Star Cursed: The Cahill Witch Chronicles, Book Two

by Spotswood, Jessica

  We’re nearly home when the carriage slams to a halt. Mei slides right onto the floor. I imagine Robert’s had to yank on the reins to avoid plowing into the back of a wagon, and I pity the horses’ poor mouths and think no more of it, until—

  “Look!” Alice points out the window with a shaking finger. The street is lined with black carriages bearing the Brothers’ gold seal. My heart races. I count six of them, which means at least two dozen Brothers. Why bring so many, unless there’s trouble?

  There’s got to be trouble.

  Maura and Tess are inside.

  Some small, sensible voice points out that I ought to run in the opposite direction. That if I am the oracle and the Brothers find me, it could make everything ten times worse. At best, they’ll torture me until I give them prophecies. At worst, they will burn me in Richmond Square with everyone I love watching.

  I know this; I’ve heard it plainly from the mouths of people I trust; but I cannot turn my back on my sisters if they are in danger.

  And it’s not only Maura and Tess who worry me. Somehow, over the last week or two, the convent has worked its way beneath my skin. I can’t pinpoint the moment it happened, but it has come to feel like a second home, and the girls there a second family. Rilla, Addie, Daisy, Sister Sophia, little Lucy Wheeler—they all know me better than my own father, and I wouldn’t see harm done to any of them. Not if I can help it.

  e with e1em">I throw open the carriage door, gather my skirts, and jump down onto the cobblestones.

  Alice and Mei follow. Robert runs toward the convent ahead of us, and I can’t blame him for abandoning his charges; he must be mad with worry for Vi’s safety. We hurry after him, racing up the convent steps.

  The front hall is crawling with Brothers. One perches on the first-floor landing, holding a sheet of parchment and calling out names in a high, nasal voice. Girls are lined up down the hallway; they are being led one by one into classrooms and the front parlor. It’s easy to spot Maura, resplendent in a sunny yellow gown with a red cummerbund, but I can’t find Tess.

  A fat Brother with a thatch of blond hair and small, piggy eyes catches my arm as I push past him. “You there, wait a minute. Who are you?”

  I bow my head, trying to slow my breathing from my mad dash. To act unconcerned, as though there’s nothing to fear. “Catherine Cahill, sir.”

  He consults a list. Peering over his elbow, I see that it’s a roster of students, with a line through some of the names. “We’ve already called your name. They said you were out delivering rations by the river.”

  “Yes, sir. I just got back.” What’s all this about? Where is Tess?

  “Come with me,” he says. Girls scurry out of his way as he lumbers down the hallway and gestures into the illusions classroom. “In there.”

  Three Brothers stand against the chalkboard; the oldest sits at Sister Inez’s desk with a pen in his hand and blank parchment before him. I stand with my eyes cast down demurely, hands clasped in front of me.

  “Name?” one of them barks.

  “Catherine Cahill, sir.” I hear the scribe taking down my answer as I stare at the shining wooden floorboards of Sister Inez’s classroom. Someone must have waxed them since class yesterday. The room still smells faintly of lemons.

  “What brought you to the Sisterhood, Miss Cahill?”

  “I hoped to be of service to the poor and the sick. To do charitable work in the name of the Lord.” Pure of heart, meek of spirit, and chaste of virtue. That is what I must appear. They won’t hurt me if I answer their questions correctly.

  “Do you find such work pleasant?” he snarls.

  Pleasant? What answer do they want? I think of the Harwood infirmary, of the girls in the uncooperative ward, and barely suppress a shudder. “No, sir, but there but for the grace of the Lord am I. It makes me grateful for my own blessings.”

  Pen scratches across parchment again. Is he only writing down my answer, or something more? “What is the most important virtue for a young lady, Miss Cahill?” another voice asks.

  “Obedience.” That answer has been drilled into us since we were children.

  “Very good. Have you ever had any premonitions, Miss Cahill? A very strong hunch, perhaps, of something about to happen? A dream that later came true? Look at us when you make your answer.”

  That’s why they are here, then. Oracle hunting.

  I look up at them with shocked eyes. “No, sir. Never.”

