Sisters' Fate (19 page)

And if she’s capable of this—what’s to stop her from doing it again, to anyone who stands in her way? She’s never been able to compel me, but I’ve always been on my guard with her. What about my sisters? My friends? Finn?

Covington’s full mouth tilts into a frown. “My pursuit of justice has led me to a disturbing revelation. A revelation that someone I trusted has betrayed me—has betrayed us all!—in the worst possible manner. I hereby charge Edward O’Shea with treason against New England.” The guards push O’Shea forward. All his bantam courage has deserted him; his shoulders slump as he fixes his eyes on the floor. “Yesterday, guards found Miss Cahill’s diary concealed in her bedroom at the convent of the Sisterhood. In it, she confessed to the attacks on the Head Council as well as Harwood Asylum and Richmond Square. She admitted—unsurprisingly—that noted seditionist Alistair Merriweather aided her in these attacks. But she also wrote that, in the interest of furthering his own ambition, O’Shea helped her plan the attack on the Head Council. Cornered, she turned on him yesterday inside the cathedral—and he let her escape! His betrayal and lies—indeed, his abuse of power—must be punished to the fullest extent of the law.”

The crowd murmurs. O’Shea is not well liked. But to put a man—a member of the Brotherhood—to death without a trial? On such flimsy evidence as the word of a witch? Down front, the Brothers’ calm has devolved into angry whispers, like the buzzing of a hundred furious bees. I hear murmurs of Sean Brennan’s name. Is this Inez’s plan? Divide and conquer?

“Let this be a warning to you all. Anyone aiding or abetting the witch known as Catherine Cahill will be put to death.” Covington points an accusing finger at O’Shea, while I marvel at Inez’s talent for mimicry. She has his theatrical gestures, the smallest inflections of his voice, down pat. How long has she been planning this?

Covington and Inez leave the stage as two guards advance on O’Shea. One pushes his head into the noose, while the other tightens the knot. O’Shea’s hood falls down; his bald head glints in the sun.

“By executive order of Brother William Covington, you have been convicted of treason against New England. Your sentence is death by hanging,” one of the guards proclaims. Then they both step backward.

The crowd is silent.

One of the guards pulls a lever. The trapdoor beneath O’Shea’s boots gives way. His body falls, jerking to a sudden stop.

The crack of his neck makes a sound like a wishbone breaking in two.

Sister Inez—a witch—is now in charge of New England.

One might think that cause for celebration.

But now that two of the people standing in Inez’s way have been disposed of, is there any doubt that I will be her next target?

Around us, the crowd has gone silent. Their faces are averted from the spectacle of O’Shea’s body, swinging in the icy December wind.

Alice grabs my elbow with pinching fingers. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

CHAPTER

18

WE’VE BARELY TAKEN OFF OUR CLOAKS WHEN
there’s a pounding on Alice’s front door. Mei and Rilla tumble in, windblown, dressed in their Sisterly black. Rilla is carrying her battered suitcase; she must have come straight from the train station.

“What are you doing here? You were supposed to be gone a week!” I cry as she drops her bag and wraps me in a fierce hug.

“I didn’t feel right being away, between the fever and all the unrest,” she explains. “I sent Mei a telegram. She met my train and filled me in on what’s been happening.” Rilla’s freckled face is full of worry. “I’m so relieved you’re safe.”

Alice leads us into the parlor, while Prue bustles off to make a pot of tea.

“Is she safe, though? I told Maura and Tess where she is, in case they needed her.” Alice has settled into her corner of the pink love seat, her legs crossed elegantly at the ankle, gold slippers peering out beneath her rose-colored skirts, but she’s frowning.

I sit on a wooden chair near the fire, shivering. “Maura wouldn’t tell Inez. She’s still my sister.”

On the other end of the love seat, Sachi raises her eyebrows in silent skepticism. “That may mean something to you.” She straightens the apple-green feather in her hair. “But Maura’s proven it doesn’t mean much to her.”

