“Now,” she said, wiping her hands on her jeans, “lemme see about that last bit.” Nor’s arms looked as if they’d been wrapped in barbed wire. When Judd pulled her hands away, long quills came with them.
“That was a mighty stupid thing to do, girlie,” Judd said to Nor when she was finished. “If Fern was, as she said, here to see you, then you certainly gave her something worth seeing. In fact, I can bet that you’ve piqued her interest now.”
“What do you mean?” Nor examined her foot. No blood, no cut, no scar.
“You ruined her fun,” Judd said. “And you fought back. You fought her off.” She eyed Nor with interest. “Not many can do that.”
“It’s possible that she regards you as a threat now, dear,” Apothia added.
“A threat?” Nor balked. “I’m not a threat!”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Judd replied. Nor shifted uncomfortably under her grandmother’s gaze.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” Judd asked.
Nor quickly shook her head.
“So we’re just chalking it up to dumb luck, then? Fine.” Judd grunted. “If that’s the case, as soon as Pike and Sena Crowe return, I’m having them haul your ass up to the Coldwater place before that luck runs out.”
“If Fern returns —” Nor started.
“If Fern returns, then I guess we’ll just have to hope that dumb luck of yours rubs off on the rest of us.”
“Why don’t you go pack up a few things?” Apothia said, gently pushing Nor toward the stairs. “Maybe take a shower while you’re at it.”
Nor reached up to touch the gash on Apothia’s cheek. How much worse might it have gotten had Nor not reached for that blade?
“You should ask Judd to heal this for you,” she said, but when she took her hand away, the wound was gone, and her own fingers were covered in glossy strands like spun sugar. Apothia raised her hand to her healed cheek, but didn’t say a word.
Bijou followed Nor into the bathroom. Nor shut and locked the door, and Bijou curled up against the heating vent in the wall. Years ago, Astrid, the fifth daughter, had paneled these walls with cedar, but the room had long ago lost that clean and woodsy scent. Now it had a musty odor that clung to the towels and to Bijou’s fur when he spent too much time sleeping against the vent.
Nor peeled off her torn clothes, tossed them into a corner, and stepped into the shower. She washed her hair twice, combing out the burrs with her fingers. She sank to the bottom. The scalding water poured over her and rinsed all the blood and grime down the drain.
She got out and wiped the fog from the mirror. Her skin was red and blotchy from the hot water. Her hair dripped down her back.
“What did you do?” she muttered at her reflection. She could feel her magic still pulsing under her skin like a heartbeat. Her hands shook with the power of it. What would happen if her mother returned? Could she fight her off again? Nor wasn’t sure. Was she strong enough to carry all these Burdens on her own?
Or would they swallow her whole?
In her bedroom, Nor stuffed some clothes into a duffel bag. After hearing someone on the staircase — probably Pike or maybe Sena Crowe — she quickly slipped on a pair of jeans and put an old army jacket on over her damp skin. She grabbed her phone — dead, of course — and her necklace with the crow’s claw off the top of the dresser, scooped up Bijou, and clomped down the stairs in her combat boots.
Sena Crowe was waiting for her in the stairwell at the second floor. Without a word, he reached out and took the duffel bag from her shoulders. “You good?” he asked. She nodded. They both knew she was lying.
Judd was sitting in a chair by the window, smoking her pipe. Nor needed her grandmother to be formidable and fearsome. She needed the Giantess, not this worn-down woman staring out the window.
“Here,” Nor said awkwardly to Apothia, trying to hand Bijou off to her. “He throws a fit when I leave him behind.”
Apothia kissed her cheeks and pushed Bijou back into Nor’s arms. “Then you should take him with you.”
Nor nodded. She glanced at Judd one last time and then followed Sena Crowe. Outside, the naked trees shuddered in the wind.
Pike turned the key and — after a few false starts — the engine of the yellow Jeep sputtered to life. It gave a lurch, and soon the three of them were bumping down Meandering Lane. The cold seeped in through the Jeep’s open doorframe, and Nor pulled her jacket tighter. The Sweet and Savory Bakery was empty. Outside the Willowbark General Store, a discarded umbrella swung forlornly from the porch railing. It seemed only the Witching Hour was still open, though there didn’t appear to be any customers inside. Or anywhere for that matter.
