Prophecy of the Sisters (26 page)

There is nothing else. No answer. No guidance.

She
knew
it was I. That much is a revelation. Aunt Virginia may not have known at first, may not have pieced together the confusion
of our birth, Alice’s and mine, and the consequences it would have. But our mother somehow knew that there was no escaping
fate, no matter how chaotic and random it sometimes seems.

It was she who carved the circle of protection into the floor around my bed. Though I was only a girl, I remember moving from
the nursery, from the small room I shared with Alice, not long before our mother died. Now the separation seems less a random
rite of passage than a calculated move on the part of our mother.

A move to protect me from my sister.

That Alice’s rage and greed have led her to a place where she would sacrifice me to the Souls… it is beyond imagining. I cannot
even reconcile that my sister could see her way to send me to my death, to something worse than death, by way of the Void.

My fury, my disbelief, is an itch I long to scratch. But it will only do harm to our quest for answers. The smart thing, the
wise thing, is to let Alice think me still ignorant.

And to let her believe that she holds all the power.

It is later than usual when I finally emerge from my room.

The door to the guest room is open, Luisa’s and Sonia’s beds already neatly made, as I make my way down the hall. I have every
intention of joining them, feeling badly that I have slept late and left them to their own devices.

But that is before I see the half-open door to Alice’s room.

Though I can see only a small portion of her chamber from my vantage point, her room emanates an aura of emptiness. I know,
even from the hallway, that Alice is not there.

Looking quickly down the hall to be sure no one is coming, I step into the room and close the door quietly behind me. I stand
for a moment, surveying Alice’s room. It has been years since I have spent any time in it. It is different. Older. I stop
to remember the years when toy animals and fine porcelain dolls sat atop the bureau and writing desk. But remembrances are
a luxury I cannot afford, and I move farther into the room with careful footsteps.

I don’t know where the list might be, but the possibility that Alice has somehow found it ahead of me cannot be ignored. I
begin with the bedside table, opening the small drawer identical to the one in my own room. In it are some of Alice’s stationery,
a quill and ink pot, and a jar of rose-scented hand cream. I continue searching, resisting the pull of disappointment as I
search the wardrobe, the desk, and even under the bed.

The bureau is the only place left, the only remaining hope for finding the list in Alice’s room. I begin with the top drawers,
working my way down to the larger, deeper drawers at the bottom. My fingers slide between nightgowns and capes, feeling for
a slip of paper that might have the names of the keys. Instead, my hand closes on something heavier, wrapped in cloth at the
back of the largest bottom drawer.

I pull the bundle from the drawer, surprised at its weight, and rest it atop the bureau for a better look. The object gives
me pause, for surely it is not the list. But curiosity gets the better of me, and I lift the edges of cloth one by one until
a knife is revealed in its center. I draw in my breath at the sight of it. It is no ordinary knife, but a rather large one
with many-colored jewels inset into its hilt. I reach toward it, pulling my hand back when I come into contact with the ornate
handle. I touch it again, feeling the tremor of raw power that pulses through the handle and up into my arm.

I look at the door over my shoulder, knowing I must hurry. I grab the knife with authority, my body humming with new energy
as I lift it off the bureau for a better look. What I see on its blade freezes the blood in my veins.

Wood shavings cling to the shimmering silver. They are small, but I know them for what they are, and now I know the knife
for what it is: the knife used to reverse Mother’s spell of protection. The knife used to defile the circle on the floor of
my room.

Rage surges through my body. It is far more powerful than the energy that courses through the knife, and I carefully wrap
the sharp blade in the cloth, putting it in my drawstring bag and closing the drawer to Alice’s bureau. I do not feel guilty
taking such a thing from Alice. A thing used for so dangerous and evil a purpose.

I make my way from the room without a backward glance, leaving the door wide open. Perhaps it is reckless, but the battle
lines have been clearly drawn. There is no longer cause for pretense between my sister and me.

“You’ve been keeping secrets.” Henry’s voice comes to me from the parlor as I step off the staircase.

I take a couple of steps back to locate his voice. He sits near the window in the parlor, already bundled in his winter coat
and scarf for the ride to town with Alice and Virginia.

Assembling a smile on my face, I move into the room. “Whatever do you mean, Henry?”

His face is somber. “You know.”

My own smile falters. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

He lowers his voice to a whisper. “You’re the bad one, Lia. Aren’t you?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, Henry. I don’t
feel
bad.”

His nod is solemn, as if this makes perfect sense. “Only time will tell, Lia.”

“Only time will tell? And who told you that, Henry?”

“Aunt Virginia,” he says simply. “She said there is no sure way to know who the bad one is, even with the mark. She said that
only time will tell.”

