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

by Jessica Spotswood

  alone and frightened. And girls who aren’t witches, too, for that matter—who are just odd and unlucky. They’re all at the mercy of the Brothers.” She

  slaps her hand against the curved wooden arm of her chair. “It’s not fair that girls have to grow up in fear, forced into making decisions about their

  future before they’re ready. If you’re the most powerful, you could help us change that. You could help the women of New England regain their

  independence. That’s a marvelous thing, Cate. You can’t ignore that.”

  Elena’s dark eyes are flashing, her serene face animated with the promise of this new future: a future where witches and women reclaim their

  power. I fall silent. She’s right. But this new responsibility is much bigger than anything Mother asked of me. The Sisters’ expectations, this

  prophecy, the notion of being responsible for the welfare of dozens of girls—it’s all very daunting.

  Elena watches me. “Do you swear to me you’ve never tried mind-magic?”

  “Yes.” Perhaps I can use Maura’s talkativeness to my advantage. Elena already thinks I’m conflicted about my magic—and that’s not entirely

  untrue. “I’ve always been frightened of it. The Brothers say such awful things.”

  “It can be dangerous, in the wrong hands,” she admits. “If you can’t do it, there’s no harm done. You can join the Sisterhood or not, as you wish.

  But if you can—better for everyone that we know it now. We’ll make sure you’re safe, and you won’t make any promises you can’t keep. Perhaps

  we ought to have a lesson tomorrow. All three of you can try. Then we’ll know the truth, won’t we?”

  No! I’m not ready. I need more time to weigh Elena’s words and Mother’s warnings.

  “Tomorrow?” I jump to my feet. “No. That’s too soon! Tess is only twelve, for heaven’s sake; you can’t have her trying magic that powerful yet.

  What if it went all wrong?”

  Elena tilts her head. She’s lovely in that high-backed chair, regal as a queen. “Her magic seems quite stable to me. I’ve been here two weeks,

  and I haven’t seen her lose control once.”

  Tess rarely does—even last year, when she was first learning. That’s not the point. I set my jaw. “I don’t want you teaching her mind-magic. Or

  Maura either. If I find out you are, I’ll have you dismissed.”

  “I don’t think Maura would like that.” Elena smiles. “She’s grown rather attached to me.”

  I head for the door. “I’ll do what’s best for us whether Maura likes it or not.”

  Elena leans back in her chair. “Even if she hates you for it?”

  My smile feels like it could crack in half. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “This might be different. If you send me away, she’ll only come to resent you more and more. I hardly think that’s what you want. Especially if you

  are the three sisters.”

  I pause, my hand on the doorknob. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “The last part of the prophecy. You don’t want to take any chances, do you? Tempting fate and all.” Elena shivers, and her eyes—I know that look. It’s the way people looked at us at Mother’s funeral. Pitying. “I don’t blame you for being upset about this, Cate. It’s quite distressing. I promise you,

  we will do everything we can to keep you safe.Allof you.”

  She knows about the last part of the prophecy.

  I can’t bring myself to admit that I don’t.

  Even if I don’t understand it, her pity could be useful. I turn to her, letting my eyes fill with tears. It’s not difficult. “We just need more time. Please.

  Give me a few more days to tell Maura and Tess, and let them get used to the idea. It’s all very sudden.”

  Elena frowns. “All right. I suppose a few days won’t hurt. But I expect you to keep your word, Cate. There will be consequences if you don’t.”

  CHAPTER 13

  I FIND TESS IN HER BEDROOM, nestled in her canopy bed, reading a book twice as thick as my arm. When I slam the door behind me, she sits up, throwing the blankets off. Her curls are mussed into a frizzy halo around her head.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “Nothing,” I snap. “Everything’s just grand. Would you like to learn a new spell?”

  “From whom?”

  “From me, silly.”

  Tess stares at me, gray eyes searching as though she’s trying to puzzle out the joke. “You hate us using magic.”

  I sit next to her, ducking beneath the gauzy green canopy. “I don’t hate it. I’ve been worried it would hurt us. But I’ve been thinking, and I wonder if we ought to practice more and learn some new spells. We’ll still need to be careful, but—”

  I’m cut off by a mouthful of hair. Tess flings herself at me, squealing, puppylike in her excitement. “Will you teach me now? Where’s Maura?”