“‘One sister will murder another,’” Alice quotes, and my stomach twists. “It’s in your stars, isn’t it? She doesn’t have to put the noose around your neck herself.”

If Maura told Inez where I am, she wouldn’t have to. Now that Inez has blamed me for the attack on the Head Council, I’m the witch all of New England will fear. Even now, word will be spreading throughout the country that I am the monster the Brothers have been preaching against all my life: a witch with mind-magic, capable of compelling others to do my bidding. It wouldn’t be enough to lock me up and throw away the key. They will have me killed, and people will spit on my body, and Inez will cheer at my death.

Surely that isn’t what Maura wants.

She can be impulsive, but she must know what the consequences will be if she tells Inez my whereabouts.

“She doesn’t hate me that much,” I say, praying that it’s the truth.

“She knew what Inez was planning to do with Covington, didn’t she?” Rory is perched on the arm of the love seat, her bright orange dress clashing wildly with the wallpaper of pink stripes and roses behind her.

I remember the way Maura refused to meet my eyes during our conversation about Inez’s visits to the hospital. “I think so.”

“Then she’s already been a party to murder,” Rory says.

“The murder of a terrible man who would have seen us all hanged gladly,” I point out.

Mei’s sitting in a high-backed blue chair opposite me. “I’m not saying what Maura and Inez did was right. Far from it. But . . . this is our chance, isn’t it? The Brotherhood is rudderless. They’ll be even more divided now—those who support Covington versus those who put O’Shea in charge versus those who want to call Brennan back from exile. And the people
want
change. I saw how bad things are when I was with my parents for Christmas. Our neighbors are sick, dying in droves. My brother would have died if it weren’t for Cate. People can’t afford proper food, much less medicine to help fight the fever—and only the rich are being admitted to the hospital now. People are starving because sick men can’t work and the Brotherhood never delivered the Christmas rations they promised. We have to do something!”

“I don’t argue that.” I look around at my own version of a war council. My heart twists a little, missing Tess. She ought to be present for any decision we make. In her current state, though, is she capable of helping? “But I don’t have any answers.”

Alice fiddles with her topaz earrings. “I don’t understand what Inez is trying to accomplish,” she admits, her blue eyes puzzled. “She claims she wants to put the witches back in power, to have us rule New England the way we once did. I used to believe all her grand talk. But this ruse with Covington—what is it she intends to do? Provoke a civil war? His leadership would have to fail
spectacularly
for people to consider the witches an option. They’re far more likely to elect another Brother, no matter how bumbling and corrupt she paints them.”

“True. It’s not as though she wants them to call Brennan back so we can all work together.” I snort at the very idea.

“But
we
do. I’ve been thinking about Merriweather’s suggestion.” Alice tucks a flyaway strand of golden hair back into her pompadour. “A triumvirate that consists of a Brother, a witch, and a commoner. I think he might be on to something.”

Sachi raises her eyebrows again. “
You’d
be willing to share power with a Brother?”

“And a commoner?” Mei sounds equally incredulous.

Alice shrugs. “It’s more power than we’ve got now.”

Footsteps sound in the hall. Multiple pairs of them. We all swivel toward the doorway as Prue, carrying the silver tea service, leads her brother and Finn into the room. “Look who I found in the kitchen!” she declares, making introductions.

Merriweather gets right to the point. “What in the devil is going on? Has Covington been miraculously resurrected, or is this some sort of witchery?”

“Compulsion. But we can’t expose Inez without exposing the entire Sisterhood.” I slump in my chair. “She’s dangerous. Unpredictable. She loathes me for opposing her. And Finn, she—” I falter, though everyone but Merriweather already knows the truth of it, and perhaps Finn has told him, too. “She’s the one who suggested Maura erase your memory. I daresay she’s only biding her time before she has you arrested for treason. You’re not safe in the Brotherhood anymore.”

