Antebellum Awakening (27 page)

“Bianca?”

Nan muttered something under her breath, reaching for one of the many jeweled necklaces she wore and waving it in the air toward me. Her accusations burned in my heart.

Betrayer! Power in ya heart!

“Meet me outside,” Jackie said, reaching for a squat little pot of tea that sat on a small table in the middle of the tent. “I need to calm her down.”

All too glad to escape the suffocating smell and odd darkness of the tent, I slipped between the flaps. Chatham City continued on outside, no one any wiser for Nan’s hysterical outburst.

My hands trembled as I waited. Nan had pulled the same cards as Jackie. Surely that meant something. I wasn’t sure how long I studied the soot-stained Chatham City skyline before Jackie ducked out of the tent. She looked at me with concerned, reserved eyes.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” I said, somewhat shakily. “I don’t know what—”

“Nan’s a bit sensitive lately,” Jackie said, fidgeting. “It’s the issues in the West. She can feel the building evil.”

“I didn’t know you were a gypsy,” I said in a desperate attempt to change the conversation.
Building evil. Issues in the West.
Did I have some part of that evil? Is that why Nan called me a betrayer? I hadn’t realized how strong the magic burned inside me until then. It ran through me in long currents, wanting free.

Jackie cast a rueful eye along the tents on the street and the half-dressed children running around in bright turquoise and pink pants.

“I’m not ashamed of being a gypsy,” she said. “But it has never helped me when people knew my heritage, so I don’t talk about it. Many witches judge us to be heretics stuck in the ways of our predecessors. Or they say we don’t want education and progress just because we stay close to the land and sleep under the stars. That’s not the truth. I want to help destroy that belief.”

“That’s why you enrolled at Miss Mabel’s,” I said. Nan started singing something in the background in throaty, melodic tones. Jackie nodded.

“I want to get us representation in the Network.”

All of our time together at school, what little we’d had, had been lighthearted and fun. But here in Chatham City, standing with her people, I saw a different side of Jackie. She was strong, authoritative. I felt a little awed by her.

“I’ve been keeping track of what’s happened with your father,” she said. “We hear the rallies all the time. Clive has a good deal of Chatham City angry over it.”

Yes, the rabid dogs.

“I’m sorry that everyone is reacting that way,” she continued when I said nothing. “It’s amazing the power tradition holds, isn’t it?”

“Or frightening,” I quipped with no small amount of bitterness. Jackie took that in with a long, solemn gaze.

“Listen, Bianca, I can’t speak for all my people, not yet anyway. But I can say that we don’t agree with Clive in removing your father. Not a single gypsy signed that petition, and not just because the gypsies don’t hold by the same traditions the rest of the Central Network clings to. While Clive went around garnering signatures, the Factios robbed most of the gypsy camps and killed two of our Elders.”

My eyebrows lifted.

“What?”

Jackie’s formidable expression spoke to a maturity far beyond our age.

“It’s true. We sent our last Elder to Clive with a plea for help against the criminals, but he ignored him and sent him away.” She gazed over the bright tents and down the alley. “If violence like this continues, if Clive doesn’t stop the Factios before they get out of control, Chatham City will soon be divided. The gypsies will side with whatever leader offers the most protection. That’s why Nan is so sensitive right now.”

“I’m sorry, Jackie,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s not your fault. It’s just part of life, isn’t it?” Her full lips split into her familiar pearly white grin, one that extinguished the sudden gloom upon the conversation. “You look terrible, Bianca.”

I couldn’t help but smile. It was a relief to move back toward the familiar side of our friendship, away from the darkness.

“I know.”

“Come visit again,” she said. “Just avoid Nan, okay?”

I managed a half-hearted smile. “Agreed,” I said and left, grateful to put the gypsies and their bright swatches of color at my back.

I’m Sorry.

I
waited outside the High Priestess’s office the next morning with my heart in my throat.

My wrists hurt from an intentionally early lesson with Merrick. He started it before light, telling me that working off the anxiety over the High Priestess’s decision would help control the magic when I heard the outcome. A greenish bruise popped on my right forearm from a wayward whack with the stick. I’d been distracted through the whole lesson. Merrick finally made me run up and down the lower bailey stairs until I could barely move. The muscles in my legs still throbbed.

Tiberius stood next to me, staring at the floor. Neither of us spoke but I took comfort from his burly body anyway. Donald sat outside at his little desk, murmuring to himself. Feathers flew around him like independent little birds, scrawling notes on scrolls, books, and pieces of parchment alike.

After an eternal wait, the door opened. I straightened, my stomach churning in fear. Papa came out first, his face pale but stoic. The way his lips pressed together and his eyes seemed to look past me told me all I needed to know.

I stepped forward. The coiled magic released and flooded my chest with a dragon-like roar. He shook his head to indicate I shouldn’t speak, put a hand on my shoulder, and nodded to Tiberius.

“When are they removing you?” Tiberius asked, his tone as hard as flint.

“Today,” Papa responded. The sadness in his eyes hit my heart. I had to look away, to take a deep breath and gain control of the inner dragon. The High Priestess appeared behind Papa, standing in the doorway.

“I’m sorry, Derek,” she said in her business-like tone. There was no inflection and no apology behind it. “You may not agree with me, but trust me when I say that this is for the best.”

He gave a curt nod.

“Come on, B,” he said, turning me around to leave. “Let’s go.”

I looked over my shoulder and locked eyes with the High Priestess. She watched me go, an inscrutable expression on her face.

•••

That afternoon, the most solemn assembly of witches I’d ever seen gathered for the announcement of the new High Priest.

