Felix, Chrysie and Cyrus were watching the two of us fight as if they were watching a tennis match, heads back and forth, utterly silent.
“I. Don’t. Know. Quit being such a cow bi…” She took a deep breath and begged, “…listen.”
“Excuse me,” I said, eyes narrowing as I considered her. “You should have told me what was going on before Martha was pinning you to the floor and Jessie to the wall for just trying to help you. It never should have gotten to this point.”
“So I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“Speak now.”
We faced off, staring at each other, both of us breathing heavily.
Bran took a deep breath, swallowed and then took another breath. She tried to speak normally, but she was shouting by her second word. “I said I don’t know! Gods.”
“I know when you’re lying, Bran. What I don’t know is why you’re lying. You came here for help. You’re going to have to tell us eventually.”
Bran swallowed and finally I heard truth from her mouth, “I don’t want to.”
“Why?”
“I was stupid. And the story begins with something that ruins everything.”
“Quit being melodramatic.”
“I’m not,” she said. And I recognized the truth of it again. I saw that look on her face—the one that hurt for me, and it froze me inside of my soul. What could have happened that would affect me even though I was so far away. Her expression said that her truth was my truth. That this would hurt me too. That whatever happened would change everything just as she’d said. Sweet Hecate, what was going on?
“How do we know you’ll be safe,” Felix asked Bran, cutting in.
“Once whatever happens is over, it’s over for a while.”
“I don’t know,” Cyrus said.
“Martha,” I addressed the house but spoke clearly so that everyone could hear me. “Slam my sister to the floor the moment she feels wrong to you again.”
Chapter 4
In my defense, I was fed up. Bran was still peeling herself out of the pentacle. She was white, so pale and pasty that she looked as if she had a bad case of the flu. There were dark circles under her eyes and I’d watched her not really eat for the last time.
“Tell me what is going on,” I said, hating myself for what I’d done as I handed her a cup of warm tea.
Bran rubbed one eye while she lifted the tea to her mouth. It was steaming and heavily sugared up. I’d added cream and a little vanilla too. She took a long slow sip, letting it roll around her mouth and then swallowed. She took another drink and then, finally, opened her mouth to reply. I’d made a xx tea which masked what I’d done.
I sniffed as she closed her mouth and tilted her head to the side. Bran almost growled, “You massive cow-witch. I will make you pay.”
Given that she was heavily dosed with truth serum, whatever she had in store for me was probably ugly. And very, very intended.
“I can’t help you if you won’t tell me,” I said. And then I choked a little bit as Bran’s…Gods. Bran’s eyes teared up. I shook my head in sheer protest—we were the children of a snake. We didn’t cry like this. I almost pleaded with her to not be doing what she was doing as I said, “I did not make you cry.”
“But I’ll make you cry,” Bran said and a tear rolled down her face. “It won’t be the same ever again. I can’t tell you.”
“Tell me,” I ordered. I watched the serum work in her, pushing the truth at the back of her teeth, yanking on her vocal cords, demanding that she give up her secrets.
She opened her mouth, closed it, shook her head and then said, “I haa….damn it! I don’t hate you.”
“I don’t hate you either,” I told her. The door creaked open behind her, but she didn’t look back. I glanced up and saw Felix and Chrysie in the doorway. I wondered how much of what was happening they understood. Was it possible for anyone but me and Bran to know how big of a betrayal it was for one of us to truth serum the other?
“I can’t believe you truth serumed me.”
She was so right. But I told her my reasoning anyway, “You have been here two weeks! You have triggered wards in Martha. Something is going on, and I can’t help you if you don’t give me a frigging clue. Also you were terrifying today. Terrifying.”
“I….Rue…Gods….Rue…”
“Oh my Hecate, Branka Penelope Jones, speak. Speak for the love of the pantheon of the gods. Spill it. We’ll get through it.”
“Mother…”
I felt sick immediately. What had she done? What? I shouldn’t even be surprised that it started with, “Mother…” Wasn’t she the source of most of the madness in our lives? What games had she been playing with Bran while Mother had been setting me up here?
