Prophecy of the Sisters (19 page)

“I don’t like this! I don’t like this at all!” Sonia’s voice trembles and shakes as she bounces atop Moon Shadow, the gentlest
mare in the stable.

“Nonsense! You shall be fine. You’re hardly moving, and Moon Shadow would not harm a fly. You’re quite safe. I’ll ride behind
you, and Moon Shadow will do the rest.”

“Well! That’s easy for you to say. You do this all the time,” Sonia mutters.

Luisa is already a few paces ahead, clearly a competent horsewoman, though I’m sure she has not had occasion to ride often
at Wycliffe. Taking out the horses seemed a fine way to escape the house, and it was an easy matter to locate some riding
breeches and habits for my two friends. But as I watch Sonia bounce stiffly atop Moon Shadow’s back, I cannot help wondering
if I made an error in judgment. I ride behind her in silence, coming up alongside only when her shoulders have relaxed the
smallest bit and her jarring bounce seems to flow more smoothly with the horse.

“Feeling better?” I grin.

She makes a sound like “Hmph!” and keeps her eyes determinedly forward.

Up ahead, Luisa slows her pace, turning Eagle’s Run around in a smooth motion that belies the sleek horse’s usual spirit.
They trot back toward us, taking up a position on the other side of Sonia.

Luisa’s cheeks are bright from wind and excitement. “Oh, this is such fun, Lia! Thank you ever so much. It’s been far too
long since I’ve ridden.”

I return her smile, absorbing some of her happiness until I remember the reason for our ride. “Actually, I suggested riding
because I wanted to speak to you in private.” I glance at Sonia, the panic still evident on her face. “Though I wonder if
a walk to the river might not have been kinder.”

Luisa laughs. “I daresay she cannot hear us at all, so great is her fright!”

“I hear you quite well, actually.” Sonia’s voice comes from between clenched lips, her face tight as she stares straight ahead.

I press my lips together to keep from laughing.

Luisa glances over at me with curiosity. “So? What is it, Lia? What did you want to talk about? Besides the usual; the prophecy,
the end of the world, trifling things such as those!”

Even Luisa’s attempt at finding humor in our strange situation cannot bring a smile to my face, for what if she and Sonia
blame me for the circumstances in which they find themselves? And yet there is no way to know for certain except to say it.
“I believe I understand why my father’s face is familiar to you.”

Luisa furrows her brow. “Well, it’s certainly possible I came across him at Wycliffe, or —”

“I don’t think that is why.” I interrupt her. “Shall we dismount?”

We have come to the small pond where Alice and I used to feed the ducks when we were small. After our mother’s death, it seemed
a safer haven than the lake, its tree-lined shore a gentle dip to the water that provides plenty of shade even in summer.

Luisa and I are tying our horses to a couple of small trees when we notice Sonia, still perched atop Moon Shadow.

“Are you coming down?” I ask her. It takes her a moment to look my way, but when she does I feel a surge of sympathy at the
sheer terror still displayed on her face.

“Down? Now that I’m up here you want me to get
down
?” Her voice borders on hysterical.

“It will be fine, Sonia. Trust me. I’ll help you.”

It is only after I have given her detailed instructions and helped her down from Moon Shadow that Sonia’s face relaxes into
something of its normal calm. She sits on the grass with a groan. “I’ll never be able to sit properly again!”

Sitting next to her, I let the silence settle between us as I work up the courage to say what I must say. I look over at Luisa,
leaning against a tree near the water with her eyes closed, her lips hinting at a faint smile of contentment.

“Luisa? How did you come to be at Wycliffe all the way from Italy? It seems an odd thing, really, for you to be at school
so far from home.”

She opens her eyes, laughing harshly and bending over to feel along the grass until she rises with a few small rocks in her
hand. “Odd indeed! My father had planned to send me to school in London, but a business acquaintance convinced him America
was the best place to get a modern-day education. ‘The best schooling money can buy,’ my father said. No doubt the same words
used to convince him to send me halfway around the world to Wycliffe.” She throws one of the rocks angrily into the water.
It lands with a
plunk
a good deal farther than I can throw even on my best day.

