Prophecy of the Sisters

by Michelle Zink

  He shakes his head. “It isn’t like that. I was in the library myself when I saw you leaving. I’ve never seen the woman and girl whom you were with. You’ve mentioned no such new acquaintances to me. I didn’t think, all right? I simply started to follow you, carried along by own curiosity and… well, I suppose my own worry over your strange behavior of late. Can you not understand why I might feel compelled to do so?”

  I am stung by his words. I hear the pain in them and cannot refute the things he says. I have held him at bay, kept him outside the prophecy even as I have been pulled deeper and deeper into its depths. Would I not feel the same worry? Would I not want to find out everything possible to explain such behavior on the part of my beloved?

  I take a deep breath, and all the anger leaves me. I wish it would not, for I prefer the blood-pounding fury to this new emotion. This hopelessness that only seems to grow in its insistency that I will never find a way to reconcile my place in the prophecy, my duty to it, with my love for James.

  I take his hand and look into his eyes. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry, James.”

  He shakes his head in frustration. It is not my apology he seeks. “Why won’t you talk to me? Don’t you still care for me?”

  “Of course, James. That will never change. This…” I wave a hand at the street. “This outing has nothing whatsoever to do with you or with my love for you.” I try a smile. It feels strange on my face, as if I am wearing it and it does not quite fit, but it is the best I can do. I make a quick decision to stick as closely to the truth as possible. “I simply snuck out with a friend of mine from Wycliffe, that is all. She is acquainted with a woman well versed in matters of witchcraft, and —”

  “Witchcraft?” He raises his eyebrows.

  “Oh, it’s nothing!” I dismiss his curiosity with a shake of my head. “Won’t you believe me? I was simply curious and Sonia’s friend offered to show us some books on the matter, that is all.” I look back at Edmund, who flips open his pocket watch while looking pointedly at me. “And now I must go or Aunt Virginia shall discover I’ve been gone and then a short trip to town that was meant to be a bit of fun shall turn into a heap of trouble.”

  He stares into my eyes, and I know he is trying to see whether or not there is truth to my story. I hold his gaze until he nods slowly as if in acceptance. But as we say our goodbyes and I make my way to the carriage, I know it is not understanding but defeat that I saw in the blue of his eyes.

  I sit in the parlor, reading next to Henry, when Margaret’s voice comes to me from the doorway. “Something has arrived for you, Miss.”

  I rise to meet her. “For me?”

  She nods, holding out a creamy envelope. “It came by messenger just a moment ago.”

  I take it from her, waiting until the sound of her footsteps fade down the hall. “What is it, Lia?” Henry looks up at me from his book.

  Shaking my head, I return to my chair by the fire and open the envelope. “I don’t know.”

  I withdraw the stiff paper from inside, noting the handwriting, practiced and elegant, that slants across its pristine surface.

  Dear Miss Milthorpe,

  I believe I know someone who may be of help to you.

  Alastair Wigan

  Lerwick Farm

  You may trust him as you trust me.

  He will be expecting you.

  Mme. Berrier

  “Whom is it from?”

  Henry is excited beside me, and I am both heartened and saddened that his days are so staid that even the arrival of a simple letter can elicit such enthusiasm.

  I look up and smile. “It’s from Sonia, saying that she has been granted permission for a holiday visit.” I push aside a twinge of guilt at the newest lie I tell. It is only a partial untruth. I have already spoken to Aunt Virginia about inviting Sonia and Luisa for the holiday.

  He beams. “Well, that is grand, isn’t it?”

  I fold the paper, putting it back into the envelope, feeling a corner of my heart lift with hope.

  “Yes, it is, Henry. It is grand indeed.”

  17

  “Are you very excited, Lia?” Henry’s voice is behind me as I look from the parlor window for the carriage.

  I turn to him. “Goodness! For the last time, yes! Though I would wager you are more excited than I, from all the times you’ve inquired!”