  “Have you heard any of the girls here claim such a thing?”

  I do not even blink. “No, sir.”

  “What would you think of a girl who did?”

  “I would think her very wicked and presumptuous, sir. We must put our faith in the Lord to guide us, and not think it the work of weak and sinful mortals like ourselves,” I explain. My eyes fall to the blue glass lamp on Sister Inez’s desk. She’s dusted it.

  The whiskered old man at the desk puts down his pen and gives me a smile. “Very good, Miss Cahill. You are dismissed.” He does not waste time with the ritual blessings, only makes a konld giveshooing gesture with his hand.

  “Thank you, sir.” I hurry back into the hallway, eager to find my sisters.

  Maura stands with Vi in front of the library. “They’re still questioning Tess,” she says, her shoulders tight with worry. “She’s been in there a long time.”

  I grab Maura’s hand, fighting back the fear that swamps me. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “Of course.” But Maura squeezes my fingers in hers, last night’s argument forgotten.

  The Brothers’ questions weren’t difficult. If I managed to keep my temper and answer appropriately, I daresay Tess won’t have any trouble. But as the minutes tick by, my mind seeks potential disasters. She’s in a library. What if they ask her about the moral insidiousness of novels? What if they question her stance on book-burning? Will she be able to lie convincingly?

  The library door bangs open, and two Brothers stride out, dragging a small blond figure between them. “We’re taking this girl with us for further questioning.”

  Maura’s grip tightens until I feel as though the bones in my palm will crack. My heart plummets before I recognize Lucy’s friend, Hope Ashby.

  We press back against the walls. Sister Cora steps out of the front parlor. “May I ask on what grounds?”

  “She did not answer the questions to our satisfaction. We believe she may be an oracle or have knowledge of one.”

  My pulse races. Hope is twelve and terrified. What if they torture her? She cannot be expected to keep quiet. Sister Cora’s got to do something to stop them from taking her.

  “Sister Cora, please! Help me,” Hope begs.

  “If you are innocent, you will be back with us soon enough.” Sister Cora’s face is a sick gray and her smile is false. She must know we won’t see Hope again.

  I see my horror reflected on the faces of all the girls around me. Sister Cora cannot—will not—save us. Part of me hopes that in her place, I would do more. Fight harder. But the pragmatic part knows she is sacrificing Hope to protect the rest of us.

  The Brothers begin to shuffle out the door, evidently content now that they’ve made an arrest. The man who’s been calling out names on the steps stuffs his papers in a black leather satchel and clears his throat. “Let this be a lesson. No one is exempt. Wickedness can worm its way into even the youngest, most innocent souls, and we will root it out and punish it wheresoever we find it.” He bows to Sister Cora. “Thank you for your compliance, Sister. We will be back soon to conduct another search.”

  The Brothers file out, taking Hope with them. Tess emerges from the library, her arm wrapped around a sobbing Lucy. When she sees me, her face crumples, and she lets go of Lucy to throw her arms around my waist.

  “They took Hope!” she sobs.

  Maura’s creamy complexion looks sickly. “Thank the Lord it wasn’t you.”

  “It should be me,” Tess whimpers, burying her face in my shoulder. “Hope doe
sn’t know anything about anything! She just froze when they questioned her. Oh, Cate, it was awful!”

  “I know,” I murmur. I pat her shoulder and look to Maura, but she’s already turned away, hips swaying as she makes her way down the hall toward Alice.

  Behind her, Sister Cora is leaning heavily against the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. Now she slumps to the floor in a dead faint.

  “Carry her into the parlor, and I’ll see to her there,” Sister Sophia instructs. “She shouldn’t be doing magic, as ill as she is.”

  “What did she do?” I hear Maura ask, glancing down at our fallen headmistress scornfully. “She certainly didn’t help Hope.”

  “Miss Ashby c kMi hear Mauran’t reveal what she can’t remember,” Sister Inez says simply. She claps her hands twice, and everyone crowds into the front hall. “Girls, I do not mean to alarm you, but perhaps this is the time for alarm. This is the first raid the Brothers have conducted here, but it will not be the last. We must be vigilant. If you possess any banned books, please see to it that they are concealed by magic whenever they are not in use. The Sisterhood is obviously no longer above suspicion.”

