The Sisters begin to sing, the arcane words turning like smoke beneath the storm-dark sky, and Percy drops to his knees with a groan as they draw his magic out of him.
Martinez pulls his gun from his holster. The muzzle flashes once, and I fall back and down into heat and darkness.
22
Grass presses against my cheek, vaguely sticky. I lift my head and see that, once more, I have returned to my sisters.
Addie stands on one side in her brilliant, always-summer, always-daylight field. The grass ripples—green, then gold—as the breeze moves one direction and then the other.
Baby’s woods, silver beeches and dark oaks tied up with the green and white and blood of honeysuckle, lie on the other side. The moon and clouds send shadows chasing each other across the pale leaves on the ground.
And me, sprawled in the middle, dusky sky overhead, thick grass and weeds under my hands. I sit up, pull my sweater close across my chest.
“Delaney.” Addie strides toward me, no bigger than she was last time—still a lanky fourteen—but somehow, she towers over me. “What are you doing?”
I lick my lips and squint up at her. “What I want.”
She tilts her head, blue eyes sharp and cold. “What you want don’t tend to end well for the rest of us.”
“I’m older now.”
“And wiser?” Addie’s lips curl in a bitter grin.
“Maybe.” I stand up, brush the broken blades of grass from my knees. “But what happened to you and Baby, that wasn’t all on me.”
“Some of it—”
“Yes. But not all.” I touch her shoulder, hesitant. “And no matter what I do, I can’t change the past, Addie.”
She scowls, stuffs her hands in the pockets of her blue jeans. “You could bring him here, you know. Build a house. Live with us.” She nods her head toward Baby, sitting in the roots of a massive oak.
I saw that future in Daddy’s cave. Where I go back and the Sisters are destroyed, but Percy and I are, too. A future of sunny days and moonlit walks under the silver beeches. But that future leaves a hole in that distant conflict that has frightened Laurel so deeply.
That future ain’t the one I want.
I shake my head. “Sorry, Addie. But I’m not done with the world yet.”
Addie hisses, sun-kissed cheeks turning red. “You are playing with fire, Delaney. How many years will you have before your Power comes back? Before his does? And then what? You think you’ll just keep on living like you don’t have it?” She leans up into my face. “No matter what good thing you mean to do, you’ll hurt folks.”
“I won’t.”
“You will.” She puts one hand on the back of my neck, pulling me down—eye to eye. “You think Mama ever wanted to hurt folks? But look what she did to us, bringing us into the world and then trying to take us back out of it with her next breath. To Daddy. Look what Daddy did. Remember the scars he left? That’s what folks with Power do, Delaney.” A breath, lips trembling. “That’s what I did. What you’ve done. What you’ll do again.”
“I’m going to be different.”
“How?”
I put my arms around her, trying to remember that even my words aren’t worth anything if I don’t mean them. “I am sorry for what I did to you, Addie. All the times I hurt you.” My throat aches, and I force the next words out stubbornly. “And I forgive you for the times you hurt me.”
Addie stares at me, wide-eyed. “Not enough,” she says finally.
I shudder. Anger blooming in an instant, whispering about all the times I suffered because Mama thought I looked too much like Daddy, all the things Addie did unnoticed because she was so much like Mama. Unfair, unfair. But I know where that road leads, and I have promised—never again.
The ground under my feet shimmers, and I feel Percy calling to me. “I have to go.” I start to fall, but Addie grabs my wrist, tight.
“No.” She braces her feet on the ground, holding me fast. “No. I won’t let you.”
“Addie.” I kick my feet and pry at her fingers with my other hand, trying to break her grip.
Beads of sweat glitter on her forehead, but she clings tight. “I can’t let you. This is for the best.”
I look over my shoulder at Baby curled up in the roots of her oak tree. “Baby.”
Baby scowls and sighs. “Let her go, Addie.”
Addie shakes her head again. “No. It is not safe for her to be in the world.”
