The Hand Collector

by Marian Gray

  “More like someone.”

  “Idris Young?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “No.” I shook my head. “Anouk Volkerink.”

  He nodded as he prepared the first needle. “What is she wanting?”

  I wouldn’t have spoken about this to just anyone, but given the open line of communication that Dr. Raby had established with me, I felt confident that my next words wouldn’t be met with any harsh judgement. “She wants us both to join the Imperial Black. I doubt it’s still around, and she insists that I reinstate it. I have no intentions of doing so, but the way she described how my powers were supposed to preform…” I sighed.

  “You know, it might actually help you to have the Imperial Black on your side. Blackhands don’t turn out their own.”

  My mouth went dry. “What? The Imperial Black is banned. No one in my family will even discuss it.”

  “Alright, first injection,” he announced before he pricked my skin with the needle. It went in with only the slightest bit of discomfort. “The only atrocity the Imperial Black committed was protecting its own.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked as a burning sensation erupted deep in my palm.

  “The party labeled the Imperial Black as hostile blackhand supremacists due to a still controversial decision to desegregate the schools. The Imperial Black didn’t want whitehands flooding the halls. After all, Blacksaw University was founded in order to throw off the whitehand yoke.” He placed the empty syringe down, and picked up a second. “Second injection.”

  “Anouk told me that the demonization of the Imperial Black was all propaganda. Do you agree?”

  “Absolutely,” he answered. “Don’t misunderstand me though. The Imperial Black isn’t flawless, but it also isn’t the monster everyone makes it out to be. Your family’s refusal to even entertain the subject is due to the negative PR the Ebenmores suffered in the 50s for being founding members and quite heavily involved. With your numbers dwindling, you all can’t afford to take one misstep with the party.”

  “Then why is Anouk pushing me to do this?”

  “Third injection.” He sank the needle into my other hand. “The Volkerinks have never been leaders. I would wager being at the forefront of this isn’t a position she’s comfortable taking on. You see, her family places heavy emphasis on remaining in the shadows. They have a long, multi-century reputation as being the assassins of the blackhands. They have family secrets about killing that are handed down generation to generation, starting when they are only eight.”

  “What?”

  “Fascinating stuff, really.” Dr. Raby inserted the fourth and final needle. “Alright, I think this about does it.” He yanked his latex gloves off his hands. “Go easy on your hands for tonight, and remember—it is imperative that you remain silent about your condition and what took place tonight in my study. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you for your time.”

  He rose from his seat. “I’ll send a letter to your uncle and aunt, updating them, and I expect to see you back here when your oils dry up.”

  Before returning back to Leentje Island, I had agreed to meet up with Ross for a drink in Lilledoorn and take the ferry home together. Ross waited for me on the outside stoop with her backpack hanging on one shoulder. Her brunette hair had been pulled back in a loose bun, held up by pins. Bright red colored her lips.

  “What happened? Why are you so late?” She asked.

  “Took longer than expected.” I let my arms hang at my side, making sure my hands didn’t bump into anything. A small throb had built in both palms that verged on the edge of painful.

  “Well, did you complete this super secret family business?”

  “Yes.” I nodded as we turned the corner and traipsed over the canal bridge.

  “You missed a pretty eventful night.” She shifted her backpack from one shoulder to the other. “Both Amber and Kayla brought dates—whitehand dates.”

  For the first time, I felt split on the subject. “Whitehands? How did they meet them?”

  Ross shrugged. “I don’t know, but I felt weird about it, you know? Like, it’s just two people on a date, but seeing them with whitehands made me feel…”

  “I get it. Me too.”

  “Anyways, I didn’t say or do anything about it. I was polite and as friendly as I could be. Aside from the pale ink, they both seemed like good people.”

  We arrived at the ferry and just as I had done with Idris, I pulled Ross into the highborn line and got us two free tickets for the last ferry from Lilledoorn to Leentje Island. We are the only two on the vessel, and Ross made no qualms about spreading out and enjoying herself.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do if we ever stop being friends,” she said. “These little perks are addictive.”

  “It’s shameful to admit but I completely agree with you. I wasn’t raised with the special treatment, and I’m not looking forward to going home over winter break and back to my mother’s house in North Carolina.” I shot her a forced frown.

  “Yeah, it’s my first taste as well. My dad’s a lawyer, but he’s always taking cases that are against the party—there is no money in that. And then my mom’s a janitor.”

  “What?” I couldn’t have possibly heard her correctly. “A janitor?”

  “She works at the local underman elementary school. She says it’s easy because she can technically cheat and use essences, pulling from the dirt, food, and any other bodily liquids that are left over In order to scrub the floors, polish the toilets, and scrape the spitballs off of the ceiling.” With a jolt, her eyes opened wide. She turned to me. A grave expression marked her face. “You have to swear that you won’t tell anyone what I just said. Please, Zuri. Please swear to me you won’t utter a word of this.”

  “I swear. And honestly, I don’t think you have any reason to be ashamed of this. It’s pretty humorous, genius even. She gets paid to clean and never has to lift a finger.”