  I take a deep breath. Tess’s room smells delicious, like cinnamon and nutmeg. I glance over at her bureau and, sure enough, there’s a plate with freshly baked pumpkin bread. Her own handiwork, no doubt. “Elena is going to teach her, I think.”

  “Elena? Our governess Elena?” Tess gapes at me. “How—why—how?”

  By the time I’m finished explaining about Elena and the Sisterhood, Tess’s eyes are round as saucers. “You know, she hinted at it the other day, during our French lesson—but I thought perhaps I was imagining it. I didn’t say anything about the magic, I swear.”

  “I’m not angry—not with you, at any rate. I’m not certain we can trust her.”

  “You don’t trust anybody,” Tess points out, the dimple in her cheek showing.

  “What do you think? Do you like her?”

  Tess taps a finger against her mouth, thoughtful. “I don’tdislike her,” she says finally. “But I’m not certain she has our best interests at heart, if she’s been sent here to find out if we’re witches and report back to someone.”

  I throw up both hands, thrilled to have my suspicions seconded. “Try telling Maura that!”

  Tess gives me a look, and for a moment it’s as though our roles have been reversed and she’s the older, wiser one. “Cate,” she sighs, as though I’m frightfully dim-witted. “We can’t tell Maura that. She’ll think we’re jealous.”

  “Yes!” I groan, falling backward onto the bed. “She thinks I’m upset because they’ve become so close.”

  Tess rolls her eyes. “Well, it is annoying. Maura’s so besotted with her—she hangs on Elena’s every word like she’s the most brilliant girl in the world.”

  I laugh and muss Tess’s hair. “We all know that’s you.”

  “I’m serious. Maura’s started adopting the way Elena talks, and all her little mannerisms. She’s desperate to impress her. But I suppose it makes sense. I’m Father’s favorite. You were Mother’s.” Tess says it matter-of-factly. “She wants someone all her own.”

  I’ve never once thought of it like that. “How did you get to be so clever?”

  Tess giggles, falling back next to me. “It’s not clever. It’s just paying attention to people.”

  Whatever it is, I wish I had her talent for it.

  “Time for lessons,” I declare, sitting up.

  “Wait.” Tess sits up, too, her hair tickling my arm. “Where did you learn new spells? Mrs. O’Hare said you went to the bookshop—did you find something about magic there?”

  The story of the prophecy can wait. “No. I learned them from Sachi Ishida.”

  “Sachi Ishida is a witch?” Tess whisper-shouts.

  I laugh and tell her how Sachi and Rory ambushed me over tea. Then I gather my energy. I think of Elena’s ultimatums, letting my anger feed the magic but keeping it at an even, steady boil.

  “Agito,”I say, and Tess’s ragged old teddy bear, Cyclops, soars into the air.

  “Desino.”It thumps back on top of her pillows like a kite without wind
.

  Tess stares at me wide eyed.

  I’m surprised, too. I didn’t think I’d get it on the first try.

  “You just learned that today?” she asks.

  “I did.” I hold my breath, expecting her to say it’s impossible. To call me a liar.

  “That’s marvelous!” She bounces on the bed. “May I try?”

  “Absolutely. Just—”

  “Be careful,” we say in unison, and I laugh. Am I that predictable?

  Tess focuses on Cyclops’s placid, one-eyed face. He lost one of his black button eyes years ago, but she wouldn’t let Mrs. O’Hare replace it. She said it made him more interesting, and changed his name from Barnabus.

  Tess takes a breath and lets it out slowly.“Agito,”she says, but nothing happens. She tries again, scrunching up her face. Her expression is just like Father’s when he’s translating a difficult passage.

  “It’s more difficult than illusions,” I explain. “You have to sort of—harness your energy. I felt like I could nap for days on the way home.”

  Tess pouts. “You made it look so simple.”

  “It’s not. It took me an hour to move a teacup. Rory said it took her weeks.”