Bodies filled the high and low baileys, stretching past the wall, all the way down Chatham Road. Witches lounged in the trees surrounding Chatham Castle, their bodies infusing the branches with specks of white and brown. Maids opened the windows so that those working inside could hear. Not a single witch within a day’s travel would miss this announcement, and some came from even further. Those who could transport came at irregular intervals, landing outside the Wall to control who stood in the baileys. Protectors scattered throughout the crowd in disguise. I thought I recognized Merrick amongst them, although I couldn’t be sure. Guardians stood sentry at every entrance.

At one minute to three, the High Priestess stood at the edge of her office balcony, facing the whole bailey. Papa, Tiberius, Marten, Zane, Stella, and I stood just behind the High Priestess. Stella’s unwavering demeanor gave me strength. Papa stood back with Zane, talking quietly in the shadows they so loved.

The High Priestess spoke the moment the clock finished striking the hour.

“Today,” she called, “I will announce several pieces of business. First, I release Derek Black as Head of Protectors.”

My heart stalled in my chest. Although I knew it was coming, it still hurt. Clive wasn’t within sight, arranged that way on purpose, no doubt. Papa lifted his chin, drawing in a deep breath. I tried to rally my strength, but found I could not. The building powers prevented it.

“I institute Zane Thomas in his place.”

Zane stepped forward to stand next to the High Priestess. The crowd didn’t move. I wasn’t even sure they were breathing. The magic whipped through me with all the power of a gale. Stella put a stabilizing hand on my shoulder, linking me back to reality. A wave of calm rested on me, but even that couldn’t subdue the magic for long.

“It’s okay, Bianca,” she said in a quiet murmur.

“The next High Priest,” the High Priestess said without preamble, “will be Derek Black.”

I wasn’t sure when it happened, when the moment of hearing turned to understanding, when my heart comprehended what my head couldn’t. I knew it when my blood turned to ice and my knees buckled beneath me and I reached out, holding to the wall for purchase. I knew it because cries of excitement and alarm rang out around me, but none so great as my own.

No matter what ruckus they made, no matter how loudly the Guardians and congregated witches cheered or booed, nothing could compete with the seductive voice in my head.

Your task is to kill the next High Priest.

The next thing I knew I was sprinting down the corridor, past the arched windows that allowed fresh spring air to pour inside. Alone in the long halls, I ran through Chatham, my feet echoing on the floors. The magic threatened, so I ran faster.

No, no, no, no.

The blackness that meant I was transporting came, and I fell forward with a clear image of Miss Mabel’s bungalow in my mind. The wind pressed against me, moving stronger than I’d ever felt. The force was so heady that for a moment I imagined it would press my eyes into the back of my head.

Miss Mabel’s voice was the next thing I heard.

“I’ve been expecting you, Bianca darling.”

Reckless

I
tumbled head over heels onto the red cave floor, slamming into it with a heavy thud. The moment I landed I sprang to my feet.

“What have you done?” I demanded. Miss Mabel lounged back on a chaise, a bored look on her face. A wooden chest stood on the floor next to her with a small, silky reticule waiting on top.

“Merry meet. How are you?”

“I won’t do it!” I cried, storming toward her. “I won’t kill my father for you!”

She tilted her head back and laughed. “Oh, Bianca. You’re too much fun, really.”

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew all along who the High Priestess was going to pick.”

Miss Mabel sighed and sat up.

“It’s Mildred’s own fault. She so bloody predictable, Bianca. Who else would she choose? Don’t tell me you thought it was Marten. Or Jansson? What a bore.”

The cloying, teasing tone of her voice almost broke me.

“I won’t do it!” I yelled in desperation. “I won’t kill my father!”

Miss Mabel stood up.

“You signed the contract.”

“Then I’ll die!”

Miss Mabel smiled and made a tutting sound with her teeth.

“A lovely story it will make, don’t you think? You kill your father and spare me the annoyance of having to do it. Or, since you insist on being so noble, you die on your seventeenth birthday and your father, so upset, wallows in misery and can’t save the Network. In the meantime, I kill Mildred and take control. A happy ending for everyone! Do you understand your purpose now in all of this?”

“You’ll never beat the High Priestess,” I snarled. “She’s stronger than you and you know it.”

Miss Mabel’s eyes blazed with a sudden fire.

“There may be someone in the Central Network stronger than me, but it certainly isn’t Mildred, you daft idiot,” she cried. I flew back with a violent slam, hitting the wall with a grunt of pain.

Her words poured through me like poison, shriveling what little life I still had inside. Gone, all of it was gone. Grandmother dead, Mama killed. Now I would die, which would destroy Papa. Would he be able to cope with my death and function as High Priest at the same time? If he couldn’t then the Central Network, already bruised, would fall to pieces.

“Why are you doing this?” I demanded, shoving away from the wall, loathing my guttural desperation. “Why?”

Her eyes flashed again.

“Because I can.”

“That’s a lie!” I cried. “You’re doing this for a reason. You have to be!”

“Oh Bianca,” she drawled, rising to her feet with the smooth grace of a specter. “Aren’t you tired of unqualified witches holding power? Mildred had her day. Now it’s my turn.”

“It’s about May, isn’t it?” I asked, pressing into the anger with wild abandon. “You never lived up to her expectations, did you? You weren’t good enough! So you left her at the castle to die alone while you celebrated. You didn’t even see her before they killed her for treason.”

Miss Mabel moved so fast all I saw was a flash of white before my back slammed into the wall behind me again. Her hand wrapped around my neck and anchored me there, my feet dangling an inch from the floor. Despite her fury, her eyes remained calm and cold.

“Don’t meddle in things you don’t know anything about,” she whispered. “May had the power to crush your soul. She deserved to die alone. She earned her traitor’s death.”