  He blushes but does not try to hide the smile that starts at his mouth and spreads all the way to his eyes. Sheltered as he is, it is easy to forget that Henry is a boy of ten, but I saw the way he looked at Sonia when she came to tea and know he fancies another chance to see her.

  When I turn back to the window, the carriage emerges from the tree-lined drive. For a moment, I forget that I am sixteen and not as prone to excitement as Henry.

  “They’ve come!” I rush to the front door, flinging it open and waiting impatiently while Edmund helps Luisa and Sonia from the carriage.

  I will greet my guests alone. Aunt Virginia is busy with Margaret, and Alice, even more sullen since learning of my plans to include Sonia and Luisa in our holiday, will likely be sulking on one of her long walks.

  Luisa bounds up the steps like a puppy, all enthusiasm and no decorum, making me laugh into my gloved hand.

  “I cannot believe Miss Gray let me come! I thought I should have to spend another Thanksgiving eating in the grim dining room at Wycliffe. You’ve saved me!”

  Her laugh is catching, and I feel my own bubble forth from my throat. “Nonsense! I’m so happy to have you both here.” I reach over and kiss her cool cheek, doing the same to Sonia as she reaches the top of the stone terrace. “Ready for our holiday to begin?”

  Sonia smiles, the radiance behind it glowing from within even on this gray day. “Oh yes! I’ve been beside myself for days! I thought I should drive Mrs. Milburn mad!”

  I lead them into the house, the prospect of their companionship for the next three days as warming to me as the hope that together we might find the keys. We share a laughter-filled lunch, retiring to the parlor satiated and happy. Aunt Virginia kindly keeps Henry out of the room so that we might have privacy. He peeks around the corner from time to time, gazing wistfully at Sonia, but we pretend not to notice. We talk and laugh, and for a time, I believe that we are ordinary. That we care for nothing but gowns and books and eligible young men. It is only when Luisa lifts her face to the wall near the firebox that I remember why we have come together.

  “That gentleman” — she points to a portrait on the wall — “he looks familiar. Who is he?”

  I swallow, feeling the rope that binds us coil and tighten. “My father.”

  She nods slowly. “Perhaps I have seen him at Wycliffe. Before…”

  I nod. “Perhaps.” It seems we are not so ordinary after all, and I wonder how to tell Sonia and Luisa the one thing that still stands between us.

  Sonia tips her head, bewilderment crossing her serene face. “What is it, Lia? You’ve gone so quiet!”

  I glance at the empty doorway to the parlor. Alice is noticeably absent, and Henry’s blushing face has not been seen in some time. Even still, it would not be wise to be careless.

  “I think I’d like some fresh air. Do you ride?”

  “I don’t like this! I don’t like this at all!” Sonia’s voice trembles and shakes as she bounces atop Moon Shadow, the gentlest mare in the stable.

  “Nonsense! You shall be fine. You’re hardly moving, and Moon Shadow would not harm a fly. You’re quite safe. I’ll ride behind you, and Moon Shadow will do the rest.”

  “Well! That’s easy for you to say. You do this all the time,” Sonia mutters.

  Luisa is already a few paces ahead, clearly a competent horsewoman, though I’m sure she has not had occasion to ride often at Wycliffe. Taking out the horses seemed a fine way to escape the house, and it was an easy matter to locate some riding breeches and habits for my two friends. But as I watch Sonia bounce stiffly atop Moon Shadow’s back, I cannot help wondering if
I made an error in judgment. I ride behind her in silence, coming up alongside only when her shoulders have relaxed the smallest bit and her jarring bounce seems to flow more smoothly with the horse.

  “Feeling better?” I grin.

  She makes a sound like “Hmph!” and keeps her eyes determinedly forward.

  Up ahead, Luisa slows her pace, turning Eagle’s Run around in a smooth motion that belies the sleek horse’s usual spirit. They trot back toward us, taking up a position on the other side of Sonia.

  Luisa’s cheeks are bright from wind and excitement. “Oh, this is such fun, Lia! Thank you ever so much. It’s been far too long since I’ve ridden.”

