Sisters' Fate (2 page)

Maura stares at me, wordless, cheeks flaming. The other girls draw away from her as if the brush of her skirts contains some contagion.

“Go, Maura. Go to your room,” Tess says finally, her voice low. “Cate shouldn’t have to look at you right now. Frankly, I don’t want to see you, either.”

Maura whirls on her. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

The oracle. The prophesied one.
I want Tess to toss it in Maura’s face, but I know she won’t. She’s not power-mad like Maura or vengeful like me.

Tess purses her lips. “I’m the sister who’s still speaking to you.”

Maura’s face falls. “You haven’t even heard my side of things!”

Tess hovers between Maura and me, her gray eyes like knives. “I don’t know what you could possibly say that would make me understand why you’d do this.”

“Fine. Take her side, like always. I don’t need either of you! You’ll see.” Maura pushes through the crowd of gaping girls and runs upstairs, boots clattering on the wooden steps.

And I’m left feeling—how?

Unsatisfied with my petty vengeance.

Rilla is the first to recover her wits. She takes my hand, hazel eyes full of sympathy. “Come upstairs, Cate. You must be—”

I yank away. “No.” She means well—she always does—but her kindness makes me want to fling myself onto the floor and cry.

I look around at the girls gathered in the hall. I can’t fall to pieces, because they need me. I’m not the only person Maura hurt tonight. Even now, the Head Council’s subordinates will be finding them, childlike and confused, unable to recall their own names. Tomorrow, New London will be in an uproar against witches, and it will only get worse once the town learns of the mutiny at Harwood.

The Brotherhood
will
strike back. We’ve got to prepare ourselves for that.

The Harwood girls have been starved and drugged and brutalized. They need a place to heal, and the convent isn’t that kind of haven anymore. Not with Sister Cora dead and Inez in charge. She’ll do anything to oust the Brothers and put herself in power; she doesn’t care who might be destroyed in the process.

But I do.

I’ve cast off one sister tonight, but now I’ve got dozens.

I mean to make New England safe for all of them.

My magic rises, sparking through my fingertips. The candles on the hall table burst into flame, followed by the old-fashioned brass candelabras along the hall.

I am tired of hiding what I am. There’s got to be a better way. Not Inez’s way. Not Brother Covington’s, either.

If it’s war the Brothers and Maura want, it’s war they’ll get. I’ll fight both of them.

“Welcome to the Sisterhood.” I tilt my chin up, meeting each girl’s eyes in turn. “As you’ve probably figured, I’m Cate Cahill, and this is my sister Tess. Let’s get you all something to eat, and then we’ll show you to your rooms. This is your home now. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you’re protected.”

• • •

We get the six Harwood girls settled before the fire in the sitting room, eating yesterday’s bread with slabs of butter and strawberry jam, drinking cups of hot cocoa. Once I assure myself that Rilla and Vi will take care of them, I make my way up to the third floor, to Sister Cora’s suite.

Sister Gretchen opens the door at my knock. Her hazel eyes are bloodshot and rimmed in red. “Cate. You’ve heard?”

I nod, brushing a hand through my tangled blond hair. “I’ll miss her, but I’m glad she’s at peace now.”

Gretchen swallows a sob. “I knew it was coming, but I don’t quite know what to do without her.” She and Cora have been the best of friends since their days studying in the convent school.

“I know.” I press her hand. “I’d like to say good-bye, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” Gretchen ushers me in, and we cross through Cora’s shadowy sitting room to her bedroom. Her body is laid out on the four-poster bed, dressed in a plain black gown. Her white hair cascades over her shoulders; her thin hands are as bare as winter trees without her dozen rings. “I’ll give you a moment alone.”

“Thank you.”

I step closer to the body. Most days, I don’t know what I believe insofar as religion, but I suspect Cora’s soul is elsewhere now. Instinctively, I glance toward the ceiling, as though expecting to find her spirit floating there.

