Born Wicked: The Cahill Witch Chronicles, Book One: The Cahill Witch Chronicles, Book One

by Jessica Spotswood

  It makes me wish things were different. ThatIwas different.

  Mother was very clear; magic was not a thing to play with. Inheriting it wasn’t a gift or a mark of pride. It was a burden, and a heavy one, and we had to learn to wield it well enough to make sure we were safe.

  What would it have been like to learn magic without all her warnings, without the fear and anxiety that pervaded all of our practices? Would the Brothers’ lectures still make me feel sick with guilt?

  “Keep trying,” Sachi says, and I do. Once the teacup rattles promisingly, and they both stop their own efforts to watch. I try again. This time, it scoots forward three whole inches.

  Rory puts her fingers in her mouth and gives a piercing whistle. “Brilliant! It took me weeks to learn that.”

  “Me, too. You’re amazing,” Sachi proclaims. “You must have a natural gift for this sort of magic.”

  I look at her suspiciously, but she’s not mocking. She actually thinks I’m good. Lord, but I have misjudged these girls.

  Half an hour later, I climb into our carriage. Sachi and Rory stand at the gate, waving and calling that they’ll be at our tea on Tuesday. The carriage jolts over the cobblestones, but I’m so exhausted, I could nap. I feel as though I’ve been clobbered over the head with a shovel; there’s a dull ache in my temples and my legs feel leaden. Is this why Mother didn’t tell us it was possible to animate objects? Was she waiting for us to be older and stronger?

  She knew she was dying, though. If she was worried for us, she should have taught us everything we were capable of. Why didn’t she want us to be as powerful as possible?

  Because she thought it was wrong,a small voice inside me suggests, and I go still with the certainty of it. She wanted us to be normal girls, safe and ordinary.

  But we’re not. And seeing Sachi and Rory—seeing how free and fearless they are—it makes me wonder. Perhaps Maura’s right. I’ve been trying to follow Mother’s example because I had no other. I thought keeping us safe meant hiding our magic away, resenting it for the danger it put us in. Perhaps it doesn’thaveto be that way. Lord knows, now more than ever, we need every possible means of protecting ourselves.

  John drops me off in front of the house and helps me down. I don’t go inside; instead I walk toward the garden. I owe my sisters an apology. I should have been helping them learn instead of preventing them. It’s important to keep up a veneer of respectability, yes. To dress well and fit in with our neighbors. Elena can help with that—and Sachi, too. But beneath that—as long as we’re careful—we could be learning new spells.

  We’re not alone in it anymore. We have Sachi now, and Rory. Elena, backed by the entire Sisterhood. The thought brings me a surprising amount of comfort.

  I work out my thoughts as I walk. The apology’s muddled—I hate admitting when I’ve been wrong—but the plan of action, moving forward, is good. Perhaps if I let Elena teach us animation and healing spells, she’ll tell the Sisters that we’ve been cooperating, and they’ll be satisfied with our progress. It’s not a permanent solution—but it may buy us a bit of time, enough for me to learn more about the last part of the prophecy. For me to figure out whether the Sisterhood can be trusted.

  My face falls. Only—I haven’t much time to spare. The early October sun is warm, the sky a bright robin’s-egg blue full of puffy white clouds, but autumn is here and November is coming. If I don’t make up my mind soon, the Brothers will force my hand.

  I’m so absorbed in my thoughts that I don’t notice the butterflies until they’re flying past my head.

  Blue butterflies with gold wings. Pink butterflies with orange spots. Butterflies with tiger stripes and topaz eyes.

  I’ve never seen anything like them.

  I stop, amazed. They’re flying in a steady stream out of the rose garden.

  I hear a bubbly laugh and hasten forward. It’s Maura. I’d know that spun-sugar laugh anywhere. But if the butterflies are moving—when did she learn to do animation spells?

  I slip around the tall hedges into the garden, hoping to surprise her.

  I’m the one who’s surprised.

  Elena Robichaud sits on the bench, a thin cigarette between her lips. She’s blowing smoke rings. As each ring rises, she transforms it into a butterfly that flutters after the others.

