Prophecy of the Sisters (18 page)

But Sonia is trained to listen for the nuances of a thing, and my words are not lost to her ears. “Most of the time?” she
prods gently.

“There are times… not many, but some, when I feel the pull of… something. Oh, it’s so difficult to explain! It isn’t that
I find myself on the verge of committing some terrible act, it is only… well, it is only that I sometimes feel a connection
to the medallion. I sometimes feel the call of it. Of wanting to wear it. Of wanting to fall into sleep and the travel I know
it will bring. And then…”

“And then?”

“Then I come to my senses, quickly, and remember that it is my call to fight it.”

“And you remember this even now? Now that you know it is
not
your call? That you are not the Guardian but the Gate?”

“Now more than ever.” I find comfort in the certainty of my belief.

She nods before turning her face to the window for the rest of the ride.

When we come to the house of Mrs. Millburn, I step out of the carriage and stand next to Sonia on the walk while Edmund anxiously
looks on, tapping his foot in a not-so-subtle reference to the passing time. The people streaming past us seem strangely ominous,
perhaps even dangerous, and I hear Madame Berrier’s words in my mind;
the Beast and his Army may change into any form they desire… a simple man, a demon, an animal, perhaps even a simple shadow.
There are likely thousands of Souls already in our world from previous Gates. And they could be anywhere. Everywhere. All
waiting for one moment of weakness from me.

Sonia takes my hands in hers. “There is a reason you were chosen to be the Angel, Lia. If the power of the prophecy deems
you fit to make such a decision, why shouldn’t I feel the same?” Her smile is small but true. “We shall stick together. It
is our best hope of finding the answers we need. Luisa shall have to speak for herself, but I am with you.”

“Thank you, Sonia. I will not disappoint you. I promise.” I reach over and embrace her, overcome with gratitude at the show
of her friendship.

She shivers, wrapping her arms around her shoulders as the cold of evening approaches ever faster.

I think about the children, the ones that Father brought from England and Italy and the others not yet found. “Oh, there are
so very many things to discuss! And no time! No time at all, with Luisa at Wycliffe and you here with Mrs.

Millburn and me at Birchwood and the coming…” My thought hangs, unfinished, as an idea begins to take shape.

“The coming what? Goodness, Lia! I shall freeze if we do not say goodbye soon!”

I nod, coming to a decision. “The three of us must have more time together. That is what it comes to, isn’t it? Leave it to
me. I shall take care of everything.”

Sonia and I have said our goodbyes, and I am halfway back to the carriage when I feel a hand on my arm. “Oh, pardon me, but
do please —” The rest of the words escape me when I turn to shake myself loose and find myself looking straight into James’s
face.

“Lia,” he says, his eyes colored with something I have never seen before. Something too close to anger to be called anything
else.

“James! What are you… ?” I look around the street, stalling for an explanation for my presence in town. “What are you doing
here?”

“I happen to live in town. In fact, it’s quite unusual for a day to pass when I do
not
have to stroll the streets for one reason or another.” His eyes flash. “You, on the other hand, live some distance.”

His words set a quiet fury boiling in my veins, and I feel anew the pressure of his fingers, still on my wrist. Pulling my
arm away takes effort, but I do it. I pull it away and step back, feeling the anger burn hot on my cheeks.

“Shall I stay home like a proper girl, then? Is that what you’d like? Shall I take up the needle and worry over taking too
much sun? Oh, you are just… just… Ugh!”

Anger matching my own flashes in his eyes. But it is only a moment before he shakes his head and lowers his eyes to the walk
under our feet. “Of course not, Lia. Of course not.”

He is quiet for a moment, and my eyes drift to Edmund. Were my public altercation with anyone other than James, Edmund would
have seen me to the carriage long ago. But now when our eyes meet, he drops his to the ground in embarrassment. James’s voice,
softer now, pulls my thoughts away from Edmund.

“Can’t you understand my concern? You remain… distant after your father’s death. I know it is a blow, but I cannot help but
feel something else lies between us. And now… well, now you are wandering around town, unchaperoned, with people I don’t know,
and —”

My mouth falls open in shock. “You’ve been following me? You’ve followed me through the streets of town?”

He shakes his head. “It isn’t like that. I was in the library myself when I saw you leaving. I’ve never seen the woman and
girl whom you were with. You’ve mentioned no such new acquaintances to me. I didn’t think, all right? I simply started to
follow you, carried along by own curiosity and… well, I suppose my own worry over your strange behavior of late. Can you not
understand why I might feel compelled to do so?”

I am stung by his words. I hear the pain in them and cannot refute the things he says. I have held him at bay, kept him outside
the prophecy even as I have been pulled deeper and deeper into its depths. Would I not feel the same worry? Would I not want
to find out everything possible to explain such behavior on the part of my beloved?

I take a deep breath, and all the anger leaves me. I wish it would not, for I prefer the blood-pounding fury to this new emotion.
This hopelessness that only seems to grow in its insistency that I will never find a way to reconcile my place in the prophecy,
my duty to it, with my love for James.

I take his hand and look into his eyes. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry, James.”

He shakes his head in frustration. It is not my apology he seeks. “Why won’t you talk to me? Don’t you still care for me?”