I’ve never found much comfort in the notion of my mother watching over me. At her funeral, that was the Brothers’ favorite platitude. They stopped short of suggesting I should ask her spirit for guidance. That would be sacrilegious; a girl should turn to her father or her husband or the Brothers themselves for wisdom. But they insisted she would still be looking after me from heaven, thinking that would bring me solace. Mother’s instruction to keep my sisters safe weighed heavily enough on me, though; I didn’t relish the notion of her spirit peering over my shoulder, judging whether I was doing a good enough job of it.

Sister Cora set me an even bigger task—to protect the entire Sisterhood. Tess may be the prophesied witch, but she’s too young to lead, and neither of us trusts Inez to do it for her.

“I won’t let Inez ruin everything you worked for,” I vow. My voice is soft, swallowed up by the rug and the heavy green curtains pulled shut against the snowy night.

I rather like the idea of Cora looking down on me, I discover. She demanded a great deal, but she made her own mistakes, like with Zara. She’d forgive mine.

The notion gives me courage.

“Thank you,” I add. “For believing in me.”

I leave her with candles burning on the dressing table to chase away the darkness. In the sitting room, Gretchen is slumped in Cora’s green flowered armchair.

“You’ll sit up with her?” I ask, and Gretchen nods. “Do you want me to take a turn?”

She shakes her head, gray sausage curls bouncing. “You need your rest. How did things go at Harwood? I should’ve asked straight off.”

“It went well, for the most part.” I purse my lips. “Zara’s dead. Shot by a guard.”

“Oh, Cate.” Gretchen’s lip wobbles, but she masters it. “I’m sorry to hear it. Zara was a good woman. She would have been a great help to you.” Gretchen squares her shoulders, her hazel eyes meeting mine. “If there’s anything you need, I’m on your side in this. What Inez did tonight to the Head Council—it wasn’t right. It’s certainly not what Cora would have wanted.”

“There is one thing.” I take a deep breath. “I’d like to get word to Brother Brennan. Arrange a meeting as soon as possible.” Brennan was Cora’s spy on the Head Council. His mind would have been erased tonight along with the others’, but Finn slipped herbs into his tea to make him sick and ensure he’d miss the meeting.

I hope that Brennan will be voted the new leader of the Brotherhood. By all accounts, he’s a progressive sort. If I can make him understand that not all of us supported Inez, perhaps he’ll guide the Brothers along a less vengeful path. It’s asking him to forgive a great deal, I know. The men on the Head Council were Brennan’s colleagues. Perhaps some were his friends. And unless we can figure out some way to render her powerless, Inez will be in charge of the Sisterhood until Tess comes of age in four years.

“There’s a stationery shop, O’Neill’s, down in the market district. We left messages for Brennan with the proprietor,” Gretchen explains. “You already know the code he and Cora used. I can transcribe a letter for you, if you like, though I daresay Tess could, too.” Tess is brilliant at cryptography, just as she is at nearly everything else.

Gretchen unclasps the ruby necklace around her throat. The gold chain pools in her hands, reminding me that Zara’s necklace—the locket with Mother’s picture inside—still rests in my cloak pocket. As I watch, the ruby transforms into a brass key. “The key will get you into the shop through the back door. We could use magic, of course, but the others have keys and they’ll be more likely to trust you if you’ve got Cora’s. In the storage room, there’s a staircase to the cellar. That’s where they hold the Resistance meetings.”

She hands me the key. It’s small and cold and slight in my palm, but this intelligence feels momentous. I sink into the chair next to hers. “Resistance meetings?” I echo.

Does she mean to say there are people working in secret against the Brothers, besides witches? Zara alluded to such a thing, and we gambled that they still exist, sending the Harwood refugees to several of their safe houses. I had no notion Cora was involved with them.