  And Maura—Maura’s sprawled on the grass in one of her old dresses, her red hair shining in the sun, watching Elena with adoration.

  Elena glances up. “Hello, Cate.” She gives one more puff on her cigarette. The smoke ring becomes a butterfly with velvety, ruby-tipped wings. Then she takes the cigarette from her lips, tosses it to the ground, and crushes it beneath one boot. “Maura and I were just going over animation spells. Would you like to try one?”

  Anger rolls over me. All her pretty words of friendship aside, I don’t like this woman. I don’t trust her with Maura. When we were very little, Maura used to look atmewith that sort of hero worship—like she would follow me anywhere, embark on any mad scheme I suggested.

  There’s a book at Elena’s feet, brown with white lettering. I focus on it. I shut out everything else, and I do not let the possibility of failure enter my mind.

  “Agito.”At the Elliotts’, I gave the teacup a gentle tap with my mind. There’s nothing gentle in the way I heave this book now.

  It whizzes through the air and flies across the garden, landing exactly where I wanted it: at the foot of the statue of Athena.

  “Cate!” Maura gasps. “Where did you learn that?”

  I stride into the center of the garden. “Elena, I’d like to talk to my sister. Alone.”

  “We’re having a lesson,” Maura says haughtily, resting on her elbows. “You’re interrupting.”

  “A good thing, too!” I wave a hand back toward the house, half hidden behind the tall shrubbery. “I hardly think this is what Father hired her to teach us!”

  “I wasn’t aware you knew how to do animation spells,” Elena says.

  “Neither was I,” Maura grumbles, standing and brushing bits of grass from her pale yellow skirt.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I just learned it today.” But I feel a twinge of guilt for the other secrets I’m keeping from my sister. There are so many: my mind-magic, the prophecy, the letter from Zara, kissing Finn. If I was angry to find her practicing magic with Elena without my permission—well, multiply that by ten, and I imagine it’s still not as furious as she’d be with me.

  “Liar, you did not!” Maura gasps, planting her hands on her hips. “I’ve been trying all afternoon and I can’t move anything yet.”

  I sigh, leaning down to yank out a fast-growing weed. “Yes, well, occasionally I do manage to pound something into this thick skull of mine.”

  “That is quite fast, though,” Elena says slowly, and my stomach plummets. Why did I have to go and boast?

  “Whatever you want to talk about, you can tell Elena. She wants to help us,” Maura insists. She reaches down, plucks a pink rose, and tucks it behind one ear.

  I take a deep breath. “So she says.”

  Elena stands, scowling. “If you’d stop being so childish and admit that—” She gathers herself, running a hand over her hair. “No. You’re right. The two of you ought to talk. I’ll be in my room.”

  Maura and I watch her go, swishing elegantly out of the garden, her dark skirts hissing against the cobblestones. Somehow, I feel as though I’m the one who’s come off badly in this.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Maura demands.

  “She’s a stranger! And youtold herabout us!” Maura doesn’t answer. I stride forward until we’re nose to nose, my heeled shoes clapping against the cobblestones like a horse’s hooves. “Didn’t you?”

  Maura crosses her arms. “Oh, what if I did? Do you think I need to ask your leave?”

  “Yes, actually! Youshouldask my leave, and Tess’s, too. It’s not only your secret, Maura.”

  “What do you think she’ll do, expose us to the Brothers? She’s a
witch herself. She wants to teach us things. She knows heaps of spells we don’t. We can trust her, Cate.”

  “Can we? She hasn’t been entirely honest with you.” I bite my lip, ignoring the fact that I haven’t either. I sit on the bench, the marble still warm from Elena’s body. “With any of us, I mean. It’s no coincidence that she ended up here, in a house with three witches. The Sisterhood—they’re all witches.”

  “All of them?” Maura gasps. I nod, but her reaction isn’t what I expected. “That’s—Cate, that’s dozens of witches in the convent in New London alone! Elena’s been hinting about my joining the Sisterhood, and I didn’t understand why, but—oh! That makes sense now, doesn’t it?”

