Prophecy of the Sisters (29 page)

I take a deep breath. “Then we must move quickly. Tell me where the list is, Father, so that I can find the remaining keys.”

He leans forward, his lips near my ear, and whispers. “I left it in care of the one I love. In my chamber.”

I try to decode his words as I remember our search through his room. “But I have —”

He holds a hand up then, as if to stop me from speaking further. Placing a finger to his lips, he looks around us. I understand
his meaning; we may be spied upon, even now.

I shake my head, trying to tell him that the list is not there. That I have looked and looked, but the list still eludes me.

But he nods firmly, as if to say,
Yes. It IS there. You must look again.

I repeat his words in my mind:
I left it in care of the one I love.… In my chamber.

The image comes to me suddenly, as easily as if it were there all along. I look into his eyes and nod, feeling a welcome burst
of hope.

He looks up as the sky darkens, casting shadows about us where before there were none. “We must go, Lia. Our time is nearing
its end.”

My chest tightens at the thought of their leaving. Against my wishes, I have grown accustomed to the responsibility of my
role in the prophecy. I have grown accustomed to going without Father’s comforting embrace, his steady hand. But being with
my parents again, if only for a moment, has reminded me of all I have lost.

“I don’t want to go. I want to stay with you.” I am not ashamed to sound like a piteous child.

My mother steps forward, pulling me into an embrace. “Lia.” She breathes into my hair, and I smell the jasmine on her neck.
“I’m sorry I’ve brought this upon you. But you are the Angel, the one sister who can end the prophecy forever. And it is meant
to be so, however much we wish it were not. It was always meant to be you. There are no mistakes, Lia. Not ever. For ages
and ages, the sisters have been waiting only for you.”

I want to deny her words, even now after all I have seen. But there is truth in them. And so I nod, staring into the eyes
that are so like the ones I see every morning when I look into the glass above the basin in my room. I nod to tell her that
I understand. That I accept my duty in the prophecy, the duty that she passed on to me. That I am not afraid.

Father looks up into the sky. It is still blue, but the cold wind has returned and with it the vaguest sense of danger.

He looks at me with apology. “We must go.”

I lift my chin. “Yes.”

I nod, already sensing the futility of trying to keep them with me. Even now they are less vivid, less
present,
than they were only a few moments earlier.

My mother gives me a last embrace. “I knew it was you, even in the beginning, but I saw something in your eyes, something
that gave me hope. I’m only sorry I was not strong enough to fight it for you.”

I shake my head. “Remember, Mother. There are no mistakes.”

She smiles through her tears, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “No mistakes, my angel.” They turn to go, more quickly than I would
like. Mother turns back once more, her face clouding over with worry. “Watch out for Henry, Lia. Will you?”

She does not wait for my answer, but I nod anyway, shouting after them. “I love you. I love you both.”

It is all I have time to say. And then they are gone.

Emotion courses through me as I travel in the direction of Birchwood. There is great sorrow at the parting with my mother
and father but great happiness as well. It fills me so totally that I feel as if their love pushes me through the sky.

I marvel at the control I have gained in the Otherworlds in so short a time, the new assurance I feel in the direction and
speed with which I fly.

But that is before a distant crack sounds from the sky behind me.

It begins as a vibration, and I feel sure the ground shakes though I am not touching it at all. With it comes a low rumbling
from the earth, as if it might break open from the sheer force of the thing that thunders toward me.

A looming mass lies ahead. I feel quite sure it is Birchwood, but when I look behind me I see the Souls roaring toward me
in a great, black horde. From a distance they seem a buzzing cloud of insects, but I know they will be here all too soon and
will be anything but easy to swat away.

The call of Birchwood, of familiarity and safety, is powerful, but I do not trust myself to outrun the Souls. I stop flying,
having made the only decision that offers any hope of escape, and imagine myself hovering over the ground until I am doing
just that.

And then I wait, watching the cloud get bigger, darker, louder, as it makes its way toward me. I shall have to face them here,
in the skies of their own world. I would like to say that I am not frightened, that I stand brave and firm in the face of
the Souls. But it would be a falsity, for who could stand without fear before the roaring legion making its way toward me?
No, I am more than frightened. I am terrified to the point of shaking, even in my astral being. But I stand fast, forcing
myself steady.

My plan is not clever, but it is all I have, and so I wait until the exact moment when the Souls will be near enough that
I may call on the power of Sonia’s instructions. I must time it carefully, early enough to stop the Souls’ advance but not
so soon as to waste what little time I may have to escape. I think of Sonia’s voice in my head, counting.

One… two… three…

Not just yet.

Four… five… six…

They are close now, close enough that I can see their tortured, angry faces, their long beards vanishing over black waistcoats,
torn and falling from their hulking bodies.

Seven… eight…

The howl that emanates from the mass is inhuman, a battle cry belonging to a savage animal. As they come nearer, they spread
out, over and above me, to either side, even under my hovering body until I despair that I have waited too long. Until I am
sure they will devour my soul completely.

There is nothing to do but close my eyes and imagine the seed, tiny and closed in the deepest, most secret part of my body.
I see the layers peeling back, revealing ever more layers, lighter and lighter in color until I reach the lush, living entity
at its center. It breathes. It throbs. It
pulses
with life.