They came to a stop before turning onto Red Poppy Road. Nor couldn’t hear any birds chirping or leaves rustling. Bijou whined softly; he didn’t like the unnatural quiet. Neither did Nor. It felt as if the entire island was holding its breath. As if, like Nor, it too was trying to determine if the danger had passed.
They continued driving in silence. At one point, Pike suddenly veered, taking the Jeep off road. Nor clung to the sides of her seat as they bounced over the rough terrain. Branches whipped at her face and arms. And just as Nor was beginning to think the island was far larger — and wilder — than she’d ever known, the trees finally gave way to a large circular clearing.
Pike parked along the perimeter. He grabbed Nor’s duffel bag, swung it easily onto his shoulder, and motioned for her to follow him and Sena Crowe toward the largest of the fifteen or so houses scattered throughout the area.
Most of the houses, while well kept, looked as though they were originally built a century ago, with lacy peaked roofs and pointed windows and doors like those of a cathedral. Equal parts sparse and elaborate, the houses brought to mind a gingerbread house. The kind of house a fairy-tale witch might live in.
The thought struck Nor as extremely funny. She started to laugh, but then composed herself before Pike and Sena Crowe could decide she’d gone completely crazy.
They passed by a grandiose fountain in the shape of a woman holding a giant bowl above her head. It was more than double the height of even the tallest of the houses. Water spilled from the bowl onto the woman’s breasts and into the basin at her feet. She wasn’t the only statue on the compound. Each house also had its own wooden sculpture. Most were beasts — a mix of real and imaginary: a bison with the wings of a bat, a brown bear with ox horns, a wild cat with the barbed tail of a dragon and the forked tongue of a snake, a horse with the head of an eagle.
The creepiest was what looked like a woman with abnormally long legs and arms that hung all the way to the ground. Her clawed fingers were curled as if awaiting something to grip or to strangle. This one was faceless, its features charred as if they’d been burned off.
“They’re supposed to be frightening,” a voice called.
Charlie was making her way toward Nor from across the compound. To Nor’s dismay, Gage followed closely behind, a scowl on his face.
“At least, that was the intention,” Charlie said, coming up beside her. She patted the leg of the statue fondly. “Rona called them our aegises.”
“Aegises,” Nor mused. “That’s from Greek mythology, isn’t it?” She was ignoring Gage’s dark look, the one burning a hole in the side of her face. Even if her hair caught fire, she would not turn her head. It’s not my fault I’m here, she wanted to say. It’s not like I was given a choice. “The aegis was the name of the shield that protected Athena,” Nor said instead. “She was the goddess of wisdom and of warfare.”
Charlie nodded. “And just like the aegis was made to protect Athena, Rona made our aegises to protect us.”
“She made them to protect herself,” Gage grumbled. He gestured with his cigarette. “That we also benefit from their protection was just an accidental but fortunate by-product.” Angrily, he stabbed out his cigarette on the statue’s leg. Almost as an afterthought, he brushed off the ash before storming away.
“It’d probably be best to ignore him today,” Charlie said. “He’s pissed off that Dauphine still won’t let me or him join Pike and Sena Crowe on their patrols.”
“Patrols of what?”
“Well, you’ve noticed the change on the island, right? The plants and the weather and the whales disappearing? Whatever’s causing it — whether it’s your mother or something else — we’re betting isn’t anything benevolent or benign. For weeks now we’ve been sweeping the island to make sure we aren’t caught unaware. Did a whole lot of good, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“Your mom got on the island anyway, didn’t she?” Charlie pointed out. “But I guess that’s kind of her whole deal, huh? Getting people to do what she wants? She didn’t want us to know she was coming, so we didn’t.” She caught Nor’s arm before they went inside. “But hey, don’t worry. We were made for this. We keep the Blackburn women safe, even if it’s from another Blackburn woman. It’s our duty. Our —”
“Burden,” Nor finished for her.
