Prophecy of the Sisters (25 page)

“What is it?” I whisper.

Aunt Virginia does not take her eyes off the mark on the floor. “It is… it
was
a spell. A spell cast to provide a cloak of protection around you while you sleep.” She looks up at me. “The circle is an
ancient symbol of protection, Lia. If one is powerful enough, one can cast a spell that will ensure the protection of any
within the circle’s bounds or keep out those one wishes to exclude.”

Her words ring in my ears. I have a sudden recollection of Alice, sitting within the circle of the Dark Room in the dead of
night. I remember my own helplessness in the face of it, my inability to cross the line of the circle’s edge. And then I hear
Aunt Virginia’s words when talking about my mother:
She was a Spellcaster.

I tip my head to get a better look at the symbol. Even with only a portion of it exposed, it does not look like a circle to
me. I say as much to Aunt Virginia, and she rises from the floor. She is trembling, shivering as if she is very cold, though
the fire was stoked by Ivy less than an hour ago, and the room is warm.

“That is because it is not a circle, Lia. Not anymore. Someone has reversed the spell. Someone has scratched through the circle
and broken the spell of protection with which it was cast. Someone who wanted to leave you vulnerable while traveling the
Otherworlds.”

I feel her eyes on my face, but I dare not look at her for fear I will either weep or scream. The remnants of the circle itself
are faded, carved by someone’s hand long ago. But the gouges that cross it — the scratch marks that defile it — they are recent,
as fresh as the circle carved on the floor of the Dark Room.

Aunt Virginia does not need to name the one who has done this, who has exposed me to so much danger. I focus my thoughts instead
on the person who tried to protect me, on the one who would go to such trouble to ensure my safety.

“Could my mother really have cast such a spell?”

“She is the only one who had both the power to do it and nothing left to lose.” Aunt Virginia pulls something from a pocket
in her dressing gown, holding it toward me. “I have long held this for you. She wrote it before… before she died. Perhaps
I should have given it to you sooner. Perhaps I should have taught you the ways of the prophecy sooner. I only wanted you
to be old enough, wise enough, to let the truth make you strong instead of letting it ruin you as it did her.”

A cynical laugh escapes my throat. “I feel anything but wise, Aunt Virginia. Anything but strong.”

She reaches out and pulls me into an embrace. “You are wiser than you believe, dear heart. And stronger than you know.” She
looks back to the circle. “I am not a Spellcaster, Lia. And even if I were, I would not be permitted to reinstate the spell
of protection.”

“Then how did my mother… Wait.” I stop, remembering something. “You said the spell was forbidden.”

Aunt Virginia nods, her face solemn in the half-light of the fire.

“Who would forbid her to use the power that was hers when it seems I am prompted day by day to use the power I wish wasn’t
mine at all?”

She lowers herself to the bed, perching on its edge as she explains. “The Otherworlds have a system of justice, of checks
and balances, just as ours does. Its rules might seem strange to those not accustomed to the unique aspects of that world,
but they are rules nonetheless. Rules set by the Grigori.”

“The Grigori?” The name rings familiar, but I cannot place the reference.

“The Grigori is a council made up of angels from Maari and Katla’s time who did not fall. Now they preside over the Otherworlds,
ensuring that each creature and soul there follows a set of guidelines established long ago. Using the magic of the Otherworlds
anywhere else is cause for punishment, but I do believe your mother felt she had nothing left to lose when she cast the spell
of protection around your bed.”

“But if Mother would have been punished for casting the spell, can we not bring Alice to justice for breaking it?”

Aunt Virginia sighs. “I’m afraid not. As with our world, there are ways to work within the confines of the rules.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

Aunt Virginia meets my eyes. “Alice did not cast a spell of her own, Lia. She simply negated the effects of the spell your
mother cast long ago — a spell that in and of itself was forbidden from the beginning.”

I stand up suddenly, my frustration getting the better of me as my voice rises into the room. “So there is nothing? Nothing
we can do to stop her? To hold her accountable for placing me in danger?”

