Prophecy of the Sisters (30 page)

“She’s back! She’s come back!” Luisa’s voice bursts from the floor next to me.

I only vaguely feel Sonia’s smooth touch on my hand, as if all of my senses have not fully re-engaged with my body. I try
to speak, to tell them that we must go back to Father’s room to look for the list, but what comes from my mouth is a series
of noises and sounds that do not resemble real words. I shake my head in frustration as Sonia speaks harshly.

“Lia? Lia? Look at me, Lia. Listen to me.” She takes her hand from mine, turning my chin so that I am forced to face her,
looking into my eyes with such authority that I am forced to look back. In them is the peaceful sea of the Otherworlds. “You
must be calm. It is natural. It is natural to be unable to speak when returning from such a journey, all right?”

I can only stare, not trusting myself to speak again.

“All right, Lia? You must trust me. Your speech will come back in seconds. The feeling in your body will come back in seconds.
You must slow your breath and wait. You must allow your mind to process all you have done, all you have seen. You must allow
it a few moments to return to its physical state. Look at me, Lia! And nod that you understand.” Her voice is harsh. I feel
suddenly like a child, but there is safety in the firm command of her words, and I look her in the eyes and try to nod.

“Good. Now, stay still. Just stay still and breathe.”

I give myself over to the utter helplessness of my body. When I look at Luisa, the fear in her eyes frightens me further,
so I force myself to turn back to Sonia, to look into the blue depths of her eyes until I am breathing more normally.

I test my fingers, commanding them to move and am grateful when they do as ordered. I follow the same procedure with the rest
of my body, making small demands of it until it seems all is in working order. Only then do I try to speak. Sonia and Luisa
are held in rapt attention as I try to form the words.

“H-h-his chamber. The list is in his chamber. Behind the picture of my mother.”

“Are you certain this is where it is?”

Luisa hands me the photo of my mother after retrieving it from Father’s room. I have been forced to stay on the sofa, as Sonia
has informed me that weak limbs are one of the unfortunate side effects of an especially long and difficult journey on the
Plane. As if that is not enough, my head is pounding, giving me new sympathy for the trials of Sonia’s life as a spiritualist.
Though it has not been said aloud, the darkness beyond the windowpanes tells us that our time alone runs short. Aunt Virginia
will return with Alice and Henry at any moment.

“Not entirely, but as certain as I can be under the circumstances.”

I stare at the image of my mother. Her eyes are no less intense for the black-and-white photo, and I remember their vibrancy
during our brief visit on the Plane.

“Would you like me to do it?” Sonia asks softly.

I shake my head. “No. I’ll do it.”

I turn the photo over in my hand, laying it facedown on my lap. The thin metal clips at the back slide easily out of the way,
allowing me to lift the thin piece of wood from the frame. At first I think there is nothing there. I can see the back of
the photo, and am preparing to lift it, too, from the frame, when something catches my eye in the corner of the frame between
the glass and the ornate metal.

As I lift the frame closer to my face, Luisa breaks in. “What is it? Is there something there?”

“I’m not sure.…” But it does not take long to realize that there is, indeed, something there. I pluck it from the corner of
the frame with shaking fingers, though whether they tremble from excitement, fear, or my recent visit to the Plane I cannot
say.

“But… it’s so small,” Sonia says. “Surely that cannot be the list!”

It is just a scrap, a minute piece of paper that has clearly been torn from the corner of a larger page, but I am not as disappointed
as I might have imagined. It is the closest we’ve come yet to the list. Although it is no longer hidden in the frame where
my father left it, of one thing I am certain; it once was.

Sonia and Luisa are as quiet as I. The disappointment is audible in the silence of our breathing, the lack of words spoken
between us. It is I who finally speaks, who finally breaks with one word the heavy quiet in the library.

“Alice.”

I pace the floor in my bedroom, trying to gather my thoughts before confronting Alice. I could not do so amid the flurry of
activity as Aunt Virginia and Henry shared their purchases and recounted the tales of their day. I had time only to meet Alice’s
gaze in a searing glance before she retired to her room. Dinner followed, a tense though grand affair with guests still in
the house, though Thanksgiving proper has passed.

Luisa and Sonia offered to accompany me when I confront my sister. But this part of the prophecy, this part of the battle,
is mine. I have waited through the evening with growing fury.

Alice, working in concert with the Souls who would see me dead.

Alice, exposing me to harm by undoing Mother’s spell.

Alice, taking the list.

By the time the house settles into sleep I am more than prepared to retrieve the list from Alice, and I leave my chambers
with a purposeful step that is not as silent as it should be given the hour. I knock when I reach her door but open it before
she can answer. She will not have the choice to deny me entry.

On her face is a look of true surprise that I have never seen before. Her hand flies to her bosom, her mouth forming an O
of bewilderment. “Lia! Whatever —”

I march toward her, and for the first time in all the years we have been sisters, in all the years we have been friends and
confidantes, my sister looks afraid of me. She takes a step back as I come within a foot of her face.

“Give it to me, Alice.” I hold out my hand, wanting her to understand that I will not leave without the list of names that
is my passage to freedom.

She shakes her head, making a good show of false confusion. “I don’t… I don’t know what you mean.”

