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

by Jessica Spotswood

  “Yes, sir.” I smile. “I shall do my best to deserve it.”

  “See that you do, Miss Cahill. See that you do.”

  There’s a noise out in the hall. The repeated thump of John dragging Elena’s trunk down the steps.

  “Was Cate right? Did you ever care about me at all?”

  Maura’s voice is furious—and loud. If she doesn’t know Brother Ishida is here, Lord only knows what else she might say.

  “What’s that clatter?” Brother Ishida asks.

  I smile nervously, hoping his hearing isn’t what it used to be. “Pardon me. It seems my sisters are having some sort of quarrel.”

  The front door closes and Maura wails. Her voice is closer now—in the front hall.

  Something smashes to the floor.

  “What the devil?” Brother Ishida is on his feet.

  I run, terrified, into the hall. I’m too late. Mrs. O’Hare and Lily stand in the doorway to the dining room. Lily is cowering, one arm thrown up to protect her face. Mrs. O’Hare is sidling along the wall toward Maura, one hand outstretched.

  Maura’s lost control of her powers.

  Maura, whose heart is breaking, is breaking everything in her path.

  The cut-crystal vase is smashed, shards gleaming on the wooden floor. Roses are scattered helter-skelter, bent and bruised. As I watch, the hall mirror flies off its hook and shatters. The portrait of Father’s parents that hangs on the wall follows suit. A piece of glass sticks in Mrs. O’Hare’s hand.

  “Maura, dearie,” she says, still inching forward.

  I wonder how long she’s known.

  Another shard, several inches long, flies past my head. I freeze.

  “Get back, Mrs. O’Hare. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

  Maura stands by the door, head thrown back, arms wide. Her blue eyes are helpless, unfocused. The rich mahogany hall table rises and dashes itself against the wall, again and again. The legs splinter.

  The front door slams open as if pushed by an invisible hand. Outside, thunder rumbles. The sky is full of angry clouds.

  “Good Lord,” Brother Ishida says from behind me.

  Maura looks at him. At me. “You—you made her leave.”

  The curtains from the hall window break away and float toward me. I step on the fabric to keep them down, but it twists around my legs like snakes. And then there are snakes—glossy and sinuous, hissing, tasting the air with their forked tongues. I will myself to see past the illusion. Curtains. It’s only curtains. I push against the glamour, and it breaks. The curtains drop to the floor, harmless.

  “Stop it! Maura. You have to stop.”

  Maura’s hands are clenched in fists at her sides. “I can’t.”

  The curtains rise up again. Now they’re not curtains anymore but spiderwebs, sticky and horrible, with fat black spiders. I scream and brush at my face.

  “They’re not real, Cate,” Tess says calmly from the top of the stairs. “You know that.”

  But Lily is screaming her fool head off, and behind me Brother Ishida is mumbling prayers, and I can’t concentrate. Maura knows I hate spiders and she’s using it against me and I can’t make her stop and—

  “Intransito,”Tess says.

  The spiderwebs disappear. Maura’s frozen in place, her mouth stuck in an O of dismay. Her blue eyes are scared, pleading, and she focuses them on me. Even now, after everything she’s done, I feel a pang of sympathy.

  How did Tess know that spell? It seems my sisters are full of surprises.

  The house goes silent for a long moment.

  Then Brother Ishida steps forward. His cold marble eyes are shining. He points to Maura and then to Tess.

  “Witches!”

  CHAPTER 20

  IT’S THE STUFF OF NIGHTMARES.

  “Miss Maura Cahill! Miss Teresa Cahill! You are both under arrest for foul and flagrant crimes of witchery,” Brother Ishida declares. He moves to

  block the open door, his long black cloak trailing through water, his boots crunching on broken glass. “Miss Belfiore, ask my driver to come inside.” If she tells the driver—that’s one more witness—

  “Lily, no. Don’t. Haven’t we always been good to you? Please!” I cry, desperate.

  But Lily picks up her blue skirts and runs outside. Tess stares down at me from the top of the stairs, gray eyes frantic, looking for instruction. She

  doesn’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.

  “Should I—Maura?” she squeaks.

