Page 76 of White Raven
As bad as she wanted to drop the plates, and violate these countertops again, deep down she knew there was something heavy on his mind too…and he was trying his best to forget about whatever it was.
“My blanket is quilted with raven feathers.”
His abrupt pause let her know she got his attention. Athan’s face shot up and his eyebrows lowered. “What?”
“Yeah. Something was pricking me from the blanket, and I pulled out a couple of raven feathers. I know that back in the day, people stuffed pillows, and quilted with down…but…I just didn’t expect…”
“Your mom never told you where the blanket came from?”
“No, and she’s not here for me to ask. So, I’m calling it a lead.” She slipped past his arm and took the plates to the coffee table. She wasn’t surprised to see him head straight for the blanket and start inspecting it.
“Are you okay with me giving a couple of these to Jenkins to send to the lab?” he asked, twirling one of the old feathers between his fingers.
“Absolutely.” She walked back to the kitchen, grabbing their glasses, and motioned for him to join her at the table. He finally did, and she let him get through half his plate before she asked another question. “Athan…what happened to your mom?” He paused, mid-chew, and stared at her.
“I told you…she was murdered.”
“I know…but did they ever figure out how? You said she washed up. Did she drown?”
He pushed the pasta around the plate with his fork and cleared his throat. “No, she—the constable determined that she’d been bludgeoned in the head. Something big and had to be harder than wood…but back then…you know. There wasn’t a great deal to help investigate.” He dropped the fork and sat straighter. “Why do you ask?”
“I was reading your journal before I got poked with the feather. I read one page that seemed like it might have been about her. Is that why you decided to become a detective?”
He swallowed and stared at his plate. “I—maybe it is. I never really thought about it that way. At the time, it just seemed like the logical way to cover the coven’s misdeeds.”
“But you enjoy it. You’re good at it.”
He smiled softly to himself. “I do enjoy it. Feels like a part of me now, I guess.”
“Where did you bury her?”
He was quiet for a moment but seemed more relaxed. He started eating again. “There was a burial plot next to an old church that she always said was beautiful. I spent just about everything we had to make sure she rested there. Her grave isn’t unmarked, but there’s no writing on the stone. Our front stoop had this odd-shaped block, and she used to say it looked like a dove. I carried it to the plot and used it as her headstone.”
Sarah sipped from her glass, listening intently. “What was her name?”
“…Mary.” His mouth tilted up in the corner, and he tossed the hair from his brow. “I haven’t visited her since I placed that stone. I couldn’t. I wonder if she’s still there.”
That was odd. Sarah drew her brows and sat her glass down. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
“Back then, plague and sickness caused a lot of funeral traffic. There weren’t many places to bury loved ones, and the price of a good spot only got steeper. Sometimes bodies were buried on top of old graves. Sometimes spots were dug up, and their occupants tossed to rot in the woods to make room for somebody more deserving.”
“That’s fucking terrible!” Sarah frowned, feeling anger bubble up.
“It is, but it’s not uncommon for that time period. That happened all over the world. Some people say that’s what happened to Poe, himself.”
“His body was stolen?”
“Not stolen. He had a mother-in-law. She wanted him moved. But Poe had already been buried in one place, and even though there were witnesses, some say they were never completely sure they moved the right body to his final resting place. A lot of weird shit happened with that.”
“So, are you saying it may not even be Poe resting in that grave in Baltimore?”
Athan shrugged, smirking as he raised his glass back to his mouth. “Nobody knows.”
“Oh my God, we’vegotto go!”
He laughed into his glass, bringing it back down. “I draw the line at digging up graves, love. I’ll take you though. So, is it set then? That’s where we’re starting?”
“Fuck, yeah. How long will it take Jenkins to get back to us about the blanket?”