“Of course, James. That will never change. This…” I wave a hand at the street. “This outing has nothing whatsoever to do with
you or with my love for you.” I try a smile. It feels strange on my face, as if I am wearing it and it does not quite fit,
but it is the best I can do. I make a quick decision to stick as closely to the truth as possible. “I simply snuck out with
a friend of mine from Wycliffe, that is all. She is acquainted with a woman well versed in matters of witchcraft, and —”

“Witchcraft?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, it’s nothing!” I dismiss his curiosity with a shake of my head. “Won’t you believe me? I was simply curious and Sonia’s
friend offered to show us some books on the matter, that is all.” I look back at Edmund, who flips open his pocket watch while
looking pointedly at me. “And now I
must
go or Aunt Virginia shall discover I’ve been gone and then a short trip to town that was meant to be a bit of fun shall turn
into a heap of trouble.”

He stares into my eyes, and I know he is trying to see whether or not there is truth to my story. I hold his gaze until he
nods slowly as if in acceptance. But as we say our goodbyes and I make my way to the carriage, I know it is not understanding
but defeat that I saw in the blue of his eyes.

I sit in the parlor, reading next to Henry, when Margaret’s voice comes to me from the doorway. “Something has arrived for
you, Miss.”

I rise to meet her. “For me?”

She nods, holding out a creamy envelope. “It came by messenger just a moment ago.”

I take it from her, waiting until the sound of her footsteps fade down the hall. “What is it, Lia?” Henry looks up at me from
his book.

Shaking my head, I return to my chair by the fire and open the envelope. “I don’t know.”

I withdraw the stiff paper from inside, noting the handwriting, practiced and elegant, that slants across its pristine surface.

Dear Miss Milthorpe,

I believe I know someone who may be of help to you.

Alastair Wigan

Lerwick Farm

You may trust him as you trust me.

He will be expecting you.

Mme. Berrier

“Whom is it from?”

Henry is excited beside me, and I am both heartened and saddened that his days are so staid that even the arrival of a simple
letter can elicit such enthusiasm.

I look up and smile. “It’s from Sonia, saying that she has been granted permission for a holiday visit.” I push aside a twinge
of guilt at the newest lie I tell. It is only a partial untruth. I have already spoken to Aunt Virginia about inviting Sonia
and Luisa for the holiday.

He beams. “Well, that
is
grand, isn’t it?”

I fold the paper, putting it back into the envelope, feeling a corner of my heart lift with hope.

“Yes, it is, Henry. It is grand indeed.”

“Are you very excited, Lia?” Henry’s voice is behind me as I look from the parlor window for the carriage.

I turn to him. “Goodness! For the last time, yes! Though I would wager you are more excited than I, from all the times you’ve
inquired!”

He blushes but does not try to hide the smile that starts at his mouth and spreads all the way to his eyes. Sheltered as he
is, it is easy to forget that Henry is a boy of ten, but I saw the way he looked at Sonia when she came to tea and know he
fancies another chance to see her.

When I turn back to the window, the carriage emerges from the tree-lined drive. For a moment, I forget that I am sixteen and
not as prone to excitement as Henry.

“They’ve come!” I rush to the front door, flinging it open and waiting impatiently while Edmund helps Luisa and Sonia from
the carriage.

I will greet my guests alone. Aunt Virginia is busy with Margaret, and Alice, even more sullen since learning of my plans
to include Sonia and Luisa in our holiday, will likely be sulking on one of her long walks.

Luisa bounds up the steps like a puppy, all enthusiasm and no decorum, making me laugh into my gloved hand.

“I cannot believe Miss Gray let me come! I thought I should have to spend another Thanksgiving eating in the grim dining room
at Wycliffe. You’ve saved me!”

Her laugh is catching, and I feel my own bubble forth from my throat. “Nonsense! I’m so happy to have you both here.” I reach
over and kiss her cool cheek, doing the same to Sonia as she reaches the top of the stone terrace. “Ready for our holiday
to begin?”

Sonia smiles, the radiance behind it glowing from within even on this gray day. “Oh yes! I’ve been beside myself for days!
I thought I should drive Mrs. Milburn mad!”

I lead them into the house, the prospect of their companionship for the next three days as warming to me as the hope that
together we might find the keys. We share a laughter-filled lunch, retiring to the parlor satiated and happy. Aunt Virginia
kindly keeps Henry out of the room so that we might have privacy. He peeks around the corner from time to time, gazing wistfully
at Sonia, but we pretend not to notice. We talk and laugh, and for a time, I believe that we are ordinary. That we care for
nothing but gowns and books and eligible young men. It is only when Luisa lifts her face to the wall near the firebox that
I remember why we have come together.

“That gentleman” — she points to a portrait on the wall — “he looks familiar. Who is he?”

I swallow, feeling the rope that binds us coil and tighten. “My father.”

She nods slowly. “Perhaps I have seen him at Wycliffe. Before…”

I nod. “Perhaps.” It seems we are not so ordinary after all, and I wonder how to tell Sonia and Luisa the one thing that still
stands between us.

Sonia tips her head, bewilderment crossing her serene face. “What is it, Lia? You’ve gone so quiet!”

I glance at the empty doorway to the parlor. Alice is noticeably absent, and Henry’s blushing face has not been seen in some
time. Even still, it would not be wise to be careless.

“I think I’d like some fresh air. Do you ride?”