Prophecy of the Sisters (31 page)

My mouth drops as I look beyond the window to the steely sky. “To the river? Now? Why, it looks as if it will pour at any
moment, Margaret!”

She has the grace to look sheepish. “I wanted to tell Miss Spencer, but she was unwell, so…” Her voice trails off, and she
looks away.

“But how could you let her? How could you let Alice take Henry? He is only a child!” There is no hiding the accusation, though
I know it is unfair. Alice is, after all, Henry’s sister. Why should she not take him out for some fresh air, even on a forbidding
day such as this, if that is what he desires? Why should Margaret have reason to doubt that it is only sisterly love and duty
that would cause her to do so?

Her face hardens. “Well, if you must know, it was Alice who insisted she wanted time alone with Master Henry. And she made
no secret about the fact that it is she who is Mistress of Birchwood, not Miss Virginia. And that I have no business questioning
her activities. That’s exactly what she said, Miss: ‘You have no business questioning my activities, Margaret.’ I
am
sorry, but there was no stopping her.”

I turn to Sonia and Luisa. “Remain here. Whatever happens, do not leave this house.” I grab my cloak and open the door, and
then I am out into the biting cold.

I make my way around the house and see them standing by the river’s edge as the first drops begin to fall. Pausing, I tip
my head upward as a cold drop falls onto my cheek.

And then I run.

My skirts swing heavily around my ankles as I race down the stone path. In the distance, Alice stands just a few feet from
Henry. Nothing seems amiss, and for a moment I think perhaps I am mistaken. They seem to be doing nothing more ominous than
conversing.

But then the sky opens with a thunderous crack, and the rain begins to fall in earnest. In moments my hair is plastered to
my head, my soaked skirts heavier and harder to manage. And yet Henry and Alice remain on the riverbank as if they are standing
in bright sunlight, unmoving and seemingly unaware of the torrent that surely soaks them as well. Now I know that I am not
mistaken, and I will my legs to move faster.

They are off the stone terrace entirely, on the dirt near the bank. Too near the bank, I think. Neither turns when I reach
them, though they must notice me, panting and trying to catch my breath not five feet from them both.

“What are you doing?” I shout it over the furious roar of the rain, though I believe I know quite well why Alice has brought
Henry here.

For a moment, neither answers. They simply stare at each other as if only they two exist.

It is Alice who finally speaks. “Go away, Lia. There is still time for you to stand aside. Let me speak to Henry alone. I
will settle this thing here and now.”

I look at Henry — really look — and am livid with rage. He sits in his chair appearing smaller than ever, as if the rain has
somehow made him shrink to look like the barn cat we once tried to bathe in a tub behind the stables. His teeth chatter with
cold. He is not wearing so much as a coat.

“This is every bit as much my business as yours, Alice. Have you no shame, bringing Henry out into the rain?” I move toward
him, meaning to return him to the warmth and safety of the house. Everything else will be addressed later.

But Alice steps between Henry and me. “Henry will not be going anywhere, Lia. Not yet. Not until he gives me the list.”

I want him to deny it. I want him to protest, to say anything that might save himself the torment of standing between Alice
and me with the one thing we both want more than any other. But that is not what he says.

“She was going to take it, Lia. I saw her looking. It is my place to protect you. Father said so.”

“Father… is… dead, Henry!” Alice shouts it into the wind, raising her arms to her sides. “There is no one left to whom you
must answer. No one but me and Lia. And you can
free
her, Henry. You can free her forever by
giving me the list.
” Her voice is full of new power, and it rises even over the river’s swift rush and the pounding of the rain.

“Henry! Look at me, Henry!” I want him to see that I am not afraid, and I try to hold his eyes through the will of my thoughts
alone. “I’m not afraid, Henry. There is no need for you to protect me, all right?”

His lips have turned a morbid shade of blue, purple around the edges. He can hardly speak, can hardly get the words out for
the cold. “Father told me to keep it safe. F-f-for you, Lia.”

And then I see what I most fear. Henry’s fist, closed tightly around something limp and white. I curse myself inwardly.

