Born Wicked: The Cahill Witch Chronicles, Book One: The Cahill Witch Chronicles, Book One (26 page)

making an example of you. It might serve as an excuse for them to return to old ways. Uglier ways.”
My eyes fall to the hearth. To the orange flames dancing. The wood crackle-snapping in the fireplace. The glowing red ashes beneath.
’Twere up to me, I’d resurrect the burnings.
“What would you have me do?” I ask. I glance up at the family portrait above the hearth, at Mother, cradling Tess in her arms. “Maura and Teresa need to be taught to control their magic. They need to learn what they’re capable of without your interference. Elena has
offered to stay on and teach them.”
“What? No!” I jump to my feet, but Mrs. Corbett throws up a hand, and I’m flung backward into my chair, the wind knocked out of my lungs. “Sit and listen,” she snaps. “Elena will not compromise your sister in any way, if that’s what worries you.”
I take a deep, shaky breath, guilty at what I’m about to suggest. “The Sisters—Maura wants to join the Sisters. Let her go. I’ll stay here with Tess.” “What Maura wants is irrelevant. We think it best if the two of you are separated at present—for your own protection. If you are with the Sisters in
New London, she cannot be there. And there’s simply no other option for a witch like you.”
I choose my words carefully. “I’ve had an offer of marriage. I want to accept.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Mrs. Corbett’s voice is smooth as a looking glass. “Your gifts cannot be squandered in marriage. A witch of your
caliber belongs to the Sisterhood.”
Anger rises in me, fierce and fortifying. I belong to
myself
.
I grip the wooden arms of my chair, fingertips going white. “What if I don’t agree to it? Will you compel me?”
Mrs. Corbett leans forward. “You don’t say who offered to marry you.”
I don’t hesitate. They can’t know about Finn. “Paul. Paul McLeod. You asked me about him at tea, didn’t you?”
“And you hardly reacted like a girl in love,” Mrs. Corbett scoffs.
Elena stands. Walks to the fire and holds out her hands to warm them. “I saw you with the gardener,” she says, her back to me. “Finn Belastra,
isn’t it? The two of you looked quite fond of each other, what with him holding your hand. And I suspect, given the way you lost control of the magic
yourself, that you’ve done a bit more than hold hands.”
“We won’t modify your mind, or your sisters’. You’re too valuable for that,” Mrs. Corbett says. “We would certainly prefer that you come to us
willingly. But if you don’t—we will do everything we can to convince you. How would Finn feel if his mother were arrested by the Brothers? Or that
little sister of his?”
“But they aren’t witches.” I want to stand up. To fight them with everything in me. But I know they’d only throw me back down. They’re intent on
proving their dominance. Still, it takes everything in me to sit there and listen. “They haven’t done anything!”
“That won’t matter to the Brothers,” Mrs. Corbett cackles.
“And there’s always
his
memory. It would be sad if he forgot you.” Elena turns to face me, a dark silhouette against the fire. Mrs. Corbett stands. “It’s your choice, Cate. What will it be?”

CHAPTER 21
I SIT SANDWICHED BETWEEN TESS and Elena on the hard wooden pew. Brother Ishida drones on behind the pulpit. Any moment now, he’ll call my name. I feel flushed and pale all at once, and ill with the anticipation of it.

Next to me, Tess fidgets with her necklace, a little gold locket Mother gave her on her eighth birthday. Last year when the clasp broke, she lost it in the garden and was inconsolable for hours. I helped her scour the grass until we found it. I think she wears it when she needs a bit of extra comfort.

One seat down, Maura sits still as a statue. She hasn’t met my eyes all morning, though I can’t tell if it’s for shame or anger. She didn’t bother to dress her hair to hide the cut on her cheek, and she’s wearing one of her old unfashionable dresses instead of a bright new frock. She wanted to skip church entirely, but Elena wouldn’t allow it.

I kept my mouth shut when Elena gave her orders, though it galled me. Just as I did last night, when she told me to keep away from my sisters until I announced my decision. She said it was for their good, to keep them from doing anything foolish. I cried myself to sleep, drowning my tears in my pillow. Then I woke before the sun, dry eyed and resolute.

“Miss Catherine Cahill,” Brother Ishida booms. “Come forward to declare your intention before the Lord.”

