The Thread That Binds the Bones (23 page)

“Quit calling me that,” Laura said, poking her in the back.

“Ma! Thanks, Ma.” Maggie went to Tom. “Listen, Tommy. Worse things have happened to me—much worse things, and they took a lot longer to stop hurting.”

“I didn’t ever want to hurt you, Maggie.”

“Know that. After thinking about it, I figured that out. You’re not my real father.”

He looked blindly up at her.

“Stop it,” she said, angry. “You got to listen to me. You’re not my real father, you’re nothing like him, hear? But if you’re gonna be my father, you got to think. You can’t give me everything I want. You don’t even have to try. Sometimes what I want isn’t good for me. You’re older. You’re supposed to know this stuff.”

“Not that much older.”

“So maybe you don’t know it!” She lifted her hands, shook them in the air. “So maybe next time I hurt you without meaning it. People always hurt people. So don’t worry about it anymore, okay? Want some lunch!”

“More like dinner,” said Laura. Maggie and Tom glanced around, noting the shift in shadows and sunlight.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” Laura said. “I had to track you down with my ring.”

Tom got his trembling legs and arms under control and managed to rise to his feet. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. It didn’t help.

“Do they have any food in the house?” Maggie asked, looking worried.

“Barney started cooking rice in chicken broth half an hour ago. They have cheese and bread and butter and coffee. Tom? You all right?”

“Just tired.”

“Lean on me.”

Tom looked at Laura. She wore a jean jacket over her purple jumpsuit, and she looked as fresh as a mannequin in a store display.

“I need a shower really bad,” he said.

“It’ll have to wait.” She came to him and pulled his lax arm around her shoulders. “Come on,” she said. She held her hand out to Maggie, and they stumbled back to the house together.

When Laura opened the back door, a gust of warm air came out, carrying the welcome scents of woodsmoke and chicken broth. Laura settled Tom on a chair and handed him a ragged end of a loaf of bread and a hunk of butter on a plate and a knife. Tom ate bread and butter and felt the trembling ease. He took pleasure in eating, recognizing he was restoring himself, fueling up his power systems; he watched his aura strengthening around him.

“Phew,” said Trixie, waving her hand in front of her face, “you stink, Tom. Eat in the corner. What have you been doing?”

“Working,” he said. “And unless this house has a shower, you’re going to have to stand me on the flight back across the river, Trix.”

“Just put me to sleep. I’ll go quietly. What kind of work? I’ve seen you working at all sorts of things, but never this hard.”

Laura brought him a plate of steaming rice.

“Never mind,” Tom said. He thanked Laura and watched Annis nurse the baby until Barney’s glare made him lower his eyes. He grinned.

“Laura says you’re moving to Portland,” Jaimie said to Tom. “Now that we’re almost legitimate, we might follow you out there. It would be nice to move to a place where we already know some people. I’ve lived all my life with people I know. I don’t like to think about facing a world full of strangers.”

“Thought you wanted to go home, Miss Jaimie,” said Maggie.

“
Sirella.
You can talk—I keep forgetting. Who cured you?”

“I was never really sick,” she said. “At least not that way.”

“It was all a lie? You’re an amazing kid, you know that? I don’t really want to go back to the Hollow right now. I just hated feeling like I was exiled forever. Now, if I really want to, I can go see my parents ... my sisters ... not very likely, but possible. You’re moving to Portland with Tom and Laura?”

“Yes,” said Maggie. “Starting over. My third time, I think.” She stared at her hands, which lay relaxed beside her half-empty plate.

“How did you find this house?” Tom asked after a moment’s silence. Everyone was eating more slowly. Outside, the chill afternoon was darkening into an even colder evening; in the kitchen, fire purred and crackled in the stove, and someone had made glows, or summoned them, he was not sure how one got them, and hung them about the room so the table was lit with soft, everywhere golden light.

“I heard about the house from Bert,” said Barney. “Old Man Morrison used to live out here. He was a hermit, kind of the recluse of Klickitat County. He grew up in Arcadia; Bert knew him from a long time ago, before he rusticated on the wrong side of the river. He died a couple years back. Never heard what became of the house, but Bert suggested we check it out. We came here right after we ran away, and it was all dust and chipmunks. So we figured it was safe to move in. There’s an owl in the attic. Jaimie made friends with it. She did most of the fixing up.”

“You helped, Barn,” said Jaimie.

