by E. E. Holmes
“You actually called the High Priestess?” I asked with a groan. “Wasn’t there anyone lower on the food chain you could’ve called?”
“No one that wasn’t going to patently ignore me, it seems,” Karen snapped at me, with a flash of the anger I had originally been expecting. “Our clan hasn’t been popular around here in recent years, as you well know, and I’d severed most of my connections to the place before you two came along. Besides, you know that Celeste and I have been friends for a long time. Her becoming the High Priestess has not changed that.”
I squirmed a bit. “So, what did she tell you? How much do you know?”
“Everything,” Karen sniffed, sounding on the verge of a fresh torrent of tears. “She told me about Charlie Wright and his connection to the Necromancers. She told me about that… that camera spirit-whatever thing that he created, and about the attack that you survived. She told me that you had been in the hospital wing, but that you’d been released. She told me that you’d been at Fairhaven ever since, and that you were still working on this case for the Trackers, even after everything that happened to you.”
“A pretty good summary of events, actually,” I said with a weak attempt at a smile that Karen did not return.
“What I can’t understand—what I don’t think I’ll ever understand—is why you didn’t tell me about any of it yourself,” Karen said. The look that she gave me was still watery, but full of defiant anger.
“I’m sorry,” I said to her again.
“I don’t want your damn apology, Jess!” she cried. “I don’t care about apologies! I don’t need to hear them! I want to know why! Why don’t you trust me? Why don’t you feel like you can confide in me?” She heaved a sigh that shuddered through her whole body and left her looking small and deflated. “Does this all go back to when I hid the Durupinen from you? I know that that was a terrible thing to do, and I’ve worked so hard since to regain your trust, but it would appear that I still just don’t have it! I don’t know what else I can do, what else I can say to convince you how much I care about you! Both of you! My God, just tell me what else I have to say, what else I have to do, and I’ll do it!”
She dissolved into a puddle of sobbing again, and I felt as though I had been punched in the gut. I dropped to my knees on the rug next to her and put my arms around her again. “Oh, Karen, I am so sorry. I know you said you don’t want to hear apologies, but I have to say it, because that’s not what this is about. I trust you. I swear I do. I’m not holding any kind of grudge, okay? I am not trying to hold four years ago over your head. I know that you were trying to protect me, and I know that you’ve been honest with me since then. I promise, I really do know that.”
I looked up at Hannah, who had her hands over her mouth and was silently crying as she watched Karen break down. I cocked my head at her, so that she would come over and give me some support. She hurried over to the couch, and sat down beside Karen, placing an arm gently around her shaking shoulders.
“Then why?” Karen repeated, her muffled voice barely audible with her face still hidden in her hands. “Why are you shutting me out?”
“Because, and this is gonna sound like a terrible break up line, but in this case, it’s really true: it’s not you, Karen. It’s me. You’re not doing anything wrong. I’m just… really, really bad at letting people in. You sort of know what it was like with my mom, but she was always too busy wrestling with her own demons to really be there for me. I was always worrying about her, not the other way around. And if I did have some challenge that I was dealing with, I always hid it from her, because I couldn’t bear to put one more thing on top of the pile that was already crushing her. I couldn’t stand to give her one more reason to drink, one more reason to pack up the car and move somewhere else. And I know you’re not my mom. I know that things are different, but old habits die hard. I’ve always had to take care of myself, and I’ve never been good at letting other people in. I’ve never really learned how to let people help me carry the load, even when they’re begging to help me.”
“It’s true,” Hannah said quietly. “We’re twins, and I still have a hard time getting over that wall.” She smiled at me and gave a little shrug. “Sorry, Jess. Not trying to add to the guilt. I’m just stating a fact.”
“No, it’s okay,” I told her. “I get it. And it’s this weird thing I have, I still feel like I need to protect people from… well, me. I hate the idea of depending on people. It makes me feel weak, like I’ve forgotten my own hard-won survival skills. You and Hannah and Milo—you’ve given me this great support system, but I just really suck at using it. It’s like I’m always trying to tightrope walk, and you’re standing under me with a net, and I keep saying, ‘No thanks, I’m good! I’m just gonna break some shit when I hit the ground.’”
