‘Thereis nothing Iwon’tdo,”IsworeandIflippedmysisterusingamove she’dtaughtme.But,ofcourse,itwasn'tmysisterIwasfighting.Notreally.
Andtheeyesofthatfiend,theeyesofmysisterwerewideasIstraddledher, kneesonherarms,andchokedher.Iletgoofher,forasecondtodipmy forefingerinthebloodshe’ddrawn.
Andthen,Iusedmyownbloodtowritearuneonherforeheadforsleep.A swift,stringentcommandinproto-Romanianpoweredtheruneandshedropped.
ItwasonlyafterItooklong,shakybreathsdidIrealizethatI’dusedtheether magicratherthantraditionalmagic.OrmaybeIhadusedboth.Iwasn’tsure.But
thenecromancyinmehadcomeoutasIdealtwithwhateverwashauntingmy sister,andithadbeen effective. Today,foronce,IwasgladtobewhatIwas,to havethetoolnecessarytohelpmysister.
Mysisterlayontheground,asifdead.Butthebarelydiscernibleshallow breathstoldmewhatIalreadyknew.Thatsheslept.Ilookedaroundandsaw thattheminivanandtheguywiththedogwaslonggone,butthekidswith skateboardswerewatchingme.
“Don’tmindus,”Itoldthekids.“Shestolemysweater.”
Onelaughed,whileanotherbackedaway.Butathird,withtheglowof magicabouthimsaid,“Thecopsaren’tgoingtodelayforever.”
Inoddedonce,leaneddown,andgrabbedmysisterbytheankles.Itossed theskateboardersoneofthosecasual,upwardnodsandthenleanedover.My sisterwassmall.Shecouldreasonablybecalledadorable.Ihadinfuriatedherby callingherapocketfulofcutemorethanonce.Thatdidnotmakedraggingher inertbodyacrossthefieldanyeasier.Ihadtoignorethethrobbingpaininmy armandthehorrorofwhatIhaddoneinmymind.Ihadtosetasideeverything andfocusonthenextstep.
ThepaininmyarmintensifiedasIdraggedBrantowardstheancient wagon.Herheadandshouldersburrowedatrailinthegrassanddirt.Whenwe’d foughtbefore—we’dfoughtinquickexchangesthatendedalmostbeforethey began.Ithadbeenyearssincewe’dactuallywrestledandpulledhair.Andeven thoughIhadbeenthroughsomeprettyintensethingssinceI’dgoneawayto school,myreactiontothishadleftmeshakierthanIwouldhaveexpected beforehand.
Theyoungwitchjoggedacrossthegroundtome,magicready,hatturned aroundbackwardandjeansridinglow.
“Youneedtogetgoing,”theskateboardingwitchsaid.
Ilookedhimupanddown.I’dletgoofmymagicanddidn’tpullitback now.Instead,Iasked,“You’renotalarmedbythefactthatI’mdraggingan unconsciousgirlacrossafield.”
Ihadstumbledtoastopandstoodwavering,lookingdownatmysisterand wonderingwhatinallthehellsIwassupposedtodotohelpher.
Thekidshuffledasheanswered,“Itookholdofmymagicandmywitch senses…I’mnotcomfortablebeingthisclosetoherevennow.What’swrong withher?”
“Sheis,”IhuffedasIdugthroughherjeansforthecarkeys,“haunted.”
“Ohshiiiii,”hestarted,butstoppedwhenweheardsirensinthedistance.
Hefinishedhiscurseunderbreath,apparentlyfightingtheneedtorunandthe needtohelp.
“Lifeisnevereasy,”ItoldhimandgrabbedBranbytheshoulders.“Take herankles.”
Hehelpedmetoliftmysisterintothewagon,Icoveredherwithanold blanket,andwrotethe‘obfuscate’runeonthebackwindowwithmyblood.And thenIfocusedmywaveringpowerandwillandorderedinproto-Romanian,
“Burn.”
ThegarbageatthebackofschoolburstintohighflamesasIheldontothe sideofthewagon,andforcedmybodytothedriver’sseat.