  “Well, technically, she has to lift ten, but I understand what you mean.” Ross leaned back into the cushioned seat and closed her eyes, allowing the evening wind to blow through her hair.

  “My mom works in HR. I think everything that she’s been through in life has given her a deeper sense of empathy than the usual person.”

  “Does she talk to you about that a lot? About her life here before she fled?”

  “No, not a lot to be honest. She says only what needs to be said in that moment.”

  “Anything you can share?” Ross asked sitting up.

  I never considered how fascinating my mother’s life must be to those on the outside. But it was only like that due to its controversial existence and conflict. “My mother and father were in love. It wasn’t just a casual fling like I’ve heard some students gossip. They were going to get married and start a life together, but then she got found out.”

  “How?”

  “The doctor. When she went in for a prenatal exam, the doctor noticed that she didn’t have any sheen or transition to the ink on her hands. He didn’t report it to the party, but he pulled my father aside and told him. And that’s when my father broke things off with her and ran.”

  “Fuck me. Can you imagine? Spending all that time, working so hard to blend in only to get found out due to the tattoo on her hands not being iridescent. It really shows you just how obsessed we are as a society with trimming the herd. We notice every minute detail that’s wrong.”

  My throat tightened. “Yeah.”

  When we finally arrived at the island, the sky was a solid black. The normal rabble of harbor workers and passengers had subsided, giving way to the croak of frogs and crickets and the slap of the lake waters colliding with the docks. We didn’t linger on the ferry. Ross and I collected our things and marched down the dock.

  At the far end, an individual came into view, illuminated by the harbor lights. It was Professor Saviano. He came toward us at a rather quick pace.

  “Good evening, Professor,”
Ross said as he blew right past us as though we weren’t even there.

  “What was that about?” I glanced over my shoulder and watched him hop aboard the last ferry of the day destined for Lilledoorn.

  “Who knows? He’s such a weird man.”

  Just as we began our ascent up to the school an ear piercing scream tore through the night.

  “What was that?” Ross reared around.

  I held my breath, shaking my head. “I don’t know.”

  Another shriek filled our ears. It was followed by a heavy sob and a desperate wail for help.

  “What should we do?” Ross asked. There was a noticeable whimper in her voice.

  I didn’t answer but turned and ran toward the sound, launching myself through the thick foliage. The grounds were completely shrouded in nightfall, and the tree canopy blocked any moonlight. Dr. Raby had told me to refrain from using my hands, but this was a potential emergency.

  Fear gripped me as I hurdled toward the screams. I had no idea what waited for me on the other side and worried it was something or someone with sinister attentions, luring us into their trap.

  As we jogged toward to the rocky shoreline, I held out my hand, struggling to pull any essences. There was plenty of organic material around—the grass, worms, birds, and trees—but it was just as Dr. Raby had said, the valve was nearly closed. It took three tries before I felt a third essence slip into my hands. “A’hrak.” I pushed it right back out in a small light bloomed from my hands.

  Large dark green leaves illuminated before me. Birds cawed out their disapproval of the bright light, but I forced my way through. Not stopping until I spotted a figure sobbing hunched over by the lake. She shrieked when the light surrounded her. Her movements were rapid, unsteady, and desperate in an awkward attempt to scurry away.

  “Are you okay?” Ross called to her.

  But she didn’t even acknowledge us until we drew nearer. “Are you all right?” I asked. “Do you need help or a doctor?” We slowed into a walk. My feet trudged through the high grass with my hand still held out in front of me.

  She glanced over her shoulder at us and I recognized her face. It was the whitehand that had attacked me on my first day of school. Her hair was a mess, and her cheeks were stained with the never-ending flow of tears. The wide wound on her forehead had healed, but streaks of fresh blood marked her arms and cheeks.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  When we were no more than three feet away, she turned around. The most horrific thing I had ever seen laid before me. Blood seeped from her wrists, covering her forearms and dribbling down the tip of her elbow.

  “They’re gone,” she whimpered. “He took them.”

  Ross stopped and covered her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “They’re gone,” she repeated.

  She bore no cuts, bruises, or broken bones. In fact, I would have never thought her injured, except for the simple fact that somebody had chopped off both of her hands.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The fire kicked and cackled in the hearth. It was just bright enough to illuminate the room without creating an oppressive heat. I stared at it in an attempt to burn out my memory. I hadn’t been able to shake the image of those two bloodied stumps.

  “And what did you do after you found Ms. Wilson?” One of the two local officers asked.

  “Well, I stayed with her puking my guts out while Zuri ran back to the school to get help,” Ross answered.

  “Did you see anybody else at the scene? Or anyone fleeing in a boat?”

  “No.” Ross shook her head.

  “What about you, Lady Ebenmore?”

  I dragged my eyes away from the fire and looked at the stout man. His cheeks were a bright red, and he was sweating profusely. “No, I didn’t see anybody.” But then I doubt I would’ve noticed them if they had been there. My attention was so consumed by the traumatic sight before me.