  I nod, and Tess casts—silently this time, reversing herintransitospell. Maura falls into a heap on the floor. Mrs. O’Hare, nearest her, wraps an

  arm around her waist and pulls her to her feet.

  “Can you control yourself now?” I ask.

  Maura nods. She has a cut on her cheek and another on the palm of her right hand. There’s a jagged rip in one sleeve, a spot seeping scarlet just

  above her elbow. She sways, pale, as she stares at the damage she’s wrought. At the family heirlooms in pieces on the floor. At Mrs. O’Hare’s

  hand, wrapped in her blood-soaked apron. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she cries, flinging herself at Mrs. O’Hare.

  “It’s all right, dearie,” Mrs. O’Hare whispers, stroking her hair.

  She is more forgiving than I am.

  The coachman strides into the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, with a sharp hooked nose and a wicked scar across his chin. I recognize him

  —he’s one of the men who arrested Gabrielle Dolamore. He was in the street with Brenna this afternoon.

  “Cyrus!” Brother Ishida barks. “Go to town and round up the council. Bring them back here immediately. I have identified two witches in this

  household.”

  Cyrus’s eyes rake over us with a look of disgust. “Yes, sir,” he says, and he turns on his heel and disappears into the dusk. Brother Ishida paces back and forth in a tight circle. “I hardly need testimony. I have seen proof with my own eyes. Nonetheless, best to be

  thorough. Miss Cahill. Were you aware of your sisters’ treachery? Have you seen them commit acts of witchery previous to this night?” I am silent, staring at my own clasped hands.

  “Answer me, girl! Were you aware your sisters are witches?”

  I am silent.

  He crosses the room and slaps me across the face. Hard enough to snap my head back and send me stumbling against the wall. “Cate!” Tess

  cries. I put one hand to my stinging cheek. Maura and I have shoved each other, pulled each other’s hair—but no one has ever struck me before.

  The pain brings tears to my eyes, but I will them back. I won’t give him the satisfaction of crying.

  “You will not ignore me,” Brother Ishida says, his dark eyes flashing in his lined face. “I am your elder and your better. You will answer.Now. Were

  you aware of your sisters’ witchery?”

  “No.” I lower my eyes to the floor, biting my lip. I will not help matters by telling him what I think of him.

  It’s raining now, drumming on the porch roof. A cold wind blows through the hall, bringing with it the scent of wet leaves and dying grass. Mrs. O’Hare moves toward the kitchen. Brother Ishida puts out a hand to stop her. “Where are you going?”

  “To fetch some bandages and ointment for Miss Maura,” she says.

  “No. No one is to leave this room until the guards arrive.” Brother Ishida turns to Lily, trembling just inside the door, her brown cow’s eyes big and

  guileless. “Miss Belfiore, have you witnessed any other strange happenings here?”

  Lily hesitates, and he frowns. “Miss Belfiore, your first duty is to the Lord. We must stamp out witchery wherever we find it, lest it take root and

  spread through our country like poison. Speak up.”

  “I’ve seen things,” Lily whispers. She fixes her eyes on his boots. A hank of brown hair swings forward into her face. “Things what don’t seem

  natural. Flowers what blo
om out of season. Food what’s burnt black but tastes like heaven. Things are there one minute and gone the next.” Oh no. I’ve always tried to be careful not to let the servants see anything they couldn’t explain away. Still, I never truly believed they would inform

  on us. Mrs. O’Hare loves us, and Lily—well, she’s a good churchgoing girl, but she’s always been so timid. She’s been with us for years, since right

  after Mother died.

  “Thank you, Miss Belfiore.” Brother Ishida smiles. “You’ve been very helpful.”

  “You’ve been an ungrateful little sneak,” Maura hisses.

  “Silence, witch!” Brother Ishida thunders. “Miss Teresa, come here.”