Baby toddles forward, stares down at me with big blue eyes. “No. But that’s where she belongs. For now.”
“Baby.” Addie is pleading.
“Let her go.” Baby’s voice is small and light, but the ground ripples with the force of it.
Addie bites her lip. “Fine.” She glares down at me. “Don’t come crying to me when it all goes wrong, Del.” Then she lets go, and I drop into the crush between this world and the last.
23
When Franklin called my soul into the body of Alex Michaels, it was terrifying, like being shoved into a trunk or stabbed or filled up with mud ‘til I nearly drowned in flesh that was not my own.
This time is different. My bones call to me.
I wrap myself around them like greeting a lover, settling into my own familiar shape and pulling new skin into place like smoothing the wrinkles out of a favorite shirt. It is weird, still, but the panic is absent. This is coming home in the truest sense.
All that remains from the fire is the ash, drifting like feathers as I sit up and stare at my right hand. My hand. My legs. My belly and breasts. Even the old scars left by the iron chain have returned—no longer lumpy, but bright as silver against my skin still glowing white hot.
Percy is on his hands and knees, groaning with every breath, but, despite the hurt, there is no trace of regret in his eyes. The faint whisper of what is left of his magic has changed, too—no longer hungry and afraid. Restoring flesh to my bones has altered the tenor of his power so that it is no longer bent for destruction.
Franklin moves forward, almost on tiptoe, to slip his arms around Percy and pull him back toward the relative safety of the cars as the Sisters begin to sing again. This time it is the old forbidden melody that has allowed them to walk this earth for years, undying.
“Aih.” I shudder as they tear magic out of me. Trying to remember to breathe, to let go of what I mean for them to have. It still hurts, and I curl up, whimpering with pain as they fill themselves up with fire and heat, my own body slowly cooling. By the time they finish, I no longer smoke in the dark and humid air, and the ground doesn’t crack beneath my touch.
The Sisters look at each other, bright and rippling with the Power they have taken from me. Frightening. Not just because of the raw energy sitting in their skin and bones, but because it is still not enough. They look at each other, and there is no glory in the Power they hold, only bitter and terrible greed.
I push up to my feet, trembling as I grow accustomed to my own self.
Sarah saunters toward me, the ash billowing and curling around her feet. The other four Sisters spread out, moving toward the cars with a lazy stride.
“Did you expect us to just walk away?” Sarah grins at me. Her teeth are nearly transparent. The veins under her skin are dark threads beneath her shell-like flesh. “Leave that one to chase after us again? Leave anyone to remember what happened here?”
“Delaney.” Franklin’s voice cracks, bordering on the edge of panic. He and Laurel have Percy propped up between them, backing slowly toward the edge of the woods as three of the Sisters prowl toward them.
Martinez is drifting a different direction, the fourth woman following him like a cat stalking a bird.
Sarah wraps her hand around my throat, fingers hot and stinging. “Did you really think this little deal would save them?” A twitch of her head toward Franklin and Laurel. “You’ve fucked this up.”
I sigh. “So greedy.”
“What?” Her hand tightens on my throat.
Her thread is easy to find
—bright and thick and trembling with stolen Power. I run my hand across it. Across the threads of the other four. Not snapping them or pulling them onto a different road. Just... touching them.
“I promised Martinez you would die here.” I look her straight in those fire-kissed eyes. “I was willing to break that promise if you walked away.” A shrug. “But maybe that was because I knew you wouldn’t.”
They have all paused, feeling my touch on their futures.
Martinez eases his gun free of its holster.
Sarah hisses at me. “Don’t be stupid. You’re not strong enough for that.”
She has a point. They have drained away so much of my magic I can barely see the various futures flashing across the clearing—just glimmers of light and whispers of movement caught out of the corner of my eye. Not that it matters. I have promised Addie and Baby to do my best not to hurt folks.
I lift my hands away from those swollen threads. “I don’t have to be.”