Charlie shrugged. “Depends on how you look at it, I guess. Do me a favor, though, and try not to take Gage too seriously. He does enough of that all by himself. But like the rest of us, there is a part of him that’s glad you’re safe. Granted, it is a very small part,” she admitted, “but I believe it exists.”
Nor looked up at the monstrous figure looming over them. From this angle, the statue seemed to block the entire sky. “Sure it does,” she replied softly.
All too soon, Nor found herself cloistered in the finished basement of Dauphine Coldwater’s house. From the few windows that sat high along the basement’s walls, Nor watched night fall; every half hour or so a pair of feet passed along with the sweep of a flashlight.
Pike and Sena Crowe sat on the stairs, spitting sunflower shells into an empty Coke bottle. Dauphine’s wolfhound — whom they ridiculously referred to as Steve — was stretched out at the bottom of the stairs. To the common observer, the great beast appeared to be sleeping, but his ears were pricked, as if all his energy were being expended on listening.
The basement was crowded with old boxes and mismatched furniture. Worn couches were draped in colorful tapestries. There was a pool table, a rip in the center of its green felted top. A broken-down piano sat in a corner. A casbah lantern cast elaborate diamonds across the walls.
Gage flopped onto one of the ancient couches, and Charlie settled herself on one of the pillows littering the floor. She pulled out a deck of tarot cards from her pocket. The cards were soft with wear. With expert hands, she quickly shuffled the deck and then drew out three cards and set them in a row on the ground in front of her. “The first card represents what’s happening now,” she explained to Nor, flipping it over. “The Five of Swords typically points to conflict, tension, and betrayal. Sound about right so far?”
Nor nodded skeptically. Gage let out an exasperated sigh.
Charlie ignored him. “This one will tell us what we need to do about it.” She flipped over the second card and furrowed her brow. “Hmm, the Hanged Man is the willing victim. It typically represents self-sacrifice, but,” she was quick to add, “that shouldn’t be taken literally.”
She moved to the third card. “And this should tell us the outcome.” Charlie flipped over the card, revealing a picture of a burning tower. The color drained from her face. She plucked the cards off the floor and stuffed the deck back into her pocket.
“What is it?” Nor asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Charlie’s face had turned from white to pink. “It’s just a silly hobby. I obviously have no talent for tarot whatsoever.”
Something told Nor she did, but she didn’t push it. Whatever that card meant, Nor could bet it wasn’t anything good.
“But I promise you don’t have anything to worry about,” Charlie said to Nor, smiling. “You’re safer here than anywhere else.”
“Anywhere else on the island, you mean?” Nor asked.
Charlie waved her hand in the air. “I mean, anywhere else anywhere.”
“It’s charmed,” Gage explained. “Undetectable. Another gift from the benevolent Rona Blackburn.” The sarcasm in his voice was so thick, Charlie hit him with a pillow.
“If someone were to seek us out without having been invited,” Charlie continued, “they’d just drive around and around the lake until they mysteriously found themselves back on the main part of the island.”
“So even if Fern wanted to find me —”
“She wouldn’t be able to.”
“I gotta say,” Pike said from the stairs, “you gave her a good fight. Don’t you think, Sena Crowe?”
Nor thought of her magic guiltily. Though it seemed to be subdued for now, she could still feel it vibrating underneath her skin. Like the wolfhound, it too was on alert. Why Nor was able to resist her mother’s coercion was something she didn’t want to talk about or have examined too closely. Nor searched for a topic of distraction. She pointed at the wolfhound lying at the bottom of the stairs. “You do know that Steve’s not his name, right?”
Pike patted the dog’s large head. “Of course it is. We gave it to him.”
“What is it then?” Charlie asked anyway.
“Burn,” Nor said simply.
“Burn?” Pike repeated.
“Yes, Burn. He’s over a hundred years old, and you all seriously thought his name was Steve?”
The room was silent for a moment, then erupted in laughter.
“Burn. No shit,” Pike exclaimed. “Well, that is a lot better than Steve, isn’t it, boy? To Burn!” he toasted, holding the Coke bottle full of sunflower shells in the air.