I am surprised by his knowledge, but there is not much to say in the face of such wisdom. “I do believe she is right, Henry.
I suppose we must wait and see.” I turn to leave.

“I love you anyway, Lia,” he calls after me. “Until time tells, I mean.”

I turn to him and smile, loving him more in this moment than any other. “Until time tells then, Henry, and beyond. I love
you as well.”

“However are we supposed to find anything here, Lia? I’ve never seen so many books, not even at Wycliffe!” Luisa turns from
the bookshelf, leaning against it and putting a hand to her forehead in exasperation.

I look up from Father’s desk, sitting back in the leather chair. “Well, I don’t know where else to search. If Father were
to hide something, I feel sure it would be here. The library is where he spent his time. Everything that is dearest to him
is in this room.”

“And yet, we have searched every conceivable location here!” Luisa says.

Sonia stands suddenly. “Here. We’ve searched every conceivable location
here.
”

Luisa shrugs impatiently. “Yes. That’s what I said.”

But I think I understand to what Sonia alludes. “Wait a minute… what do you mean, Sonia?”

“We haven’t searched his chambers,” she says.

I wave away the implication. “Yes, but the library was Father’s sanctuary. And it’s where the book was found.”

Sonia nods. “Exactly. Is that not more reason why the list could be hidden elsewhere?”

I chew my lip, contemplating her words. I do not want to admit that it is a possibility, not because it isn’t, but because
violating my father’s privacy by searching his room gives me pause, even now that he is gone. Still, I cannot ignore the merit
of the idea.

“You’re right, of course. If the list is not to be found here, his chamber is the next logical place.”

Luisa levels her gaze at me. “So,” she says. “What are we waiting for?”

Without the fire to keep it warm, Father’s room is cold as a tomb.

Luisa and Sonia enter without hesitation, but I close the door behind me and stand with my back to it for a moment. I survey
the room, realizing it is unfamiliar to me because I so rarely had occasion to enter it when Father was alive. He slept here,
that is all. All of his living was done in the library and the rest of the house with me, Alice, and Henry.

And yet, when I finally move into the room, I cannot help but feel that an important part of father did reside in this room.
Perhaps it was a secret part of himself. A part that he kept hidden away from the rest of us. But as my eyes light on the
picture of my mother on the night table, the books stacked neatly next to it, I begin to realize it was no less important
for its secrecy.

“Lia?” Sonia is looking at me from the center of the room, palms up in question. “Where shall we begin?”

It takes me moment to come back to the reason for our visit to Father’s room, and when I do, I find I have no more idea where
to begin than Sonia.

I shrug. “I don’t know. The bureau, I suppose. Under the mattress?”

Luisa steps to the bed, kneeling before it and slipping a hand between the two mattresses. “I’ll begin here. Lia, why don’t
you search the more private of your father’s things?”

“I’m going to feel behind the wardrobe,” Sonia says, moving toward the armoire in the corner of the room.

I stand in the center of the room for a moment, trying to overcome my feelings of guilt at invading my father’s privacy, even
for a reason as important as this one. Finally, I remind myself that the list will not present itself to me, and I set to
work.

I have never so much as looked inside a man’s dresser. I don’t know what I expected, but the neat rows of dark stockings and
suspenders are a sharp contrast to the frilly lace and silk of my mother’s things. With every step I take closer to the prophecy,
I feel as if I peel back the layers of my parents, seeing them as the man and woman they were instead of my mother and father.
It is a strange and oddly touching journey, and I endeavor to be respectful as I move Father’s things aside in the drawers.

It doesn’t take long. There are only four drawers and it quickly becomes apparent that there is nothing unusual in any of
them. I spin to face the room, leaning against the bureau. Luisa sits on the bed and Sonia stands against the wardrobe, arms
folded in front of her chest as she chews the corner of her thumb. They don’t need to say a thing.

“Nothing?” I ask.

Sonia shakes her head. “I even opened the wardrobe and went through the shirts and trousers. There’s nothing there.”

Luisa sighs. “And I’ve checked between the mattresses, under the bed, and behind the headboard. I’m afraid I’ve had no better
luck.”

I fight the frustration that has become my familiar companion since discovering the prophecy and my place in it. With every
step forward, it seems we take two back. We need some assistance, something to match the aid Alice has had from the Souls,
thus far.

I look first at Sonia and then at Luisa. “There is one person who knew for certain where the list was hidden before my father
died.”

Luisa breaks in, her voice firm. “We cannot risk Sonia again to speak to your father, Lia. Not after last night. We shall
have to find another way.”

I do not intend to risk Sonia’s welfare again. Her face is still wan, dark crescents shading the skin under her eyes. She
has not said it, but it is clear that contact with the Beast has sapped her strength. Asking her to speak with Father was
careless, but putting her at risk again is not an option now that I am fully aware of the danger.