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Burn my Shadow	By : Khaleesi-Of-Dragons Category: M through R > Raven, The (2012) > Raven, The (2012) Views: 918 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Raven and I make no profit from this story

Chapter List
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With a sigh you turn away/ with a deepening heart/ no more words to say/you will find that the world has changed forever/the trees are now turning from green to gold/and the sun is now fading/ I wish I could hold you closer
I hadn't expected the first words out of my mouth this morning to be a threat, but I guess it's better than actually following through with said threat. You see, Emmett had tried to wake me up by shaking my shoulder—it was gentle, but that didn't mean I approved of it and I thought the threat was appropriate at the time. "Remove your hand from my shoulder or lose it," I growl, pulling the comforter over my head. After a few seconds of silence I thought I was safe to go back to sleep, but boy was I wrong! The little shit ripped the covers off the bed and walked out, taking the covers with him. I opened my eyes, happy that he'd closed the curtains so that I wouldn't be blinded by the early morning light. At the foot of the bed was a pair of black trousers, a white shirt that would stop at my thighs, and the boots I wore yesterday down in the tunnels. "Too early for this shit," I grumble while getting dressed and brushing my long hair, wincing whenever the brush caught on a particularly nasty tangle.
When I get downstairs to the parlor I am greeted by Emmett, Edgar, and Cantrell; all dressed and ready to go. Cantrell gives me a small smile that I return, patting him on the shoulder. "So, bodies before breakfast, I presume," I yawn, earning a strained chuckle from my elder brother and a shake of the head from Emmett. "Oh, wipe that sour look off your face, it can't be that bad."

Looking down at the deceased body, I realize that it is that bad. Emmett sends me a smug look as if to say I told you so, Sarah. Edgar picks up the folded note that was lying beside the body, beginning to read it aloud for us all to hear. "Do not bemoan the sailor's life, he was always sure to die anyway. His demise did serve a purpose of leaving you clues. Godspeed, Poe, Emily weakens by the hour—both physically and spiritually; I'm sure you wouldn't want your little sister to share a similar fate." He crumples up the paper and throws it to the ground. "I will kill him no matter what happens. I will kill this disgusting man." I hug myself as the men examine the body closer, scrunching up my nose because of the disturbing odor coming from Maurice; I'm guessing it's Maurice since the note said he was a sailor.
"Why would he dress him up like Miss Hamilton," Cantrell asks curiously, a sympathetic light entering his eyes.
"Because he knew it would hurt my brother," I tell him softly, moving over beside Emmett. He brushes a curly strand of hair behind my ear before bending back over the body. "And he was right, it hurt all of us to know that we were so close; that's why he did it, Cantrell." Emmett crouches down and holds up a hand, gesturing to Cantrell.
"John, bring the light closer; I think I found something." The three men look at something they must deem interesting. "Let's turn him over." I move to help them but Edgar gestures for me to stay where I am. Gee, way to make me feel needed, I think sarcastically, helping them anyway. They should all know how stubborn I am by this point and if they don't, then they're dumber than I gave them credit for. The back of the dress the sailor was wearing is completely open, showing an intricate tattoo. "I think we found our missing sailor."
"The tattoo, it's a sextant," my brother informs us, remembering it from his days at West Point.
"Naturally," I concur, nodding my head even though I had no clue what a sextant was.
"My, uh, my brother went to sea," Cantrell tells us, pointing at the tattoo," A lot of men get these in the Orient." Why anyone would want a tattoo like that was beyond me; it may look nice now, but when you get old you sag, and when you sag your tattoo no longer looks so good. Emmett points at a wound in Maurice's flesh, cut to look like a cross.
"This is fresh, it's still clotted. The killer did this." Cantrell and I share a look, shrug our shoulders, and look back down at the body.
"It's a latitudinal coordinate," my brother says suddenly. "If you mark the angle of the sun at the highest point of the day, it tells you how far you are from the equator; north, south. It's useless without longitude." Emmett looks at him, surprised that my brother knew so much. Edgar shrugs his shoulders. "Even in the Army, they teach basic navigation. I went to West Point. I was expelled, don't worry." Emmett sends an amused glance my way, which I return with one of my own.
"Look here," Emmett says, apparently noticing something none of the rest of us had. "Give me a scalpel." I hand the scalpel to Cantrell, who hands it to Emmett, whose brow furrows. "His tongue has been removed," he tells us, pulling something out of the sailor's mouth. "And this has replaced it." He holds up a pocket watch for all of us to see; it was stained with blood and spit.
"What's it for," Cantrell asks, voicing my thoughts.
A knowing light enters my brother's dark eyes as he seems to realize something vitally important. "Longitude...Sarah, I need a pen and paper." I stick my hand into Cantrell's pocket, taking out a notepad and pen, handing them to my brother. "He's giving us a location." Edgar looks around us for something. "We need maps and we need them now."

