Antebellum Awakening (36 page)

Papa remained with his head bowed, his shoulders trembling, for several minutes. Then with one mighty move, he shoved away from the floor and stood to face us again, accepting the full weight of his duty. The magic from the blessing caused him to glow with a golden shimmer from the inside out. The stretch of his shoulders seemed broader, his legs more powerful. He took my breath away. This was a new Papa, a new witch.

I knew then, in my heart, that
he
was the one Miss Mabel feared.

There may be someone in the Central Network stronger than me, but it certainly isn’t Mildred.

“Are you ready, Derek?” the High Priestess asked, breaking into my thoughts.

“Yes,” he said. The moment passed, and the glory dimmed back: he was his usual self again now, but with a new air of power. A surge of pride overwhelmed me. I leaned into Tiberius’s side and he put a big hand on my shoulder. The High Priestess turned to the other Protectors.

“You have not lost your leader,” she said. “You’ve simply seen him gain further progression, as all of you strive to do. By taking this position Derek continues to fulfill the creed of your brotherhood.”

Zane rested a hand over his heart.

“As I have before,” he said to Papa, “and will forever more, I pledge to you my protection, loyalty, and assistance, brother.”

Each Protector would say the phrase with his hand over his heart: as the youngest, Merrick would pledge last. Instead of putting his hand on his heart to accept their pledge, Papa stepped forward, grabbed Zane by the left arm and gripped his shoulder.

“Live and die together,” he promised. “You have my word. I am your brother.”

He went down the line with the same routine, then lightly chuffed Merrick on the side of the head with an affectionate smack. When he finished, the High Priestess stepped forward.

“We have a ball to prepare for and attend,” the High Priestess said. “Please be on your guard. Reports from the South indicate that they have been calm all day, and so has the West. I don’t trust calm things. This would be a prime opportunity to attack and weaken the Central Network.”

Yes!
I wanted to shout.
Yes, Miss Mabel is coming!

The High Priestess’s eyes fell on me when she finished. A flash of anxiety prodded the powers, resurrecting the surly dragon that still lived in my chest.

Wake up,
I thought.
Wake up, wake up. I’ll need you later.

When Miss Mabel shows up.

Closer

“Y
ou don’t seem like a young witch that’s about to go to her first ball,” Henrietta remarked, bustling behind me with a needle and thread in hand. I stood on a step stool, staring out at Papa’s empty apartment. Now that the Empowerment was over, maids had already started packing our belongings to move us into the High Priest’s suite in the middle of the castle, not far from the High Priestess’s personal quarters. The apartment seemed small and empty without swords and daggers decorating the walls.

“I guess I don’t feel like a young witch attending her first ball,” I said.

Henrietta shot me a surprised glance. The usual flood of pins and needles bobbed in the air around her, tailing her wherever she went.

“Why not?” she asked.

Imminent battle with my worst enemy, possibly death. The usual.

“Something of a headache,” I said, and it wasn’t a lie. The herbal tea Grandmother used to give me for headaches hadn’t worked, though I’d drunk nearly a pot of it since the Empowerment. I wondered what my friends were doing in the Witchery. Was Camille lamenting about her hair? Fussing over Michelle? I couldn’t wait to see Leda in a ball gown. Henrietta, giving up on conversation, patted a few places, added a stitch here and there, and stepped away.

“There it is,” she said. “You look a wonder. Far cry from the wild child that runs in the woods. It’s not ladylike to go barefoot, you know.”

A mirror lifted into the air from where it rested by the door and drifted toward me. A gasp caught in my throat. For a flash, a brief second, I thought I saw my mother in the long black hair and slender body that looked back at me. All the work with Merrick had given my shoulders a toned, sculpted appearance. The deep sapphire material of the gown covered my shoulders and arms just to my elbow. Lace as black as night decorated the ends of the sleeves and the scooped neckline. Except for the grief in my gray eyes, I wouldn’t have known it was me. I looked away when Henrietta clasped something around my neck, saving the mirror from another unfortunate accident.

“I know you miss her tonight,” she whispered. “And although it’s against tradition, I thought you should wear this again. It will make her feel a bit closer.”

The weight on my breastbone told me all I needed to know. Mama’s memento. A little silver ball with a locket of her hair inside, usually worn on the anniversary of her death. Tonight it would be pressed against my heart, exactly where I needed Mama to give me strength.

“Thank you, Henrietta,” I whispered, clasping the memento in my fist. A longing for Mama ran through me in a long current, painful and stinging.
This is why I used to push it away,
I thought.
It hurts.
But beneath the grief came a subtle rise of power. I held the magic in my heart, drawing strength from it.

Soon. Miss Mabel will be here soon.

Henrietta, so unaware of my thoughts, smiled and patted my shoulder.

“Now,” she said in a bright tone, casting a wary eye on my hair. “What are we going to do about your hair? It doesn’t look quite as wild as usual, which gives me hope that it can be contained.”

“Nothing,” I said, tucking a strand behind my ear. “I plan on wearing my hair just like this."

Henrietta’s expression dropped.

“You what, dear?”

I smiled. “I’m going to wear my hair like this.”

“Like
that
?” she cried, pointing.

“Indeed. I washed it, brushed it, and Camille helped me curl it a little with some kind of potion she made. It’s very shiny, don’t you think?”

I toyed with a lazy curl that rested just past my shoulder, but Henrietta didn’t seem to notice. She opened her mouth to protest, and seeing the stubborn look on my face, closed it again. There would be no winning this fight. If I would die tonight, I’d do it my way.

“Don’t tell me,” she drawled, casting a fearful glance at my feet with her doughy face. “You aren’t going to—”

“I am,” I declared proudly, sticking one bare foot out of the dress. “I’m going barefoot. I refuse to wear shoes to the ball tonight.”