  I return her smile, absorbing some of her happiness until I remember the reason for our ride. “Actually, I suggested riding because I wanted to speak to you in private.” I glance at Sonia, the panic still evident on her face. “Though I wonder if a walk to the river might not have been kinder.”

  Luisa laughs. “I daresay she cannot hear us at all, so great is her fright!”

  “I hear you quite well, actually.” Sonia’s voice comes from between clenched lips, her face tight as she stares straight ahead.

  I press my lips together to keep from laughing.

  Luisa glances over at me with curiosity. “So? What is it, Lia? What did you want to talk about? Besides the usual; the prophecy, the end of the world, trifling things such as those!”

  Even Luisa’s attempt at finding humor in our strange situation cannot bring a smile to my face, for what if she and Sonia blame me for the circumstances in which they find themselves? And yet there is no way to know for certain except to say it. “I believe I understand why my father’s face is familiar to you.”

  Luisa furrows her brow. “Well, it’s certainly possible I came across him at Wycliffe, or —”

  “I don’t think that is why.” I interrupt her. “Shall we dismount?”

  We have come to the small pond where Alice and I used to feed the ducks when we were small. After our mother’s death, it seemed a safer haven than the lake, its tree-lined shore a gentle dip to the water that provides plenty of shade even in summer.

  Luisa and I are tying our horses to a couple of small trees when we notice Sonia, still perched atop Moon Shadow.

  “Are you coming down?” I ask her. It takes her a moment to look my way, but when she does I feel a surge of sympathy at the sheer terror still displayed on her face.

  “Down? Now that I’m up here you want me to get down?” Her voice borders on hysterical.

  “It will be fine, Sonia. Trust me. I’ll help you.”

  It is only after I have given her detailed instructions and helped her down from Moon Shadow that Sonia’s face relaxes into something of its normal calm. She sits on the grass with a groan. “I’ll never be able to sit properly again!”

  Sitting next to her, I let the silence settle between us as I work up the courage to say what I must say. I look over at Luisa, leaning against a tree near the water with her eyes closed, her lips hinting at a faint smile of contentment.

  “Luisa? How did you come to be at Wycliffe all the way from Italy? It seems an odd thing, really, for you to be at school so far from home.”

  She opens her eyes, laughing harshly and bending over to feel along the grass until she rises with a few small rocks in her hand. “Odd indeed! My father had planned to send me to school in London, but a business acquaintance convinced him America was the best place to get a modern-day education. ‘The best schooling money can buy,’ my father said. No doubt the same words used to convince him to send me halfway around the world to Wycliffe.” She throws one of the rocks angrily into the water. It lands with a plunk a good deal farther than I can throw even on my best day.

  “I believe that was my father.”

  She drops her hands to her side. “What do you mean? What was your father?”

  “I believe my father is the business acquaintance who recommended your father send you to Wycliffe.”

  Luisa makes her way toward me, sinking onto the grass as confusion flickers across her face. “But… how would your father be acquainted with mine, and perchance that he was, why would he concern himself with my schooling?”

  “I don’t know, but we all have the mark. Even though mine is different, it is close enough to be strange in the extreme. The fact that we are all in the same town, in the same place, is even stranger, don’t you agree?”

  Sonia does not nod or show any sign of agreeing at all, except to start speaking. “My parents were English. They… well, they were quite poor, actually.” Her laugh is wry, a whisper of her normal laugh. “In any case, they didn’t need an excuse to find me other accommodations. When I started showing signs of… well, you know, all the strange things I’m able to see and do, they thought I might be happier surrounded by others of my kind. Or so Mrs. Millburn tells me. More likely they were happier to have one less mouth to feed.”

  I offer her a smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, Sonia. I could not have managed without your friendship these last weeks!” She returns my smile with a shy one of her own, and I continue. “But it cannot be a coincidence that we have all come to be in the same place. That we all carry the mark. My aunt informed me that my father was seeking out children, children with the mark, from all over the world. She told me…” I stop. Will they be angry? Will they blame me for everything?

  “What, Lia? What did she tell you?” Sonia’s voice is soft.

