The Hand Collector

by Marian Gray

  “I am not. You don’t hear what the men discuss when we split after dinners. The whitehands are trying to take over the party and put an end to any semblance of equality that exists right now.”

  Aunt Margot rolled her eyes, dismissing him, but there was something about the conviction in his words that left a queasy feeling in my gut. Uncle Hank had never been one to place belief in an idea unless he had sound logical reasons to do so. I didn’t know to what extent, but I believed him when he claimed there was something brewing behind enemy lines.

  Chapter Nine

  I thought about Idris Young more times than I cared to admit throughout the following month. As I stared out the circular window in my bedroom, images of his face flooded my thoughts. I carried on our conversation in my head as though it hadn’t been interrupted, and then rewrote it several different ways, surmising what his reaction would be based on my many various responses. There was something about him—his warm, confident demeanor mixed with knowing he was my competition, my adversary—the champion of the whitehands. It stirred me in ways I couldn’t quite grasp. But it was fruitless to entertain such emotions. After all, his goal in life was to see the end of me and all that I cared about.

  I sank lower in my seat with a tight breath. I was overthinking things. For all I knew, he approached me because he didn’t recognize me and wanted to add me to his hit list. On our return home, Uncle Hank had made it very clear I needed to be especially cautious around this sort. Highborn blackhands were top targets, and being one of the last Ebenmores… well, the whitehands were hungry to end the line.

  It was Sunday. The day before I was expected at Blacksaw University, and the first Sunday my mom had requested our presence for the traditional family brunch. Despite our tense parting, there was no person I wanted to see more in this world than my mom. Given all I had experienced this summer, returning home to her felt like seeking out shelter in the storm. It would only be a few hours, but it would be enough for me to recuperate and recharge.

  We still hadn’t heard from Dr. Raby, but Uncle Hank’s determination remained solid as stone. I was going to Blacksaw tomorrow.

  I hopped off the cushioned bench and exited my room. A few doors had disappeared overnight, placing the staircase closer to my bedroom. With light feet, I trailed down the stairs and met with Uncle Hank and Aunt Margot in the ivy green living room.

  Aunt Margot’s fingers clutched the turn switch on the tall lamp that stood beside the tufted couch. The lightbulb was on, illuminating the vibrant hues of the stained glass shade.

  “Do you think we should let Zuri have a go at it on her own?” asked Uncle Hank.

  Aunt Margot shook her head. “Absolutely not. That would be extremely dangerous given the circumstances.”

  “Why do you say that? It’s only three words, no hands involved.”

  “Because she hasn’t learned the tongue yet. If she mispronounces just one vowel, heaven knows how badly she’ll be electrocuted or where she’ll go. I’d rather play this one safe if you don’t mind. It’s the first time in almost two months that Zeineb has invited us to brunch, and I really don’t want to show up in her living room, having to explain that we have no idea as to where her daughter switched.”

  “Fair enough.” Uncle Hank shoved his hand into a pair of tawny brown leather gloves. “Zuri, do you have something to cover your hands?”

  I glanced down at my exposed skin. My mother had always been very strict about keeping tattoos hidden at all times. “No.”

  “Grab some of my gloves,” Aunt Margot said. “There’s a few extra pairs in the cabinet beside the front door in the foyer. Top left drawer.”

  I did as she said, exiting to the foyer and locating the drawer full of gloves without issue. There must’ve been at least a dozen pairs there. Some were decorated with tufts of fur around the wrist, while others boasted of loud colors such as red and shimmering gold. I selected a very simple but theatrical pair of black gloves that went all the way up to my forearm.

  It was strange covering my hands. It made me feel as though my tattoos were dirty, something to be ashamed of, something vulgar. Then again, that’s how my mother had always treated them. The fine white lines, the markings on her hands were a source of odium.

  I returned to the living room and clasped my uncle’s hand. Aunt Margot had already gone through.

  “Uncle Hank?” I mumbled before he had a chance to utter a single syllable.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you certain it’s still a good idea for me to go to tomorrow? We haven’t heard from Dr. Raby yet.”