“Ohman,”thekidsaid,joggingtowardshisfriendswhowerealready scatteringaway.Giventhewaytheyfled,Iguessedthatifthepolicefoundthem around,itwouldn’tbethefirsttimetheyhadgottenintrouble.
“Gottago,”Iorderedmyselfandstartedthewagonwiththerealizationthat thesmellofoldladyandmoldwasfadingwiththesmellofmyblood.
Chapter8
IwouldhavedrivenuntilIreachedMarthaandcollapsedintomybed,but thatbitedemandedattention.Somethingwasnotrightwithit.Morethanjustthe factthatmysisterhaddrawnblood.Itwasbleedingmorethanitshouldhave, thoughwhatdidIknow?
Except,whenIcaughtmyowngazeinthemirror,Iscaredmyself.Myeyes weretoo-dark,thecirclesunderthemwerechasms,thepalenessofmyalready paleskinwasalarming.Somehowinthestruggle,Branhadgottenagoodhitin onmyfaceandwhenshe’dknockedherheadback,she’dgottenmynoseand mouth.
Imustbeinshock,Ithought,asIstaredatmybloodyfaceandnoticedfor thefirsttimewherebloodhadstartedtodryaroundmynoseandlips.Ihadbeen tastingbloodandhadn’tevenrealizedit.MyphonebuzzedanditwasDaddy, andthistime,Ihadtoanswer.Ineededtohearhisvoice,Ineededtofeelhis strengthafterwhatIhaddone.SoIpulledthecaroverandanswered.
“Rue,baby,”hesaid.
ThesoundofhisvoiceandthefactthatIwasbeatenandbloodywithmy unconscioussisterinthebackofmycarmademecry.
“Daddy…”MyvoicesoundedsimilartohowitmusthavewhenIwas5, andhe’dholdmyhandafterabaddream.“Iwant you tobemydad.”
“VerucaDominiqueJones,”hesaidsternly,“I am yourDad.Thathasn’t changed.”
IshudderedandittookmeseveralattemptsbeforeIsaid,“She stoleyou for us.”
Hetookashaky,shiverybreathandthenhesaid,“Iknow.ButIcould never regretyouoronemomentasyourDad,Veruca.”
“Youshould,”Itoldhim,usingmysleevetowipesomeofthebloodfrom myface,mostlysmearingit.“We’resnakes.”
“You’remybaby,littlesnake,”hesaid.“AndIloveyou.”
Ilaughed,ashuddering,tear-filledlaugh.Itwasquietforabreathandthen Idaredtoask,“Whatareyougoingtodo?”
“I…”HisvoicecutoffandIcouldhearthefloodofemotionthathewas holdingback.And becausehewas myDaddyandbecauseIknewhim,and becausehe’dwalkedmeasababy,andheldmeaftermynightmares,and fathered meinallthewaysthatmattered,Iknewwithmyheartandmymagic thathewasconflicted.“Irememberlovingyourmother.ButIdon’tfeelit.”
Iwantedtosaygood.ButIcouldn’t.Istartedtospeak,stopped,startedand thenstoppedandthenIfinallyadmitted,“IwantyoutoloveherDaddy.Iwant thingstostaythesame.Italways mattered thatmyparentslovedeachother.
But…”
AnothertearrolleddownmyfaceasIforcedmyselftospeakwhatwas true,“You don’t loveher.Andyoudeservetoloveandbeloved.”
Daddyclearedhisthroat,andIknewhewascryingtoo.Iknewthathewas brokentoo.Iknewthathewishedthingshadn’tchangedtoo.
Buttheyhad.Andgodsand monsters,therewasnogoingback.
Thenpaininmyarmpulsated.Myfacefeltnumbandtightanditachedina waythatsaiditwouldhurtmorelater.Iwas tired.Iwassoul-wornandbroken andIneededmyDaddytolovemysnakemother,andmysistertonotbe hauntedandsomanymorethings.Ineededschooltobelesscomplicatedthatit was.Ineededforthereto not besomestupid,supernaturalcallingpending.I needed…IneedednottohaveanotherfamilywhoIdidn’tknowanddidn’tknow whattodowith.