Gretchen brushes a hand over her plump cheek. “Brennan isn’t the only man in New England who disagrees with the Brothers’ methods. The Resistance leaders meet once a week. The next meeting is scheduled for Friday night. I’ll go with you, if you like. It won’t be an easy thing to win their trust; it took Cora years. They knew she was a witch, but they don’t know we all are. And even those who don’t mind a witch don’t believe a woman their equal. I won’t lie to you, Cate. Trying to win over Alistair Merriweather will be no picnic.”

I frown. “Who is he?”

Gretchen raises her eyebrows at me. “Good Lord, girl, don’t you read? He publishes the
Gazette.
”

Truth be told, I’ve never read the
Gazette.
The
Sentinel
is the official New London newspaper, the Brothers’ mouthpiece. It’s forbidden to be caught with a copy of any other paper, though I’ve often seen half-hidden copies of the
Gazette
when we’ve delivered rations to the poor.

“You should find a copy and educate yourself a bit before you meet him,” Gretchen suggests. “If you can get him on your side, it will be a great boon to us. One-fifth of New London reads his paper, as he’ll be only too happy to tell you.”

I lift my head, a spark of hope racing through me. “That’s quite a lot of people unhappy with the Brothers.”

“And those are only the ones bold enough to buy the paper. How many borrow it from a neighbor, or can’t read to start with?” A wry smile kicks up the corners of Gretchen’s mouth. “The poor are frustrated by the new restrictions. Look at the hundreds who protested last month in Richmond Square.”

“Half of them were thrown on a prison ship for their trouble,” I point out, remembering Mei’s sisters. “Don’t you think that put a damper on any ideas of rebelling?”

Gretchen shakes her head. “I suspect it only fanned the flames. They protested peacefully enough. That shouldn’t be an offense that warrants getting sent away for years, should it? How do you think those unfortunate souls are managing now? Barely, that’s how, with the help of family if they’ve got it, or our charity. The people are angry, especially the working poor. They’re looking for leaders.”

“Like Tess,” I suggest. She’s the oracle meant to win the people’s hearts back to the witches.

“And you,” Gretchen says. “You and Merriweather working together could be a formidable team.”

I glance over my shoulder at the half-open door to Cora’s bedroom, confidence wavering. If it took Cora years to win over the Resistance leaders, how will I manage it? I’m not half as clever as she was.

“Cora had faith in you, Cate,” Gretchen says. “Don’t let her down.”

I use my magic to transform the brass key back into a ruby, then hang it around my neck. I welcome the weight of it. Like a talisman.

“I won’t.”

CHAPTER

2

“ATTENTION, GIRLS.” INEZ’S
VOICE CUTS
through my exhaustion at breakfast the following morning. “I have a few announcements to make.”

I have been studiously avoiding her and the look of triumph she must surely wear. Her plan is falling into place. She’s destroyed the Head Council. Sister Cora is dead. Maura proved her loyalty beyond any shadow of a doubt, and Inez likely thinks it’s broken me.

Let her think it. Her triumph won’t last. She will rule the Sisterhood and New England over my dead body.

I’m sandwiched between Rilla and Mei at one of the five long tables that fill the dining room, pushing eggs and ham around my plate. I take a bite of buttered toast. Tess is sitting at the table behind us with the younger girls, but I suspect she’s keeping a watchful eye on me to make sure I eat.

Inez stands. She’s dressed in unrelenting black bombazine, with no ornament save the ivory brooch at her collar. She doesn’t look like one of Brenna’s crows—more like a predatory hawk with her beak of a nose. I could slice cold butter on her cheekbones.

At the sight of her, my exhaustion fades. Maura erased Finn’s memory, but it was at
her
request. Maura’s always so blasted desperate for someone to choose
her,
love
her
most, and Inez played on that. I don’t absolve Maura of responsibility—but Inez asked it of her.

“To those of you who joined us from Harwood last night, welcome,” Inez says, without so much as a smile. “I am sorry for the harm you suffered at the Brothers’ hands. I assure you, you will have your chance at vengeance.”