She shakes her head. “I’m afraid not. Not this time. It seems Alice has somehow learned the full force of her magic and is
well versed in using it within the Grigori’s boundaries. For now, we shall have to hope she slips along the way.” She shrugs
helplessly. “There is nothing else to do.”

I stare into the fire, my mind abuzz with this new, unwanted knowledge:

Alice has all the cards.

Alice has power I do not.

And worst of all, Alice knows how to use her power to her aid and my detriment without consequence.

“I am sorry, Lia, but we shall work through this together, I promise. Let us take one step at a time.” She stands to leave.
“Luisa and Sonia are at the breakfast table. I have arranged a trip into town with Alice so that you may search for the list
without fear of interruption.”

I look up at her, feeling the weight of the tasks in front of me. “And then what? Even if we locate the list, we must still
find the two remaining keys. And even if we find them, we do not know what to do with them or how to end the prophecy.”

She presses her lips together before answering. “I don’t know. Perhaps we can locate Aunt Abigail. And then… well, there are
always the sisters.…”

This mention of the sisters gets my attention, for it is the same term used by Madame Berrier. “The sisters?”

She sighs. “Let us just say that there are those in the world with knowledge of the prophecy. Those with gifts that might
be useful. Some are sisters of previous generations, and others… well, others simply seek to use their gifts for the good
of us all. But we shall have to leave that for now, Lia. All right? Let us find the list. Let us find the keys. You shall
have to trust me — if you call on them when the time comes, there
are
those who will help you.”

I suppose I am a coward, for I am glad to allow the details of this new revelation to wait for later. “I trust you, Aunt Virginia.
But…”

“What is it?”

“What of my night travel? How do I prevent myself from falling unprotected into the Plane while I sleep?”

Her face darkens. “I don’t know, Lia. I wish I could give you an answer — some sure way to avoid travel. But with the power
of the Souls so determined to call you to the Plane, it is all I can do to say you must try to resist.”

I nod as she rises and makes her way out of the room, leaving me alone with my mother’s letter. My hands tremble as I break
the wax seal on the envelope. I unfold the paper to the slender, curving script that was my mother’s, knowing that I may well
hold in my hands the long-sought answers to her death — and her life.

My dear Lia,

It is difficult to know where to begin. The beginning of this tale stretches back centuries, but I suppose I shall begin at
my beginning, as my mother did for me.

My beginning was with the medallion, found in Mother’s bureau long after her death. It called to me even before I knew it
existed. It must sound strange, but perhaps as you read this you are familiar with its temptation and the manner in which
it insinuates itself into your thoughts, your dreams, your very breath.

At first I wore it only on occasion, as I would any other trinket from my dresser box. It was not until I woke to find the
forbidding symbol etched upon my wrist that things began to change. I began to feel the power of the medallion seeping through
me.

It spoke to me, Daughter, called to me. It whispered my name even when stuffed under the mattress of my bed, even when I found
myself away at school or calling on friends.

Of course, I wore it. More and more, I am ashamed to say, I wore it over the mark. The Souls called me in my sleep, summoning
me to the Otherworlds. At first I resisted, but it was not so for very long. I did not yet know the story of the prophecy
or the stakes that lay in my continued resistance. I knew only that I felt most free, most alive, most myself, when traveling
the Plane.

As I grew in the knowledge of my gifts — traveling at will while my body slept, speaking to those that had passed, casting
all manner of spells — my life marched forward. I met your father and thought if ever there was a man who could love me even
with the burdens of the prophecy it would be Thomas Milthorpe. And yet I did not tell him. How could I? He looked at me with
such admiration, and as time passed the secret grew bigger and bigger between us until the thing I would have told him would
not have been the truth as I had planned, but the lie I had kept for so long.

It was just before you and your sister were born that the sirens’ call of the Souls became more insistent. As you and your
sister grew in the darkness of my womb, the Souls brought to me my own darkness. They lured me to sleep in the middle of the
day. They tormented me in my dreams with images… horrible images. Images that made me ponder doing terrible things to myself
even as I knew it would mean an end to you and your sister as well.