Karen let out a sound that might have been a laugh wrapped in a sob. It was hard to tell, but she looked up from her tissue for the first time and looked me in the face. It made it a little harder to keep going spilling my guts, but I knew I couldn’t use that as an excuse anymore.
“I’m so sorry about that. Honestly, I’ve tried to get better, but clearly, I’m not doing a good job. I’m trying to keep you from being worried or hurt, but the only thing I’ve accomplished is to make you hurt and worry even more. That is not at all what I’m trying to do, and I’m not going to do it anymore, I promise.”
“I know you’re an adult,” Karen said finally, her voice hitching and shuddering over the tears that she had still not managed to get under control. “I know that you need to live your own life, and make your own decisions. I missed the chance to parent you, I realize that, but I hoped that we could still manage to be friends. I know I don’t have any kind of right to be one of the people you confide in. But I do want to be, Jess. I do so desperately want to be.”
“You have every right,” I told her. “You’ve been there for me… for both of us… through all of this, and shutting you out has been a really crappy way to repay you for that. And I’m not going to do it anymore, Karen.”
“Thank you,” Karen said, reaching out and stroking my hair. “And I’ll try to make it as easy as possible for you to come to me. No judgment. Well, minimal judgment,” she corrected herself, and we all laughed. She stroked my hair again, and looked me in the eyes. “And you’re okay? After everything that… that bastard did to you? You’re really and truly okay?”
“I really am okay,” I told her. “And I’m not just saying that so that you won’t worry. I really am okay.”
Karen patted my cheek, her face twitching with emotions she was trying to control. “Thank God,” she whispered. “Thank God for that.”
“I’m sorry you had to get on a plane and come all the way over here just so you could hear me say that,” I muttered.
“Oh, I didn’t get on a plane just so I could hear you say that,” Karen said. “Although that was a big part of it, obviously.” She pointed over at her suitcase. “That’s just my carry-on. The rest of my luggage has been brought to my room.”
I looked at her blankly, uncomprehendingly. “The rest of your luggage?”
“That’s right,” Karen said, dabbing at her eyes and attempting to regain her usual composure. “I’ve officially requested a transfer to my firm’s London office. I’m sick and tired of missing the two of you, and never knowing what the hell is going on. There was a time not long ago when I had successfully driven a wedge between myself and the Durupinen world. Thanks to you girls, those days are long gone. I’m not blaming you for that,” she said quickly, realizing how her words must have sounded. “In fact, I’m grateful. The more I hear from you about the goings-on here, the more I realize that I need to find a way to become more actively involved. There need to be more voices of reason and progress around this place, and I intend to become one of them.”
“Does this mean you’re… you’re moving here?” Hannah asked blankly.
“Yes,” Karen said, her tone bordering on rebellious. “I
used to have a life back in Boston. I had a husband, and a career that I loved. And I had the two of you, however briefly. But now I’ve realized that my life seems to have floated away from me in pieces. My marriage fell apart, you two girls moved away, and suddenly I realized that the only thing tethering me to Boston was a job that I was growing to resent for the very fact that it was keeping me there. So, when the news came down that one of our partners was opening a branch here in the UK, I leapt at it. I tried to call you girls to discuss it with you, but, well…” She made a helpless gesture with her hands.
“I know, I know,” I said. “It would help if we answered the phone like, ever.”
“So,” Karen said, “here I am, like it or not. I’m not here to spy on you or micromanage your lives. I just want to be a part of them. I hope that’s okay.”
Karen was looking back and forth between the two of us with a somewhat anxious expression, as though she thought we were going to tell her to turn right around, get back on the plane, and go home.
Instead, I pulled myself up onto the couch beside her and gave her another hug. “Of course, that’s okay,” I said to her. “It’s great, Karen. Seriously.”
