Sisters and Graves: A Rue Hallow Mystery (The Rue Hallow Mysteries Book 4)

by Amanda A. Allen

  “Are you saying that you won’t help a teenage girl who is haunted without payment?”

  “Of course he isn’t,” Martin Hallow said, leaning forward to glance at the others. He seemed shocked at the very idea. I wasn’t sure, however, that he wasn’t just the “good cop” and it was all an act. I hadn’t decided how much to trust him. “But, Rue…nothing can be done.”

  “I don’t see any reason why we wouldn’t be able to work something out. We're powerful witches. We might be able to give Branka more time.” The look Leander shot Martin was deadly.

  “I’ll take that as a yes payment is required,” I said—still evenly though I had to work even harder at keeping my voice emotionless.

  “Why do we attempt to be congenial?” Leander said with a smooth, snake smile.

  “My sister seems to be cursed with a haunting,” I said flatly, deciding to get to the point.

  Portia leaned back and her expression gave me little hope.

  “A haunting,” Dr. Martin Hallow said in a low voice. A tone that gave me little hope. “Cannot be cured.”

  Well hells, I thought.

  “Rue was bitten by Bran,” Chrysie interjected.

  That got them shuffling. The whole group was whispering to each other. Portia rose and immediately came over to me.

  “Where?” Had Martin not told them? What was happening there?

  I showed her, and she examined the bite and the runes very carefully.

  “You need to bind this completely. A sharpie isn’t good enough.”

  I took a breath and then said, “I’m looking into it. Also the sharpie is sealed in place.”

  “A potion?” Portia asked.

  I nodded and then met her eyes—the healer’s eyes and pled, “What can be done for my sister?”

  When her eyes shifted to the side, I knew I wouldn't like the answer. And then, she licked her lips and said, “I don’t think you can do anything, Rue.”

  “But people are helped from possessions all the time.”

  Martin was the one who replied to that, “Hauntings are tortured ghosts, spelled and bound to take over the victim. They are bound to the victim’s soul. The only way to end a haunting is to end the victim.”

  “We could try,” Leander said smoothly.

  I looked at him and saw his snake face—so familiar and then said, “Do you really think I’ll give you whatever you want for you to try a spell that I’ve already been told will fail?”

  “We are powerful witches—there are 13 of us—a lucky number. We might be able to imprison the haunting.”

  “I wonder,” I said sarcastically, “How many times something like that has been successful? I will save Bran, but I am not going to let you waste my time with something you already know won’t work just so that you can get your hooks in whatever you want.”

  “We want the talisman, Veruca Jones.”

  I didn’t object to my name. I hated the name Veruca, but it was my name. And Jones was my Daddy’s name, something that meant more to me now than ever before. But legally, I was actually Veruca Hallow—something I only came to find out with Bran’s news. My mother actually had a fake birth certificate with my incorrect name, so I hadn’t known until recently. That being said, they knew me by Rue Hallow and used Veruca Jones to make it clear I wasn’t part of this group or this family.

  “As the eldest of the eldest of the eldest of the Hallow line,” I said flatly, but I enjoyed watching Leander Hallow squirm. He wasn’t even close to the eldest of the eldest. “I am the natural heir to the talisman. But I don’t have it. I have seen it, but it is bound to my mother.”

  “Where did you see it?” Leander demanded, leaning forward eagerly.

  “Where do you think, Leander,” Portia. “We have long suspected it is in Hallow House.”

  “Martha put it in my underwear drawer,” I told them, no longer caring what they knew. “I didn’t touch it because I didn’t want to end up the keeper. It disappeared. I assume Martha has it. I don’t know, and I haven’t asked since it is bound to my mother. Once she frees it, send Finny over. See if he can bind it to him. I don’t care. IS there a way to save my sister? IS there a rumor of a way? Some ancient book that might work or used to work? Anything?”

  “Nothing can be done for Branka,” Portia told me gently with that flash of humanity she showed here and there that made me like her a little bit. “I am sorry. You, I can help. There is nothing to be done for Branka. I am so very sorry.”

  I took a breath to keep from screaming, spun, and walked out.

  “We could try, Veruca,” Leander said as I made my way to the door. “Don’t let a chance go by just because you don’t want to pay for help.”

  I paused for a moment and then kept moving.

  “You will regret this, Veruca.”

  Chapter 11

  I didn’t trust the Hallows. As much as I hated him, however, I trusted Finny, the wonder boy. Captain of the Keeper Team and a man who was genuinely concerned about what was happening to the people of St. Angelus.

  On my way to find Finn, I called Jessie and asked her to research things out. Jessie is smarter than I am with book knowledge, but I am a better witch. I used to think I was sort of Hermione or Velma. I used to think that I was the smart one. The truth was—Jessie had me beat. She knew all sorts of things I’d never even considered reading about. She—if any of us—was the one who might able to figure out a way to keep Bran as Bran.