The medallion found its way to my wrist even after I locked it away in the bureau. Even after I buried it in the ground near
the stables. Soon, I woke with it encircling my wrist even when I had not put it on before retiring. I felt sure I was losing
my tenuous hold on sanity.

Looking back on that time, I know not how I managed to survive it, though I feel quite sure it was due in large part to the
careful attentions of your father and Virginia. They rarely let me out of view.

Once you were born, you and your sister, the softness of your heads, the rose blush of your cheeks, the deepening green of
your eyes… they all served to make me believe that perhaps there was something worth fighting for in this world even if it
meant holding the evil at bay. I thought perhaps I could manage, if only to stay and be your mother.

And for a time it seemed to work just that way. I still felt the pull of the Souls. I still traveled in my dreams, though
not as often. But nothing very terrible happened. You and your sister grew, crawled, walked, and spoke. My family remained
safe, and if I brought anything, anyone, back from my night travels it seemed no one was the wiser.

I know now, of course, that it was a kind of fairy tale, those years when the medallion, the prophecy, and all of us, lived
peacefully together. And then I found out about Henry. I discovered that I would have another child, though the doctor had
cautioned against it after the difficult birth of you and your sister. Still, what was there to do but be proud that I might
finally offer your father a son?

And proud I was — for a while. But as Henry grew in the darkest part of me, another kind of darkness gripped me so completely
that I became truly frightened. I wanted to escape, Daughter. I wanted to visit the Otherworlds every hour of every day, and
I wanted to bring the Army back with me, as many Souls as I was able, though I knew it was for no good purpose. Their howl
became a song I never wanted to stop hearing.

But even this was not the thing that frightened me most, that made me realize how far I had slipped into evil, how close to
madness. No. It was the greed with which I began to view my travels, so that soon I was forcing myself to lie still on my
bed at all hours of the day and night in order to will myself into traveling, forgoing food and sometimes company to sleep,
only sleep, for never did I feel as complete as when I traveled. It was this that finally made me afraid.

When Henry was born… well, it was another difficult birth as I was told to expect. The doctor could not do another operation,
and Henry’s feet were down instead of his head. His legs… I do not have to tell you, Daughter. You know what happened to his
legs. The doctors pulled as gently as they could, but he would have died had they not gotten him out when they did.

I was very sick after he was born. Not just tired and weak, but sad and angry and hateful, as if all the good had seeped out
of me during Henry’s birth only to be replaced by everything mean and evil that the medallion embodied. I would have flashes
of love for you, for your sister and brother, for your father, but they were all too brief, settling on me like a butterfly
and gone a moment later.

I slept more than ever, and when I awoke I knew with a certainty both sick and joyous that I had brought the Souls back with
me. It is this streak of satisfaction that has made me realize that I do not have the strength to fight the legacy that is
mine.

I am weak. I know you shall think me a coward, but how am I to stop a circle that was begun at the beginning of time? How
am I, alone, to fight a thing that has won battle after battle through the ages? And most of all, how am I to pass this legacy,
this curse, on to you? How am I to look you in those clear green eyes and tell you what awaits?

Virginia is wise — wise and clear­headed. She will surely give you better counsel than I, in my current state of despair,
can offer. I cannot bear the thought of passing this burden, of all things, on to you, my beautiful Lia.

So along with it, I shall bequeath you every last drop of my protection. The Souls will come for you, of this I am sure, but
I shall use every ounce of power, every spell that would see me banished from the Sisterhood, to see you safe while you sleep.
It is all I can do.

Please know at this moment, as I put this letter in a safe place and make my way to the lake, I am thinking of you with love.
I wish I had sage advice, but all I can offer you is my love, and the hope — no, the belief — that you are somehow stronger
and braver than I, that you will take this battle to its end once and for all. And win it for all the sisters before you,
and those yet to come.