Henrietta’s face flushed, then went pale.

“You wouldn’t. Not for the Anniversary Ball. Not for the biggest night of your father’s life.”

“I would,” I said breezily, moving off the stand. “He won’t mind. He’ll just laugh. Besides, Henrietta, who will notice? No one will be looking at my feet, and if they do, whatever they find is their own fault.”

“Not right in the head,” she muttered, turning away from me. “Addled. Too much heat. Needs to spend more time at something productive. Sewing! Sewing is good for the mind.”

Her prattling faded away as she moved out of the room without a farewell, obviously too bothered by my lack of restraint to say goodbye. I watched her go, then bustled over to the window. The sun started sinking beneath the trees of Letum Wood. In the distance, I thought I saw the flicker of a pair of wide, dark wings rising from the night.

•••

The clock above the grand stairs rang ten times as I walked past it toward the High Priestess’s office. The ball started promptly at eleven in the evening and would run until dawn. Most of the Council Members, Coven Leaders, their families and the lesser leaders had congregated in the dining room for a lavish dinner that I’d passed on. I could just picture Fina’s red face flying around the kitchen, barking orders, making sure every dish looked perfect.

Less than two hours until my Inheritance Curse completes.

The thought set my nerves on fire. I shook my head and tapped on the door with my knuckle just once, but the High Priestess was already calling to me.

“Yes, come in, Bianca.”

She sat behind her desk, intent on writing a letter with a small gray feather. The open windowpanes allowed air to drift in, filling the room with the silky scents of grass and summer. The linea fabric of my dress kept me cool. I felt like the heat was just a silly mirage. When I moved into the room she gazed up, looked me over, and went back to her letter. It all felt the same, and yet, something was different.

“You look very nice,” she said.

“Henrietta would like to club me over the head and do my hair while I’m passed out,” I replied, settling on the chair. The soft rustle of the fabric against my legs felt like moving through a cloud. A more perfect last dress didn’t exist.

“Don’t give her the satisfaction,” the High Priestess muttered. “She has no talent for hair.”

I waited for her to finish her letter. When she finally did, her gaze slammed right into mine.

“I want to know how you feel about your father taking over as High Priest,” she said with her usual abrupt gravity. “This change will possibly affect you more than him. We never talked about it, and I apologize. Things have been busy.”

Taken aback, I sat there for several moments, trying to decide what to say.

“I was frightened for him,” I admitted. “But not anymore.”

“Why not?”

I thought back to the Empowerment, to the look in his eyes, the electric power in the air. Then I thought of Miss Mabel, of our conversation, and the sense I had that she feared Papa.

“Because he’s strong,” I finally concluded. “The strongest of all, I think. He may be one of the only witches Miss Mabel actually fears.”

“Your father is quite possibly the most talented witch and the most powerful Protector we’ve ever known. That’s what I want to talk about with you tonight. There’s a reason I allowed your father to break tradition and have a wife and daughter.”

My eyebrows rose.

“Why?”

The High Priestess let out a heavy sigh.

“I love the Central Network. I always have. I’ve given my life to her. I see all her beauties, and all her flaws. We’ve created a powerful Network, but we’ve also created a monster. All of our traditions keep us rooted in the past. The witches of our Network hold to them for comfort, not realizing that those traditions are the very thing that will bring about our downfall.”

Her words set my heart into a gallop.

“Downfall?”

“Derek is the only witch I know that’s brave enough, and powerful enough, to go against tradition and allow change. Mabel’s campaign against us will be successful if we don’t let go of how things used to be done. She knows our traditions. She’s already using them against us. She will continue to do so until our deeply entrenched habits become the very things that destroy us. Your father is intelligent enough to alter the way we do things in a way that Mabel can’t anticipate. After all these years, Mabel knows me too well. She’s studied me enough to understand how I think and what I will do. That’s why I went against the Council to put him in power. We need your father. He’s strong in ways I never can be.”

I thought over what she said with a somber heart. Her admission felt like a heavy secret. I knew she was right and it frightened me. Hadn’t Miss Mabel correctly guessed the High Priestess’s choice for who would be the next High Priest?

“I see,” I said when the silence stretched too long. She narrowed her eyes.

“No, you don’t. Not yet. But you will, eventually. And when you really understand, I want you to think back on this conversation and draw comfort.”

I fidgeted with the lines of my dress, trying to draw some courage. “May I ask you a question?”

She nodded.

“What happened after my mother died?”

The tense lines of her face relaxed just a little.

“You don’t know?”

I shook my head.

She thought for a second. “Four of us came to assist Derek. Stella, Donald, Marten, and myself. When we arrived, you were screaming and holding Marie. We couldn’t get you to stop, and you wouldn’t let go. It was Stella that first noticed your broken hand. I put a calming incantation on you so we could fix it. Then Stella and I rode with you in the carriage back to Chatham while Marten tried to find Mabel. Scarlett helped Derek take care of Marie while Donald informed Miss Bernadette and Miss Amelia of what had occurred and what to tell the students.”

Tears filled my eyes. When I looked down, away from the intensity of her stare, two hot tears dropped down my cheek, skipping like a rock across the surface of a lake.

“Henrietta and I took care of you in my personal apartments until Derek came back late that night,” the High Priestess continued. “Then he took you back to his apartment and that’s where you woke up the next day.”

She allowed silence to fill the room in the aftermath of her explanation. Instead of the usual burn of agony and regret, I felt the cool balm of knowing I was loved even if Mama was gone. Through my darkest hours I was still surrounded by witches who cared. Now, standing apart from the shock and horror of those moments, I could appreciate how much that meant.