  • • •

  The next morning, I’m heading down to the library with an armful of anatomy books filled with diagrams of the human body. Despite our protestations that our healing is magic, Sister Sophia is determined that we learn the science, too. Our current task is memorizing the two hundred–odd bones of the human body. And while I’m a bit preoccupied right now with the Brothers rounding up supposed oracles and Finn applying for a job that could get him killed, I’m not willing to look a dunce in front of the other girls.

  I’m dawdling down the stairs to the first floor when I pass Tess going up. I smile at her, but she seems lost in thought. Nothing unusual in that. But then her slipper catches in the hem of her peach brocade dress, and she stumbles, books spilling out of her arms. She catches herself on her hands and knees just before her face mashes into the wooden railing.

  “Are you all right?” I gasp. She’s always been apt to run into things while her mind’s preoccupied, but she doesn’t normally fall up stairs.

  She gazes up at me—no, through me, her gray eyes unfocused.

  “Tess?” I hold out a hand to help her up, but she doesn’t move to take it.

  “I’m fine.” She picks herself up.

  She doesn’t look fine. She’s gone pale; her smile is forced, and she’s not looking me in the eye.

  I lean down and pick up her books—two thick, dog-eared tomes of the history of witchcraft. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  “I said I’m fine, didn’t I? Have you gone deaf?” She claps a hand over her mouth.

  I bite my lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to badger you.”

  “It’s not you.” The way she’s looking at me now, though, it’s as if she’s never seen me before, as if she’s studying me. Weighing me.

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” she says finally. Evidently I’ve passed muster. “Can we go to your room?”

  “Of course.” My stomach twists as I lead her upstairs. What has her sounding so dire?

  Sunlight billows into my bedroom through the gap in Rilla’s curtains, slanting across the colorful hooked rugs, glinting in the mirror over our dressing table. I usher Tess inside and shut the door.

  “Rilla’s at botany for another hour, so we shouldn’t be interrupted.” I feel a tiny stab of jealousy, wishing I had time in my schedule for botany. My roommate barely knows the difference between tulips and roses, or peonies and ranunculus.

  Tess sits at the foot of my bed, knees pressed to her chest. I kick off my slippers and sit at the other end, facing her, my long legs stretched out between us. I want to ply her with questions, but I bite my tongue. I know from experience that Tess will speak when she’s ready and not a moment before.

  “There’s no easy way to say it. Will you promise to listen, and not interrupt?”

  I twist Mother’s ring on my finger. “I promise.”

  Tess props her pointy chin on her knees and gazes at me, her face scrunched up just like Father’s. “I’ve been having visions. I wasn’t sure at first. It started—well, I think it started some time ago, but I didn’t realize what it was. When it happens, I feel light-heade kl l’t sure d, and sometimes I lose sight of where I am. I’ve got a half dozen bruises from knocking into things. For a while, I thought I was hallucinating, that it was a fever, or some kind of fit. But then the things I saw started coming true. The bonfire, with the Brothers burning piles of books. The Dolamores moving away after Gabrielle was arrested. Little Adam Collier falling through the ice on their pond. Our barn cat having kittens—three white as snow, one black. How could I see those things before they happened? How could I know?”

  My baby sister’s voice is calm as she explains how she has logically deduced that she is a seer.

  “Those are just a few examples. I’ve had a dozen visions, and so far seven have come to pass, that I can tell.” Tess’s gray eyes are intent on mine. “It didn’t happen very often at first, but now—I’ve had two just this week. I think—Cate, I think I’m the new oracle.”

  I struggle to keep the panic off my face. I mustn’t frighten her.

  “Have you told anyone else?” I whisper.

  Tess shakes her head. Her hair is down today, in two long blond braids. “No. I don’t want—” She gulps, and her voice quavers just a little. “I don’t want people to think I’m mad.”

  My composure shatters. I dive across the bed, wrapping her in a fierce hug. Her skin smells like vanilla and spices. “No one would think that. You’re the sanest person I know. Look how calm you are. I’d be hiding under the bed if it were me.”