Demanding the list from Alice only proved to her that I did not have it. It only gave her cause to look elsewhere.

“Put it in your pocket, Henry. Put it away until we are back inside.” I step toward him with every ounce of authority I can
muster. I will take him in. Let Alice try to stop me.

Except that she does not. She does not, in fact, come anywhere near me. Instead she steps toward Henry, grabbing hold of the
handles on his chair as she turns sideways, turning her face to look at me.

“Don’t come one step closer, Lia. I told you to step aside.” And then to Henry. “Give me the list, Henry. If you want to protect
Lia as you say, as Father wanted you to, you will give me the list. If you don’t, Lia will never be free of the burden that
is hers.” She needn’t threaten me with words, for her hands on Henry’s chair so near the river are threat enough.

Henry shakes his head stubbornly. “No. I’m only doing as Father asked.” His lip quivers, belying the fear and cold that he
tries to hide behind his steadfast refusal.

I have had enough. I step toward Henry, trying to affect a confidence I do not feel. “This is ridiculous, Alice. Let go of
Henry at once. I’m taking him inside.”

I have just reached her shoulder when Alice spins, faster than I think possible in such rain, so that she and Henry are facing
the river as she looks at me half over her shoulder.

“Don’t come any closer, Lia. Don’t.”

I stop, holding very still. Thinking. Thinking as fast as my mind will carry the thoughts forward. The look on her face is
indecipherable — a mixture of anger and fear and sadness so intermingled it is difficult to determine where one ends and the
others begin. She looks half-mad, her eyes wild. I do not trust her with our brother. It is wisest to get Henry away from
her grasp as quickly as possible. I take one step toward her, feigning a confidence in her rationality that I don’t really
feel.

“Don’t.” Her eyes are pleading, begging me for something I don’t understand and cannot grant. “Please, Lia.”

It is this final plea that makes me feel safe stepping forward once again, that makes me believe Alice does not want to hurt
Henry.

But I am wrong, so very wrong, for I have only taken one step when she gives a small shake of her head, heaving Henry and
his chair forward toward the river as simply as if he is a stone.

It seems strange that I should hear the sickening creak of Henry’s chair over the downpour, but I do, and the wheels inch
forward across the rocky riverbank, not very quickly at first but picking up speed as it hits the incline.

In what seems the oddest thing of all, everything happens slowly. Somewhere within the logic of my mind I know things are
pressing ahead much too fast, much too dangerously, but in this moment it seems that everything has slowed down, the time
passing in a strangely twisted version of itself.

I lunge across the wet earth, flailing desperately for his leg, the spoke of his chair, anything at all, as Henry rolls closer
and closer to the river. Sprawling across the mud, my fingers catch on the spoke of one wheel, and a spark of pain runs up
my wrist as the backward movement of the chair is stopped with my fingers.

Henry is painfully silent, clinging to the arms of his chair with all the strength his small body can muster. I try. I try
to hold the chair, but it is so very heavy, my fingers are not nearly strong enough to stop the force of so much steel. It
pulls loose from my hand in a last, excruciating tug.

And then Henry is falling, falling, down the bank of the river. Amazingly, he stays in the chair until it hits a rock near
the bottom, tipping and spilling him out of it.

Straight into the rushing water.

“I-I-I didn’t —” Alice’s voice is a stutter over the rain in the moment before I race to the river’s edge.

I give no thought to anything but Henry, helpless without the use of his legs in the rushing water. I cannot get to the river
fast enough. I dive headlong into the center of it, knowing it is deepest there and will carry me more swiftly toward my brother.
The water hits me with the cold shock of surprise as it closes over my head, taking me downstream even as it pushes me under
its surface. I struggle against the current before finally letting go, allowing the force of the water to push me to and fro,
to throw me painfully against the bottom, scraping my body against the rocks that lie there.