“To Burn!” they all exclaimed.
“So what’s he thinking now?” Pike asked Nor excitedly.
“That you’re an asshole,” Sena Crowe answered. “You don’t need to be able to read his mind to know that.”
While everyone else in the room laughed again, Nor climbed into a musty-smelling sleeping bag and snuck a peek at her phone. She’d forgotten to plug it in. Of course. There was no easy way of getting in touch with Savvy. Or with Reed.
It wasn’t much later when the lights in the room went out. Charlie and Gage had both returned to their own houses to sleep in their own beds. Gage had left without saying a word.
Nor listened to the crunching of footsteps on the gravel outside the basement window and to the low murmurs of Pike and Sena Crowe talking quietly at the top of the stairs. Bijou curled up on Nor’s pillow. Nor rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Though she may have been safer here, she wanted to be in her own room. She wanted to be able to see the moon. All she could see here was a water stain that looked to Nor like a knife. She fiddled with the crow’s claw, slid it back and forth along its chain, and tried to remember a time when she’d felt more alone.
What are you doing?” Gage asked, his voice thick with ennui. The two of them stood facing each other at opposite ends of a training mat set up in a secluded spot at the edge of the compound. They’d been at it for hours. Sweat dripped down Nor’s back. The sun was setting low over the horizon, and Nor envied its chance at a reprieve. Gage’s arms were crossed. “I keep telling you. You have to plant your feet.”
Nor looked down. “I did,” she insisted.
“No, you didn’t. If your feet were planted, your attacker wouldn’t be able to do this.” And with that, he stepped forward, grabbed her wrist, spun her around, and stepped on the back of her knee. She yelped and dropped to the ground with a thud. By the time Nor had gotten her bearings, Gage already had a fistful of her hair clutched in one hand and a knife against her throat.
Asking Gage to spend any time with her was asking for more grief than Nor needed. But this morning when he had said he doubted Nor could defend herself against a Jack Russell terrier — to use his words — Nor had insisted on proving him wrong.
; It was a decision she regretted now more than anything.
It had been almost three weeks since Nor had moved onto the compound. She was allowed to leave only if she had an escort — namely Pike or the taciturn Sena Crowe — with her. She’d barely seen Judd or Apothia and barely spoken to Savvy. Reed thought she was spending time with family. Nor hated lying to him, but what was she supposed to say? Oh, you know, just your typical family drama — I’m pretty sure my mom wants to kill me, so I’m just hiding out for a bit. At least when she talked to Savvy she could tell the truth.
Nor pulled herself up and assessed herself for injuries. She had fresh bruises on her knees, but most of the damage had been to her ego.
Gage sighed. “You’re fine. That’s what the mat’s for.” He spun his knife on the tip of his finger by its point.
Nor cursed him silently. “I didn’t know you had a knife.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he scoffed. “I’m sure whoever you’re defending yourself against will be sure to tell you exactly what weapons they’re carrying. But okay. Let’s try a different tactic. You take the knife.” He flipped the blade easily in his hand and handed it to her, hilt first.
Nor gawped at it. “I — I don’t want it,” she insisted. Her fingertips itched to grasp the hilt, to touch the coolness of the blade. Apothia had been right to keep the knives hidden.
“Just take it.”
“No,” she said, backing up. She stared at the gleaming knife, her heart pounding too fast and too hard in her chest.
“Jesus, Nor. Take the damn knife!”
She grabbed the knife from him and immediately threw it to the ground. “I don’t want it!” Tears welled up in her eyes. She swiped at them angrily. “Fine! You win, all right?” she screamed at Gage. “I’m no good at this!”
Gage spat and snatched the weapon from the ground. He stabbed the knife into the leg of one of the statues, then stalked off. Blood welled up from the slice Nor had cut into her palm.
Later that night, Nor lay on the couch in Dauphine’s basement. The occasional murmur of voices from upstairs drifted over her. The old house creaked and moaned. Bijou, curled up on her pillow, shifted in his sleep. The tiniest tip of tongue stuck out from between his teeth.
The Price Guide to the Occult Page 13
