then shared a knowing look with his friend. Elliot crossed his arms. "He was merely pointing out a fact that I was free to spend my time as I wished."
Natural brother and sister held each other's gaze before she gave in. "Whatever. I only hoped you wished to practice piano for a bit before I leave."
"For where?"
"Our uncle-in-law is escorting me to Fred's manor. He requested my presence this week for introductions to some of his circle who are arriving early for the ball."
"Ahhhh," Vincent replied knowingly. "Time to marry you off before spinster status hits."
She glared at him as Leo hid a smile behind his sleeve.
"Oh." Suddenly, an innocent expression crossed Elliot's face. "Nessa, after practice, can we ask Mother whether I can go?" He left his place at the table and took her by the arm. "I'm composing a whole new sonata I want to show you too."
"That would be grand." She smiled warmly. "Go set the music room up, and I'll be there in but a moment." Elliot nodded to Leo and both of them left the room.
Once they'd gone, she gestured toward Fred's open letter. "Word from Fred?"
"An updated guest list." Gilbert offered the sheet to her, feeling pity. She inherited the infamous Nightray temper that her uncle, Ernest and Elliot all shared, but for some reason, having it manifest in a woman was frowned upon. Perhaps that was why she remained unmarried at her age.
That never stopped her from being herself, however, and Gilbert occasionally found her practicing shooting on the Nightray's private range (he never used it, for fear of friendly fire). With Vanessa's curling black hair and delicate features, they probably could be mistaken for natural siblings. At the very least, in any other circumstances, perhaps they could've been friends.
"How many suitors do you expect?"
"Too many." She grimaced. Her eyes narrowed at him. "You know, I asked Father once about training for the Raven. He told me that a woman's constitution wouldn't have held up."
"It doesn't matter anyhow, since the Raven was never meant for you." Vincent had his chin propped in his hands. "Are you here to vent, dearest sister?"
She gave a haughty sniff in response. "You will be missed, Vincent. Really, a shame."
"I'll see you after," he replied coolly. "Safe journeys."
Dinner quickly finished up, and now, Vincent sat beside his brother watching him take a drag from his cigarette, his hat pressed over his midnight locks. This was a safe time, here in the evening, out on the upper balcony overlooking the gardens where no one was watching.
Such a nasty habit. Vincent didn't know why Gilbert started it. But he knew Gil smoked to calm his nerves, and this was his third cigarette.
Gilbert grimaced, flicking ash. "Who care what Fred thinks? You have every right to present your Chain alongside mine."
A casual shrug. "The Dormouse is a fickle one," he replied. "And there's been no precedent that I need to prove anything using my Chain." He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You deserve the spotlight over me, big brother."
Gil, who usually shrugged off his gesture at this point, instead, relaxed at his touch. Vincent's heart beat thumped loudly in his ears as he watched Gil remove the burned-down stub from his lips and run his tongue over their fullness.
Vincent wanted to taste that.
Taste him.
Savor him in the moonlight that cast the beauty of his brother's face in perfect relief.
Vincent balled his fist at his side and inhaled the fresh smoke.
Gilbert dropped the stub and put it out with the heel of his foot. A flinch, a strange and alarmed expression on his brother's face–
Gilbert grasped his neck with a wince. He hit the balcony railing, eyes wide, clutching his cravat.
Vincent's mouth went dry. "What's wrong?"
A cough escaped his lips. "Nothing…" He rubbed his Adam's apple distractedly through the bandage around his neck.
"Brother," Vincent asked hesitantly. "Do you need to have it looked at?"
His hands went to Gilbert's neck, loosening the silk around it. How tender the skin and so pale! How sweet it tasted when Vincent had pressed his lips there, and that small sound Gil made in response...
He lifted the bandage. For a moment, he saw an angry bruise and his memory flashed to Gil, flailing as he choked on the bed. But no, it wasn't a bruise, he didn't injure his dear brother, it is the scabbed-over feather, as distinct as a brand. The Raven's nasty work.
"Why haven't you taken that thing out yet?"
Gilbert pulled up his cravat to cover the bandage and took a step backwards. "None of your concern."
"The Dormouse's mark healed in a week. That's been there for so much longer..."
"I keep it fresh," Gil hissed. "The Raven asks for blood."
"But you don't have to give it yours!" Vincent reached out again but Gil knocked his hand away.
"This is my Chain. My choice on how I want to tame it." Gil paused. "Maybe you should try feeding the Dormouse once in awhile."
"I have my ways. Not as dangerous."
"How? Don't you hear the Dormouse in your mind?" Gil's fists balled at his sides.
"I hear it, brother. Constantly." Even now, Vincent pressed a hand to his ear and sensed the ringing that never went away, an endless drone that wore on his skull.
"And it... never ends?"
"Not unless I use my Chain's ability."
An inquisitive look. "I've never seen you put people to sleep, Vincent." The power listed in Pandora's official record. Only Vincent's private books revealed the Borderlands, and everything that came with that dream realm.
"For research, sometimes they ask." Vincent moved closer, leaning toward his brother. "But not often enough. Sometimes I think I could help the overworked with a little nap, but they refuse." A small smile. "If I went out on patrol with you, maybe the Dormouse will be of assistance."
Visibly, a shiver went through Gil as he averted his glance. "Let's go inside."
"Must we?" he whispered. And then: "You look tired. Would you like to rest before tonight?"
"Vince…" His face had gone so pale. "Please."
Vincent straightened up quickly, inwardly shuddering on that look of horror on Gilbert's face. "Why is big brother upset?"
"I... Vince, stop pestering me, for gods' sakes!" He pressed a hand against his eyes. "I have to get ready."
Gilbert pushed past Vincent, pressing his hat low over his eyes. Vincent watched his retreating frame, his heart racing. That gaze, that hesitation… He cherished every moment he held with his dear brother; he could see him tremble, and he waited so patiently – so saintly – for that final fall into his arms. And yet so many people stood in the way. The shadow of that abominable Vessalius brat; that sly, manipulative clown; that coquettish, Rainsworth girl, poisonous as a spider… and now that Chain, foul bird…
Gil
bert Night
ray
plays a tricky game with the Raven, the Dormouse observed inside his mind.
Vincent scowled. What that Chain listening in? He asked coarsely, How so?
he does not let the Raven come out
in the World to feed
nor does he enter the Abyss to feed the Raven
he feeds the Raven through his Doorway to the Borderlands
that's a dangerous thing
to let the Raven
take over his body
Dormouse tilted its head slightly, the tip of its tail flicking.
what an irresponsible human Gilbert is