It is only as I begin losing my breath that I come to my senses, making a desperate bid for air by pushing off the rocky riverbed
with all the force I can muster. I long ago learned to swim in the calm water off the island where we vacation in summer,
but my violent tumble down the river has nothing in common with the gentle rocking of the ocean. My head emerges from the
murky depths, but the river tugs at my skirts, threatening to pull me down once more. I believe I see something dark floating
downstream just before my head is again pushed beneath the roiling current.

This time I fight, thinking Henry may not be far out of my grasp. I kick and stretch, reaching for the surface until I break
free, gasping for air while I am able. The rain still falls, making circles on the surface that fold quickly into the rapids.
I look and look, scanning the churning river for any sign of my brother, but the water is muddy, the rain incessant, and I
see nothing that gives me hope before I am slammed to the bottom yet again.

My bones are weary, numb with cold and the constant abuse of the rocks at the bottom of the river. Tossed through the water
like discarded baggage, I feel the alluring tug of eternal sleep. Something within me wants to let go. To open my mouth and
let the water flow to every inch of my body, if only to complete the struggle that is the river, the prophecy, the burden
that is mine.

It is my mother’s voice that forces me to a moment of lucidity.
Watch out for Henry, Lia.
It is an echo in the half-dead part of my mind, the part that has nearly given up, and with it I kick to the surface, fighting
for my life and the life of my brother.

“Lia! Over here! Come this way!” At first I think I imagine it, but the voice is real and calling to me from the riverbank.

I lift my head over the rapids, scanning the shoreline until I see her. It is Alice, standing at the river’s edge with a long,
thick branch in her hand.

“Come on, Lia! You must try! Try to make your way to me.” I can barely hear her, though she must be shouting with everything
she has in order to be heard at all from such a distance.

She is far enough downstream that I may make it if I paddle furiously and with all my might. But Henry… Desperation makes
me frantic, and I begin to sink once more as I scan the river. There is no sign of him. No sign of the chair, so heavy it
has surely sunk somewhere along the length of the river.

“Lia! Over here!” Alice is still waving. Still calling. Looking only at me. Who will search for Henry?

I decide to try and grab onto the branch, if only to give myself a moment to be still while I scan the water and the riverbank
for Henry’s dark head. The river pushes me along with such force and at such great speed that working against the powerful
current takes every ounce of strength left in my battered body.

Against every odd, I begin changing direction, slowly turning toward the bank on my right. As my body settles more fully into
its new direction I am able to use the current to my advantage, and by the time I am near to Alice and the proffered branch
I am moving so fast I fear I might pass them entirely with one sweep of the river’s great arms.

“Ready, Lia? You must grab as you pass, all right?” Alice’s voice is a command up ahead of me, and I find myself nodding in
agreement despite everything that has happened.

I am rushing, rushing toward the spot where the branch dips into the water.

“Be ready, Lia. One… two… wait… Now, Lia! Now! Grab it!”

She is leaning so far out over the river that I think she will topple in after me, but as I rush by, I reach out a hand and
grapple through the water. I am nearly past it, nearly past the point where I might find salvation, when I feel the crackly,
rough branch on my palm. I close my fingers around it quickly, before it is too late.

In an instant my body stops its journey downriver. I still feel the pull of the current. I still feel my skirts, heavy with
water, tangling against my legs and weighing down my body. But for now, at least, the branch and my sister serve to keep me
above water.

“Lia! Lia.” Alice is panting, out of breath and soaked to the skin as if she, too, has nearly drowned in the river. She extends
one hand with effort, keeping the other on her end of the branch. “Take my hand, Lia.”

I hardly hear her at all. My eyes scan the length of the river, taking it in until it disappears in a curve around the bend.
He may have grabbed a low-lying branch,
I think.
He may have become stuck on one of the shallow stretches of river. He may have found a rock to cling to until help arrives.

I tick the possibilities off in my mind as if counting down the options for tea. As if every one of them is just as possible
as the last, despite the fact that there is no sign of Henry. No sign of his chair. Looking at the river, it is easy to believe
that Henry was never there at all.

“
Now,
Lia! You must grab my hand. This branch will not hold you forever.” Alice is angry, and I am surprised that her anger can
still gain my attention.