Sisters' Fate (18 page)

She rolls her eyes. “I thought providing you sanctuary was payment enough.”

Finn ignores her. “Are your sisters all right?”

I nod. “They’re safe. Did your mother and Clara leave for Chatham?”

“Put them on the train this afternoon. I suspect the Brothers will be paying her a visit soon, though.” He runs a gloved hand through his coppery hair. “Brother Ishida and I were both questioned this evening. Berated, really. O’Shea claims we let the oracle slip right under our noses. Of course Ishida made out like he’s been suspicious of you all along. Said you’re too educated for your own good—and then threw it in my face that you’d probably bought your books on magic from our shop.”

I twist my mother’s pearl ring on my finger. “I’m sorry. I never meant to involve Marianne in any of this.”

“It’s Ishida who brought her into it. I should have clocked him,” he seethes. His freckled cheeks are flushed from anger and the icy December wind. “Fortunately, our interview was cut short. Some urgent business at the hospital.”

“Speaking of the hospital . . .” Alice takes a sip of tea. “Have you heard anything about the Brothers developing medicine to treat the epidemic? I was advised to take Father to see Brother Kenneally.”

“That can’t be a coincidence.” Merriweather drops his fork with a clink against the china plate. “I’ve asked my sources in the hospital to look into it.”

I turn to Finn. “Can you ask around, too? If they’re withholding medicine from the sick, that’s awful.”

“But if we could prove it, there’d be a nice public outcry,” Merriweather muses.

“I’ll look into it.” Finn turns to face me, ears flushing, and lowers his voice. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get here sooner. I went to Alistair’s lodgings as soon as I heard, hoping he’d know where you were, but then I had to see Mother off. And when I came out of the train depot, there was a guard waiting to escort me back to the hotel for questioning. I’ve been worried about you.”

My eyes collide with his. “I’m all right. Better now that I’ve seen you.”

“Well.” Merriweather clears his throat, rising with an elegant swirl of his greatcoat. “We ought to be going. Loads of work to do tonight. Thank you for the tea and hospitality, ladies. Prue, you know how to reach me.” He pats his sister on the head like a puppy and is out the door.

Finn brushes his hand over mine before following. It’s a sweet gesture, but it reminds me how far apart we still are. A few weeks ago, he would have kissed me.

CHAPTER

17

PATIENCE HAS NEVER BEEN ONE OF MY VIR
TUES
.

By midmorning, I’m driving Prue and Alice mad with my pacing. Alice is lounging on the love seat with a fashion magazine, wearing a rose-colored brocade embroidered with gold leaves. The fire burns merrily in the hearth; a plate of freshly baked cranberry scones and a steaming pot of tea sit on the table where Prue left them.

I can’t seem to settle. Unlike Alice, I’m not well suited to idleness, and unlike Prue, I’ve no useful domestic talents. I’m practically twitching with pent-up energy.

I should be at the hospital, nursing, but I can’t leave the house without an illusion, and it would be impossible to do any significant healing magic while maintaining a glamour. I’ve got to find something to occupy myself with.

“Would you go pace somewhere else?” Alice snaps.

I go in search of Prue, following my ears to the music room across the hall. It’s papered with pretty blue and yellow scrollwork, but it’s obvious that this room isn’t often used; the grand piano is covered in a fine layer of dust, and brown petals have fallen from a vase of pink roses. Prue sits on a stool next to the harpsichord, playing and singing softly. She stops when I come in.

“Go on,” I urge, leaning against the piano. “Don’t mind me.”

She’s just begun to sing in a high, beautiful soprano when there’s a knock at the front door. I pull the music room door mostly closed, peering out through a small crack. Could someone be paying a call on Mr. Auclair? Alice tacked a yellow ribbon onto the front door last night to indicate sickness within, but perhaps a good friend or a business associate would come to check up on him?

Alice opens the front door. Immediately, I can tell from her haughty expression that it’s not the Brothers. My heart leaps, hoping for my sisters, before I recognize Rory’s voice.

I lean out into the hall. “Is everything all right at the convent?”

“Strange is what it is.” Rory strides over and air-kisses both my cheeks.

“The guards have all left,” Sachi says. “They had half a dozen soldiers stationed on each floor last night and more patrolling the street out front. Then, right after breakfast, the sergeant told Gretchen they’d been given orders to leave.”

“Why?” This seems far too good to be true. “Do you think it’s a trap?”

Alice darts a glance toward the front door. “You weren’t followed, were you?”

“Please.” Sachi plants her hands on her slim hips. “We aren’t novices at sneaking, you know.”

Something strikes me. “You said the guard reported to Gretchen? Where’s Inez?”

“That,” Rory says, tracing her name in the dust on top of the piano, “is an excellent question. She went off last night and we haven’t seen hide nor hair of her since.”

“Peculiar, isn’t it?” Sachi adjusts the ivory cummerbund of her apple-green dress. “You wouldn’t think she’d leave the convent crawling with guards. She said she had business to attend to at the hospital.”