  Maura’s eyes are sparkling with excitement, her cheeks flushed. She catches at my sleeve. “We could join them! They could teach us all about magic, and we’d be in New London, and we wouldn’t have to marry any wretched old men!” She twirls around, her pale skirts flaring out around her. “It’s absolutely perfect!”

  Oh no. “Maura,” I say gently. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Why not? It’s not as though you’re in love with Paul. You said yourself you don’t really want to marry him. We could all stay together, and we’d be safe from the Brothers.”

  She looks so happy. So pretty, spinning around in the sunshine.

  And she’s right. Now that I know what the Sisterhood is, it’s a viable possibility. It’s certainly better than marrying an old man and playing nursemaid to half a dozen brats. But something about Elena’s promises feels disingenuous. It’s got to be difficult, keeping the Sisters’ true nature a secret. Would they ask me to use my mind-magic on their enemies, like in the old days? Is that why Mother married Father and fled to the country?

  You will be hunted by those who would use you for their own ends. You cannot trust anyone.

  Was Mother being over-cautious, or was her warning justified? What does she know about the Sisterhood that I don’t?

  Maura reads the doubt on my face. “Or you could marry Paul after all. If Tess and I joined the Sisters, we’d all be in New London together! You havechoices!” she chirps.

  Do I? Then why don’t I feel happy about any of them?

  She spins around again, then falls over into the grass, dizzy and delighted with the prospect of escape. Our little corner of the world is enough for me, but it isn’t enough for her. Maybe it’s all the grand romances she’s read; maybe it’s the stories Mother used to tell over her cradle. She wants more than this. She said it last week, quite plainly, but I don’t think I realized how much she wants it until this very moment.

  Elena saw it straightaway. She’s a canny girl, Elena. She says she’s here to protect us, but meanwhile she’s been trying to recruit Maura. Does she think Maura’s the prophesied one? Or does she just suspect that once she has Maura, Tess and I will fall in line? She has to know how much I love my sisters, how inextricably my promise to Mother has become woven into my life. I’d give up my own happiness if it would ensure their safety. If the Sisterhood is what they want, if it would ensure the Brotherhood couldn’t touch them—I don’t see how I could object.

  “Elena’s wonderful,” Maura continues, scrambling back to her feet. Her hair is disheveled; the pink rose has fallen to the ground. “She’s clever and kind and she’s been nothing but generous. You ought to be nicer to her.”

  “She may be all those things, but she hasn’t been exactly forthcoming. She was sent here to spy on us and see if we were witches. I think it’s reasonable that I was suspicious.”

  “Well, now that you know why, you ought to apologize for being so rude.” Maura sits next to me and gives me a hug, looping her arm around my waist. “I know you’re not used to me being close with anyone else, but her friendship is important to me. I wasn’t angry when you were invited to tea with Sachi and Rory and I wasn’t. You can’t be peering over my shoulder trying to protect me all the time.”

  I watch a lone purple butterfly flapping its way back through the garden. It lights on the yellow goldenrod, wings twitching. “I’ll always want to protect you. No matter what.”

  Maura shakes her head. “Well, stop it. Think about your own future for once. The Sisterhood might be the perfect solution for all of us.”

  The door to Elena’s bedroom is open. She’s a dark silhouette against the bright window, a picture framed by green curtains. “I was expecting you,” she says, turning. Her petal-pink lips are pursed, thoughtful. “I told you before, Cate, we needn’t be adversaries. But I’ll

  tolerate only so much rudeness. I think you owe me an apology.”

  I close the door and lean against it. “You should have talked to me before you started teaching Maura magic.”

  “You’re not her mother,” Elena says bluntly. She sees the stricken look on my face and holds up a hand. “I don’t say that to hurt you, Cate. But she

  doesn’t need your permission, and neither do I.”

  It does hurt me, whether she means to or not. I stalk into the middle of the room, practically vibrating with anger. “I could dismiss you, you know.” “The Sisters would only send another girl in my place, and she might not be as patient as I’ve been.” Elena shakes her head, silver earbobs

  swinging. “I don’t want to fight about this. But I have a job to do here, and I will do it, regardless of your cooperation. Do we understand each other?” A trickle of fear slides down my spine. “Perfectly.”

