Always a Witch

by Carolyn Maccullough

  "I'm sorry," I murmur, lacing my fingers through his. His hand feels cold. "Don't try again."

  But he's shaking his head. "It's okay," he whispers. "I just did. Nothing. I still can't find anyone." He closes his eyes again and seems to go into a half-sleeping trance. I swallow, refrain from asking any more questions. I had spent the previous night awake, watching him sleep, reassuring myself that as long as I could hear him still breathing, everything would be okay. That there was still a chance to get him out of this mess alive.

  Now I pull my knees in tight to my chest. It's the night of Samhain. A full moon presides over a clear sky filled with thousands of stars. A little over an hour ago, Philben and Phineaus had driven off together in the family carriage to the meeting point where they planned to steal Jessica. I refused to go. Not that anyone had asked me to.

  The library door creaks open and Isobel emerges, followed by Cera. The older woman's face is pale, and the lines bracketing her mouth deepen as I stare at her. But it's Isobel who speaks. "The spell is ready. All it needs is the blood of a Knight."

  Cera draws in a breath and I steal a sideways glance at her, but she remains silent.

  "I'll go ahead," Isobel says to Cera. "To prepare the altar." And she slips away without looking at me. Motioning toward Gabriel, who still has his eyes closed, I rise from the leather chair where I've been sitting and cross the room toward Cera and the fireplace. Fixing my eyes on a bunch of herbs drying over the mantelpiece, I whisper, "Tell me again how this is supposed to work."

  Cera sighs, holds out her hands to the blaze, and rubs them together slowly. "You really don't understand spells, do you?"

  I shrug. "I wasn't exactly taught them when I was growing up." I had explained as much of my history to her as I was able to.

  "Yes, well, I imagine when you and your young man go back, you'll find that all that will have changed."

  This is a sidetracking thought, but I let myself go there. Everything will be different. I'll have always known about my Talent. No one will have kept it from me. Maybe I'll never feel the need to escape Hedgerow and go to boarding school in Manhattan. Maybe I'll never get to meet Agatha. Then I shake my head—as of right now, there's nothing to go back to.

  "As you do know, our power comes from the elements."

  "Earth, Air, Water, Fire," I quote.

  "Yes," Cera agrees. "But Blood and Time are also considered elements. Those we rarely touch or call upon. They can be ... dangerous. They can so easily spiral out of control."

  "But the Knights aren't afraid of that."

  Her mouth twists downward. "Clearly not." Reaching up, she tugs the bunch of herbs free and begins shredding them between her fingers. A spicy-sweet smell rises from the torn leaves. "If we call all six elements down at once with the blood of one of their own, we think we can ... change or seal their power away." With a flick of her fingers she tosses some of the leaves into the fire. The flames burn green for a few seconds.

  "With the blood of one of their own..." I echo softly.

  "It has to be," Cera says quietly. "Their blood will bind the spell. Blood calls to blood. Everyone who shares the sacrifice's blood will be affected. Their Talents will be bound up in the Domani and they will never be able to use them again." She hands me a branch of the herb. "Heartsease," she murmurs. "Good for a troubled mind."

  Shivering, I trace my finger through the green sap that oozes from the torn leaves. So, they'll be ordinary. Just like ... Talentless people. Something I've assumed about myself for so many years. Only the Knights wouldn't have years to get used to that reality. They'll have mere seconds. "Would you have done something like this if Thom hadn't died?" I ask.

  Cera shrugs, rubbing her fingers down her dress as if to clean them of the sap. "It's not likely," she says at last.

  I try to keep my voice even. "Even though they're killing people? People without Talents, but people all the same—"

  "I know that," Cera says flatly. "But those people have nothing to do with us."

  "But, why? They're still—"

  "Listen," Cera says fiercely, snatching another bunch of herbs to shred into the fire. "Back in the old countries, before we came here, we were followed and persecuted. Sometimes killed for what we had. By those very same people. My own great-grandmother was burned at the stake because she could ease anyone's pain and heal most sicknesses. I watched, in a crowd full of those very same people she had cured, as a man dressed all in gray lit the sticks below her feet on fire. And that night we fled. My mother, my brothers, my grandmother and grandfather. My cousins. We had no choice. Except to stay away from those people for the rest of our lives and to make sure our children did as well." She pauses, studies her knotted hands. "And I hope you'll teach your own children the same."