Butthatwasn’tmylife.AndIwasn’tgoingtogetanyofthosethings.
“Daddy,”Ilied.“Ijustwantyoutobehappy.”
“That’sallI’veeverwantedforyoutoo,baby.”
“Youaren’tgoingtobehappystayingwithMotherwithoutthepotions,”I toldusboth.Aspainfulasitwas,ithadtobesaid.Mostly,Ineededtohearit andacknowledgewhatIwanted.Asterribleasitwas,Iwouldneverresteasy leavingmyDaddywith her.
“No,”hesaid.“No,Iwon’t.”
“Andifyoutakethemagain,itwon’tchangeknowingthat
it’sallalie.”
HesniffledandIknewagainthattherewasthisbigpartofhimwhowanted togoback.Whowantedtotakethemagain.Whodidn’twanttoknowthetruth.
Sometimes,thetruthmightsetyoufree.Butthecagehasitsownallure.
“WillyouhatemeifItakethemagain,”hisvoiceshookandcrackedandhe sniffled,andIwantedtobeghimtotakeitagain.Topretendforme.
“No,”Isaidstarkly.Andknewitfortruth,painfulasitwas.Andsaying thathadhurtfarworsethanthebiteonmyarm.
“WillyouhatemeifIleaveyourmother?”
Gods.
Ithurtmemoretoanswer,“No.”
Iwantedtobeghimtotakethepotionsagain.TobetherewhenIwent home.Tonotleaveandfindsomeotherlife.Ididn’twanthimtomovebeyond homeeventhoughIknewIwouldneverlivethereagain.Theanchorofmy parentsunitedhadbeenstolenfromme.Ididn’tknowhowtokeepgoing withoutthatsecurity.
“Iloveyou,Veruca.Nothingwillchangethat.Ihavebeenoffthepotions forawhilenowandthathasn’tchanged.Notonelittlebit.”
“Notforme?”Iasked.
“Notforyou.”Hereplied.
Isniffedandusedthetrailoftearstocleanupsomeofthebloodonmyface asIlookedtowardsthebackofthewagonwheremysister’sunconsciousbody wascoveredwithanoldblanketandthenasked,“NotforBran?”
“NeverforBran.Neverforyou,”Daddypromised,andthetruthwas evidentinhisvoice.Itdidn’tmatterthathehadn’tbeenmybiologicaldad.There wasalinkbetweenhisheartandmineandthewitchinmeheardthetruthwhen itcamefromDaddy.Hearditandknewitforwhatitwas.
“ButforMother.”Thiswasn’taquestion.Itwasanacknowledgmentof whoshewas.
“I…”DaddystruggledtoreplyandIknewthathewantedtosayheloved her.Hewantedtogivethattome.Andtohim.Andtoourfamily.Buthe couldn’t.
“ThingshavechangedasregardstoyourMother.”
Suchapreciseanswer.
Ilookeddownatthebiteonmyarmandreachedovertograbthebottleof waterthatwasrollingaroundinthepassengerseat.Icrackedthedooropen, ignoringthesoundsoftraffictopourwateroverthebite.Therewasaflashof grayandblackinthewound.Well…damn.
WasBrancontagious?ButthesoundofDaddybreathingsocarefully distractedme.
Hefinallyclearedhisthroatandasked,“SomethingiswrongwithBranka?”
“She’shauntedDaddy.”
“Haunted?”Hisvoicewascutoffashesaid,“ExcusemeAutumn.Iam speakingtoVeruca.”
ButMothermusthaveignoredhimashervoicecameoverthephone,“If sheishaunted,she’sdangeroustoyouaswell.”
Ilookeddownatmybitewithmymagicsensesandcaughtthatsamesort ofgray,black,edgingthatshouldn’thavebeenthere.