  “Good. Now. Maura’s a bright, curious girl. It isn’t fair to hold her back.”

  I loom over Elena, glad for once of my height. “Don’t you tell me about my sister. I know her better than you do.”

  “Do you?” Elena cocks her head doubtfully. “Because I must admit, I don’t think keeping things from her is very kind. The prophecy affects her

  future, too. She’ll be furious when she finds out—and rightly so. What if she’s the most powerful? She ought to know, so she can protect herself.” I frown. Loath as I am to admit it, what she’s saying makes sense. Maura and Tess do deserve to know. The secrets have been weighing on my

  conscience for days. “I told her about the Sisterhood, just now.”

  “Only in an attempt to warn her away from trusting me, I’m sure,” Elena says.

  Am I that transparent? “Well, I’m not convinced wecantrust you. If we wanted to join the Sisterhood—what would that entail?” Elena settles into one of the high-backed green chairs beside the hearth and indicates that I should take the other. I perch uneasily, poised for

  flight. “There are a few dozen other students, all witches, ranging in age from ten to twenty. You’d be instructed in the various kinds of magic, as well

  as the history of the Daughters of Persephone. If you are the three sisters, it is the very safest place for you. You’d be well cared for, given anything

  you need.”

  I hesitate. “And if we don’t want to go?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?” Elena throws her hands up in the air. Her silver ring catches the sunlight. “You can’t tell me you want to stay in this poky little

  place forever. Your neighbors are fools. Your father’s never home. What’s left for you here?”

  I stare past her, out the window at the newly shorn fields. It’s not my neighbors or Father who makes this place feel like a home. It’s the graves on

  the hillside. The rose garden. Tess, playing the piano after dinner. Maura, acting out scenes from her novels. Paul. Finn. There’s me. If I decided not to go, would Maura and Tess leave me behind?

  “It might not seem very grand to you, but it’s still our home.”

  “Maura hates it here, and Tess feels stifled. They’d have access to a marvelous education—magical and otherwise—with the Sisters. I think they

  could be convinced quite easily. So this must be about you. Is it because of Mr. McLeod?” Elena clasps her hands together in her lap. “Maura says

  he intends to go back to New London. You could still see him from time t
o time. If you aren’t the most powerful, after you finish your schooling, we

  would consider allowing you to leave the order and marry. We have a network of former pupils who remain our eyes and ears all over New

  England.”

  Who spy for them, she means. I keep my face purposefully blank, focusing on the wallpaper over her shoulder. It’s a pale green with leafy pink

  tulips. “What if I am the most powerful?”

  “Then we’d need you to remain with the Sisters. You haven’t made Mr. McLeod any promises, have you?” Elena leans forward, gripping the

  curved arm of her chair, then relaxes. “It doesn’t matter. Engagements can be broken before you declare your intent. The Brothers wouldn’t get

  involved if you discovered a religious calling.”

  I grit my teeth together. “I’m not engaged. Not yet.”

  “Really? What’s prevented you? His interest seems clear enough,” Elena muses, and I wish I could snatch my words back and stuff them back

  down my throat. “Perhaps it’s time you do a little thinking, Cate. You’re so preoccupied with your sisters—have you ever taken the time to search

  your own heart?”

  What does my heart want? I stare down at the dusky pink rug.

  I picture myself kneeling in a garden of my own. It’s not a grand, winding labyrinth of hedges and flowers and statuary. There’s no gazebo, no

  pond. There’s a red maple or two, and some rosebushes with red and white buds. I’m planting bulbs and roots that will grow into tulips and peonies.

  My hands are deep in the cool, moist soil. Sitting on a bench nearby is a man, reading aloud from a book, the way Father used to in the evenings. The man is not Paul McLeod.

  He’s got brown eyes and spectacles and messy hair that refuses to lie flat. He’s got a map of freckles over arms that are surprisingly strong. He’s

  got a smile that makes my heart pound when he stops and looks over at me midsentence.

  “If you’re capable of mind-magic—” Elena’s breath catches. “You could help other girls like you, Cate. There are other young witches out there,