  "I don't know about that," I say slowly. "I thought I was one of those very same people for so long. My best friend is one of those people. My Aunt Beatrice married someone who wasn't Talented. They're not so bad," I finish, staring down at my green-stained fingers. "Jessica wants to be one of those very same people." I press the little stem of dried leaves to my lips, inhale the scent. It's not working. I think I'd need a bucketful of heartsease.

  Cera crosses to the other side of the room and reaches up one hand to unhook another hanging bunch of herbs.

  There is a creak of carriage wheels. Gabriel sits upright, his eyes flaring open. "What's going on?" he murmurs thickly.

  Cera's face turns toward the window and I follow her gaze. First Phineaus climbs out of the carriage and then turns, holding open the door. Philben emerges with a body wrapped in a long dark cloak. As he shifts his burden, the cloak falls back. I can see the edge of Jessica's sleeve and her white throat. Philben glances at the sky, then toward the house. His face is inscrutable. Then he and Phineaus turn and head toward the woods, following the path that Isobel took earlier. In just seconds, they are swallowed up by the darkness of the woods.

  Shivering, I look away.

  Cera regards me for a moment and her face is just as inscrutable as her brother's was a moment earlier. "It will be over quickly," she murmurs, and pressing the rest of the heartsease into my hand, she turns and leaves the room. A minute later, I hear the front door slam.

  "Tam?" Gabriel says from the couch.

  "They've got her," I say tonelessly. I cross the room again and sink down beside his chair. After a minute, I feel his fingers in my hair.

  "There's still time," he says.

  "What?"

  "To stop this."

  I struggle upright and stare at him. His skin is flushed, but his breathing is steady as he says, "We don't have to go through with this. We can go into the woods, grab Jessica, and go back to our time."

  I shake my head. "That solves nothing. I can't bring a Knight into the future. They're determined. And for some reason the book is telling them that it's her. The youngest daughter's sacrifice." I stare into the flames. Sacrifice. Apparently, you don't understand what it means to sacrifice for your family.

  Bolting upright, I say, "Alistair."

  Gabriel's gaze darts to the window as he struggles to sit up. "What? Where?"

  "No, sorry. Not here. It's something he said. Something at that Knight dinner about how he saved his family by sacrificing himself." I jump to my feet. "It's not Jessica they need. Or they do, but not just her. I have to go."

  "Wait," Gabriel says, coming to his feet. "I'm coming with you."

  "No, you can't. You're not ... Sorry. I know I'm not supposed to tell you what to do."

  "Oh, Tamsin," Gabriel says with a beatific smile as he links his arm through mine. I try not to stagger as he leans most of his weight on me. "There's hope for you after all."

  I don't have the heart to contradict him.

  Twenty-Four

  A SHARP WIND IS RISING as we exit the farmhouse, making the weathervane horse spin and spin. Clouds have scudded across the moon. Our feet crunch over frozen ridges of earth as we run for the woods. I stumble once in the com
plete darkness, and Gabriel's hand tightens on mine.

  "This way," he says after a second, leading me to an overgrown path that winds into the tangle of trees.

  "Please don't let it be too late." I whisper those words over and over as we thrash our way through brambles and low-hanging branches. Finally, up ahead I can see pale ladders of smoke climbing into the sky. They've started the bonfire already.

  We took a life. A terrible solution... my grandmother's voice cautions.

  "Took is the operative word here," I mutter to myself, just as the wind, redolent of herbs and pine, slaps me in the face.

  We thrash our way through the trees until finally we break into the clearing. Through the flames I can make out the four points of the massive altar on which Jessica is now lying. Isobel stands to the North of the altar with Philben on her left for the East and Phineaus below her to the South. Cera, her face calmly sorrowful, stands at the right of the altar, representing the West. A low chanting rises from the woods and fields that surround the altar. Shadowy forms and faces flicker through the smoke and firelight. The rest of the Greene family has assembled.