“I believe that was my father.”

She drops her hands to her side. “What do you mean? What was your father?”

“I believe
my
father is the business acquaintance who recommended
your
father send you to Wycliffe.”

Luisa makes her way toward me, sinking onto the grass as confusion flickers across her face. “But… how would your father be
acquainted with mine, and perchance that he was, why would he concern himself with my schooling?”

“I don’t know, but we all have the mark. Even though mine is different, it is close enough to be strange in the extreme. The
fact that we are all in the same town, in the same place, is even stranger, don’t you agree?”

Sonia does not nod or show any sign of agreeing at all, except to start speaking. “My parents were English. They… well, they
were quite poor, actually.” Her laugh is wry, a whisper of her normal laugh. “In any case, they didn’t need an excuse to find
me other accommodations. When I started showing signs of… well, you know, all the strange things I’m able to see and do, they
thought I might be happier surrounded by others of my kind. Or so Mrs. Millburn tells me. More likely
they
were happier to have one less mouth to feed.”

I offer her a smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, Sonia. I could not have managed without your friendship these last weeks!”
She returns my smile with a shy one of her own, and I continue. “But it cannot be a coincidence that we have all come to be
in the same place. That we all carry the mark. My aunt informed me that my father was seeking out children, children with
the mark, from all over the world. She told me…” I stop. Will they be angry? Will they blame me for everything?

“What, Lia? What did she tell you?” Sonia’s voice is soft.

“She told me that he started bringing them here… the children. That he arranged for them to come to America. Only two of them
before he died. One from England, one from Italy, she said.”

Luisa blinks in the fading sunlight. “But… why would your father want us here? And in any case, how would he have found us?
How would he have known we had the mark?”

“I’ve been thinking about that; you and Sonia have had the mark since birth. I imagine that, with the right resources, it
would not be very difficult to find children with the mark. My father was a determined and influential man. Even if your marks
were kept a secret, there are those who might see it, are there not? Doctors, teachers, nannies, relatives…” I sigh, not sure
any of it makes sense now that I’ve said it aloud. “I’m sorry. I don’t know for certain, all right? I’ve been asking myself
the same question for weeks. It’s part of the riddle, I think. It must be.”

Luisa suddenly jumps to her feet, pacing the bank in front of us with the taut energy of a caged animal. “Perhaps we should
just leave all of this alone! After all, what is the worst that will happen if we simply let it be? Is it not better than
digging into this thing that we don’t understand?”

“We cannot do nothing, Luisa.” Sonia’s words surprise me.

Luisa opens her palms, a breeze off the water lifting a small lock of her raven hair. “Why ever not? Why can we not?”

Sonia sighs, dusting herself off and rising stiffly to walk toward Luisa. “Because the visions are coming to me more frequently
since we have found each other. The spirits are more insistent. They are trying to tell me something, to pull me into their
world, and they will not stop until I address them.” She takes Luisa’s hands. “And tell me, haven’t the spirits given chase
to you as well? Haven’t you found yourself falling more and more often into swift and strange dreams? Into the travel that
only leads you to places both dark and frightening?”

Surprise courses through my body. Sonia knows something I do not.

Luisa’s face is a mask of conflict before she crumples, burying her face in her hands. “Yes! Yes, all right?” She looks up
at us with naked fear. “But that does not mean we should give chase in return. Perhaps the Souls are only angry that we have
been so persistent. Perhaps if we ignore it… if we stop trying to find the answers, they will leave us all alone.”

But this will not happen. I am certain of it. The thing that stands in the shadows of our dreams, my dreams, is waiting. And
it will not be ignored.

Sonia wraps an arm around Luisa. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that is how the Souls work. They want something of us, something
of Lia, and now… well, now they shan’t rest until we give it to them.”