“Perhaps she’ll take sick and die,” Rory suggests cheerfully.

I narrow my eyes. Perhaps Inez is visiting Covington and the other members of the Head Council again.

“How are my sisters?” I ask, collecting the fallen rose petals in my palm.

Sachi and Rory exchange glances, and my breath quickens. “Tess had another episode last night. A vision or a nightmare, we’re not sure which. She didn’t seem certain herself,” Sachi says carefully.

I crumple the rose petals in my fist. “What was it about?”

“It’s hard to say. She seemed a little batty, to be honest.” Rory dots the
i
in
Elliott
with a star.

Sachi elbows her. “Tess kept saying that the city was going to burn. That there would be fire and death and she couldn’t stop any of it. It was—a trifle disturbing.”

Rory gives an exaggerated shiver. “It was eerie, being shut up in that room all night without a clue what was going on, with Tess prophesying all sorts of death and destruction.”

“Everyone’s in a panic,” Sachi sighs. “Sister Gretchen has teachers stationed at every exit to catch anyone coming or going. She nearly refused to let us leave, but we thought you’d want to hear the news.”

“There’s going to be some sort of proclamation at noon in Richmond Square,” Rory explains.

I frown. “Finn stopped by last night. He said O’Shea was called away to the hospital in the midst of interrogating him and your father. You don’t suppose they’ve seen through Inez’s pretense with Brother Covington and arrested her, do you?”

“Perhaps they’ll hang her!” Rory’s rabbity smile turns bloodthirsty.

“Better hope that’s not it. She’d give us all up to save her own neck,” Alice says.

“We need to go find out what’s happening,” I declare, dropping the rose petals into the wastebasket and heading for the front hall. Behind me, Sachi is rubbing out Rory’s name in the dust.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m dead tired of being cooped up,” Rory declares.

“Do you suppose you can keep your temper under control this time?” Alice needles.

“Yes.” I glare. “I don’t make the same mistakes twice, Alice.”

• • •

Alice creates a glamour that turns her hair brown and thins her hourglass figure and heart-shaped face. It’s just enough that no one would recognize her as the same girl who was in the cathedral yesterday. She uses more of her magic to turn me into a willowy Indo girl with glossy brown hair and caramel skin. I could pass for Parvati’s sister.

The cobbled streets of Cardiff are quiet. Several of the neighboring houses sport fluttering yellow ribbons

Once we reach the market district, there’s an abrupt change in mood. Soldiers lurk on every street corner, stopping us every few blocks to demand that we lower our hoods. It’s obvious that they’re searching for someone.

Searching for me.

I know that Alice has a powerful affinity for illusions, but I can’t help trembling every time the soldiers peer into my face. I’m placing an enormous amount of trust in someone I considered an enemy a week ago. If she wanted to destroy me, she could do it so easily.

Newspaper boys loiter next to shops that have shuttered early for the lunch hour. “Assassination attempt on Brother O’Shea! Dangerous witch on the loose! Richmond Cathedral damaged in the attack!” they shout, waving copies of the
Sentinel.

I stop to purchase a paper, fearing all the while that someone will see through the illusion and shout my name and the soldiers will drag me away. I must be mad, brazenly walking down Church Street when all of New London is searching for me. And yet Alice was right. I can’t hide in her father’s house forever.

“Good Lord,” Rory swears. A sketch of me, Maura, and Tess is plastered on the front page of the paper. It’s based on a photograph we sat for two summers ago, and the likeness is quite good. Maura sits in a tall armchair, while Tess kneels at her feet and I stand behind them, my hand on Maura’s shoulder. Tess still wore pinafores and her hair in braids then. She kept the picture tucked into the corner of her mirror; the Brothers must have found it when they searched the convent.

Right above the photo, a headline screeches out:
WITCH RESPONSIBLE FOR ASSASSI
NATION ATTEMPT ON O’
SHEA IDENTIFIED
. The first sentence declares that a substantial reward
and
immunity will be given to anyone who comes forward with reputable information regarding the whereabouts of Catherine Cahill. Then it notes that my sisters—also witches—are missing and presumed complicit in the attacks on the Head Council, Harwood Asylum, Richmond Square, and Richmond Cathedral. Alistair and Prudencia Merriweather are mentioned as fellow fugitives, presumed dangerous.

Rory lets out a low whistle. “That’s a hefty reward. It’s a good thing I like you.”

On my other side, Alice scowls. “Perhaps Maura has the right idea, getting rid of those girls. I don’t know many people who’d resist a sum like that.”

I let her take the newspaper, and shove my hands in the pockets of my blue cloak. I don’t want to believe that the Harwood girls would betray me after I saved them twice over. But after being locked up again last night—even for their own safety—well, the promise of freedom and immunity must be tempting.

Maura would be delighted to have all her accusations about the untrustworthiness of the Harwood girls and my gullibility proven correct—if she survived it.