“Yeah, but I can’t ask dust to dance itself out the doors, or seal the leaks with patches made of air, or ask the wood to split itself into logs and kindling like you can.”

“You’ve got a lot of other skills,” Jaimie said.

“And I,” Annis said, “I just lay there being sick and a burden.”

“You had a baby!” Jaimie said, shocked. “That’s the most important job of all.”

Annis looked at Rupert, who lay in a nest of blankets in a laundry basket on the floor. “Maybe,” she said, and managed a faint smile. “I’m tired. I’m going up to bed.”

“You haven’t finished your supper,” said Barney.

“I’m not hungry,” she said, stooping to lift Rupert. “Good night, everybody. Thank you for coming. I hope you’ll stop by again before you leave for the city.” She headed for the kitchen door.

“Descendant,” said Peregrine.

Annis stopped on the threshold and looked back.

“What troubles you?”

Her eyes were bright. “You honor me with your presence and aid, Ancient. Please don’t worry. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“What’s the matter, honey?” asked Barney.

“Just tired. It’s been a long day. Thanks, Ancient.” She left.

Barney jumped up. “Excuse me,” he said, and ran after Annis.

“What’s going on?” Trixie asked. “You—Presence—you explain it, why don’t you?”

“She is tired,” said Peregrine.

“No kidding. What can we do?”

“Nothing, just now,” he said, “except, perhaps, go home.” He turned to Jaimie. “Descendant?”

Jaimie eyed him and waited.

“You give me hope for your generation. You are accomplished, and I joy in you. I foresee troubles coming. I want you to call on me if you need help.”

She nodded. “How?”

Peregrine looked at Maggie, who studied her palm, then held it out for Jaimie to see. “He gave me a mark to summon him with,” she said, her face pale.

“You are sealed to him?” Jaimie looked upset.

“Is that what it is, Pa?”

“Yes, child.”

Jaimie bit her lip. “No offense, Ancient, but I don’t want that.”

“Your choice. I will listen for the silver calling, then, as best I can while cloaked in this flesh and
sitva.
My name is Peregrine Bolte, and I am a power of air. Thomas, my host, can persuade more than one element; we have not found his limits yet.”

“Thanks,” said Jaimie. She frowned. “Ancient, I don’t really remember my training in the calling.”

“There is something lax in the Family teacher if you can’t remember such basic training. You have learned flight and unsee, trace and housewifery; you were an apt pupil—?”

Her cheeks colored. “Well, I ... but Fayella never seemed to care if I learned anything, or Annis, or Laura, even. We didn’t have the ...”

“You did,” Laura said, after Jaimie let the silence stretch a moment. “You used to be an avid disciple of the dark. You were the little teacher’s pet.”

Jaimie shrugged. “Yeah, well ... I kind of changed my mind about that direction, and then she didn’t care about me anymore. She liked Sarah and Gwen and Marie more. The people who excelled in the dark disciplines, the ones who obeyed her. I think she was scared of Michael, so she tried to keep him ignorant. She left the rest of us to fend for ourselves.”

“No wonder the blood is thinning. Without proper tending and teaching, you are all grown up crippled.” He looked at Laura. Her jaw firmed and she glared at him. “That is fine, if you are content with it. But it does not advance the Family for its members to weaken themselves.”

“Everything must be in service to the Family, huh?” asked Laura.

“Forgive me, descendant; it is my long-term project, the only reason any Presence stays in the Hollow after we return our flesh to the earth. Those of us who don’t care about the Family go ... elsewhere after death.”

“So you’re in Tom because you think it’ll advance the Family?”

“Yes,” said Peregrine. “Do you object?”

“I want you to be Tom,” she said.

“But I—” he said, in Peregrine’s low voice. “But I—” he said in Tom’s higher, lighter voice. “Okay,” he said.

“But Laura,” said Jaimie, “he was going to teach me the silver calling.”

“Oh, you do it like this,” Laura said, her tone annoyed. She looked around the room, rummaged in a couple drawers, and came up with a tarnished fork. She pushed plates and cups aside to make an open space on the table. “Find a piece of silver—real silver’s better. Sketch a circle with it, and these signs at the cardinal points, and this one in the center. The one that’s your element, focus on that a little while you’re drawing it, so it engages your powerflow. Then you concentrate on the Presence you want, and chant. Oh, something stupid like, ‘Peregrine, I summon thee; come to me, to me, to me.’”