  “How well would you say you two know, Ms. Wilson?” The second officer asked.

  “She’s a whitehand.” I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Well,” Ross began meekly, “there was an incident on the first day. She pushed a water spell and hit Zuri right in the head.”

  “Did you retaliate in any way?” The questions continued.

  “No. I didn’t know any incantations or hand posturing. There is no way I could’ve retaliated, and until I saw her this evening, I hadn’t even thought about her.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I glance at their hands. The color of ink embedded in their skin would decide whether I would be considered a suspect or not.

  One was white and one was black. It would be a tossup.

  “So, just to reiterate—you two took the last ferry back to Leentje Island. On your way to the school, you heard Ms. Wilson scream. You both rushed over and found her with both of her hands… missing.”

  “Yes,” we answered in unison.

  The one officer looked at the other. “Ms. Wilson has no recollection of where she was before all this happened. She says one moment she was having a drink with friends at the Little Horn Inn, and the next she’s on Leentje Island. It’s a very troubling timeline.”

  “It kind of sounds like that murderer they had in the 90s here—the one that we studied at the Academy.”

  The officer nodded. “Yeah, the Hand Collector.”

  “You don’t think…?”

  “Gentlemen, please.” Chancellor Day cast them a severe glance. “That was twenty-five years ago. There is no way the Hand Collector has returned to Blacksaw. If anything, I think we’re dealing with a truly disturbed individual, possibly acting out as a copycat.”

  The two officers shifted in their boots, gathering themselves before continuing their questioning.

  “While in Lilledoorn, did either one of you see Ms. Wilson?”

  We both shook our heads ‘no’.

  The door to Chancellor Day’s office swung open and a rather disheveled Nicholas Adder stepped in. “Apologies for how long it took me to get here.” He tugged at the hem of his shirt, straightening the white cotton. “But I came as soon as I received my summons.” His shoulders wiggled, putting his blazer into proper position. “Has there been any new information since you sent that post, Chancellor Day?”

  She shook her head, her expression solemn. “Unfortunately, no.”

  Adder walked over and stood by the fireplace, resting an arm on the mantle as there were no more seats left. “Are these the two students that found her?”

  “Yes, Nicholas. Ross Monaghan and Zuri Ebenmore, both blackhand eerstejaars.” Chancellor Day rested her hands on the top of her desk, and I couldn’t help but stare. Upon her right hand was a geometric pattern set in black ink and on her left, was the exact same pattern, but in white ink. “Lord Adder will be sitting in on this interrogation as a representative for the board. I just want to reiterate that you girls are not in trouble, and the four of us are here only to piece together what happened.”

  “What were the pair of you doing out so late?” The first officer resumed the conversation.

  The way they jumped around the timeline with their questions revealed just how out of third depth they were. This crime wasn’t one to be solved by a pair of rookie officers from the local town.

  “We were walking back from the dock. We had taken the last ferry from Lilledoorn,” Ross replied. We had already told them this. “We were the only two there, except for…” She sat up straight and turned to me with a look of disbelief.

  “Except for who?” Chancellor Day asked.

  “Professor Saviano,” I told her. “He passed us on the docks, he was in such a hurry to catch a ferry that he didn’t even greet us. Just stormed right passed us.”

  “Did Saviano have any official university business later in the evening?” The officer turned to Chancellor Day.

  “That, I think concludes the student portion of our investigation this evening. I have no issue discussing this topic further with you two of
ficers, but I refuse to do so in front of students. Do you have any further questions for them or is it okay if I release them?”

  “I think we have all that we need.” The first officer nodded. “Unless my partner has any more questions.”

  “No, the two girls are free to go.”

  “Given the events of this evening, I kindly request that you both go straight back to your chamber and please, do not discuss what has occurred with anyone, including your chambermates, family, and the party or news organizations.” Chancellor Day rose from her seat.

  Ross and I followed suit, not speaking a word. We nodded our understanding, turned, and marched out of her office. As we went, Nicholas Adder stared at me. His eyes searched me just as they had done the first night we met. He lifted his hand and ran it through his hair, and I spotted the most curious spot of red on his pristine white cuff.

  Blood.

  Why was there blood on the cuff of his shirt?

  “Did you hear what they said?” Ross asked as we reached the elevator. “The Hand Collector.”

  “Who is that?” We stepped on the empty car.

  “A serial killer from the 90s. He went around chopping off hands and was never caught. The police believed he had died, because there were only three victims and just as everything was heating up, it abruptly stopped.”

  “But he’s not really a serial killer, is he? He’s not murdering them, just taking their hands.” I didn’t know which I found more disturbing. “Why the hands?”

  “Taking their hands takes away their ability to push and pull essences,” Ross answered as he stepped off the elevator. The school was deserted, there wasn’t a single soul traipsing about in the main corridor. “Losing your hands basically makes you a flup. That’s a death sentence to most around here.”

  “So, what happened to those victims from the 90s?”