Hamilton looks shocked when my brother, Emmett, Cantrell, and I burst into his house at such an early hour of the morning. "What's happened," he asks, a hopeful note entering his voice.
"We need to use your maps," I tell him, trying to get past Percy. "The sick bastard has given us a location where Emily might be." Growing impatient once more, I step on Percy's foot hard enough to make the man get out of my way and head towards Charles' study where I know the maps are kept. Everyone quickly follows behind me, not wanting to be left behind. Once in the study, Edgar shows Charles the watch.
"That was mine, did the killer leave it?"
"Yeah, inside the dead sailor," Emmett nods. Charles shakes his head, taking a slip of paper from Edgar that had the coordinates written on them. He looks at them for a moment before going over to the far wall to collect the maps that were needed.
"You must forgive me," Emmett says sheepishly," I have no background in navigational techniques."
Resting my head against his arm (I couldn't quite reach his shoulder) I say," Don't worry, you're certainly not the only one who's using the 'guess and hope method' here." Charles scowls at me. He'd once tried to teach me, but the lessons never stuck.
"To plot an exact position, you need three things: a sextant, an accurate chronometer, and a celestial almanac," Charles informs us while he, Cantrell, and Edgar work to get everything set up. "The celestial almanac tells us the exact time at which the sun hits the zenith." My brother nods his head in agreement, understanding everything Charles had explained to a tee. Percy attempts to move an empty glass, but my brother stops him. "Just get another," Charles tells the man, handing Edgar his own glass of brandy. "If you have a watch set to Greenwich Mean Time you can calculate how far east or west of Greenwich, London you are." Edgar works on cleaning the watch face to get the number he needs.
"Twelve. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, I mean, it's twenty-eight."
"Longitude is a measure of time east or west; latitude, distance from the equator, that's north and south; seventeen degrees north." All of us bend over the map to see the location, looking in disbelief at the point the killer has indicated.
"The West Indies," Emmett asks in incredulity. "He couldn't have transported her that far." I bite my lower lip in thought. Perhaps it wasn't the location we needed to focus on, but the name of the exact location.
"Here," Charles says, peering through a magnifying glass and pointing at a location," St. Croix." Where have I heard that before? Edgar straightens up, running out of the room and shouting over his shoulder," Holy Cross!" Of course, the church that Emily had drug me to on numerous occasions!
"Holy Cross Church, that's our parish," Charles says, darting out after Edgar with the rest of us left to follow behind him. We gather as many men as possible before rushing to Charles' stable where we were going to borrow some horses. I stare at the great, black beast in front of me—struggling not to begin hyperventilating. I've never been much of a horse lover, in fact, I was terrified of them. All it took to make me hate the creatures was to be thrown from one when I was eight. Emmett notices my fear and walks over to me, wrapping an arm about my shoulders.
"You can ride with me if you wish," he tells me softly. I nod, hiding my face in his chest, taking that moment to steel my nerves as he lifts me up onto the horse, climbing on behind me. Oh, this is not going to end well, I just know it.

I practically jump off the horse when we reach the church, rushing up to the double doors and yanking as hard as I can, but the doors don't move an inch. "You've gotta be kidding me," I growl, kicking the doors and ignoring the searing pain in my toe. As Emmett orders his men to look around the church I take off, desperate to find the monster and put this nightmare behind me. "Emily!" I pull a small knife out of the sleeve of my shirt, thinking that I was prepared, but nothing could prepare me for the sight that greeted my eyes when I turn the next corner. A figure shrouded in black leaps from an eave and cutting Cantrell's throat on the way down. I let out a shriek of terror, nearly collapsing as I try to back away. The figure turns in my direction and I can faintly make out a devilish smirk before he runs off into the surrounding woods. I collapse against the wall, one hand covering my mouth as I fall into a state of shock. Even as Cantrell lay dying before me, I could do nothing—memories I tried to keep locked away overwhelming me until soon I am unconscious.
Red covers everything, the freshly fallen snow no longer looking as pure as it had only moments ago. Lying beside me, Theodore stares unseeingly up at the night sky—not knowing that I was now pinned under the figure, its blade held over my bared throat. The figure lets out a breathy chuckle, tracing a pattern on my cheek and leaving a trail of my fiancé's on my pale skin. I let out a quiet sob, scared that if I moved too much that my neck would be the next to be slit. His face is merely inches from mine, yet I cannot make his face out of the shadows. He is Death, come to make me suffer even more than I already have.
The song is The House of Healing by Liv Tyler from Lord of the Rings: Return of the King.
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Burn my Shadow