  Tess burrows her face in my shoulder, and I rub her back in circles, the way I used to when she woke sobbing from nightmares.

  “Brenna went mad,” she mumbles against my neck.

  I pull back and look down into her worried little face. “You are not Brenna Elliott.”

  “She’s the only other person I know who has visions.”

  Her worry breaks my heart. It was the first thing I feared, too. How long has she been fretting about it? It’s too heavy a burden for her to manage on her own. “Brenna wasn’t so bad before she went to Harwood. That won’t happen to you.”

  “If the Brothers knew—if anyone else found out—”

  “They won’t.” My voice is sharp. “You’re a witch, Tess, and a powerful one. You can do mind-magic. If someone suspects, you can protect yourself.”

  Even Mother would approve of that.

  “The Brothers are killing all those girls because they’re looking for me,” Tess whispers. “They took Hope away yesterday, and—and Maura wants to kill Brenna, and it’s all my fault.”

  “No.” I put my hands on her shoulders and look her right in the eye. “It is not your fault. It’s—it’s all dreadful, but it’s not down to you.”

  Tess fiddles with the golden locket around her neck. “It’s so strange, Cate. Like a flash of memory, except I see something that hasn’t happened yet. It’s as clear as a photograph. On the stairs, just now, I saw Sister Evelyn slip on ice and break her arm. I don’t know when it will happen—today or tomorrow, or February or next year. But I know it will.”

  Sister Evelyn teaches botany and history, and she’s the oldest person I’ve ever seen. Her skin is a wrinkled brown like a chestnut, and she has hair like wispy cotton and a pair of half-moon spectacles. She looks as though a strong wind could blow her away, but she still manages to care for her prizewinning orchids out in the conservatory.

  I pull the pins from my hair, just for something to do with my hands. “Have you seen anything about us?” She hesitates, and I panic. “What did you see? If you don’t tell me, I’ll only imagine the worst.”

  Tess flushes. “You and Finn Belastra. You were kissing. It was dark. You were in a pink dress with rose kessthes all over it. It’s the one Elena just brought for you;
I helped her pick out the fabric, after I saw you in it. You looked pretty.”

  “Oh.” I blush, too.

  “You’ve been meeting him in secret, haven’t you?” Tess asks. There is no judgment in her voice, and it occurs to me how lucky we are it’s Tess having these visions. In the wrong person, this ability would be terrifying. If it were Maura—well. I’m glad it’s Tess. “Is he some sort of spy? He can’t really believe in the Brotherhood. He’s not that sort.”

  “Did you see that, too?” I lean forward, eager.

  Tess looks at me as though I’m very dim. She must be feeling better. “No. That’s common sense. I can’t see any other reason he would shut down the bookshop, unless it was to help you somehow. He loves books.” She gives me a tiny, owlish smile. “He must love you more.”

  “Is that all you’ve seen about me, or you or Maura?”

  “I saw us opening Sister Cora’s letter yesterday. That’s why I spilled my tea on it,” she confesses. She picks up one of the books she was carrying. “I’ve been reading about the oracles since I got here. I need to find out if their visions always come true, or if sometimes the details change. If I see bad things, can I prevent them from happening? I felt so awful when Adam Collier fell through the ice. His father found him in time, and he’s fine, but—it could have been terrible.”

  “That wouldn’t be your fault.”

  Tess skewers me with a glance. “It’s nice of you to say that, but you wouldn’t feel that way if it were you, would you?”

  I lean back again

  st the brass headboard, my hair loose over my shoulders now. She doesn’t need me to make false assurances. This isn’t the problem of a child; I can’t keep treating her like one. “No, likely not. I’m glad you told me. Thank you for trusting me with it.”

  Tess nods, tracing circles on the red leather cover with her fingertip. “I think you’re the only person I should tell, for now. I feel dreadful keeping it from Maura.” She takes a deep, jagged breath. “I’m afraid she’d be angry with me if she found out. She wants to be the prophesied witch so much. But it feels too big to keep all to myself. I—I’m scared, Cate.”