We pass Thanksgiving Day in pleasant forgetfulness. James and his father join us, and sumptuous smells waft to us from the
kitchen as we play parlor games. Henry’s face lights like a shooting star when Sonia agrees to play a game of chess. He does
not seem to mind when she beats him soundly, favoring him with a gracious smile while putting him into checkmate.

Alice is wary. Like an animal that smells danger, she watches from a distance as we laugh by the light of the fire. When we
adjourn to the dining room, I take my seat to the right of James. Alice surprises me by claiming the seat to his left. Her
presence unnerves me, though she is mostly blocked from my view. I push aside my unease. The feast is delicious, filled with
wine and conversation that goes on for two lovely hours.

We retire to the parlor once again after eating in proportions that would surely cause Miss Gray upset over our gluttony.

After much prodding, Aunt Virginia sits at the piano. We gather around to sing, laughing and poking each other with elbows
when we forget the words. Even Alice joins us in song, though she keeps her distance from Sonia and Luisa, and the room grows
quiet as the final refrain of our last ballad rings through the parlor. The fire burns low in the grate, and Aunt Virginia,
who never displays weariness of any sort, covers her yawn with a tired hand. Henry sleeps in his chair by the firebox, thick
hair falling over his closed eyes.

“Well, I don’t want to break up the celebration, but I think
someone
needs to be brought to bed.” James looks over my shoulder as he says it, and my eyes drift to Henry.

But when I follow the sparkle in James’s eyes, it is Mr. Douglas I see, hunched and sleeping on the sofa. I smother a laugh,
trying not to wake either one of them.

“Yes, well… it
is
rather late. Shall I ask Edmund to help you to the carriage?” I tip my head to Mr. Douglas.

“No, thank you. I’ll manage.”

There is a sleepy stumble to the waiting carriage as James settles his father and then a flurry of gay goodbyes. Aunt Virginia
has disappeared to supervise cleanup in the kitchen, and Luisa and Sonia have gone to dress for bed. I look around to be sure
no one is about before slipping from the warmth of the house to the terrace with James.

He wastes no time pulling me into his arms, twirling a piece of my loose hair around one fingertip. And then his lips are
on mine, opening my mouth like the bud of a flower, blossoming until the petals are lush and swollen. These are the times
when I feel like another Lia altogether — one who doesn’t care about Miss Gray and her books and books full of rules. One
who doesn’t care what is expected of me. These are the times when I think that it is not possible for something to be wrong
that is felt so fully, filling me up from the inside out.

It is James who pulls away. It is always James who pulls away, though he is the one who pulls me close as well. “Lia, Lia.
I am so happy when I’m with you. You know that, don’t you?” His voice is brusque.

I smile, teasing. “Yes, of course, when I’m not driving you mad with arguments and curiosity!”

“You drive me mad with something else.” He grins before becoming more serious. “It’s true that we’ve not talked about it in
any serious way. And I cannot offer you the life to which you are accustomed. But I want you to be mine, someday, when the
time is right.”

My nod comes slower than I intend. “Only…”

“Only what?” Naked worry shades his eyes. We have laughed and enjoyed the evening, attempting to forget the small distance
that has grown between us. It is a distance borne only by my own secrets and uncertainty, but that does not make the divide
any simpler to cross.

I shake my head. “It’s nothing. I am only sad to be without Father for the holiday. Christmas shan’t be the same.” My voice
rings with the truth of it, and for a moment I am able to convince myself that my grief is the only thing between James and
me.

“Is that all, then? The only thing that has made you brooding and quiet these last weeks? Because I can’t help feeling there
is more to it.”

Tell him. Tell him now before it is too late, before you push him away altogether.
But the voice is not insistent enough. I nod, smiling up at him with as much reassurance as I can manage. “I’m sorry if I’ve
caused you worry. I shall be all right with time.”

I want to believe I am protecting him, but instead it is shame that keeps me quiet. Deep down, I cannot deny that I am anxious
James will not have me when he realizes the wicked, ageless story of which I am a part.