Lightning sears overhead and strikes the ruins of the house—the resulting crack of thunder knocking all of us back a step and tearing the clouds open overhead. Rain splats down. Slow at first, with single heavy drops that break through the leaves of the surrounding trees like stones on glass.
I take a breath and a half-step away from Sarah.
More thunder growls in the distance, and the rain pours down—cold as ice. There is a noise, like a bottle breaking on pavement, and one of the Sisters closest to Franklin disintegrates.
Sarah lifts her hand, watching in horror as her white-hot skin cracks, little red lines spreading from her fingertips across her palm and up her arm.
The other Sisters crumble into gory bits. Their mortal flesh too fragile to tolerate the fire of magic and the quenching wet and cold of the pouring rain.
Sarah screams in fury and snatches the knife from her belt. Lunges toward me with the blade. Her ankle shatters underneath her, and she staggers and drops to her knees. She glares at me even as little pieces of skin fall away like bits of stone. “You’ll pay for this.”
The magic setting her on fire, my magic, flares brighter and collects around her bloody hand still clutching the knife.
I frown. She must know she cannot hurt me with what is my own.
She smiles, part of her chin sliding off and shattering against the wet red clay. Turns and points the knife and the rising magic at Percy. She might not be able to hurt me, but she can hurt him.
For a moment, everything seems to slow down.
Laurel lets go of Percy and starts to back away. My heartbeat crashes in my ears as I try to move my feet, to reach for Sarah. Franklin fumbles at his belt, grasping for a charm to ward against the coming magic.
Sarah opens her mouth, triumphant. “D—”
The gunshot is a faint imitation of the thunder rolling overhead, but the bullet catches her in the side of the head, and she shatters into pieces.
The rain spears down in glittering threads. Franklin moves like a man wading through deep water, putting himself between Martinez and Laurel.
And Martinez creeps toward me, the muzzle of his gun staring at me like a third eye.
I wait.
I know there are some futures in which he kills me here. Kills all of us. But my Power is faint; I cannot see what will happen next.
The storm boils overhead, clouds thinning as the rain and lightning tear away to the east, and the crush of water and noise fades ‘til there is only the erratic drip-drip-drip of the trees surrounding the clearing.
“Martinez.” Percy steps forward, hands empty. “Luis,” he says after a moment. “It’s done.”
Martinez twitches. Adjusts his fingers on his gun.
“Luis. Enough.” Percy takes another step forward.
Martinez glances at him. Shuffles his feet. Finally, he lowers the gun and puts it back into its holster. He picks up a stick off the ground and pokes at Sarah’s messy remains. Stands up and looks at me, wary. “Okay,” he says. “It’s done.”
24
Percy hurries across the clearing and folds me in his arms. “Delaney.”
“Percival.” I lean up on tiptoe and kiss him again, lingering this time. Feeling his heart beat against my hands—a homecoming of a different sort.
He covers my hands with his and pauses. “What’s this?”
I hold up my left hand and see that the pinky finger is short—the last two bones missing, though the skin has closed over the stubby end, smooth and clean.
“Are you all right?” Percy steps back and looks at me, anxious. Worried perhaps that I have other missing pieces.
“Yes.” I wiggle my finger, thoughtful. “Maybe a bird stole them.” I smile at him. “It’s all right. I have nine others.”
The clouds break apart and sunlight streams through, making me squint against the glare. I cover my eyes with my hands and lean against him again. “I’m tired.”
He sighs, breath touching my ear. “Me too.”
Martinez clears his throat. “Miss Green?”
I open my eyes reluctantly.
He holds out a blanket, more awkward than I have ever seen him. “I thought you might... ‘til you can find some clothes.”
“Thank you.” The wool is scratchy against my skin, but I pull the blanket around my shoulders, welcoming the protection from the sun on my tender flesh.
Franklin wrings the rain from the edge of his shirt. “We should go back to town. Put some dry clothes on, get something to eat.”