Tom felt Peregrine rise in him, almost breaking free of his nets along Tom’s bones, floating free of his body. A silvery aura smoked up out of his own green one and took the shape of a tall, sunken-cheeked man, haggard and beak-nosed, his hair long and straight. His eyes twinkled, belying the worry lines on his forehead and the deep brackets that framed his mouth. He took on the appearance of weight and matter. “What do you wish, descendant?” he said, and this time his voice came from the air, unconnected with Tom and unhindered by Tom’s natural timbre.

“What?” said Laura. She looked up, saw his phantom form, and paled.

“Child—have you summoned me in vain?” His tone sounded threatening.

Laura and Trixie stared. Jaimie covered her mouth with her left hand. Maggie grinned.

“I was just teaching her the basic summons,” Laura said. “That was necessary, wasn’t it?”

He smiled. “Next time use a false tool, and a false name,” he said. “If you have no special needs, I’ll leave you now.”

“Wait a minute,” said Laura. “Jaimie, did you learn that summoning from the demo?”

Jaimie looked at the symbols on the kitchen table, scratched by a fork tine. “I think I can remember it,” she said.

“You’ve got the symbols down, right?”

“Uh—”

“Look.” Laura traced the outline of one symbol. “Those strokes, in that order. That is air. Here’s water—see the waves? Fire, and earth here. Get them in that order. In the center, finally, here’s ether. This comes from the chapter of the text on things seen and unseen. Do you remember
any
of this?”

“No,” said Jaimie. “How come you do?”

“Because—I thought if I only learned it right, maybe it would work and I could get Michael. But I was always afraid to actually try anything.” She stood tapping the fork in the palm of her hand, looking down at her scratches on the table top. “Hmm. And that one worked. Peregrine!”

“Yes, descendant.”

“Did I do that right, or were you just humoring me?”

“You have the hand of a master, descendant. You executed it perfectly.”

“Oh, no. I remember all of Fayella’s teachings, including the dark disciplines.”

Jaimie said, “Does this mean you
aren’t
wingless?”

Laura touched her lips with an index finger; her eyes looked vague and unfocused. “Hmm. Maybe not. Okay, ancestor.” She looked up at him, offered a small smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“You’re welcome.” Peregrine’s seeming faded; Tom felt him settling back inside, flaring a little here and there, then sleeping. Tom wondered if the manifestation had tired the Presence.

Maggie started clearing the table.

“Oh, Maggie, you don’t have to—” Laura said. She picked up some dishes and took them over to the counter by the sink.

“Everybody shares the work in our house,” said Jaimie, grabbing two cups.

“I’m going to sit this one out,” Trixie said, leaning back in her chair. “There’s not enough dishes for everybody.”

Maggie filled the dishpan, frowning because there was no hot water in the single pump. She looked at Jaimie.

“I’ll do that part,” Jaimie said. She held her hands out over the water, narrowed her eyes, and stood very still, moving only her fingers. After a moment, steam rose from the water. Maggie dumped some soap in the water and stirred it. Tom found a towel and they all worked—Maggie washed, Jaimie rinsed, Laura dried, and Tom put away.

Barney came back just as they finished.

“Well?” Jaimie asked him, as she pulled the plug.

“I don’t know. She’s feeling left out and depressed and useless. Sis, what can we do?”

Jaimie said, “Just know she feels that way, I guess. Don’t talk in front of her like she’s not here.”

Trixie stood up. “Listen. It’s been an interesting visit, but I’ve got to get home now. I ran off without even leaving Bert a note. He’s probably waiting for us and wondering where we are. What if he needed us? He hasn’t got silver calling or any of that stuff.”

“Yes,” said Laura. “You’re all sanctioned now; you can come to town any time you like.”

“I’ve got to see Father Wolfe,” Barney said. “We’ll set a wedding date as soon as possible, and invite you all. Good night.”

“Can you make it back okay?” asked Jaimie.

“Yes,” Tom said.

When they stepped out onto the porch, cold attacked them. Maggie hugged herself, shivering. Trixie stepped back toward the front door. “Wait,” said Tom. He thought of fleecy nets wrapping them round in warmth, and they both straightened.

“Oh,” said Maggie, looking at her feet. The porch was already white with frost, but her new warmth melted dark rings around her shoes, black holes eating outward.