“Yeah,”Irepliedcarefully.“I’mfiguringthatout.SayIwasbittenbyher.”
“Bitten?”Mothersoundedworried.Shewasworried,Igaveherthatmuch.
Shewasalovingmotherenoughtostealusagoodfather.Wasthatsickand twisted?Yes.Butitwas how someonelikeAutumnJonesloved.Ididn’tknow whatorhowtodealwiththat,soIshoveditawaytofocusonthefactthatIwas probablyinfectedwithahaunting.
“Youneedtocleanseit.”
“How?”Isnappedather,butforonce,sheignoredit.
“Fire.”
“Fire?”IgaspedasIimaginedhowbadlythatwouldhurt.
“Abalminfusedwithsage,butitwouldneedtohaveaged.Idoubtanyone aroundyouhassuchathing.Ofcourse,I did. Butyoursistertookcareofthat.
Andfireisthoroughenough.Maybeifyoucanfindagoodhealer.Usetheright runes?”
Well,gods,Ithought.Iknewagoodhealer.PortiaHallowwasamemberof theHallowFamilyCouncil,ahealer,andconvincedthatIwasn’tgoodenough tobetheHallowofHallowhouse.Idid not wanttogotoherforhelp.ButthenI rememberedthesightofBran’srollingredandyelloweyesfilledwitha presencethatdidnotbelongtoher.
“Whatrunes?”
Ilethertellmewithoutscreamingather—anddespitetheflashesofgray andblackinmybite,itwasridiculouslydifficultnottocutoffherexplanation andrageinstead.
I did knowagoodhealer.PortiaHallowwasagoodone.ThelastthingI wantedwastoaskherforhelp,butthenIrememberitwasn’tthelastthingI wanted.ThelastthingIwantedwasallofthethingshappeningtomeandthoseI loved.
Perhaps,Icouldmusteruptheabilitytoaskforhelp,regardlessofwhowas givingit.Whatdiditmatternow?MyphonebuzzedandIpulleditawayfrom myeartoseeJessie’sfaceringingin.
“Gottago,”Itoldher.Beforeadding,“WhatyoudidtoDaddywas unforgivable.”
“Iam still yourMother,VerucaJones.Andyouwillspeaktomewith respect.”
Mysnortwastheonlyreplyshegot.
IwouldhavehungupbutDaddytookthephoneback.
“Veruca,baby,”hesaid.
“Yes,Daddy?”
“IknowIcancountonyoutotakecareofyoursister.Andyourself.”
Gods,Ithought,layertheworryandguilton,butIknewthathedidn’t
intendtodothat.HereallythoughtIcouldfixBran.Hehadnoidea.Noideaat allwhatwashappening.Hewasa pharmacist.Heworkedinthelittleisland pharmacydolingoutdepressionmedsforgrayskiesseasonalbluesandbirth controlpills.ButIknewthathedidn’tintendtomakemefeelasresponsiblefor whathappenedtoBranashewasactuallydoing.
“Daddy,”Isaid.“I’mgettingacall.”
I’dhaveliedratherthantellinghimthatIwasn’tsureBranwasgoingto makeit.Butliesweren’tnecessary.Jessiewascalling.
“Ok,baby,”hesaid.“Iloveyou.”
“Hello,”Ianswered,consideringhowthoroughlyscrewedIwasatthat moment.
“Whereareyou?”
“Noidea,”Itoldher,watchingthegleamoflightsflashbywhileI calculatedjusthowmuchlongerI’dhavetodrivelikethis.I hurt. Iwas tired. I wassotiredIcouldfeelitinmystomach.Inmybones.Inthewaymymindwas buzzingandshuttingdown.
“You’reindanger,”Jessiesaidinarush.“I’vebeenlearningabout hauntings.They’rebad.They’recontagious.She’sgoingtoattackyou.She’ll keepcominginandoutuntilshe’ssuccessful.”
“Yeah,”Isaid.SomethingmusthavecomethroughbecauseJessiechoked.
“Areyouok?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Sortof.”