“You don’t have to humor me, you know,” Karen said dryly. “I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”
“I’m not humoring you,” I insisted. “Honestly, it will be great to have you here. Won’t it, Hannah?”
Hannah nodded her head vigorously. “We need people in our corner that we can count on, especially on the same continent.”
Karen laughed. “Well, all right, then. You’ve got one, anyway.”
I caught Hannah’s eye, and she was giving me a meaningful look. I didn’t need the words floating through the connection to understand what she was trying to tell me.
If you were serious about letting her in and confiding in her, then you’ve got to tell her. Now.
I thought of Finn. I thought of the piles of prophetic drawings hidden away inside our closet, their mystery and significance permeating the room and my consciousness even now. Karen only knew a fraction of what I was hiding from her. It was time for that to change.
“Karen, if you were serious about wanting to know everything that’s going on in our lives…” I began.
“Yes, of course I was serious!” Karen cried. “I just left the country, for heaven’s sake!”
“Okay, then,” I said. “Well then, you should probably get comfortable, because we’ve only scratched the surface of things I need to fill you in on.”
Karen regarded me warily. “You mean there’s more?” she asked weakly.
“Just a bit,” I said, sharing a sarcastic smile with Hannah. “I’ll start at the beginning.”
7
Fireflies in the Darkness
IT TOOK KAREN until the next day to fully recover her powers of speech after I unloaded the full weight of all my secrets. From my relationship with Finn, to the revelation that I was a Seer, I left nothing out. She did not harbor even a scrap of disapproval over what had transpired between Finn and me. On the contrary, it was clear she viewed the law that forbade our relationship with as much disdain as I did. “That law destroyed our family,” she had insisted, “and I’ll do anything I can to help you get it overturned for good. I’m not sure if you’ve heard this before, but lawyers are really rather good at research and drafting documents.” Delightedly, Hannah had handed over a massive pile of books and notes to Karen, who confidently assured her she could have it all distilled down to the finer points in a day or two.
Though she worried about what the future might hold for Finn and me, Karen was much more concerned about the present and more pressing problem of the prophetic drawings. And she was not nearly as surprised as she should have been about the revelation that I was a Seer.
“The original prophecy was made by our family, after all,” she had said. “It has cropped up here and there in our family history, though never with the magnitude of consequences that Agnes Isherwood faced. My own grandmother sometimes suspected that she had a prophetic gift, but it never manifested itself in a decisive way.”
One thing on which she absolutely agreed was that we should tell no one else of the gift. “It sounds as though Fiona may be able to shed some light on this situation without exposing you to exploitation by the Council. I think the safest course is to see what she has to say when she gets back.”
But could I hold myself together that long? Fiona had said that it would likely take several days to sort out the issue with her mother, but each hour that ticked by felt like an eternity. Luckily, though, Savvy came barging into our bedroom the next morning with news that temporarily pushed Fiona to the back of my mind.
“She’s awake!” Savvy crowed at the top of her lungs. “Phoebe’s awake! Put a damn bra on and come down with me, I want to give her a proper welcoming committee when I go down to see her!” Hannah and I happily put some damn bras on and skipped right over breakfast to head down to the hospital ward. Milo, equally glad to hear the news, joined us.
Phoebe sat propped up in her bed, blinking around with the same kind of confusion as a baby who had just been born. Her expression was blank, and she stared at everyday objects as though she had no idea what they might possibly be used for. As we approached her bed, her eyes had dropped to the tray of food in front of her, as though she were trying to decide what to do with the eggs, toast, and tea that had been arranged upon it. Picking it up, putting it in her mouth, and chewing it did not seem to be the obvious course of action based on her bemused expression.
“Phoebe!” Savvy called raucously, her voice echoing around the hospital ward like a gunshot. Phoebe jumped, her fork clattering to the floor and the orange juice slopping out of her glass and into her scrambled eggs. She stared around wildly for the source of the voice, until her eyes fell on Savvy charging down the aisle between the beds. Her eyes went wide, and for a moment it didn’t seem as though she even recognized her cousin, but then again, I don’t think Savvy had ever grinned like that at the sight of her. Savvy’s typical expression upon seeing Phoebe was one of extreme consternation, or annoyance. It was more likely, I reasoned, that Phoebe was just surprised to see her cousin with a smile on her face.