  “Zuri, don’t worry about that and don’t let what Margot said get to you. I have all the confidence in the world that you will be fine.”

  But I didn’t think it was the nerves. In fact, it felt more like my reality weighing down on my shoulders, crushing me at times. I didn’t know how weak I was compared to a normal functioning blackhand, and to be honest, I was terrified to find out. “How long do you think I’ll last before I’m discovered? Is this something that will be spotted right away?”

  His face drooped, and he sighed. “You have no idea how much it breaks my heart to hear you ask me that.” His hands rested on both of my shoulders, and his head lowered so that he stared straight in my eyes. “I don’t know when or if they’ll piece together the truth. But please know, I believe in you. I will fight at your side, and we will overcome this together. This issue will not hold you back. I won’t let it.”

  I nodded. It was reassuring having someone fighting in my corner. “I’m just afraid of what they’ll do. You don’t think they’ll send the Sightless Sons after me, do you?”

  He chuckled, but the idea of it all didn’t seem too far-fetched to me. There was a set criteria of what a hand was supposed to be, and I didn’t check every box. I didn’t fit the set forth mold which made my existence dangerous. They had already demonized, attacked, and erased flups from society. When would I be next?

  “No, they won’t send the Sightless Sons after you. The chancellor of the school and I are old friends. If you were to be found out, I am certain that she would go to me before ever dreaming of contacting the authorities. She did it for your mother, and she will have the same grace towards you.” His hands dropped from my shoulders and clasped my own. “Now, let’s go see your mother. Don’t speak about this little hiccup and allow her to just be happy that you’re not a flup.”

  The mood during brunch had been kept light and easy going. It kept my mom from asking any hard-hitting questions. I didn’t know if I could’ve lied to her. I would’ve tried for everyone’s sake but I doubt I would have been able to hold it together. The emotional storm brewing inside me was difficult to contain and having to meet her eyes and lie to her face would have broken me. I went on this journey in order to provide a future where my mom didn’t have to be scared, where I could protect the two of us. And how was I supposed to tell her that everything was fine, when in reality, my hands were broken. If nothing changed, I would probably never be able to defend us against any whitehand or blackhand that intended to cause us harm.

  “So, have you made any new friends?” My mom asked as she dried the plate I had just washed.

  I shook my head. “No, they’re a pair of hermits. I mean, Aunt Margot leaves the house every now and then to go shopping and meet up with her friends, but otherwise we don’t really go out.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed that Margot does all the talking.” Uncle Hank was incredibly timid and frightened easy.

  “How much of the house have you explored?”

  “I’m not sure. I know the common rooms. The downstairs never changes. Then, there’s my bedroom, their bedroom, a bathroom, and three other guest rooms. I’ve stumbled upon the family room and Aunt Margot’s walk-in closet, but that’s basically it.”

  “I’m surprised. Sounds like they’re really keeping everything under lock and key.”

  “Is there more?”

  She shrugged her shoulders, toying
with me.

  “What other rooms are there? How do I find them?” My eyes brightenrd with curiosity.

  She grinned impishly. “I guess you’ll just have to figure that out. Why ruin the surprise?”

  I scoffed. “At least give me a hint.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You’ll probably figure things out after a few years of Blacksaw.”

  I winced, but I hoped she hadn’t noticed. The words struck me a like a hammer. A few years. What if I didn’t last that long? “Since you brought up the rooms, there is something I want to ask you about. However, I know it’s going to be a very sensitive topic and I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

  She cocked a black eye brow, set down her towel, and leaned against the counter. “What do you want to ask me?”

  I drew in a deep breath, summoning my courage. I hadn’t broached the subject with Uncle Hank because he seemed rather dismissive of the topic at the time. I felt as though inquiring any further would be like twisting a knife in his side. But my mother… She was a bit more emotionally stalwart when family was discussed.

  “In the family room, there is a tapestry with all of our faces, names, birth dates, and date of death.”