Surprised whispers spread throughout the room as my neighbors speculate. Faces swivel in my direction. In the pew in front of us, Sachi twists to stare at me. Rory’s absent from church today.
“Already? Is it McLeod after all?” Sachi whispers.
Tess catches at my sleeve. “What are you doing, Cate?”
I don’t answer her. I stand, smoothing my burgundy skirt, and make my way down the aisle to the front of the church. I stand with my back to the whispers, facing Brother Ishida. He seems fully recovered today, his face unlined and untroubled. It is strange to look into his eyes again, burning with their usual fervor but none of the bitter hate he evidenced last night, and know he remembers none of it.
Thank the Lord he remembers none of it. Thank
Tess.
“Miss Cahill, do you recognize the seriousness of this ceremony? It commits you to the path you have chosen in the eyes of the Lord and of this community. It is not a matter to enter into lightly. Once you have declared your intention, the Brotherhood and all your neighbors will swear to support you in it.”
“Yes, sir.”
He moves aside and I step up, looking out into the sea of faces. It’s the only time women are permitted up on the dais. From here, the congregation is enormous, hundreds of our neighbors packed together in their finery. All waiting with interest to hear what I’ve got to say. It’s a heady feeling.
“Catherine Cahill, what is your intention?”
I do not hesitate. My voice is loud and clear and perfectly confident.
“In the hearing of the Lord and all those who witness my words, I offer myself to the Sisterhood.”
The whispers explode. No one from Chatham has joined the Sisterhood in years, and I do not suppose I seemed a very likely candidate. Brother Ishida fumbles for a moment, and then he’s speaking about the noble, honorable calling of the Sisterhood.
But his words seem faint and far off, as though they’re coming at me from down a long dim hallway. It’s done.
The next part is hardest. I raise my eyes to the back of the church. Paul sits next to his mother, handsome even in his heartbreak. I can see the clench of his square jaw, the way he works to control his emotions. My choice must seem incomprehensible to him. But I’m not the unfettered, carefree girl who waded in the pond and walked that pigpen fence. I’ll never be that Cate again. It’s better he know it now.
Sachi is whispering with Rose Collier behind her pink fan, the blue feather in her hair wagging furiously.
Behind her, Maura’s listlessness has disappeared. She grips the pew with both hands, her knuckles white, her blue eyes swallowing her face. As I watch, Tess scoots closer to her. Somehow, in the last day, their roles have reversed; Maura has become fragile and Tess her protector.
Last—horribly—Finn. Brother Belastra, now. Sitting for the first time in the front pew with the others, dressed head-to-toe in black. He’s already committed himself to this path. The shop is shuttered—I saw the sign on the door when our carriage drove past. He swipes a hand through his unkempt hair, his rich chocolate eyes stunned. This is not what he expected me to say.
Unconsciously, I finger the welt on my cheek. Finn’s face darkens, and he reaches reflexively toward his boot. I give a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of my head. What could he do? Nothing.
There’s nothing anyone can do. I chose this.
“Catherine Cahill, the blessings of the Brotherhood are upon you. You may go in peace to serve the Lord,” Brother Ishida says.
I bow my head. “Thanks be.”
The rest of the congregation echoes me.
Our neighbors rise and stretch. Some of them head in my direction—Finn included—but Elena beats him to it. She tugs me down the side aisle, separating me from the curious onlookers in their Sunday finery.
“Time to go, Cate. The carriage is waiting.” She smiles, her perfect white teeth flashing, as though she’s sending me off on a delightful picnic and not a prison sentence of her making.
Finn is at my elbow. “Could I have five minutes? To say good-bye?” I ask. I hate myself for the longing evident in my voice.
“I don’t think that’s wise, do you? Why prolong the inevitable?”
I won’t beg. I won’t give her the satisfaction. “May I go home to gather some of my things, at least?”
“Your sisters and I can take care of that for you. We’ll send them soon. Come, Cate. No stalling,” she says, leading the way down the aisle.
Finn puts his hand on my arm, his warm fingers encircling my wrist. He’d pull me through the crowd and away from all of this if I’d let him.
But I can’t let him. I can’t even look at him or I’ll cry. I stare at the cinnamon freckles dotting the back of his hand. “Good-bye,” I say to the wooden floor. I reach into my pocket and pull out Marianne’s ruby ring. My engagement ring. I can’t keep it; it wouldn’t be fair; he should be free to give it to someone else, though the thought of it makes me want to die. I press it into his hand and close his fist around it.
“Cate,” he says, and the desperation in his voice nearly undoes me. “Why?”
“Come along,” Elena says.
Maura runs up, pushing her way through the crowd. “Let me go instead. Please, Cate, don’t leave me here with her.”
There’s so much I want to say—to Finn, to my sisters. But not like this. Not with Elena and Mrs. Corbett listening, weighing my words, looking for raw places to strike.
“You’ll have Tess. Look after each other,” I manage. I find Tess’s gray eyes, and a bit of understanding passes between us. She gives me a nod solemn as a promise.
I go. I walk down the aisle and out the wide door and down the cobblestone path lined with dying white chrysanthemums. I feel as though I’m being dragged to my own funeral with my mourners behind me. My smile warps, but I keep my chin up.
I climb into a closed black brougham adorned with the Sisters’ gold seal. Mrs. Corbett squeezes in beside me. She’s to chaperone my journey to New London. To see to it I don’t change my mind and run off, more like. She raps on the door and the coachman jolts us forward. We’re on our way.
“You did the right thing, Cate,” she says. “You’ll come to see that eventually.”
But I see it already. To protect the people I love, I’d do it all over again.
I only hope I can live with the consequences.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book is a dream come true, but it wouldn’t have happened without the help of lots of amazing people. Thank you to everyone who has followed my path to publication and cheered me on, whether online or in person. Your support means the world to me.