  “Then I’ll have to keep practicing, won’t I?” From this angle, her jaw is shaped like mine. Pointy and stubborn.

  “Let’s practice together. You can help me with my silent spells, and I’ll help you with animation. Give us a few weeks, and we’ll be the cleverest witches in New England!”

  Tess grins at me. “You don’t ever do things halfway, do you?”

  I suppose I do not.

  The following afternoon, after our lessons proper, Tess and I closet ourselves in Father’s study to practice again. I suppose I’m feeling rather bold, breaking the no-magic-in-the-house rule Mother set, but now that Father’s gone and half the inhabitants of the house are witches, it doesn’t seem quite so dangerous.

  Tess sits dwarfed in Father’s leather desk chair and I lie on the curved red-velvet sofa. We take turns trying to float different objects from Father’s desk: paperweights and pens, stamps and sealing wax. We both show marked improvement. I manage half a dozen silent spells under Tess’s tutelage, and she hovers Father’s copy ofThe Metamorphosesa good six inches off the floor.

  Tess is pleased with our progress, but the rapidity of it worries me. We’ve both picked up animation much faster than Sachi and Rory said they did. Even casting silently doesn’t seem so difficult for me anymore. I always thought myself a poor witch, but now I wonder whether my lack of progress was due to lack of interest rather than lack of skill.

  Perhaps it’s the difference in our ages, but there’s no jealousy, no sense of competition between us. It helps that although Tess is the far better scholar—better at piano and chess, too—we seem evenly matched in our magic. It’s actuallyfun. I only feel guilty that it took me this long—this threat of losing her to Elena—to make me appreciate Tess more. To start seeing her as a friend, not just a baby sister.

  A rap on the door interrupts us. “Miss Cate, Mr. McLeod is here to see you.”

  “I’ll be right there, Lily.”

  Tess dances over to the settee, poking me with the fountain pen she’s just floated up to the ceiling. “Are you going to marry Paul? Lily and Mrs.

  O’Hare were gossiping about it in the kitchen when they thought I wasn’t listening.”

  I swat at her. “I don’t know. What did they say?”

  Tess chews on the end of the pen. “They think you’ll have to. But they don’t know about the Sisters, of course. What they really are.” “Do you think—” I push my doubts aside for the moment. If it’s what Tess wants, what Maura wants, I’ll have to give in. “Do youwantto go to New

  London and study with the Sisterhood? You can’t formally join them until you’re old enough to declare an intention, but Elena says they accept girls as young as ten in their school. She said their libraries are amazing, and they’d let you read whatever you like.”

  “Elena told me about the libraries. They do sound tempting,” Tess admits. I give her a tight smile. Elena did, did she? But Tess shakes her head, braids flying. “Still, I think I’d rather stay home and study with Father, and bake with Mrs. O’Hare, and take walks in the garden. Elena tries to make New London sound fun, but it just seems—noisy. And crowded.”

  “Well, you have years to decide yet,” I assure her, though I don’t know if it’s true. If we are the three sisters, will the Sisterhood let her stay home until she’s seventeen? “It’s only Maura and me Father’s worried about. Well—mostly me.”

  “Just wait until it’s Maura’s turn,” Tess says. “You know how she changes her mind. Even if she goes to the Sisterhood early, she’s likely to get to New London and decide she wants to marry a sailor instead. With you, at least we all know that once you make up your mind, you won’t change it.”

  “I want to stay in Chatham, especially if that’s where you’ll be,” I admit. “It’s just a matter of figuring out how. I could try to persuade Paul to stay here with me, but—”

  Tess throws her arms around my waist. “Do you think he would? I don’t want you to go. It’d be so lonely without you, Cate.”

  I hug her tight. “I don’t want to go, either.”

  “But you might have to.” She pulls away, her little face woebegone. “If you’re his wife, you’ll have to go and live with him wherever he wants.”

  Tess is right. I could be packed up and moved to the other side of the world if my husband wanted it. I’d have no more say than the footstool.

  “Do you really think Paul would drag me off kicking and screaming? That’s what he’d have to do, to take me away from you.”

  Tess smiles, her dimple flashing. “You promise?”