“Mother…”
I closed my eyes, waiting for it. There was no way it wasn’t going to be bad. Not when it started with, “Mother.”
“She…gods Rue...she…”
“Spit it out.” The words were rough, but my tone wasn’t. I knew—already I knew—that my life was never going to be the same again.
“Rue, Daddy isn’t our Dad.”
I couldn’t even process that statement. That was not true. No matter the truth serum. It was not true.
“Mother…Rue…Mother has been love potioning him, every morning our entire lives.”
Chrysie squeaked. But all I could do was stare. A growing need to vomit was crawling up my throat.
“In the green smoothie he drinks? The one with organic kale and cucumber?”
Mother made it only for him. Now the reason why we couldn’t have a sip, ever, was so very clear. There was a buzzing in my ears, but it didn’t drown out Bran’s voice.
“We have different Dads. We don’t even have the same Dad.”
Felix put his hands on my shoulders and pushed gently down. I sat in a chair that hadn’t been there before and I hadn’t realized had been placed behind me. I dropped my head to between my knees and let the air whistle in and out of my lungs. After a moment, I twisted my head so it was still on my lap, but I could see my sister.
My truth-serumed, white as a bad case of the flu, tortured sister. I couldn’t even imagine. Now I knew why she’d been avoiding me, hanging up on me, not answering when I asked her what was going on. I had known something was up, but I would never have imagined this. Not ever.
Bran kept talking. I had truth serumed her, she couldn’t stop now. The truth serum was galloping ahead like I deserved. It wasn’t giving me time to think or process. And Bran would have been gentler, if I had given her the choice.
“Mother got pregnant with you, moved to Portland, got pregnant with me, basically took Daddy for her own, and moved us all to the island. He was in love with someone else and she just…took him. It’s all a lie.”
“We should have known,” I said as my entire life shifted in my head. It was like I had been seeing in the dark and someone had just turned on the light. “Gods and monsters. We should have KNOWN.”
“Yes,” Bran said, flatly. Her eyes were shining—sad and angry.
I’m sure she was thinking the same thing as me. It was OBVIOUS. We were so blind and stupid.
I stood up and started frantically shuffling through our cupboards. I didn’t drink. But I wanted alcohol very much right now. I wanted it so bad I could taste it in my mouth.
“Did you tell, Daddy?” My words floated over my shoulder since there was no way I could handle seeing Bran’s face as she answered.
“Yes. Hasn’t he called?”
Gods. Yes he had called. It came back so very clearly.
“Baby,” Daddy said. “I just want you to know how much I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”
“I know Daddy,” I said.
“It’s important that you know, Veruca baby, I love you.”
He’d called and he’d told me he loved me no matter what. I had just thought he was being sweet. Since he was often. I’d shrugged it off and focused on my troubles. It was a pun
ch in the gut. Daddy had known that Bran would tell me. He had known that it would destroy me. How could he love me? I was the child of a snake. A snake who had stolen him from his life and his love. He’d been love potioned to love us. He’d been love potioned to care. He didn’t love me.
“Martha,” I told the house, “I need wine.”
There was a shuffling and a cupboard opened. It wasn’t wine. It was something amber and it looked like it would hurt as it went down. Perfect. I wanted to hurt. I wanted it to hurt so bad this void in my chest would be filled.
“What is he doing?” My hands were shaking as I opened the bottle. This looked like something that you put in a small cup. One of the dollops of booze that made a fainting chick in the movies come back to herself. I did not dollop the alcohol. I didn’t care. I found a water glass and a mug. I filled them quickly, splashing on the counter. I handed one to my sister. I took another for myself and left the puddle and the bottle on the counter.
“Rue, maybe…” Felix’s voice was gentle as he tried to find a way to tell me not to drink. Right now, I didn’t have it in me to be responsible. Right now, I didn’t care.