  Gabriel steps up beside me, puts one hand on my shoulder just as Cera holds her two cupped palms over the altar. A thin stream of dirt trickles from her fingers as she intones in a clear voice, "Earth, rich and deep, nourisher of all, from life to death, calls to the West. Accept our offering."

  "Accept our offering," everyone says at once.

  Next Isobel sways forward, her face intent. She, too, cups her palms over the altar, then leans down and blows on them once. "Air, giver of breath, invisible to all, from life to death, calls to the North. Accept our offering."

  "Accept our offering."

  I close my eyes and think back to the last moment I saw my grandmother. I'd sat at her feet in the library. She had sent everyone else out of the room just after she had Rowena consult the book that showed our future as a great empty blank space. Remember, it's up to you to allow when a person's Talent can work on you and when it can't. It's entirely your choice.

  Opening my eyes, I watch Isobel step back, gracefully giving way to Philben. He stretches his palms above the altar and fire licks from his skin to light the four candles placed on the stone slab. "Fire, bright and hot, giver of light, from life to death, calls to the East. Accept our offering."

  As everyone repeats these last words, Jessica's eyes flicker open. Her head twists to the left and then the right and then her mouth drops open in terror. Through the rising wind and the chanting, I can't hear what she's saying, but I can only imagine it.

  Phineaus moves forward, holding a small gold chalice. I close my eyes.

  "Water, sweet and pure, washing away all sorrows, calls to the South. Accept our offering." He tips the chalice forward and anoints the South of the altar with the contents of the cup.

  "Accept our offering," all of them echo. They step forward.

  Jessica's throat, bare to the moonlight, moves once as if she's swallowing her screams, and her eyes gaze upward as if she's begging for help from the sky above.

  A terrible choice, my grandmother's voice whispers once again to me, and suddenly instead of these nineteenth-century Greenes I can see the ghostly shadows of my family standing around the circle of fire. My mother is smiling up at my father and Rowena is laughing, her face bright with happiness, while all my uncles and aunts crowd in, clapping their hands and turning this way and that, swaying a little in the dark as if they're dancing. And I can see my grandmother, her face glimmering faintly in the moonlight.

  "It's not even a choice," I whisper back to her ghost shadow. "Not a choice at all," I add as Gabriel's hand tightens on my shoulder.

  I blink once and my shadow family vanishes. Thunder shakes the sky above me, and the rain sheets down. Wind is pouring through the clearing, whipping the flames higher and higher. Cera, with a face of stone, pulls a curved silver knife from her belt. She holds her other hand above Jessica's heart and the firelight catches on the little cameo watch hanging on a fine silver chain.

  Cera lifts the knife to the sky, crying out, "Oh, four elements and four directions, guide this knife truly and accept our plea." Lightning cracks, then seems to liquefy and pour directly into her hand, burnishing the blade. With a plunging motion, she thrusts the knife downward.

  In that same second, I gather myself and dissolve into Jessica's body. I have the strangest sensation of floating in a sun-warmed lake and then I blink and open my eyes, watching the knife descend like a shard of light.

  "Accept my offering," I whisper, just as Cera's voice says,"And this blood spilled will seal the spell."

  I close my eyes again, feeling an icicle where my heart used to be. Now I have the sensation of falling through darkening layers of water as I spread myself through Jessica's body, shielding her spirit with my own. This is my choice, my choice, my choice. I allow this, I whisper to us both. With the final shreds of strength, I turn Jessica's head to stare at the cameo watch face.

  In a blur of blood-red color, the watch hands begin spinning as lightning splinters down again, forming a cage of sparks over the altar. when the hour hand points to one degree east of a new day, I push Jessica's hand against her heart, willing it to heal. Only when her skin fuses together do I wrench myself free of Jessica's body to lie huddled next to her on the cold stone slab. Rain beats down on us both and I have one glimpse of Cera's horrified face before I turn my head back to Jessica. Her eyes are locked on mine, her lips trembling slightly as my blood continues to pour from my chest. A slow soft ticking fills my ears, little miniature chimes of the hour.