  “The family tree.” She nodded.

  “Yes.” My stomach knotted. I didn’t know why I was so anxious to discuss this with her. It wasn’t as though I were going to get in trouble or reprimanded. The worst that would happen is she would simply tell me she didn’t want to talk about it. I guess I felt as though I were prying, sticking my nose into something that it didn’t belong, butting into her personal past. But this was my history too. “On the tapestry, I hang at the bottom all by myself. No siblings, no cousins. It’s just me, and well, the question of…” I swallowed hard. “Of my father’s identity has arisen more times than I can count, and I just want to know. I want to know what that other family is like.”

  I hoped by making it less about my father and more about my paternal family it wouldn’t hit her as hard, but by the way her body tensed and eyes closed in silent defeat, my attempt had failed. She placed both hands on the counter top, bracing herself.

  “I’m sorry I upset you.”

  She shook her head. “I knew this question was coming. For eighteen years, I worked on the response, but these last few months haven’t exactly gone as I expected. And I don’t know what to say now.”

  “The truth.” My eyes fixed on her face. “How would me going to Duke change your response? What? Were you planning on lying to me?”

  She sighed, exasperated. “Not lie to you, but obviously I would need to omit a few details.”

  “Well, now you don’t. It should make it easier.”

  “But it doesn’t.” Her tone switched from frazzled to cutting. “Now you’re closer to him. He’s accessible.” Her breath stifled.

  “And he’s my father. I have a right to know his identity.”

  “The last time we spoke, he threatened to kill me and all that I loved if I told anyone that he was the father or made any attempt to contact him. What do you think he’ll do to you? Someone he has no connection to, someone he considers a stranger.”

  He wouldn’t hurt me. I felt it in my bones, but it didn’t stop the pressure of tears building behind my eyes. “He was just scared.” I tried to explain away his actions.

  “Yes, he was.” She nodded. “And that was before they started the mass eradication of flups. Can you imagine how terrified he would be now after seeing how far the party and the people were willing to go?”

  I couldn’t help it. My eyesight blurred. I did my best to dab away the tears, but they were coming too fast.

  “I’m sorry, Zuri.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. It was supposed to be comforting but it made the air between us awkward. “If there’s one thing I’ve done right in my life, it was severing ties and forgetting that man. It would be in your best interest do the same.”

  But it wasn’t. Aside from the emotional and personal connection, there was also my future to consider. I didn’t have the Ebenmore strength to carry me through this handicap—that had been made very apparent at the Burgundy Exchange—but if my father was highborn with a familial gift of his own… maybe that could help me. They made it sound as though it were passed down through the father. If I only knew who he was and capable of, I might be able to leverage that to my advantage.

  “Can you at least tell me if he was highborn?”

  Her jaw went rigid. “Is that what this is all really about? You want to know if he was highborn in order to ensure you’re full-blooded without any commoner lineage to muddy the line?” She scoffed, throwing down the kitchen towel. “I’m done with this conversation. This is disgusting.”

  Her words splintered my heart. How could I ever tell her now? She was always so quick to judge me. “No, that’s not at all what this is about.” I struggled to swallow down my cascading emotions. I couldn’t let her see me break. I couldn’t let her see that her actions and words had any effect on me.

  She ignored me, walking away. “Oh, Hank,” she said without a wobble in her voice or indication of being upset. “Something arrived for you in the mail last week.” She crossed the kitchen over to another pair of cabinets and counters and plucked an envelope off the laminate surface. “It’s addressed to you.” She extended the letter out to him. “It’s from a Maxwell Raby. Do you know him?”

  The three of us froze. Uncle Hank’s hand began to shake as he reached for the envelope. “Uhh… Yes, I know Dr. Raby. He’s a colleague of mine,” Uncle Hank said a little too quickly.

  “So, he’s a hand?” Mom asked.

  Uncle Hank nodded.

  “Then, why is he sending mail to this address? Moreover, mail through the USPS?”