  “She told me that he started bringing them here… the children. That he arranged for them to come to America. Only two of them before he died. One from England, one from Italy, she said.”

  Luisa blinks in the fading sunlight. “But… why would your father want us here? And in any case, how would he have found us? How would he have known we had the mark?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that; you and Sonia have had the mark since birth. I imagine that, with the right resources, it would not be very difficult to find children with the mark. My father was a determined and influential man. Even if your marks were kept a secret, there are those who might see it, are there not? Doctors, teachers, nannies, relatives…” I sigh, not sure any of it makes sense now that I’ve said it aloud. “I’m sorry. I don’t know for certain, all right? I’ve been asking myself the same question for weeks. It’s part of the riddle, I think. It must be.”

  Luisa suddenly jumps to her feet, pacing the bank in front of us with the taut energy of a caged animal. “Perhaps we should just leave all of this alone! After all, what is the worst that will happen if we simply let it be? Is it not better than digging into this thing that we don’t understand?”

  “We cannot do nothing, Luisa.” Sonia’s words surprise me.

  Luisa opens her palms, a breeze off the water lifting a small lock of her raven hair. “Why ever not? Why can we not?”

  Sonia sighs, dusting herself off and rising stiffly to walk toward Luisa. “Because the visions are coming to me more frequently since we have found each other. The spirits are more insistent. They are trying to tell me something, to pull me into their world, and they will not stop until I address them.” She takes Luisa’s hands. “And tell me, haven’t the spirits given chase to you as well? Haven’t you found yourself falling more and more often into swift and strange dreams? Into the travel that only leads you to places both dark and frightening?”

  Surprise courses through my body. Sonia knows something I do not.

  Luisa’s face is a mask of conflict before she crumples, burying her face in her hands. “Yes! Yes, all right?” She looks up at us with naked fear. “But that does not mean we should give chase in return. Perhaps the Souls are only angry that we have been so persistent. Perhaps if we ignore it… if we stop trying to find the answers, they will leave us all alone.”

  But this will not happen. I am certain of it. The thing that stands in the shadows of our dreams, my dreams, is waiting. And it will not be ignored.

  Sonia wraps an arm around Luisa. “I’
m sorry, but I don’t think that is how the Souls work. They want something of us, something of Lia, and now… well, now they shan’t rest until we give it to them.”

  18

  We pass Thanksgiving Day in pleasant forgetfulness. James and his father join us, and sumptuous smells waft to us from the kitchen as we play parlor games. Henry’s face lights like a shooting star when Sonia agrees to play a game of chess. He does not seem to mind when she beats him soundly, favoring him with a gracious smile while putting him into checkmate.

  Alice is wary. Like an animal that smells danger, she watches from a distance as we laugh by the light of the fire. When we adjourn to the dining room, I take my seat to the right of James. Alice surprises me by claiming the seat to his left. Her presence unnerves me, though she is mostly blocked from my view. I push aside my unease. The feast is delicious, filled with wine and conversation that goes on for two lovely hours.

  We retire to the parlor once again after eating in proportions that would surely cause Miss Gray upset over our gluttony.

  After much prodding, Aunt Virginia sits at the piano. We gather around to sing, laughing and poking each other with elbows when we forget the words. Even Alice joins us in song, though she keeps her distance from Sonia and Luisa, and the room grows quiet as the final refrain of our last ballad rings through the parlor. The fire burns low in the grate, and Aunt Virginia, who never displays weariness of any sort, covers her yawn with a tired hand. Henry sleeps in his chair by the firebox, thick hair falling over his closed eyes.

  “Well, I don’t want to break up the celebration, but I think someone needs to be brought to bed.” James looks over my shoulder as he says it, and my eyes drift to Henry.

  But when I follow the sparkle in James’s eyes, it is Mr. Douglas I see, hunched and sleeping on the sofa. I smother a laugh, trying not to wake either one of them.

  “Yes, well… it is rather late. Shall I ask Edmund to help you to the carriage?” I tip my head to Mr. Douglas.