Sisters' Fate (25 page)

I smile my first true smile in days. “That would be wonderful.”

“I understand that, in the past, compulsion may have been a necessary evil to guarantee your own safety. But going forward, it will be illegal—a crime tried by a jury and subject to a prison sentence. Any crimes of that nature committed before the measure is passed will be pardoned.” Brennan is solemn. “Does that seem fair to you?”

“It does. If I can be of any help—if you need a recommendation for a liaison between the witches and the government—” I begin.

“I was hoping you might serve as that liaison, actually,” Brennan interrupts. “You’ve been highly recommended by Alistair Merriweather. Frankly, I was hoping you’d be more than a liaison—that you would join the two of us on a new governing council. You’ve proven that you have the best interests of New London at heart, Miss Cahill.”

I glance at Finn, eyes wide, and then back at Brennan. “I—thank you, sir. I’m flattered. But that’s never been something I aspired to. If you’d like a witch on the council, though, I know someone who’d be perfect for the position. My governess—Elena Robichaud—she’s just heading back to the house.” I point to where Elena and Mrs. Corbett are striding down through the gardens.

Brennan nods. “Belastra guessed that you might turn me down, but I had to ask. I’d be happy to speak with Miss Robichaud.” He hesitates. “There is one other matter. According to the prophecy, one of the Cahill sisters is the oracle. If anything should come up—anything that I, or the government of New England, ought to know—I hope you will come to me. In return, I will do my best to honor your privacy.”

I nod, rather amazed at his restraint. “I think that can be arranged. Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you, Miss Cahill, for allowing politics to intrude on such a sad day. I’ll take my leave now.” He nods at Finn and makes his way down the snowy hill toward Elena.

“He’s a good man,” Finn says. “New England will be far better with him in charge.”

I run a finger over the snow on the wooden railing. Maura would be happy about this. Cautious about the notion of working with Brothers, of course, and a little suspicious about any council that involved two men against one woman. But making magic legal—that would go a long way toward earning her trust. “Are you sure you don’t want to work with him?”

“I’ve had my fill of politics.” Finn smiles. “Merriweather’s going to be able to sell the
Gazette
properly now, you know. He’s asked me to come on as a reporter.”

“That’s wonderful.” I smile back, though my heart sinks a little. Finn’s already made his decision, without discussing it with me? “He offered Rilla a job, too. She’s terribly excited.”

“And you?” Finn asks. “What are your plans?”

My smile splinters. “I—I’m not sure yet.” I turn away, trying to hide my disappointment. I thought he understood how rudderless I feel with Maura gone and Father—well, actually being a proper father to Tess. “I’d like to do more healing work. As a nurse, perhaps.”

“But you intend to go back to New London?” Finn presses.

“Does it matter?” I immediately loathe myself for the frost in my voice.

“It does.” He grasps my elbow and turns me to face him. “Cate, I can’t say what you want to hear. Not yet. I want you to know that—
when
I do, I’ll mean it. Completely. Irrevocably.”

“When?” I ask, voice small but hopeful. “Not
if
?”

“When.” He takes my cold hand in his. “I’m falling in love with you more every day. I don’t know if they were the same things I loved about you before, but now—the bit of red in your hair. The way you tilt your chin when you get angry, like you’re charging into battle. How fiercely protective you are of the people you care about. How big your capacity for forgiveness is. You’re an amazing woman, Cate Cahill. And to that end—”

He takes something from his pocket and holds it out. The red jewel catches the sunlight. It’s his mother’s ruby ring—the ring he gave me when he proposed—only now it’s linked through a silver chain. “I found this in my desk. It’s my promise to you that we’ll work our way back to where we were—or somewhere even better. Will you wear it and keep it safe until I ask you to put it on your finger?”

I didn’t know that happiness and sadness could mingle this closely. “I will.” I turn, and he drops the chain around my neck and then fastens the hook. I clutch the ring in my fist for one second, then let it drop down between my breasts.

When I turn back around, his brown eyes take in every bit of me.

“May I kiss you?”

I launch myself at him, my mouth reaching for his. He trails a finger down my bare neck and I shiver and press closer. “Not,” I whisper against his lips, “if I kiss you first.”

• • •

A bit later, we walk hand in hand down the snowy hill and through the garden. I’m surprised Father hasn’t sent someone out to fetch me yet, given how fatherly he’s been of late. But as we turn the corner past the rose garden, a voice calls out.

“Cate? Is that you?” It’s Tess.

Finn squeezes my hand. “I’ll go in, and give you two a moment.”

“Thank you.” I walk into the rose garden—our old sanctuary, our one safe place. Tess has brushed the snow from the marble bench at the foot of the statue of Athena. She looks cold and miserable; her shoulders are hunched and her lips faintly purple. “What are you doing out here?”

“I wanted to be alone.” She gestures to the tall hedges that surround the garden; no one can see us from the house. I hesitate, but she pats the bench. “You don’t count, silly.”

I perch next to her. “How are you?”