  “I promise.” But my conscience gives a great loud pang. I don’t know if I can keep that promise. Even if I can wrangle Paul into staying in Chatham, if the Sisters discover that I can do mind-magic, I don’t think they’ll allow me to marry. Elena talked of women gaining their independence —but what aboutmyindependence?

  My temper rises. It’s one thing for me to decide, voluntarily, to forgo marriage and join the Sisters and work toward their cause. I haven’t ruled it out. But I don’t care for being forced into anything. No matter how safe and beautiful it is, a cage is still a cage.

  Paul’s waiting in the sitting room, but he hasn’t removed his gray overcoat. He stands up and hands me a bouquet of white roses. I bury my face in them, inhaling deeply. “They’re lovely, thank you.”

  He smiles. His sunburn has faded, and his green eyes are bright against his tanned skin. “They’re not your favorites, I know, but Mother’s garden is anemic compared with yours.”

  Clever boy. Flowers and compliments on my garden are the surest way to my heart, and he knows it. “Have you been waiting long? I was studying with Tess.”

  “It’s all right. Maura stopped by and kept me company for a few minutes.” Paul leans against the piano. “Your sisters are getting to be proper young ladies, aren’t they? I can remember when Tess was crawling over the floors and we had to keep her from putting dirt in her mouth.”

  “She did have a talent for chewing on everything in her path. I think she ate half a worm once.” I laugh, remembering how revolted Mrs. O’Hare was to find the other half still squirming in Tess’s hand.

  Paul nods sagely. “Possibly it was for scientific purposes.”

  “Possibly. She was very inquisitive, even as a baby.”

  “There was that entire year when all she said was ‘Why?’ And you made up those ridiculous reasons for things.” Paul tilts his head to one side in that funny way Tess has, and pitches his voice high. He’s always been brilliant at impersonations. “‘Why do horses have four legs? Why isn’t snow blue? Why? Why?’”

  I laugh, trailing a hand over the closed lid of the piano. “Well, how am I supposed to know why bumblebees can fly and Tess can’t? Aside from the wings, I mean.”

&nbs
p; Paul brushes a stray hair away from my face. “You’re beautiful when you laugh.”

  The smile slips from my face. How did we go from reminiscing to flirtation? “Do I usually look haggard?”

  “You’re always beautiful to me,” he says tenderly, stroking my cheek. “But you worry too much. I’d take away some of your troubles if I could.”

  I wish it were that easy. I pull away, smiling stiffly. “I manage.”

  “I know you do. I’m not criticizing you, Cate. I’d like to help. Whatever it is. You can count on me,” he says, uncharacteristically earnest. Then he grins. “Shall we go for a walk?”

  I glance out the window, uneasy. It rained this morning, but now there’s a fresh wind whipping at the trees, sending the gray clouds skimming across the sky. I’ve been cooped up inside all day; I do want to go out. But what if we run into Finn?

  “Let me guess, it’s too cold,” Paul suggests. “You’re afraid to catch a chill.”

  I smack his arm lightly. “I am not!”

  “You’ve been spending too much time with Miss Ishida. You’ll become a delicate flower yet,” he teases.

  If only he knew. Rory turned one of the buttons on Sachi’s bodice into a centipede, and she hardly blinked. Sachi Ishida’s a good deal hardier than anyone suspects.

  “Nonsense,” I laugh. “Of course I’ll go.”

  I bundle up in my cloak and call for Lily. Once we’re out in the gardens, my nerves stretch out like a thin ribbon. The wind whips my skirts around my ankles and tugs threateningly at my hood. I find myself listening for the sound of hammering at the gazebo. I don’t hear it; I wonder if perhaps Finn isn’t here at all. Perhaps he was needed at home today. My heart sinks at the thought. The truth is, I’ve come to crave the sight of him.

  I turn my face up to the sky, reveling in the breeze that buffets my cheeks. At least I’m not cowering in the house.

  “Let’s go in here and get out of the wind,” Paul suggests, tugging me into Mother’s rose garden. “Lily, could we have a moment?”

  They don’t give me a chance to object. Lily scurries away, smiling fit to burst, and then it hits me: they’ve arranged this.