By the time we had all arrived at her bedside, Phoebe had picked up her napkin and was using it to sop up the juice from her breakfast plate. When she looked up at Savvy, she attempted a cautious smile.
“Hi, Savannah,” she mumbled tentatively, before dropping her eyes back to her plate, which was still swimming in juice. She sighed, and tossed the napkin aside, apparently deciding the food was beyond salvageable. “How are you?”
“How am I?” Savvy said, and roared with laughter. “How am I? Only someone as daft as you would wake up from a two-week coma and ask how I was.” The words might’ve been harsh, but her tone was jovial, delighted even. She reached out a hand and grasped her cousin’s shoulder and patted it gently, though Phoebe still flinched as though she were being punched. “Good to see you awake, mate. How are you?”
Phoebe still looked disoriented and a bit frightened, as though wondering if she had woken up in an alternate reality—a reality in which her cousin called her “mate” instead of “git” or “buggery fool.” But she gave a tiny, vague smile, and replied, “Okay, I think. I just woke up, so I don’t rightly know yet. I’m a bit hungry, but…” She gestured helplessly at her plate, on which her inedible breakfast still sat.
“Aw, no worries! We can take care of that for you, no problem!” Savvy said brightly. She turned over her shoulder and shouted at the top of her lungs, “Oi! Mrs. Mistlemoore! We need some new nosh out here!”
Phoebe winced at the volume of Savvy’s voice, but nodded her thanks all the same once Savvy was done shouting. “Cheers,” she mumbled.
“Hi, Phoebe,” Hannah said, trying to keep her voice gentle in comparison to Savvy’s boisterous and celebratory shouts. “It’s so nice to see you awake. Are you comfortable? Are you in any pain?”
Phoebe paused and considered the question. After a few moments’ contemplation, she shrugged. “Dunno,” she muttered at last. “Not too bad. Bit stiff from all the lying down, I suppose. My body feels a mite… foreign. Like it don’t belong to me no more. Best way I can describe it. And my head is bit fuzzy, like someone’s gone and stuffed it with cotton balls.”
“And here I thought it had always been stuffed with cotton balls,” Savvy said, and chuckled good-naturedly.
“We’re all relieved to see you awake and eating,” I interjected quickly, before Phoebe could absorb Savvy’s teasing comments. “We’re so sorry you had to go through such an ordeal.”
“Yeah, we are,” said Milo tentatively.
Phoebe didn’t look at Milo, but dropped her eyes to her plate instead, her face twitching with emotion. “I’d rather not talk about that just now,” she mumbled, “if it’s all the same to you.”
“Of course, of course,” I said quickly. “You just focus on getting well. That’s all anybody wants.” I made a mental note to speak to Catriona about questioning Phoebe. It was already clear that she wouldn’t be quite so stalwart and determined as Flavia was to face an interview, especially if that interview dredged up painful memories.
A marching of footsteps behind us made us all turn. Mrs. Mistlemoore was plowing up the aisle between the beds, a fresh breakfast tray in her hands. “I am not accustomed to being shouted at like a servant, Ms. Todd,” she snapped. “I am a medical professional, and you would do well to remember to address me as such in future.”
“Sorry about that,” Savvy said, grinning a bit sheepishly and adopting an appropriately contrite expression. “No offense meant, honest. Just wanted Phoebe here to have what she needed, seeing as how she’s got to eat if she wants to gain her strength back.”
Mrs. Mistlemoore pursed her lips but did not reply. She simply nodded her head toward the old breakfast tray. Savvy took the hint and lifted it from the bed. Mrs. Mistlemoore settled the new tray carefully in Phoebe’s lap, and then snatched the old tray out of Savvy’s hands. She turned to look at Phoebe. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked, her tone much kinder now.