Prophecy of the Sisters (20 page)

“Miss Gray would not approve.” Alice’s voice greets me as I close the door, but it is not the new, hard Alice I have come
to watch with guarded eyes. Her voice is playful, her figure a dim outline on the stairs. She sits carelessly on the steps,
leaning her body back to rest on her elbows.

I make my way to the staircase, dropping next to her on the step. “Yes, well, I would venture a guess she would not approve
of your posture at the moment, either.”

Her teeth flash in the dark, our smiles finding each other across the mystery of the quiet house. “Will you marry him?”

“I don’t know. I once thought so. I was once more sure of it than anything in the world.”

“And now?”

I shrug. “And now things are not so simple.”

It takes her a moment to answer. “No, I suppose not. But perhaps there is a way. A way for us both to have the thing we most
desire.”

I hear the unspoken promise of the subject around which she dances. But I am not ready to give away my hard-found knowledge.
Not until I hear what she means to say. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

She lowers her voice further. “And I’m sure you
do,
Lia. You wish to marry and have children, to live a quiet life with James. You must realize how impossible such a dream is
with… the way things are now. With your fighting the Souls as you are.”

The frankness of her words surprises me. All at once, the mask has been lowered. She knows as much as I do, perhaps even more.
It is quite obvious now, and I wonder why I thought her even a little bit oblivious to the prophecy and its workings.

In the absence of my denial, Alice continues. “If you will only fulfill your duty to Samael, you will find peace. He will
leave you alone to the life that you desire. Will that not be easier for all concerned? Is there not a small part of you,
the part that was born to be the Gate, that wishes it so?”

I should like to say her words are to no avail, that I am unmoved by the black promises. But it would be a lie, for part of
me thrills with anticipation as she speaks of fulfilling the prophecy’s ancient promise. I want to believe it is only the
part that desires to live my life with James as any girl would, but somewhere in the halls of my conscience I know it is more.
It is the siren’s song of my intended role in the prophecy. It is the deepest part of me, the part I try to pretend is not
there at all, the part that must fight the temptation to do just as Alice wants.

I shake my head, denying it, not wanting to betray any weakness. “No. It… it isn’t as you say.” I soften my voice, appealing
to the Alice of my childhood, the Alice I love. “It is true that I want my life with James, but I will not have that life
in the darkness of a world ruled by the Souls. Surely you understand this, Alice. We agree on one thing: that we should work
to a common purpose, a purpose that is an easy matter to decide. You are the Guardian. It is your duty to protect the world
from the Souls. And I… Well, I have a choice as well. And I’ll not aid them. I’ll not do a single thing to aid them in destroying
the things, the
people,
I love. And is
that
not our common purpose? To protect Henry and Aunt Virginia, the only family we have left?”

Her face is half hidden in the shadows, but I see her hesitation at the mention of Henry and Aunt Virginia. It takes a moment
for her to speak, and in that moment a lifetime of expression passes over her features. In a heartbeat, childish uncertainty
gives way to resignation.

“I was not meant to be the Guardian, Lia. We both know it. It’s why I feel the way I do. Why I have known since I was a child
that my duty lies with the Souls, whatever name the prophecy gives me. I… I cannot help the way I feel. The way I
am.
”

I shake my head, not wanting to hear her speak this way. It is harder to have this Alice speak of these things. Were it the
Alice of recent days, the cold-eyed, hard-faced Alice… well, then it might be easier to discount her words.

She licks her lips, and they shine in the dark. “If we work in concert, we shall be protected, Lia. We and those we love.
I can guarantee your safety. And the safety of James and Henry and Aunt Virginia. Those are the things that make the world
worth living in, are they not? As long as those things remain, what does it matter who is in charge? Isn’t it worth the small
sacrifice of conscience to live your life in peace?”

Something desperate has crept into her words, waking me from the silken spell of her voice. I shake my head with force, as
if to push away the whispered promise that pulls me close even as I want to push it away.

“I cannot… I cannot do such a thing, Alice. I simply cannot. I cannot help the way
I
feel either.
This
is the way
I
am.”

I think she might be angry, but her voice is filled only with sadness. “Yes. I thought as much. I’m sorry, Lia.”

Her hand finds mine across the step, and she takes it the way she used to when we were small. It is not any bigger than mine,
not really, and yet there was a time when I always felt safe with my hand in Alice’s. I don’t know why she says she is sorry,
but I fear I will soon find out.

And my hand will not be safe in hers again.

“Lia!” Sonia waves me into the guest room as I creep toward my own, the conversation with Alice ringing in my ears.

I step into the room. “I thought you would be asleep after such a long day.”

“We had a wonderful day, Lia. But there is still work to do, is there not?” Sonia’s eyes drift to Luisa, sitting on one of
the beds.

I hesitate before nodding. I can only hope that Luisa is as understanding as Sonia.

Luisa lifts her eyebrows. “What is it, Lia? Is something wrong?”

I sit on the end of the bed, shaking my head. “Not wrong, exactly. But there is something that I haven’t had the chance to
tell you. Something I found out just after you and Sonia came to tea.”

“What is it?”