Percy nods in agreement, but I hesitate. It may have been years since I had been outside of Greenhaven, but some folks will know my face.
“What’s wrong?” Percy slides an arm around me, protective.
“What if someone recognizes me?”
He frowns. “Recognizes you?”
“I’m not a complete stranger here, Percy.”
“Yes, but...” He stops, suddenly nervous.
“What?”
Martinez puts his hand on my shoulder and pulls me toward the cars, points to my reflection in the window. “You have changed,” he says simply.
I blink at myself in the makeshift mirror. Although my body is mine again, my face is different. The eyes—one muddy brown, the other green as spring—are the same. But my face is rounder, the features stronger. I think perhaps I see a hint of Alex in the slant of my jaw. It isn’t the face I had in Greenhaven, but, somehow, it isn’t not my face.
I take a breath, considering my bones and the flesh covering them. There is no doubt they are mine, but they are thicker, stronger than before. I am thicker and stronger than before.
I look at Percy, wondering if this is his doing. There is a momentary glint in his eyes that tells me it is not an accident. He wraps his arms around me with no hesitation, no sense of strangeness. “Delaney.” He murmurs it against the short fuzz of hair that covers my head.
I realize that he cares less about what my outside looks like, preferring to have me strong and solid than have me just as I was before.
“You understand?” Martinez looks wary.
“Yes.” I squint at my reflection again. “Just as well. I’m not certain I’m ready to tell this story about coming back from the dead yet.”
Franklin leans his elbow on the roof of the car across from me. “Folks still might wonder what happened. Seeing that tall young man leave and...you come back.”
Martinez frowns. “He has a point.”
“Then we should stay somewhere else.”
Franklin pushes his braids back from his face. “Where? Crossing is small.”
I slip my hand into Percy’s. “I know a place.”
25
The house is much the same as it was when I last saw it fifteen years ago. Dustier, but not so much as you might expect. Spider webs dwell in the corners of the front room where the sun don’t touch them, the glass in the windows blurry from years of rain and pollen and no one to clean them.
The siding on the front porch is still pockmarked where Sheriff Mai
ns and his deputies put Mama down. The bullets themselves is long gone—pried out and counted and stored somewhere down at the Sheriff’s office.
Inside has the mark of violence, too. Patched plaster on the walls where Daddy’s fists left holes, the rip in the couch cushion where Mama got too close with the butcher knife—scars left on the house itself, though I expect no one except me really sees them or hears the whisper of old arguments in each creak of the floorboards.
After some discussion, Franklin and Martinez go back into town to get me something to wear and food for everyone.
Percy plops down on the sofa, ignoring the dust that breathes out of the fabric and folds over him like welcoming arms. The Sisters have pulled his magic out by the roots. I know there’s still a little piece down in there, like crabgrass waiting to grow back twice as big now that it’s been broken off. But for now, he is just spent.
The last few motes of dust are still settling in his hair when his eyes close and he falls asleep.
I tiptoe upstairs, breath held as I listen for every familiar squeak of the stair treads, the blanket slipping off my shoulders so one corner trails behind me. There are only two rooms tucked up here beneath the hot slope of the roof—the one Addie and I shared on the left, and Mama and Daddy’s room on the right.
I know there’s nothing left in my room but dust and bedsprings and the shadows of those years before I understood why Mama and Daddy fought with each other. The door to the other room groans like an old man as I push it open, sunlight peeping through the peeling newspaper over the window.
Even when the social workers had come and packed up my clothes to go to Greenhaven, no one had dared to touch Mama’s things. The room sits exactly as she left it, plus a few spiders living above the headboard.
There are a couple of dresses hanging from the clothesline that serves as a closet. The right shoulder is more faded than the left, but it doesn’t fall apart when I pull it off the hanger. Faded is still more comfortable than the emergency blanket.
Touch: A Trilogy Page 28