  Tess walks slowly down the stairs. She holds her head high, but she’s trembling—like Arabella walking the plank. She stands next to Maura. Brother Ishida gives them a cruel smile. “When my guards arrive, they will place you in restraints. The other members of the Brothers’ council will

  help me search this house for evidence against you, though we hardly need more. You will be taken to separate cells and held for your trial

  tomorrow. There can be no doubt as to your witchery. You will be sentenced to the prison ship or to the madhouse. It is, I think, better than you

  deserve. When my grandmother was arrested for witchery, she was hanged in the town square. ’Twere up to me, I’d resurrect the burnings.” The

  vicious calm of his voice is terrifying, as though he’s discussing the weather instead of my sisters’ murder.

  They are both quiet. “Do you hear me? Do you understand what you deserve?”

  “Yes,” Maura whispers, glowering at the floor.

  Tess raises her head. She looks first at Brother Ishida and then at Lily—long, searching looks, as if imprinting their faces on her memory. “Dedisco,”she says.

  I hold my breath. A momentary silence swells, filling the room. The rain pounds down outside.

  Then Lily shakes her head. Her eyes grow round with surprise as she looks at the mess in the hall. “What’s happened?” she gasps. Lily doesn’t remember. Tess’s spell worked.

  Dread blooms through me.

  I thought being the subject of the prophecy was the worst possible thing. But the notion that it might not be me, that it could be Tess— It frightens me even more.

  “There’s been a terrible storm,” Tess says carefully. “The wind blew the door open and swept through. It was awful. Like a tornado.” Brother Ishida grabs the curved wooden newel at the bottom of the staircase. He leans against it for support, breathing heavily. “Are you all right,

  sir?” I ask, wiping my face of any trace of hostility. We must play this right.

  “I’m feeling unwell.” His voice is as gray as his face.

  “It’s understandable, sir. It was frightening. Glass everywhere. You were fortunate not to be injured.”

  “Thank the Lord,” he murmurs.

  “Indeed.” I keep my eyes focused on his face. “May I walk you out? Thank you for coming tonight, sir.”

  He follows me out onto the porch. “You’re welcome, Miss Cahill. I came to—to—”

  He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember anything! Tess’s magic worked.

  The trees thrash overhead. Lightning illuminates the drive. “You gave me your blessing to announce my intention early. Tomorrow morning at

  services.”

  “Of course, of course. We’ll have the usual ceremony. I don’t believe anyone else is scheduled for tomorrow. And your father approves?” he asks. “Oh yes, Father’s very pleased.”

  “Excellent.” He peers at the rain-dark drive. “Where’s my carriage gone?”

  “Perhaps your driver took it into the barn to wait out the storm,” I suggest.

  “Oh, here it comes now,” he says, pointing at the carriage rattling up the drive. My stomach sinks, expecting another to turn the corner at any

  moment. Now what will we do? The three of us won’t be strong enough to modify the memories of all the council members plus additional guards.

  We’ll still be ruined.

  But this brougham doesn’t have the Brothers’ golden seal on the side. “That’s not mine,” he says, just as it stops before the porch. Elena Robichaud hops down almost before the wheels have stopped turning, splattering her black cape with mud. She makes a face and then

  turns back to the carriage, extending an arm, as Mrs. Corbett gingerly joins her. They wade up to the porch and stand there, huddled against the

  rain.

  “Brother Ishida,” Mrs. Corbett says, her fat face folding into a smile. “We just passed your coachman walking down the road.” “Walking?” Brother Ishida demands. “What the devil for? He’s gone off and left me stranded here. Where’s my carriage?” “Just outside town. One wheel broken,” Mrs. Corbett says. There’s an odd glint of satisfaction in her brown eyes.

  “It must have been the storm. The winds were fierce here,” I put in. “Such a roaring. It might have been a tornado. Mrs. Corbett, do you suppose

  your carriage could take Brother Ishida back to town? He’s not feeling well. Or we could get our man John—”

  “You’re welcome to borrow my carriage, sir.” Mrs. Corbett interrupts my nervous chatter. “I’ll stay here and see to it that the girls are all right.” “Thank you. Good day, Miss Cahill.” Dispensing with the usual blessings, Brother Ishida hurries through the pelting rain. Elena shivers in her cape. “We stopped the driver,” she says, teeth chattering. “Gillian broke the wheel and I compelled him to forget his errand.

  What happened, Cate? What did you do?”

  We?