Thank you to Jim McCarthy, my awesome and patient agent, for taking a chance on me. I like to think of you as Yente, matchmaking authors and editors, and you made the best match I could have hoped for.
Thank you to Ari Lewin, my amazing editor, for loving my story. For pushing me and challenging me and never letting me settle for anything less than my best, and for being hilarious and generous. To Paula Sadler for genius ideas and for keeping me supplied with all those tasty ARCs. To Elizabeth Wood for the gorgeous cover. And to the rest of the team at Putnam and Penguin Young Readers: I’m more grateful than I can say for all your hard work and excitement about the Cahill witches.
Thank you to all of the authors who have inspired me and welcomed me into this fantastic YA community. To the Apocalypsies for being such a fabulous support group and sharing this strange, marvelous journey. I’m honored to be in your company, and I can’t wait to read all your books! To Jaclyn Dolamore for loving an early draft and answering all my newbie author questions. To my agent-sisters, Robin Talley and Caroline Richmond, who have shared all the excitement and all the crazy and been extraordinarily supportive every step of the way. And to Kathleen Foucart Walker, the best critique partner ever, for reading every blessed draft of this book, exchanging flailmails, asking clever questions, and always telling me I could do it. I can’t wait until it’s your turn.
Thank you to the Washington College Drama Department, where I learned to love creative collaboration. You taught me how to ask questions and give constructive feedback, and even though I’m not doing theater anymore, it’s been invaluable.
Thank you to the staff of the CUA Press for watching me grow up and for being excited for me and very understanding when I left to follow my dream.
Thanks to all my fabulous friends for being so interested and invested in this book. To Anne Chan for her fantastic author photos. To Liz Auclair and Laura Furr for prodding me out of the writing cave and for always asking how it’s going, even though you’ve both had fantastically exciting, lifechanging things of your own going on. To Jill Coste for distracting me with cute dresses and cupcake recipes when I need distractions and for being a kindred spirit. And to Jenn Reeder for being my best friend, alpha reader, and #1 cheerleader: I would be lost without you and our Tuesday night dates.
Thank you to my family for always, always being supportive of my writing. Special thanks to my sisters, Shannon Moore and Amber Emanuel, who make me laugh and make me crazy. Without you, I don’t think I could have written Cate’s relationships with Tess and Maura so convincingly. And to my parents, Connie and Chris Moore and John Emanuel—thank you for everything, especially for letting me sit inside and read all day instead of mowing grass. It seems to have paid off. I think you always knew this was what I was meant to be doing, even when I didn’t.
Last but absolutely not least, thank you to Steve Spotswood, my brilliant playwright husband. For reading everything, for bringing me tea, for brainstorming on the porch, for feeding me the best sandwiches ever, for making me laugh when I’m anxious, and most of all for believing in me when I don’t believe in myself. I love you.