I narrow my eyes.
“Yes… you… do,
Alice. You have it. You
stole
it from Father’s room.”

She pulls herself up straighter, eyes blazing, the look of fear receding behind her own indignation. “I tell you, Lia, whatever
it is that you think I have, I don’t. Though from the look of things, it is must be very important to you. I quite wish I
had it now, whatever it may be.” Her eyes take on the wicked shine that always makes me fear what she will do or say next.
When she continues, I understand why. “Especially since you have something of mine.”

We stare at each other for a moment, our breath shallow and audible in the quiet room. I do not intend to confirm my possession
of the knife, nor do I intend to return it to her. Instead, I force a calm into my voice that I do not feel. “Give it back,
Alice.”

She tips her head, meeting my eyes without flinching. “I still don’t know what you mean.”

Frustration threatens to boil over. She knows to what I refer. I am sure of it. But I have no choice but to spell it out further
unless I should like to stand in Alice’s room playing word games all night.

“The list. Father’s list of names. It was on his night table behind the photo of mother. And now it’s gone.”

She turns, wandering casually back toward her dresser, pulling pins from her hair as she looks at me in the mirror over her
bureau. “Ah… Now I see. You have finally become wise enough to realize the importance of the keys.” She turns around then,
clapping her hands together in applause as if she is at the theater. The sound erupts into the quiet room. “Well, good for
you, Lia. You must be so proud. Nevertheless. I don’t have the list. Oh, I wanted it. I even went into Father’s chamber to
retrieve it. I looked behind the picture of mother, but the list was not there even then.”

I cannot hide the confusion I feel spreading across my face. “But how did you know? How did you know where it was when I’ve
been looking all this time?”

She laughs aloud, and there is genuine amusement in it. “Oh Lia! You still don’t understand, do you?” She spins to face me
once again, her long hair spilling onto her shoulders in a riot of curls. “I don’t need Father to tell me things. I never
have. I learned early on that I was of no interest to him. Not when he had his precious Lia. No, I didn’t need him in this
world, and I don’t need him now that he is in the next. I don’t need Virginia. And I don’t need you. I have my own ways of
finding things. I’m only sorry I didn’t find the list in time.”

“What do you mean? You found it too late?”

She sighs as if having to explain something very simple to a small child. “The frame was empty save for our dear mother’s
picture.” Sarcasm drips from her words. “I knew it was there at one time, so I assumed you’d simply found it and had hidden
it elsewhere.”

Facing her, I cannot think of a single thing to say. My anger has been replaced with a deep and unsettling confusion. If I
don’t have the list… if Alice truly doesn’t have it…

Who else would have use for such a dark and dangerous thing?

The Angel, guarded only by the gossamer veil of protection, fragile and worldly, easily torn.

I open my eyes to the words, whispered in some lost recess of consciousness. I have slept fitfully, full of dreams that I
sense are, for once, only that. Dreams. When I wake, it is not with the answer I need, but with the familiar words echoing
in my mind.

The Angel, guarded only by the gossamer veil of protection.

Guarded only by the gossamer veil of protection.

Guarded only by…

Veil of protection…

… of protection.

… of protection.

The words repeat as if there is a scratch on one of Father’s Gramophone disks.

As if someone is trying to tell me something.

And then there are Father’s broken words, spoken across the Worlds,
Henry is all that is left of the veil.…

And all at once, I know what it means.

I descend the stairs at a dead run. I don’t give a thought to the commotion I make as I reach the bottom, but it must be considerable
because Luisa and Sonia emerge in a fright from the dining room.

Sonia holds a napkin in her hand, looking at me with surprise. “Lia! Whatever is the —”

“Aunt Virginia?” My voice is a bellow through the house, desperation seeping deeper and deeper into my bones.

Luisa and Sonia stare with wide-eyed shock at my behavior.

The click of shoes on marble makes me turn. Relief fills my body and then leaves just as quickly when I see that it is not
my aunt but Margaret, looking at me as if I have gone around the bend, yelling through the house like a child.

“Why ever are you shouting, Miss Milthorpe?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Margaret. I must speak to my aunt at once. Have you seen her?” My shaking voice betrays my fear.

She smiles. “Why, of course, dear. She’s upstairs. In bed.”

“In bed?” Margaret might as well say Aunt Virginia is grooming the horses for all the likelihood that she would be in bed
during the day.

“Yes. In bed. She’s not feeling herself. She has been unusually tired of late, and I have sent her to bed for added rest.
Nothing to worry about, I’m sure. Just a little under the weather.” She smiles, as if this alone can quell the turmoil racing
through my veins. “Check on her later, dear. After she has had some time to sleep. I’m quite sure she’ll be fit as a fiddle.”

I nod, remembering Aunt Virginia’s weariness after intervening on my behalf in the Otherworlds. Tipping my head into the parlor,
I see that it is empty and turn back to Margaret.

“Margaret?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Where are Henry and Alice?”

Uncertainty crosses her normally unflappable features. “Well, that is a matter I wanted to discuss with Miss Spencer.…”

I raise my eyebrows. “Well, perhaps you should discuss it with me.”

She shifts nervously from foot to foot, and I think that this may be the first time I have felt myself mistress of my own
home. “Well, Miss… Alice took Henry to the river.”