“Leave it, Felix,” Chrysie said. She’d been silent with an emotion-filled gaze that said she was hurting for me. That was something I didn’t want to see. Couldn’t add to everything happening inside of me.
Bran shook her head and then said softly, “He isn’t saying. He’s so confused.”
“That’s why you figured out how to block Mother’s magic.”
“He deserves time to figure out what he wants. I put a magic block on her that I stole from Hazel. It’ll take a few months to fade. I destroyed her potions stuff and all of her back-stock. ”
My breath whistled. Mother had potions brewing all the time. Her back-stock was effort and production that went back longer than either of us had been alive. Speaking of making people pay, Bran was in a precarious position. Mother was as vengeance-oriented as Bran and I. And yet, I was jealous I hadn’t been there to help her crush that back-stock as it deserved.
“I…” I wanted to be big enough to say that Daddy should leave our Mother. I wanted to be unselfish when it came to my blueberry pancake making, ever cheerful, always loving Daddy. There was this quiet, horrible part of me that was so very grateful to my mother for giving me Daddy. Except. Gods. Except I wanted to be someone different than that.
A tear rolled down my cheek. I deserved the fiery hells of Hades. I deserved to be destroyed. I deserved for my magic to be stolen from me. I deserved horrible, terrible things.
“I don’t want him to leave,” I told her and then I threw my glass against the wall. It shattered and whatever that amber stuff was sprayed us all. “I don’t want to lose him.”
Bran nodded silently. She knew. She knew how much it mattered that our parents loved each other. When you had a mother like Autumn Jones, it mattered very much to have a father like Theodore Jones.
I stood, looked around and saw the broken gaze of Chrysie. My sister—we’d never be the same. She hadn’t been wrong when she warned me. And Felix. Gods Felix. His eyes shone with love and pain for me, and I just couldn’t.
“I…”
I crossed the room in a bound and flew out the door. I ran until it hurt. I could hear my sister pounding beside me. Running. Running. Running from our Mother. Like usual. From feelings we didn’t know how to process. From our lives and our history and our baggage and the snakes inside of us.
But you couldn’t ever get away from the monster inside of you. No matter how fast you ran.
* * * * *
I didn’t think as I ran, but I wasn’t surprised when I found myself racing down the lane of cypress trees in the woods. The Hallow family had founded St. Angelus. Their original estate was in ruins, but the Cypress lane that had led to their house remained. Their graveyard remained. The cypress grove around the graveyard that led into the oak grove and eventually to the lake and the college and woods that didn’t call to my blood and magic. Woods that were woods whereas these trees were a part of me. It was hard to explain. It was magic. It was family.
I headed off the path and into the cypress grove, using my magic to leap the stone fence that kept me from the graves of my ancestors. I didn’t even think as I flopped down onto my favorite grave and laid under the angel.
“Hecate,” I said. It was all I had to say. There were no words. There was nothing.
“Yes,” Bran said.
I pressed my head against the thick lawn over the grave and stared up at the carved stone angel with its sad face and wide-spread wings.
“Why an angel,” Bran asked as she stared up at the sky. “We’re pagans.”
I shook my head and stared high at the sky. Clouds had rolled in and the sky was covered. The stars were obscured and there was no comfort in the sky, the angel, or the grove.
“I hate her,” I said. “I hate her so much.”
“It’s like a fire inside of me. A fire made of thorns that prod me all the time.” Bran’s voice was soft. There was so much to say and that didn’t need to be said. She knew. I knew. We knew each other like snakes from the same nest. We were snakes from the same nest who’d thought—that maybe—because of Daddy we were more. But now we knew the truth, we weren’t anything but snakes.
I spent too much time trying and failing to be like Daddy. Too much time thinking of what he’d do and trying to live up to that side of me.
“Your other family is in Boston.”
I heard the words, but I didn’t want to hear them. I didn’t have another family. I had Bran. Mother—may she burn. But Daddy had never been mine.
“Baby,” Daddy said. “I just want you to know how much I love you. Nothing will ever change that.” I could hear his voice in my head. The lies. Clearly the potion hadn’t faded enough. Clearly he hadn’t woken fully.