  "Why?" she whispers.

  Or maybe it's my heart beating its last beats as my blood and Jessica's blood seals the Domani.

  I form the words slowly in my head, force them to my lips in time with the doleful ringing of bells that is now clanging inside my head. Five, six, seven. "It was the right thing," I whisper.

  Her eyes travel downward to where I know my life is spilling away.

  I allow this, I allow this, I allow this, I whisper in my mind, watching her blood and mine mingle.

  The clock chimes nine. Quick as thought, Jessica presses her hand over my heart. Blood bubbles up through her fingers. Ten, eleven.

  "For once, for once in my life I will use it for when I want to, not for when someone else tells me to..." she whispers.

  On the twelfth chime her hand slips away and the edges of her face blur and dissolve into darkness.

  Twenty-Five

  SOFTNESS. WARMTH. FEATHERS.

  Feathers?

  Yes, feathers. Tickling my nose.

  "Acch-hooo!!" I come to life with a tremendous sneeze. My eyes fly open and I'm confronted with the flat yellow gaze of one of Isobel's ravens. It flaps its wings, resettles itself on the table next to the bed I'm lying in. Jerking its black head left and right, it lets out a sharp caw. And then another for good measure.

  "Tamsin?" My gaze swivels downward to where Gabriel is half sitting in a chair and half lying across the foot of the bed. He pushes up on his elbows, blinks his eyes at me once. "You're alive."

  I raise one eyebrow. "I see that you were so concerned that you fell asleep over me." The second the words leave my mouth, I'm sorry. The skin around his eyes has taken on a bruised look, and his hands are trembling as he clasps them together. But Gabriel only gives me that long, even look I've come to expect from him and moves closer up the bed to me while I fight my way free of the feather comforter, and then he's holding me so tightly that I can draw only the thinnest of breaths into my lungs.

  "Did it work?"

  He releases me and nods once. "It did." Then he begins pleating the edge of the coverlet between his fingers.

  Someone has to say it. "It's gone, isn't it?" I whisper. "My Talent."

  And suddenly tears are burning at the backs of my eyelids and I bring my hands up to my face and start to cry in huge, shuddering gasps.

  It worked the way I had hoped.

  A
nd the way I had dreaded, too.

  "It's in the Domani?" I ask, even though I know the answer.

  Gabriel nods again. "It's shielding all of the Knights' power. You ... did it, Tamsin. You found a way to make sure that none of the Knights would ever be able to take it back again."

  I lift my head and look at him, tears still dripping from my chin. On the bedside table, the raven hops a few steps closer, cocking its head, studying me.

  "So it worked? With Jessica's blood in there, too?"

  "Enough of that got in there, too. When you went inside of her, your blood joined with hers."

  I shake my head in wonder and then pull open my shirt. The faintest of lines crisscrosses the skin over my heart. "She healed me, though? She used her Talent."

  "It was the last time she could. The clock," he says, and I think back to the moments that are now swirled in my head.

  "Before it struck twelve," I say. "She healed me."

  Gabriel nods. "So you see, Tam? It's not gone, your Talent. It'll always be there in the Domani from now until ... forever."

  I nod, knowing there's no way to explain the despair that floods through me. Even though I had hoped for this, even though technically I've known that I had a Talent for only a few short months, the loss of it leaves me hollow inside. Now, staring up at the wooden beamed ceiling at the bunches of dried lavender and roses hanging from the rafters, I contemplate how nothing will ever be the same again.

  Gabriel reaches for my hands, but just then the door creaks open. Isobel and Cera enter the room.

  The raven squawks, flaps its wings, and circles the room twice. Cera waves her hand in the air, an irritated expression crossing her face as the raven swoops past her head to land on Isobel's shoulder.

  "Awake and well?" Cera asks me. I nod. "Any pain?"

  Just my heart. It feels like it's missing.

  "No," I say softly, aware that Isobel is studying me. She digs one booted foot into the floor.

  "Tamsin," she says softly. "I ... what you did ... for us. After everything..." She bows her head. "I'm sorry," she whispers.