I run a hand along my brow, trying to calm my nerves before making the revelation that may sever a friendship I have come
to treasure. There is no easy way to say it, and so I say it as simply and quickly as possible. I tell her the reason my mark
is different, resisting the urge to soften the information with reassurance or rationalization. If we are to work together
truly, Luisa must understand exactly what I am.

She does not say anything right away. Absent are the protestations and anger that I expect. She looks into my eyes, as if
the answers to all her questions lie there. At last she reaches over and takes my hand, the hand Alice has just let go for
good. When Luisa speaks, her words are simple, but they give me room to hope.

“Tell me everything.”

And so I do. I tell her about the prophecy, my role in it, the medallion. She meets my revelation with stoic calm, the realization
that I am the Angel, the Gate, no more than a hiccup in her resolve. I come to the end of my tale, knowing that the rest of
the story will be written by us all.

“And so, we are back to the keys,” I say. “But not with so little as we had before.”

Luisa nods, the curls bouncing at the nape of her neck. “And this is where the mysterious Madame comes in, is it not?”

I look at Sonia, raising my eyes in surprise.

She tips her head with a smile. “I told her about our visit to Madame Berrier’s.”

“Good. Then you are all up to date.”

“Yes,” Luisa says, “only…”

“Only what?”

“Well, why didn’t you invite me along? I should have liked to learn more about the prophecy.…” I hear the pout in her voice
and feel a pang of guilt, but Sonia answers for it before I’m able.

“It was my doing, Luisa. The maid at Mrs. Millburn’s is acquainted with one of Lia’s maids. I was afraid to try and slip you
a note at Wycliffe. I didn’t want you to get in trouble, and I knew there would be no stopping you if you knew of our meeting,
no matter the consequences.”

Luisa’s silence makes me fear we have hurt her feelings, but her grudging admission follows. “I suppose you’re right. I
can
be ever so stubborn!” She laughs in response to her own criticism. “So? What did she say, this mysterious woman?”

“She told us that Samhain is an ancient Druid holiday marking a period of Darkness.” I sit up, pulling the pins from my hair.
“Apparently, it falls on November first, though we cannot figure what that has to do with the keys. The only thing even a
little bit interesting is that it is also Sonia’s birthday.”

Luisa sits up straighter. “What did you say?”

Her expression makes me stop, and I lower my hands as my hair falls to my shoulders.

Sonia breaks in from the other bed where she sits, her head tipped back against the headboard. “She said my birthday happens
to fall on the day of Samhain, November first.”

Luisa’s face has grown pale. “Luisa? What is the matter?” I ask her.

“Just that… well, it’s ever so strange.…” She gazes into the fire, speaking softly as if to herself.

“What is?” Sonia slides to the edge of the other bed.

Luisa meets Sonia’s eyes. “That November first is your birthday. It’s strange because it is mine as well.”

Sonia stands, making her way to the fire before turning to face us. “But that’s… Of what year?” Her voice shakes as she asks
the question.

“Eighteen seventy-four.” It is a whisper that seems to crawl into the shadowed corners of the room.

“Yes.” Sonia nods, slowly. “Yes. Me, too.”

Pacing in front of them both, I try to wrap my mind around the many disparate pieces of the riddle. “It doesn’t make sense.
My birthday is
not
November first, so this is nothing to do with us all, but only the two of you.” I mutter out loud but to no one in particular.
“How are we supposed to figure out something so… so…”

“Mad?” Luisa offers from the bed.

I turn to look at her. “Yes. It
is
mad, isn’t it?”

Sonia drops onto the settee by the fire. “Now what are we to do? The fact that we share the same birthday is odd, but it doesn’t
bring us any closer to finding the keys.”

I remember the letter. “Actually, that’s what I was trying to tell you. We may be closer yet.”

Sonia looks up. “What do you mean?”

Withdrawing the envelope from my pocket, I hold it out to her. “Madame Berrier sent this to me after our meeting.”

Sonia rises to take the envelope, opening it and passing it to Luisa when she has finished reading it.

“Who is he?” Luisa asks. “This Alastair Wigan?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. But tomorrow, we shall find out.”

The next morning, we make our way down the stairs, taking our cloaks from the entry and stepping into the cold sunshine. I
have already arranged our outing with Aunt Virginia. I know she saw the lie in my excuse to go to town for a proper tea, but
whatever happens to me, she is the one tasked with caring for Henry. I only seek to protect her. To protect them both.

Since my conversation with Alice on the stairs, I feel as if we have crossed an invisible barrier, a point beyond which can
only lay sadness and loss. Our race to end the prophecy in the way we each desire will be dangerous, even deadly. Yet, there
is nothing to do but go forward unless I should like to live in the shadow of it all my life through.

And that is simply not an option.

Sonia, Luisa, and I cross the lawn in a flurry of excited conversation, willing for the moment to allow ourselves to be happy
about the day’s outing, however dark its purpose.

We make our way up the stairs of the carriage house to the rooms Edmund has occupied for as long as I can remember. He comes
quickly to the door in response to my knock, his eyes registering Sonia, Luisa, and me on the threshold.

Before we can say a word, he reaches for his coat, turning back to us. “So? Where are we going today, Miss?”

We are jostled to and fro on the roads leading farther and farther away from Birchwood. I knew from the address that we would
not be going to town, but I had not imagined it so far away or in a place quite so remote.