I still hear the Souls, but their shrieks are part of another place entirely, for I have retreated into a hushed and muffled
world of my own. The only sound I hear clearly is the beating of a heart. At first I think it comes from my own chest, but
then I open my eyes and see the red light pulsing at the center of the mass, the thunderous wings beating the air with an
ominous
whoosh
from within the shadowed form of the Souls. From Samael at their center a red glow emanates outward, his heart beating in
time to my own, his many, great wings spreading up and out over his Army.

I must force my mind back to the seed, to the thing at its center. I see it opening, unfolding,
bursting,
filling up every crevice of my body. When I look down, a lavender light spills from my skin, my eyes, my mouth, intensifying
with every passing moment as a power I have never before felt or imagined undulates from my body, flowing outward in small
ripples that grow to echoing waves.

If the Souls make any sound at all it is lost in the music of my own power and the still-beating heart that throbs between
Samael and me. I think this may be the moment, my only moment to flee to the safety of Birchwood while the Souls are held
at bay with whatever authority I have managed to tap. But then I hear the voice.

“Mistress… Let chaos reign.… Open the Gate.”

I shake my head by instinct, afraid to utter words that may shake whatever foothold I have gained with my small show of force.

“Power and peace will be yours.… Open your arms, Angel of Chaos, and let the havoc of the Beast flow like a river.… Open the
Gate…”

The voice slithers to me through the Souls, through the silky sky. It makes its way through the lilac light as the Souls themselves
cannot. It is only a voice. They are only words. But they call to me in a way that is both a warning and a caress.

The light still flows from my body, but my strength wavers as the words of Samael find their way past my ears, past my mind,
ever deeper into some ancient place that has been waiting, only waiting, for their call. In the voice is the promise of release.
Release from the fight that seems never-ending, though it has only been mine a short time. Release from a future continuing
that fight, from a future that will not hold the things I most desire — security, love, hope.

But the seed unfolds ever more, past the point at which I think it can further grow, until it feels as if the power of it
will split me apart, body and soul. And with that last burst of strength I find the resolve I need.

I do not take the time to look back. Instead, I turn within the light and call to the mystical power that is mine. I call
on it to hurry me home with as much speed as is possible. I call on it to see me back to Birchwood, to hold Samael and his
Army at bay long enough for me to fall back into the body awaiting me on the sofa in the library.

I race on the swell of light toward the looming thing in the distance. It does not take me long to confirm that the building
ahead is, indeed, Birchwood. There was a reason, after all, that Father wanted to meet me in the world closest to home. He
knew they would come.

A great roar erupts in a mad screech behind me. I do not turn and look, though the urge to do so is powerful. I only fly,
the fields racing below me as I near the house. It is only when I am close to home that I begin to lose strength. It does
not happen all at once. Rather, it is a slow exhaustion that seeps into my bones, weakening the light that flows from my body.
I am so near, near enough to make out the diamond panes in the leaded windows. Near enough, even, to see the glow of the lanterns
as dusk fast approaches. But a resounding clamor resumes behind me, and when I turn I know why I have fallen just short of
the time needed to make a complete escape.

Samael has come for me. He has risen to the front of the Souls, the still-beating heart growing louder as he makes his way
to me. The strength of the Souls is nothing compared to that of Samael. His power, his fury, is primordial. It rises in a
swell of evil that steals my ability to move.

I am hovering at the library window, my will leaking from me like rain, when I remember something Virginia said. Was it just
this morning?

… If you call on them when the time comes, there are those who will help you.

My body is too weak to continue. But my mind… my mind has just enough fight remaining to call for the help I need.

“Sisters… those of Sisterhood past…” My voice does not sound like my own. It is tinny and far away, but I continue anyway,
closing my eyes and trying to block from mind Samael drawing closer, closer. “I call on you, Sisters, to help one of your
own. To save me that I may save us all.”

I cannot even feel the ridiculousness of asking for such help in the face of the thing roaring toward me. As the moments tick
on — are they seconds, minutes, hours? — I resolve to close my eyes, to wait with dignity for whatever will come.

But then I feel a fierce, warm wind, followed by a crack that makes me look to the heavens. When the woman comes into view,
Samael and his Souls seem to slow their progress. She stands a few feet away, somewhere between me and the swiftly approaching
Army. There is something familiar about the stubborn set of her jaw, the green pools of her eyes.

The nameless woman stands between me and the Souls as other women appear from the sky as if out of nowhere, fanning out and
forming a circle around the Souls and Samael. Ethereal gowns billow around their translucent legs as they raise their hands
until they are almost touching. White-hot flames spark and burst from their palms, forming a circle of mystic fire between
the Beast and me.

The first woman hovers nearest me, the weak lavender light that poured from my body a brilliant purple pouring from hers,
extending, rushing outward until it echoes through the circle in which the Souls’ steeds rear on panicked legs.

Her mouth does not move as her voice comes to me from a distance. It resonates in my mind, and I realize she is not speaking
aloud at all. “Go, child. Gather your strength. We shall meet again.”

Samael howls, raising a sword through the center of the circle. It glows orange, sparks hissing off its blade, crackling against
the light of the sister’s circle, and though they are clearly powerful, I’ve no wish to test their strength against Samael’s
for an extended length of time. I nod to the woman in acknowledgment of her words, pushing through the walls of the house
in what feels like my last moment of strength.

Sonia and Luisa sit on the floor near the sofa, Sonia holding my limp hand with her eyes closed, her mouth moving in silent
prayer. I drop into my waiting body with a gasp felt in both worlds, sucking in air as if I have been deprived of breath for
a great while and have only just been revived.