Prophecy of the Sisters (35 page)

Yours,
Lia

The train rattles under us as we speed through the night. There are windows, but there is no point looking through them. I
have already tried, and it is as black as pitch.

At first I worry that I will be sick, the way I so often am in the carriage when I cannot see out the windows, but this time
the rocking and swaying bring me comfort. I think if only we can stay on this train, rocking and swaying forever, everything
will be all right. Not the way it once was, but perhaps all right just the same.

A warm hand reaches over, covering mine. When I look up, I am met by Sonia’s smile, at once excited and concerned. Convincing
her to accompany me was not as hard as I expected.

My only bag is stuffed under my seat. In it are an extra gown, a few essentials, and the knife from Alice’s room. The rest
of my things have been sent ahead to London. Aunt Virginia has arranged everything, writing to let the staff there know that
I am coming. Milthorpe House, like Birchwood, has been in the family for ages. We shall be comfortable, Sonia and I, while
Sonia teaches me the ways of our gifts. While we contact Philip Randall and seek out the remaining keys. While I become strong
enough, in this world and the others, to fight the battle at which I am the center.

Luisa will join us at a later date, when she has found a way to have herself removed from Wycliffe with a minimum of suspicion
and disappointment to her father in Italy. Saying goodbye was difficult. But it is written in the stars, and on the marks
of our wrists, that we shall meet again.

Sonia squeezes my hand, and when I look down I see the medallion, gleaming taut and flat against her wrist. This is the bargain
we have struck. I do not know if the medallion will remain on her wrist, or if it will find its way back to me the way it
has in the past. It is my hope that it will be secure, that the power of the soul entrusted with its care will keep it from
traveling back to me. Sonia is not the Gate. Samael cannot come through her, though she has warned me that the Souls will
attempt to trick her, to frighten her, to harass her in any manner of ways until they succeed in their quest to get to me.
But she is stronger than I in the ways of the Otherworlds. If anyone will hold them at bay, if anyone will give me the time
I need to prepare for the battle ahead, it will be Sonia.

Will it work? Or will the medallion find its way to my wrist during some fitful night, carrying me to the Otherworlds and
the Beast that will use me as its gate, as a conduit to the battle that will begin the Seven Plagues?

I do not have the answers. Not yet.

It is all I can do to travel forward into my future, that dark and shapeless shadow that lies in wait. Into the future my
mother never quite reached, hoping for a way to fulfill my own part in the story. For a way to find the missing pages and
the remaining keys. There are those who will always be with me — my mother and father, Aunt Virginia, James, even Alice.

And Henry. Henry is my talisman through every dark night.

I recall his somber eyes during that last, private conversation. His eyes and his words, far too wise for a boy of ten:
only time will tell, Lia.

In the end, I suppose it will.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The journey to publication of this book includes five unpublished manuscripts and more amazing people than I can name. I’ll
try, though, by first saying thank you to my agent, Steven Malk, the sincerest advocate for children’s literature I know.
Your instincts and talent are golden. To my fantastic editor Nancy Conescu, who somehow manages to strike the perfect balance
between hand-holding, vision, and editorial tough love. It’s a gift. To Amy Verardo and the Subsidiary Rights department at
Little, Brown for helping the Prophecy conquer the world (heh) and to the entire Little, Brown PR and Marketing team. A more
enthusiastic and talented team of people does not exist. To readers and friends extraordinaire Madeline Rispoli, Beth Helms,
Karen Barton, and Jackie Lynch. To my friends Karla Galazzo, Eileen Cole, and Kathy Strucker. Life would be so much sadder
without sweet potato fries and crazy diner conversations. To Maddi Collier, my first YA fan who has a bright future as a poet
and writer. To all the young people who so generously allow me to be a part of the magic and joy and humor and pain of adolescence;
Morgan Doyle, Jake Marks, Mike Strucker, and Conner Raymond. Knowing you all is a privilege. A special thank-you goes to Anthony
Galazzo, whom I love like a son. I’m in awe of your intellect, insight, and creative mind. Your enthusiasm for life, reading,
and writing is a constant reminder of why I love what I do. I can’t wait to see what happens next! To my dad, Michael St.
James, for the writing gene. And most of all to the hearts of my heart; Kenneth, Rebekah, Andrew, and Caroline Zink, who sacrificed
uncomplainingly for my elusive dream. You inspire me every day.