  I stare into Mrs. Corbett’s toady face. The penny finally drops. I’ve been so stupid not to see it before. She’s the one who recommended Elena.

  She’s the one who told the Sisters we were witches. All her meddling since Mother died—how long has she been spying on us? My mouth goes dry, and I have to swallow several times before I can speak. “You’re a witch, too.”

  “And a member of the Sisterhood, before my marriage. After my husband died, I offered my services again. Both my own girls are useless. I was

  sent to Chatham especially to look after you three, make sure you didn’t make spectacles of yourselves. You could have made it easier,” she says.

  “A merry mess you’ve made of things. And I hear you’ve given our dear Elena some difficulty?”

  “What happened to your face?” Elena asks.

  I finger the welt rising from Brother Ishida’s ring—the silver ring all the Brothers wear on their right hand, signifying their devotion to the Lord.

  “Impertinence.”

  Elena raises her eyebrows, a smile tugging at her lips. “I can’t say you don’t deserve it. Let’s go in. It’s freezing out here.” Inside, Maura’s sitting on the bottom step in only her chemise and corset, with Mrs. O’Hare beside her, daubing ointment on her cheek. Her right

  arm and palm are wrapped in thick strips of white linen where she fell on the broken glass. Behind her, Tess is rebraiding her hair. “Good heavens,” Mrs. Corbett says. “What happened here?”

  Maura scrambles up, clutching her ruined dress to her chest, two bright spots of color on her cheeks.

  “The storm,” Tess says.

  “Maura,” I say. Tess looks shocked, Maura ashamed. “Where’s Lily?”

  “We sent her home. She wanted to stay and help clean up the mess, but I thought it better—” Mrs. O’Hare trails off, her wobbly chin set, her blue

  eyes fierce as she looks at the two newcomers. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to my girls, not ever. I’ve known the truth of it since you were making

  things go topsy-turvy yourself, Cate. Maura, come up to your room. We’ll start the fire and I’ll see to your hand. You may need stitches; it’s bleeding

  clean through that bandage.”

  “Wait,” Mrs. Corbett says. “Lily Belfiore was witness to this, along with Brother Ishida?”

  “Yes.�
� Tess is holding Maura’s hand in hers. Maura’s watching Elena balefully. “But she doesn’t remember any of it.”

  “Nor does he,” I add. “It was a very thorough job.”

  “And which of you performed the magic on them?” Mrs. Corbett’s beady eyes are hungry, roving over all three of us in turn. This time I don’t hesitate. They already suspect me. They can’t know about Tess. “It was me.”

  Mrs. Corbett and Elena exchange a look. “Let’s go into the parlor. We have several matters to discuss with you, Miss Cate.” “I’ll come, too,” Tess offers, bounding down the stairs.

  “I believe it’s a discussion best had in private,” Mrs. Corbett says.

  “Of course,” I say smoothly. I don’t want Tess to see how frightened I am. I run a hand over her soft blond hair. “You go help Mrs. O’Hare with

  Maura.”

  Tess gives me a dubious look. “All right.”

  In the sitting room, the fire is blazing. Mrs. Corbett takes off her cloak and settles on the sofa, Elena next to her. I take the tall blue armchair

  across from them.

  “I believe you owe Elena your gratitude, and perhaps an apology,” Mrs. Corbett says.

  I grit my teeth. “Thank you for stopping the coachman. I’m very grateful that my sisters aren’t being hauled off to Harwood in the morning.” Mrs. Corbett glares. “I did not hear an apology.”

  I cross my legs at the ankle and lean back in my chair. “I won’t be giving one. This mess never would have happened if Elena hadn’t made Maura

  think she had feelings for her—feelings of a romantic nature.”

  “No,” Mrs. Corbett says, her voice sharp. “This mess, as you call it, would not have happened if you had simply cooperated with us. There would have been no need for Elena to employ any unsavory tactics. You have been obstinate at every step of the way. She has been much more patient

  with you than I would in her place.”

  I’m silent. “Cate, I’m truly sorry,” Elena says. “I didn’t realize Maura’s feelings were so vehement. I realized she was losing control as I was leaving.

  That’s why I went to fetch Sister Gillian.”