Tobias Hawthorne. The one and only time I’d met him, I was six years old. But he was omnipresent in this place. Hawthorne House bore his mark.
Every room. Every detail.
The boys bore it, too.
“All great lives should have at least one grand mystery, Avery. I won’t apologize for being yours.” Tobias Hawthorne was a man who didn’t apologize for much. “If you’ve spent late nights and early mornings asking yourself Why me? Well, my dear, you are not the only one. What is the human condition, if not Why me? ”
I could feel the shift in each of the Hawthorne brothers as they listened to Tobias Hawthorne’s words and the cadence of his speech.
“As a young man, I believed myself destined for greatness. I fought for it, I thought my way to the top, I cheated, I lied, I made the world bend to my will.” There was a pause, and then: “I got lucky. I can admit that now.
I’m dying, and not slowly, either. Why me? Why is this body giving out?
Why am I the one sitting in a palace of my own making when there are others out there with minds like mine? I got lucky. Right place, right time, right ideas, right mind.” He let out an audible breath. “If only that were it.
“If you are playing this message, then things have become as dire as I projected. Eve is there, and certain events have led you to finding the tomb that once housed this family’s greatest secret. How much, I wonder, have you put together for yourself, Avery?”
Every time he said my name, I felt like he was here in this room. Like he could see me. Like he had been watching me from the moment I’d stepped through Hawthorne House’s grand front door.
“But then,” he continued, an odd sort of smile in his voice, “you’re not alone, are you? Hello, boys.”
I felt Jameson shift, his arm brushing mine.
“If you boys are indeed there with Avery, then at least one thing has worked out as I intended. You know quite well that she is not your enemy.
Perhaps, if I have chosen as well as I think I have, she has reached a place inside of you that I never could. Dare I even say made you whole?”
“Turn it off,” Nash said, but none of us listened. I wasn’t even sure he meant it.
“I hope you enjoyed the game I left you. Whether your mother and aunt have found and played theirs, I cannot say. The odds I’ve calculated suggest it could go either way, which is why, Xander, I left you with the charge I did. I trust that you have looked for Toby. And Avery, I believe in my heart of hearts that Toby has found you.”
Each word the dead man said made this entire situation feel that much eerier. How much of what had happened since he’d died had he foreseen?
Not just foreseen, but planned, moving us all around like pawns?
“If you are listening to this, then there is a high likelihood that Vincent Blake has revealed himself as a clear and present threat. I’d hoped to outlive the bastard. For years, he and I have had an armistice of sorts. He considered himself magnanimous at first, to let me go. Later, once he began to resent my growing fortune, my power, my status—well, those things kept him in check.
“I kept him in check.”
There was another pause, and it felt sharper somehow this time, honed.
“But now I am gone, and if Blake knows what I suspect you now know, God help you all. If Eve is there, if Blake knows or even suspects what I have kept from him all these years, then he is coming. For the fortune. For my legacy. For you, Avery Kylie Grambs. And for that, I do apologize.”
I thought of the letter that Tobias Hawthorne had left me. The only explanation I’d been given, back at the start. I’m sorry.
“But better you than them.” Tobias Hawthorne paused. “Yes, Avery. I really am that much of a bastard. I really did paint a target on your forehead. Even without the truth surfacing, I saw the probabilities for what they were. Once I was no longer there to hold him at bay, Blake was always going to make his move. Hunting season, he might call it—playing the game, destroying all opponents, taking what was mine. And that, my dear, is why it is now yours.”