I glance down the table, where Parvati’s hands are trembling as she holds her fork poised over her eggs. Maud’s cousin Caroline is a bit green around the gills. The other new girls—Grace Wheeler, Livvy Price, and Sister Edith’s niece Angela—all look shaky and sick. At Harwood, their tea was drugged with laudanum. Now they’re reacting to the lack of it. Mei and I dosed them with herbs, but that only keeps the worst of the nausea at bay. These girls don’t need vengeance; they need someone to look after them, and the time and space to heal.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard by now that Sister Cora passed away last night.” Inez pauses, and the girls around me cast their faces down. “I make no pretense that Cora and I were friends. We did not agree on how to lead the Sisterhood forward, and I thought her overly cautious.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gretchen bristling. Inez holds up a hand, the silver ring of the Sisterhood glinting in the early-morning light. “Nonetheless, Cora devoted her life to the Sisterhood, and that is worthy of our respect. Her funeral will take place tomorrow morning at Richmond Cathedral. I expect all of you to attend.

“In accordance with the plan of succession, as the eldest witch capable of mind-magic, I am your new headmistress.” Inez’s dark eyes meet mine. “The Sisterhood has been divided for years, but I hope you will soon see that I have your best interests at heart. We all have the same aims now, don’t we? And the same enemies?”

My fork falls out of my hand and lands on the china plate with a dull clink, and I choke on my indignation. I know who
my
enemies are.

Inez gives a dry chuckle like the crack of an old twig. “Cora put great stock in the prophecy that one of the Cahill sisters would lead us into the next century. She believed that Cate was likeliest to be the oracle. However, it has come to my attention—”

I bite my lip. Is Inez going to cast her support for Maura? There’s no more evidence of Maura being an oracle than of me being one.

“It has come to my attention,” Inez repeats, relishing the way we all hang on her words, “that it’s not Cate who has been blessed by Persephone with visions of the future. It’s little Tess. Isn’t that right, Tess?”

Everyone swivels in her seat to look at Tess. Except me. I stare at Maura, who gazes down at her lap, her fingers fiddling with the lace tablecloth. I never dreamed she’d tell Inez.

Even now, I give her too much credit.

Tess lifts her pointy chin. “Yes, ma’am.”

“How marvelous,” Inez practically purrs. “There’s never been an oracle who was also a witch, much less a witch capable of mind-magic. I assume you
are
capable of that?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tess flushes from all the attention. I half expect her to squirm and sink in her chair, but she does not; she sits tall and straight, and I feel a swell of pride.

“I see. Well, it wasn’t very nice of you to keep it all to yourself.” Inez shakes her head,
tsk
ing as though she’s scolding a child for stealing a penny candy. “But I understand why you might hesitate to steal the limelight from your sister—”

“It wasn’t that,” Tess interrupts. “It was a matter of my own safety.”

Which has now been thoroughly compromised. Tess is the oracle prophesied to gain the people’s favor and bring about a new golden age of magic—or, if she falls into the Brothers’ hands, a second Terror. The Brothers have been murdering girls on just the
suspicion
of having visions. And now it’s gone from three of us knowing about Tess’s prophecies—Tess, Mei, and me—to the entire convent: fifty-odd students, a dozen teachers, and a dozen more governesses. What is Inez playing at?

Inez clasps her hands earnestly to her bosom. “Your secret is safe with us. We are your sisters. We would protect you with our lives!”

Would they really? Is it reasonable to expect them to? What is Tess to the people in this room? She’s well liked, certainly, but it’s no small thing to sacrifice one’s life.

“In any case, I’m delighted to have such a powerful
student,
” Inez says, and comprehension floods through me at the way she stresses the word. “Tess is gifted, yes, but she is still a child. A twelve-year-old cannot lead the Sisterhood, particularly not during these troubled times. She’ll require guidance, and I am happy to provide it—to rule in her stead, as a sort of regent, until she comes of age and we see if there is any truth to the prophecy.”