  “Well, do you remember a few months ago when I said I was applying for an inventor’s license?” He dropped his hand to his side in an attempt to hide the shake. “It wasn’t an inventor’s license, but a researcher’s license. Dr. Raby and I are working together on a secret project. I’m not sure why he sent the letter to your address, but I’m assuming it’s because of the nature of the study.”

  My mom folded her arms. “Something the party wouldn’t approve of?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Should I be worried?” My mom’s main goal for the last eighteen years was to stay out of reach of the party, never letting them know where she was at any given moment. Raby sending a letter to her address revealed a weakness in her plan.

  “No, not at all. Raby is on our side.”

  “How did he get this address then?”

  “I’m not sure, but it doesn’t surprise me. Our family has been a subject of one of his studies.”

  “And that is?”

  “Flups and how they affect the bloodline. He wants to help.”

  “Well, I don’t want his help. I just want to be left alone by that world.” Her tone was solid as stone.

  Uncle Hank nodded. “I understand and I’ll let him know that further contact with this address is inappropriate.”

  “Thank you, that’s all I wanted.”

  Uncle Hank glanced to me as his grip on the envelope tightened. I wondered if he was as desperate as I was to know the contents of that letter. The anticipation was boiling so hot in the pit of my stomach, I thought I was going to melt right where I stood. My entire body was on fire, and I didn’t know how much longer I could pretend that everything was all right.

  Chapter Ten

  Aunt Margot’s hand fell from the light switch. “Well, that went about as well as we could have hoped. She didn’t act like her normal bloodhound self.” Margot crossed the living room, heading to the foyer to store her gloves away. “I wonder why.”

  “Shift in power?” Uncle Hank guessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “Not feeling like she needs to be the family watchdog now that the baby bird has flown? Maybe she’s found some adult fun on the side to unwind with?”

  “Disgusting,” I mumbled.

&nbs
p; Uncle Hank opened his mouth to reply but was quieted by a knock on the door. The wrap of knuckles on wood, shattered the easy peace in the house and immediately set everyone and everything on edge.

  Aunt Margot’s head popped into the living room. “Were you expecting someone?” She whispered.

  Uncle Hank mouthed a ‘no’.

  She cocked an eyebrow before sauntering to the front door upon her tiny silver kitten heels. She gripped the brass doorknob and opened the front door. Her hand fell to her hip as soon as she saw who stood upon her doorstep.

  “Good Evening, Mrs. Ebenmore,” a smooth, baritone voice said. “I’m Chief Inspector Cowell from the Sightless Sons Protection Agency. These are my associates Inspector Klein, Inspector Russo, and Constable Harrison. We’re investigating a matter of great concern to the party and need a few minutes of your time.”

  Aunt Margot stepped to the side and opened the door a little wider. Her lips flattened into a small mauve line on her face, and her eyes found Uncle Hank. There was tense fear in her gaze, but her face denied it. Her expression remained neutral, unprovoked.

  Four individuals strode into the old home. Despite their titles, they looked more military than simple government agency. Their shoes were polished black leather, and their dusty blue uniforms were belted at the waist. They retrieved their peaked caps from their short-cropped hair and sauntered to the living room.

  “Mr. Henry Ebenmore.” The man with the baritone voice smiled, brandishing the sharp lines of his face. His eyes were an icy gray and hair a peppery black. “It’s been quite some time since we last spoke.”

  Uncle Hank’s back stiffened. “Yes, Inspector Cowell, it has.”

  “Chief Inspector Cowell, now.” The man extended out his hand, and my uncle took it with noticeable apprehension. “The man at my side is Inspector Russo.” He placed his hand on the shoulder of a middle-aged man with a very prominent Roman nose and olive skin. “This,” Cowell said gesturing to another, “is Inspector Klein.” Klein was as tall as a tree and as thin as one of its branches. The center of his head was bald, leaving blonde curls along the sides that twisted in on themselves. “And Constable Harrison.” Harrison was quite stoutly with a thick gray mustache, wide blue eyes, and a ruddy complexion.