“How long will it take,” I asked, “until the potions are out of his system?”
“What are you talking about?” Bran’s face wasn’t seeable in the darkness. Just the shape of the angel against the sky, probably only viewable because of the magic I’d taken hold of and not let go. A killing spell hovered inside of me, ready to go. I wanted, needed to kill someone. Something. But who? What?
No amount of destruction or vengeance would take back what had been done.
“How long does it take for the potions to fade and for him to come to his senses?”
“She potioned him daily, Rue. It took like two days probably. You should know better than me.”
But…but I had spoken to Daddy on Sunday over breakfast. He’d told me he loved me. He'd sounded weird and upset, but…
“What did she put in the potion?”
“She used the basic one. The one with jasmine, green willow, and celandine.”
“The base was celandine?”
“What is your problem? I’m not a potions nerd like you. I think so…”
“What color was it?”
“It was yellow. A clear yellow and it smelled like flowers, sunshine, and I don’t know…rainbows.” Her voice was angry but as she said it, her hand took mine. She squeezed and I squeezed back. Who else would ever understand what this meant?
That would have been out of his system in, at most, three days. And not very efficient after like—36 hours. It was the simplest of the potions. She gave it to him daily. He probably just remembered loving us. He probably just hadn’t been able to separate years of being manipulated from his real feelings.
“Gods I hate her,” I said and it was true. I hated her. I hated the things she did. The way you could never tell what she was up to. The way she manipulated and controlled. And I loved her. As much as I hated her, I loved her.
“We’re dumb, Rue.”
“We should have known.”
“We should have stopped it a long time ago.”
“I wonder what it’s like in her head,” I said. “Where she felt the need to steal someone from their life and make them love her.”
> Her face was in my head. Her image. That portly housewife who had small, cold eyes. I didn’t look like her. And as much as I was like her on the inside, I wanted to be different. I wanted my Daddy to be my Daddy and I wanted to be like him.
“It’s a wasteland inside of her, Rue.”
Because I didn’t want to think about Mother anymore. Or Daddy. I asked, “Who is your Dad?”
Bran didn’t answer.
“I know you know.”
She shifted against me and sat up. “The angel doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know,” I agreed and then asked again, “Who is your Dad?”
I could just see her wrap her arms around her knees and press her face into her knees. “He’s in Portland. He has red hair, freckles, and green eyes.”
“Does he have other kids?”
“I don’t know. I watched him from across the street for like a day and then I left.”
“Liar.”
“He doesn’t matter,” she lied. Clearly, the one swallow of truth serum had burned out.
Chapter 5
“Why are Martha’s wards tripping?” I decided to focus on what mattered so very much less. Oh my gods…Daddy. I needed to see him right then. I wanted to curl up next to him and lay my head on his shoulder. For the first time ever, I wanted to re-watch one of those stupid movies only he loved. I wanted to sit at the kitchen table while he made blueberry pancakes and sang folk songs off-key. I needed a hug from him, right then, more than I needed to breathe.
“Well…when I found out,” Bran sniffed, and her voice cracked, but we didn’t have to see each other’s pain in the darkness. It would have been worse if we could. “I took off.”
“How did you find out?”
“Mother was here, and I was looking for something in her room.”
“You were going through her things?”
“Yeah, obvy. When would I ever get a chance like that again? I thought it was gold. I didn’t realize. So…I found your birth certificate, and it has your Dad’s name on it.”
I blinked. I wanted to ask what it was. But I didn’t. I never wanted to know. I wanted it to be changed. Immediately. To MY daddy. His name was the only name that mattered. Theodore Jones. Daddy. The perfect, teddy bear of a daddy, who didn’t belong to us snakes. Oh gods. He didn’t belong to us. He had NEVER fit in. He was like the sun us soulless ones hovered around.
Sisters and Graves: A Rue Hallow Mystery (The Rue Hallow Mysteries Book 4) Page 3