Ipressedmypalmsintomyeyes.
“Youneedtoconfineher.”
“She’ssleeping,”Iconfessed.
“Thenshe’llbeeasiertoconfine,”Jessiesaidwithoutsympathy.Shewas serious.“ Youhaveto,Rue.”
Thecardoorwasstillopen,soIshovedmylegstowardstheroadandtook adeepbreathasIstoodup.It hurt. Ithurttomoveandtobreathandtofigure outhowtotieupmybabysister,whoIadored.
“We’llfigureouthowtohelpher,”Jessiesaid.“IcalledFinnandDr.
Hallow.”
“Lovely,”Isaid,knowingIwouldhavedonethesame.Eventually.Damn it,Bran,Iwantedtocurseather.Toyellather.Toscream.Icouldn’thandlethis.
Notwitheverythingelse.ButIhadn’tbeengiventhatchoice,hadI?Ishuffled throughthebackofthewagonbuttherewasnothing.Felixtooktoogoodcareof thewagon.Itmightsmelllikeoldlady,butithadbeencleanedwell.
Andwithoutleavingbehindahandypieceofrope.Istaredaroundalittle blanklybeforeIrealizedthatI’dstoppedandJessiehadkepttalking.
“Rue?Rue?Hecate!Rue!”
“Oh,”Isaid.“Idon’thaveanythingtotieherupwith.I’lljustdrivefaster.”
“No,”Felixsaid.HemusthavetakenthephonefromJess
ieormaybeIwas onspeaker.Ididn’tknow.“Useyourshirt.UseBran’s.Useyourbra,butyou tie herup.”
“IfIweren’tsotired,”Isaid,“You’dbefreakingmeout.”
“Whereareyou,”Felixaskedgently.Hisvoicespoketome.Itcalledtome.
Inthissortofsurrealmoment,IrealizedthatifIdidn’tlovehim.I could.It wouldbesoeasy.
“Idon’tknow.WewenttoBoston.”
“Boston!”
“Rue,”Jessiesaidgently,“Youdon’tknowhowlongyourspellonBran willhold.Youputhertosleepwithaspell?”
‘Yes,”Iagreed.
“Thehauntingwillfightthespell.Youcan’tcountonit.Andifthehaunting wakeswhileyou’redriving,you’llbeinbigtrouble.”
AvisionofBranatthefieldcamebacktome,thesnarling,thewayshe’d saidshewassohungry.Inodded.HercrawlingtowardsmewhileIdrovewasa terrifyingthought.
“Rue?”Felix’svoicewasgentleagain,butinsistent.“Doyouunderstand?”
“Sure,”Isaid.Iputthephonebetweenmyshoulderandeartoslipmybra offandwalkaroundtothebackofthewagon.HavingBranasyoursistergave youallsortsofskills.Tyingpeopleupwasoneofthem.AndoneI’dswornI’d neverneed.Ifwebothgotoutofthisintact,I’dhavetothankher.
IknottedmybrasoundheranklesuntilIcouldseethey’dhurtandthenI pulledtighter.Sometimesyoudidhorriblethingsforthepeopleyouloved.And therealizationthatmymotherhadusedthatsamejustificationtostealmydaddy mademeill.
Herankleswouldn’tbeenough,soIflippedheroverandtookoffherknee highsocks,tearingthemusingmyteethandmagic,andthenknottingthem togethertomakeacrappyrope.Regardless,Iinfuseditwithmagicandrunes andthenboundmysister’sarmsbehindherbackandherwriststoherankles.
ShewaswellandtrulystuckunlessthehauntingwasstrongerthanBranwasall onherown.
ThatthoughtmademeshiverandIrenewedmyruneonherforeheadand putanotheronherstomachandanotheronthebackofherneck.
Hopefullythatwouldbeenough.Thoserunesremindedmeofwhatmy motherhadsaidandIstumbledbacktothefrontofthewagonanddugthrough mybaguntilIfoundasharpiemarkerandwrotealongmyarmaseriesofrunes
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