As we walk down Church Street, more shopkeepers are locking up so they can watch the proclamation. I glance at the cathedral. They’ve swept the broken glass from the front steps, but the damage is clear: All the beautiful windows are gone, the gaping holes boarded up. It was sacrilege, what I did, destroying a place of worship like that.

I pray that my sisters won’t be punished for my transgressions.

A crowd has already gathered in Richmond Square, though it’s only half past eleven. Liveried guards with bayonets at the ready are patrolling the entrances and grouped in clusters throughout the square. Hundreds of Brothers stand at the front of the crowd, right before the gallows—so many that it looks as though the entire National Council has turned out. Finn will be there somewhere.

A single noose dangles in the center of the gallows stage.

Fear grips me. It’s to be a hanging, then.

A witch? Obviously they’re prepared for trouble.

“Well, this explains why there are no guards left at the convent. Every soldier in New London is downtown,” Rory whispers.

We take up a position near the front. The crowd is growing every minute, but the mood is different today. Somber. There are no vendors selling roasted chestnuts or hot cider to take away the chill. No children playing tag. The crisp air is filled with hacking coughs, and people look anxiously at their neighbors before nestling deeper into their upturned collars. I don’t see any other Sisters present, but perhaps they, too, are glamoured. The few women in the crowd have their hoods up and scarves wrapped around their mouths.

Alice elbows me. “Look, they’re coming!” she hisses, pulling her hood lower.

A squadron of guards moves slowly down the steps of the National Council building. At its center are three figures cloaked in black, indistinguishable in the distance. Two of them walk side by side while the third trudges behind them, head down and hands bound, with guards close on either side. Could that be Inez? It’s impossible to tell whether the figure is male or female.

As they enter the square, whispers slink and skip through the crowd. People fall to their knees, shouting—what? I cannot make it out.

I stand on my tiptoes, trying to see over the shoulders in front of me.

When I finally catch a glimpse of the man climbing the gallows, I gasp.

“That’s impossible!” My voice is lost in the shocked murmurs of everyone around me.

The broad shoulders, the sharp cheekbones, the black hair gone gray at the temples—the charismatic carriage—his way of wearing the Brothers’ robes as though it’s the finest suit money could buy—

It’s Brother William Covington, back from death’s door.

“It’s a miracle!” someone shouts.

The air fills with amens and hallelujahs.

As Covington takes center stage, another figure ascends the gallows. She turns to face the crowd, her sharp beak of a nose and dark eyes instantly familiar. The wind catches at her hood, revealing chestnut hair pulled back into a tight chignon. Inez.

But her hands are free, clasped piously before her. Then, who—

The third figure climbs the steps, a guard’s rifle at his back. My breath strangles in my throat when he lifts his face and I recognize the icy blue gaze of Brother O’Shea.

How has Inez managed this?

“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” Brother Covington begins. His honeyed drawl is a trifle hoarse, and the crowd goes silent, pressing forward to hear him better. “I should not be standing here before you today. I have spent the last three weeks lying in a bed in Richmond Hospital, stripped of my dignity. The witches’ horrific attack left me unable to recall my own name, unable to perform the most basic functions. All previous victims have lived out the rest of their days in this state. It is nothing short of a miracle that I stand here, fully recovered, with all my faculties intact. Thanks be!”

The crowd echoes him, and I bite my tongue. Miracle, my foot. If his faculties were truly intact, his memory returned, he’d never be standing next to the woman who attacked him in the first place.

How is this possible? He ought to be drooling in his hospital bed, being spoon-fed his meals and changed like an infant.

Covington gives a broad smile. “I am humbled. And I feel certain this miracle would not have occurred without the incredible devotion—the tireless prayers—of this woman. I would like to publicly thank Sister Inez Ortega, headmistress of the Sisterhood, for praying by my side every day.” He gives a low, chivalrous bow. I clap with the rest of the crowd. Next to me, Alice gives a little hiss through her teeth.

This
is the result of all her hours at his bedside. Somehow, she’s compelling him.

Inez wants Brother Covington awake and leading New England. But why? How does this fit into her plans? A mixture of fascination and fear washes over me. I’ve never heard of such powerful compulsion, but nothing else makes sense.

“After successfully completing a battery of tests, I have reassumed my duties as head of the Brotherhood,” Covington says, and pauses while the crowd cheers. The people of New London have always liked him. “The last few weeks, New London has been under attack. We have now learned the identity of the witch responsible: one Catherine Cahill. I urge you all to buy a copy of today’s
Sentinel
and examine her picture closely. This girl is extremely dangerous. Just look at the damage she did to our beautiful cathedral!” He makes a sweeping gesture behind him. “We have reason to believe she’s still in New London, and I will not rest until she and her accomplices are found. Justice will be served!”

He shakes his fist in the air as the crowd cheers again.

What on earth is Inez playing at?