She purses her lips. “Sad. Guilty. Happy. And then guilty again.”

“Tell me about the happy bit,” I suggest.

“Father said Vi could come and live with us in the new house. He thinks he’s found just the place—he said there’s a room that would make a magnificent library, and one of the bedrooms has a turret with a window seat, and he said that could be mine. And there’s a great big kitchen and he said Mrs. Muir—that’s his housekeeper in New London—wouldn’t mind me poking about. He even said Vi could bring her kitten.” A shadow passes over Tess’s face. “I’d like to have Vi with me. We’ve become so close over the last few months, rooming together. Like sisters, almost. Only—do you suppose that Maura would think I was trying to replace her?”

“No.” I give a firm shake of my head. “She wouldn’t suppose she was so easy to replace.”

“She isn’t.” Tess smooths her black cloak. “I’ll miss her forever.”

“I know.” I put my hand over Tess’s and we sit there for a moment, quiet together.

“Part of me feels like I don’t ever want to do magic again,” Tess confesses. “I haven’t since the fire.”

“What?” I stare at her. “That’s not what Maura would want. She
loved
being a witch. Sometimes I was jealous of how happy it made her, especially when I felt like my magic was such a dreadful burden.”

Tess leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “Do you still feel that way? Like magic is wicked?”

“No.” I’m a little startled to find that that’s true.

Tess’s heavy sigh blows blond curls away from her face. “All I can think of is the terrible things I did. I don’t see how magic will ever be fun again.”

A memory flashes through me as I look around the dreary winter garden. “What good is all this, anyway, if we can’t use it to make things more beautiful?” I ask.

I cast, and the rosebushes burst into color: bright pink and scarlet flowers framed by deep green leaves.

Tess frowns. “Did I say that? That sounds like something I’d say.”

“You did, and you were absolutely correct. You usually are.” I gesture at her. “Your turn.”

She hesitates.

I elbow her. “I dare you. Maura would, too, if she were here.”

Tess stands, and for a minute I think she’s going to flee. Then she turns, and the statue of Athena is wearing a white clematis skirt. Tess giggles.

I cast, and Athena receives a giant sunflower hat.

Tess casts, and there are yellow daffodils
everywhere.
The harbinger of spring. Maura’s favorite flower. They pop up between the rosebushes and coat the marble bench and dot the walkway outside the rose garden. We peek out and see a carpet of them stretching away up the hillside.

Tess grins. “Are you going to tell me to put it back? I’m breaking the rules, you know.”

“No.” I breathe in the summertime perfume of wild roses and feel my heart lighten. “Those rules don’t apply to us anymore.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

SENDING A SERIES OUT INTO THE WORLD IS AN ENOR
MOUS
team effort. Thank you to everyone who’s supported the Cahill Witch Chronicles over the last four years. Special thanks to:

Jim McCarthy, my agent, for your wise advice every step of the way.

Ari Lewin, my editor. Working with you has taught me so much; I’m a better writer because of how you push me. Thank you for loving my witchy girls almost as much as I do.

Katherine Perkins, for your editorial help and for the dozens of behind-the-scenes things that I’m not even aware of. Anna Jarzab, Elyse Marshall, Jessica Shoffel, and the rest of the marketing and publicity teams, for helping to connect the books with readers. Everyone else at Penguin, for all your hard work and enthusiasm about the Cahill witches.

Andrea Cremer, Marie Lu, and Beth Revis—my wonderful Breathless sisters—for giving me role models for the kind of author—and the kind of person—I want to be.

Liz Richards, Fiona Paul, and Kim Liggett—for being on the receiving end of my flailmails.

My amazing critique partners—Kathleen Foucart, Andrea Colt, Miranda Kenneally, Caroline Richmond, Tiffany Schmidt, and Robin Talley—for reading so fast and telling me when I make you cry. (Yay!) Also for retreats filled with wine and cheese and gossip. You are the best.

My family and friends, who have been such fantastic champions of me and my work, and hand out bookmarks at every opportunity.

My brilliant playwright husband, who brainstorms with me at four in the morning when he would really rather be sleeping. Thank you for helping me untangle all my plot knots. I love you.

This book is dedicated to my sisters, Amber and Shannon. Four years ago I had a dream that we were fighting over a magical locket from our mom, and although there’s no magical locket in these books, the idea of writing about that complicated mix of love and sibling rivalry stuck. Thanks for helping to inspire Maura and Tess.

And to my friends Jenn Reeder, Jill Coste, Liz Auclair, and Laura Furr, who are the sisters of my heart—thank you for always being there for me, celebrating the ups and commiserating with the downs. I’d be lost without you, and it’s because of you I couldn’t imagine a world where Cate doesn’t get to have brilliant, talented friends.

To the librarians, booksellers, sales reps, and bloggers who recommend my books and put them into the hands of readers—thank you a million times over. You are my heroes.

And last but never least, to my readers. It’s been a dream come true to write this series for you. Thank you for sharing Cate and her sisters’ journey with me.