Tess rakes a hand through her blond curls. I can read her frustration in the way she grinds her jaw, in the tightness of her shoulders. She won’t challenge Inez publicly, she’s too clever for that, but oh, she loathes being patronized.

“Thank you,” she mutters. “I appreciate your support.”

“You’re quite welcome.” Inez prowls down the aisle. “I have one more announcement. Between the Harwood breakout and the strike on the Head Council, the Brotherhood will be up in arms. It is important that, should we be apprehended, we are able to free ourselves, be it through animation or illusion work. Miss Auclair, if you were in a crowd and the Brothers called you out as a witch, what would you do?”

Alice smiles. In the blink of an eye, she becomes a girl with black curls and brown skin and a red plaid dress. “Or, better yet,” she murmurs, and a moment later, she’s transformed into a stocky Chinese boy with a shock of black hair and a denim shirt.

“Brava, Miss Auclair!” Inez claps. Alice has always been her prize pupil. Rilla is even better at illusions, but she’s not half so obsequious. “We do not know how the Brothers will retaliate, girls, but I feel sure that they will. It will be increasingly difficult to avoid their notice. I am changing your schedules to double up on illusions and animation classes. Art, music, botany, and other electives will be postponed until further notice.”

Rilla flings a hand into the air. “Will you continue as illusions teacher as well as headmistress?”

“I shall teach the advanced classes in the mornings. Miss Auclair will teach the introductory ones in the afternoons.” Inez lays a bony hand on Alice’s shoulder, and Alice—transforming back into her pretty blond self—preens.

I glance at the table behind me. Rebekah Reed looks as though she’s swallowed a lemon, and Lucy is cringing. Alice is a bully, and the younger girls already get the worst of it.

“Why Alice?” Mei demands. “Why not Rilla?”

“Rilla would make a wonderful teacher! She’s the best in our class!” Pearl adds.

“That’s a matter of opinion, isn’t it?” Inez snaps. “I am under no obligation to explain staffing decisions to students. However, Miss Auclair will turn seventeen in March and has already announced her intention to become a full member of the Sisterhood. Miss Stephenson’s birthday is not until September, and she has made no such guarantee. What good is it to me to train a teacher, only to have her run off and get married?”

Rilla flushes behind her freckles. She’s a romantic, yes, but she doesn’t have a beau. None of the girls at the convent have. There are not many opportunities to meet boys when one masquerades as a nun in training.

“Now, if there are no further interruptions”—Inez glares at Mei and Pearl—“we are already behind schedule for the day. Miss Kapoor, Miss Price, I would like to see you in my office after morning classes, if you’re feeling up to it.”

The room explodes into whispers as she turns away, her heels tap-tap-tapping into the hall.

Rilla reaches for the jam. “What does she want with Parvati and Livvy?”

I hand her the sticky jar. “They can do mind-magic.” Most of the girls we rescued from Harwood aren’t witches, so they’re being shepherded to one of three safe houses in the countryside. Grace, Caroline, and Angela are here only by virtue of their connections with students or staff. Parvati and Livvy are here because I found their files in the National Archives and realized how powerful they are. Mind-magic is terribly rare; only my sisters, Alice, Elena, Inez, and I are capable of it.

I’d like to go to Tess and see to it that she’s all right, but she’s surrounded. Her friends are all pelting her with questions. I catch her eye and she gives me a tiny nod. She can manage this. I head toward Parvati and Livvy.

“Could the two of you come with me for a moment?” Perhaps I can thwart Inez in another way.

Parvati shies away from the hand I put on her shoulder. “Are we in trouble?”

“No, not at all.” I give her a reassuring smile. “I just want to talk to you.”

Last night we took up a collection of dresses for the new girls. Livvy, a short, buxom brunette, is wearing a pink and red plaid dress of Alice’s. I was rather surprised that Alice volunteered it—she’s not known for her charity—but Livvy looks well in it. I lent Parvati a navy-blue frock, but it hangs on her skeletal frame like a shroud. Mei’s a good hand with a needle; perhaps she can take it in for her.