Finn takes a moment to digest this news, then turns to Merriweather. “Looks like I need another line of work. Do you have need of a new reporter?”

“I can always use a good writer.” Merriweather claps him on the back while offering Rilla a cheeky grin. Across the room, she flushes with pleasure.

“I’m not certain you realize the danger you’re in,” I point out. Finn’s smiling like a madman.

He pulls off his black cloak. Beneath it, he’s wearing gray herringbone trousers with a matching vest and a crisp white shirt that clings to his muscled shoulders. “I’ve hated every moment of being a Brother. I’m glad to be rid of this,” he confesses, pulling off his silver ring of office and tossing it into the fire.

“Don’t be hasty, now! That could be of use.” Merriweather strides over to the fireplace, picks up the poker, and slides the ring out of the flames. “Tell them what you found out.”

“Ah.” Finn rubs a hand over his jaw. Already, his bearing seems lighter. “The Brothers have a store of medicine that’s been proven to cure the fever in a matter of days. They’re keeping it in Richmond Hospital under Kenneally’s watch, in case the National Council falls sick.”

Mei jumps to her feet. “They must have hundreds of doses, then!”

“Yes.” Finn’s mouth is pressed into a grim line, but behind his spectacles, his eyes are still smiling.

“Those bastards,” Rory swears, reaching for a leftover cranberry scone.

“Rory!” Sachi elbows her sister.

“I
am
a bastard. I might as well get to use the word,” Rory insists. “They’re watching hundreds of people die and they’re sitting on the cure!”

“Brothers and their families can afford rest and other costly medicines like quinine and salicin to help reduce fevers and ease their pain,” Mei complains. “This isn’t fair. The people who really need that cure—”

“Ought to have it,” I finish, standing, smoothing my black skirt. “You’ve been at the hospital more than anyone. Do you know where they’d keep such a thing?”

She nods, a grin spreading over her face. “All we’ve got to do is find Brother Kenneally.”

“Cate.” Rilla is perched on a round blue ottoman next to Mei. “You can’t waltz into the hospital. Everyone in New London is looking for you!”

“No one would suspect I’d be daft enough to show up there, then, would they? And Mei can’t do it by herself. She’ll need a witch with compulsion.” I glance nervously at Finn. “Just in case things go wrong.”

“Perhaps we can bluff our way in.” Finn picks up the ring and slides it back onto his finger. “I can play at being Brother Belastra one last time.”

“There are swarms of guards downtown today. You don’t think they’d come running if there was a disturbance in the hospital?” Alice narrows her eyes.

“If word got out that this medicine existed . . .” Merriweather offers up a mischievous smile. “There would be a riot. All I’d have to do is suggest it in the
Gazette
and—”

Mei clenches fistfuls of her black skirt. “People are dying. We can’t wait for tomorrow’s paper!”

Rilla bounces up, a grin spreading across her freckled face. “What if there was another way?” She grabs Merriweather’s elbow, her words rushing over themselves. “What if you printed up some leaflets right now?”

“There’s still the matter of distributing them,” Merriweather says, but his gray eyes are curious. “My newspaper boys can’t be seen passing them out on street corners. They’d be arrested.”

“What if we used magic?” Rilla kneels, digging through her suitcase until she comes up with a book. She grimaces as she rips out a few pages. “Watch.”

We all stare as she casts a silent animation spell, and the torn pages swirl through the air, landing all over the room. “Like that. Only on a much grander scale. Sachi and Rory and I could send them all over the city.”

Merriweather picks up the page at his feet, balancing it thoughtfully in his palm. “It could work. Then, on the way out of the hospital, Cate could hand out the medicine to the poor.”

“Are you mad?” Finn steps closer to me, protective. “She’ll be arrested!”

“Just listen.” Merriweather is several inches taller than Finn, but Finn looks half ready for a brawl. “The
Gazette
’s reported that she wasn’t responsible for the attack on the Head Council. I painted her as a friend of the powerless, the disenfranchised. What better way to prove it than to have her steal from the rich and give to the poor? She does this, and she wins the loyalty of every family she helps. They’d take a bullet for her.”

“They might have to!” Every line of Finn’s body is tight with anger. “The minute the guards recognize her, what’s to keep them from—”

“I’ll do it,” I interrupt. “I’ve already got a price on my head. I might as well make it worth something.”

• • •

Three hours later, Mei and Finn and I walk to Richmond Hospital. Neither of them are glamoured, but beneath my black hood, my hair is darkened to chestnut, my pointy jaw has gone square, and my eyes are the brilliant green of spring grass. Once I cast the illusion, Alice gave me an appraising look and pronounced me quite pretty.

“Not as pretty as she is without it,” Finn insisted, looking affronted on my behalf, and I fell a little more in love with him.

A harsh wind has picked up, and our small white leaflets are scattering like autumn leaves across the cobblestone streets. Children chase after them. Horses mark them with dirty hoofprints. Most important, people are reading them.

“All this folderol about caring for their flock! They don’t care one whit about us.” A lean blond man shakes the pamphlet in his fist as he leaves a tobacco shop.

“Content to watch us drop like flies, and not doing a thing to stop it,” his dark-haired friend agrees.

“Hospitals are meant to care for the sick, ain’t they? Not just the rich! Let’s go give ’em hell, Jim!” They race ahead, glaring at us as they pass.

The scene outside the hospital is heartbreaking. People beg for the medicine, cradling sick children and citing elderly mothers. The guards remain impervious, insisting that everyone move along, that no secret cure exists. They stand shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk in front of the hospital, forming a protective barrier that allows no one in or out. Inside, patients and white-capped nurses alike peer out the windows facing the street.

“It’s nothing but a hoax,” a silver-haired sergeant insists. “That newspaperman trying to stir up trouble again!”

“Let’s search the hospital, then!” a thickset woman insists, and the crowd roars its approval.

Another guard snorts. “This is a place for the sick, not a treasure hunt!”

Finn shoulders his way through the crowd. “What’s going on here?” he asks pleasantly, shoving his spectacles up with his index finger.

The sergeant sighs as he hands the leaflet to Finn. “Some nonsense about the hospital having a secret stash of medicine. Lord knows how many of these were printed up. I’m afraid we’re going to have a mob on our hands soon.”

Finn gestures to Mei and me. “I’ve got two Sisters here to nurse, and I’m supposed to take a shift for Brother Diaz in the chapel. Can we get through?”

The sergeant’s blue eyes dart down to Finn’s hand, taking note of the silver ring of office on his finger, and then he nods. “Of course, sir. Go on.” At his signal, the guards part to let us pass.

Behind us, the crowd hurls epithets.

An orderly unlocks the hospital doors and admits us.

Mei leads the way up the wide staircase. “Kenneally’s office is on the fourth floor,” she advises, “near the matron’s office. We could try there first.”

But we only make it to the second-floor landing before a voice rings out. “Mei! Thank the Lord you’re here. We’re awfully short staffed. Half of my girls are sick and the male nurses are useless. We need you in the men’s contagious ward.” Mrs. Jarrell eyes Finn. “I’m sorry, sir, but a crisis is no time for excessive modesty.”

“I couldn’t agree more, ma’am.” With his hood down, Finn looks young and boyish. “The three of us are here to help.”

“Wonderful.” Mrs. Jarrell plunks her hands on her hips. “I hope you’ll forgive me for saying it, but we’ve got plenty of prayer; we need more hands. I don’t suppose you’d let me put you to work emptying bedpans?”

Finn gives her his most charming smile. “Perhaps some other time. We’ve got an errand to run upstairs.”

Mrs. Jarrell is unmoved. “I need these girls. People are dying left and right!” She swivels on Mei, the cap she wears over her short brown hair tilting precariously. “Don’t tell me you’re too shy to care for male patients.”