I guide them upstairs to the room I share with Rilla and gesture for them to sit on my bed. Parvati perches on the edge of the mattress while Livvy kicks off her borrowed red slippers and curls up.

“Why does the headmistress want to see us?” Parvati’s hand trembles as she tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear.

“Because of your mind-magic.” I drag the bench from the dressing table across the room and sit in front of them. “She’ll want to test you.”

“Test us how?” Livvy frowns.

My shoulders go tight. “She’ll ask you to compel other girls. She asked me to make them walk from the sitting room to her office.”

“Did you do it?” There are blue shadows beneath Parvati’s eyes.

I shake my head. “I wasn’t comfortable going into my friends’ minds without their permission.”

“But you could have done it, if you’d wanted to? You did mind-magic at Harwood on the nurses, didn’t you?” Parvati presses, and I nod. “Will you teach me how? I’ve never been able to see my compulsion through. The laudanum, I think—it wouldn’t let me focus on anything for long.”

“I will—though I hope you won’t have need of it. I don’t think compulsion is to be used lightly. But after—well, after what you’ve been through . . .” I trail off, flushing. “If it would help you to feel safer—”

“It would help me to know that if I ever see Brother Cabot again, I could compel him to put a bullet through his brain,” Parvati says grimly. “I appreciate your delicacy, but Livvy knows. Everyone knows what happened to me and no one came forward to stop it.”

“Parvati, I—” Livvy begins, leaning forward.

“I don’t blame you for it.” Parvati turns to me. “I tried to fight back. Strangled him with his own cravat once, but he slapped me and got away while I was seeing stars. Another time I compelled him to blind himself, but he came out of it right before he stuck the matron’s letter opener in his eye. He beat me for it—but it was almost worth it.”

“Oh, Parvati.” Livvy tries to embrace her, but Parvati shrinks away.

“I don’t want your pity,” she snaps. “I want vengeance, like Sister Inez promised.”

“Sister Inez,” I say quietly, “is not to be trusted. I understand that you must—”

“No,” Parvati interrupts. Her back is ramrod straight, her legs crossed delicately at the ankles, but anger fairly vibrates through her. “You cannot possibly understand. Not unless you’ve been there yourself.”

I trace the blue pinstripes on my skirt, trying to redirect the conversation. “Inez is leading the Sisterhood into a war we can’t win. We’re powerful, yes, but we’re outnumbered. The prophecy says Tess can win the people to our side—but until then, we need to work with the more moderate Brothers to keep the peace. If Inez continues to do terrible, reckless things, compromise will never be possible.”

“Good,” Parvati spits, her brown eyes narrowed. “I don’t want compromise. How can you expect us to work with Brothers after what they’ve done to us?”

“They’re not all bad,” I say, thinking of Finn. Always of Finn. He told me there are moderates within the Brotherhood, men like him who joined to protect their wives or sisters or sweethearts. “And if we don’t want inhumane treatment, we can’t dole it out. Even if Brother Covington and the others were wrongheaded, they didn’t deserve—”

“Wrongheaded?”
Parvati leaps to her feet. “That’s what you’d call them? You don’t think they deserved what was done to them? Do you think
I
deserved what was done to me?”

“No! No, of course not.” I jump up, flustered. “I misspoke. They were—are—cruel. But we’ll never gain the people’s trust Inez’s way. Lord knows what else she’s plotting. She’s such a schemer; I wouldn’t trust her to—”

“
She’s
a schemer?” Parvati plants her hands on her thin hips. “You called us up here to undermine her. I suppose you’re angry with her on account of what she and Maura did to your beau?” I can’t deny that—but it’s not only that. Parvati’s lip curls in disgust. “I can’t believe you were letting a
Brother
court you!”