  Finn was in the Old Cemetery. Him and his whole team. Monica in her tight leather pants and black skin tight turtle neck. Everything about her was exotic and rich and the opposite of me. I used not to care so much about her, but she was Felix’s official girlfriend despite how he’d kissed me and we’d ignored that that had happened. And the truth was…I liked Felix. It would take one tiny nudge for me to fall for him all the way.

  But he had not broken up with Monica, and I was not that girl. And most importantly, none of that mattered at that moment.

  “Finn,” I called—not bothering with being covert though their team of keepers was trying it. They were hunting ghosts. Surely standing in the shadows all silent didn’t really help them hide? I mean…ghosts could just move through things. Why stand behind a tree? Maybe the ghost was in the tree.

  “Rue, damn it! We’ve been waiting for hours. And there’s no way it will come out now.”

  “My sister has been cursed with a haunting and I don’t know what to do,” I told him without preamble, making him listen to me. He knew, he’d cursed me for it. But maybe if I asked.

  “Gods, Rue…” Finn rubbed his hands over his face while his team of seven other young necromancers came out from their hiding places. I only knew Finn and Monica by name but I’d seen them all lots of times. They were doing what my mother should have been doing. They were protecting the living from the dead and the dead from the nasty necromancers and dark witches. They were protecting the people of St. Angelus and putting themselves at risk as they did it.

  In the quiet of my mind, I might admit that I respected them. I didn’t want to be them, but they tried. And I respected it. It was just that Finny— No, I told myself. You’re here for help. Call him Finn.

  Finn was so self-righteous and arrogant. I wanted to punch him more often than I wanted to help him, even when he was being heroic. But when Chrysie had been taken and we’d expected to be attacked by a dark witch, he’d been there. When I faced the possessed guidance counselor, he’d been there. He was there, often, in the shadows doing what needed to be done, damn him to the hells for making me feel guilty about not liking him.

  “Rue,” he said. “Gods, Rue. That’s bad and Dr. Hallow already told you that nothing can be done.”

  “What do I do? I can’t do nothing.”

  He shook his head and looked at his feet. He didn’t have any ideas.

  “Please don’t say nothing,” I said. There was a plea in my voice, a softness that so rarely was there, Finn looked up startled.

 
; And then he looked back down as he shook his head.

  I glanced at the others, and they all looked away.

  “Well damn,” I said and turned from the graveyard.

  “You can still do the right thing about the talisman,” Finn said.

  “Finn, if I had it, I would hand it to you right now. I haven’t seen it but the one time, and I thought if I even touched it, I would end up the keeper.”

  “That was stupid,” Monica said snidely.

  I ignored her and told Finn with a rare honesty, “You’re a good man, Finn. But I will find a way to save, Branka.”

  “I wish it could be done,” he said. He was the type of handsome that would stop some girls in their tracks. “This is what keepers and talismans are for. To prevent this from happening.”

  “She didn’t get haunted here,” I said with sheer exhaustion. There was a growing panic in my stomach that I was ignoring. There couldn’t be nothing.

  I walked far enough away to be by myself and called my old coven leader Hazel, but she didn’t know about necromancy. She sort of disdained it. I called Saffron, the coven sister from the Sage Island Coven who had been raised in a dark coven, she didn’t know anything, but she said she’d do what she could to find out. I called Elizabeth, the ancient vampire who had changed Chrysie and asked.

  Nothing. I got nothing. I pursued every single avenue I had and they were all telling me that Bran could not be saved. And I could not accept that.

  What haunted me wasn’t what the Hallow Family Council said or Finn and his little team of do-gooders. It was what my mother had not said. She’s a snake. Gods, I hated her sometimes. Right now, I hated her. But, I knew she loved me and Bran. She would and had done anything for us. It’s a hard and horrible thing to be adored by someone as morally broken as she is. Which made me utterly confident that if there were something to be done—anything at all—she’d have done it. She’d have hunted up those who were with Bran when she was cursed and my mother would sacrifice them to the gods if necessary. And I meant that literally. Mother would actually murder someone, I felt sure, if it would save Bran.

  And she hadn’t told me to do anything. Anything at all. She hadn’t sent me after a book or some weird ingredient. She hadn’t told me to ask so and so for help or said that she was coming. Instead…she had been without orders, demands, or manipulations.

  Gods and monsters. She had said nothing.

  I was haunted the whole walk home. Not by ghosts. Or memories. Or might have beens. But by the realization of what Mother saying nothing meant and by visions of Bran dying. Or going slowly insane. Or turning into Mandi who had slaughtered people.

  Bran and I might be part snake and monsters in our own right, but Bran would want me to kill her myself before I let that happen.

  And there was no way in any of the hells that I would slay my sister.

  Chapter 12

  I went into Hallow House, laid my head on the table, and took in a long slow breath. I was tired in a way that was painful.

  “Are you ok?” Felix asked carefully.

  I shook my head without lifting it from the table.

  “What did you learn?”

  “Haunts are spelled and tortured ghosts bonded to the victim. There is nothing that can be done.”

  “Hecate, Rue,” Felix breathed. There was so much sympathy and worry in his voice that it made things worse.

  I heard the chair next to me scrape against the floor and felt the heat of him as he took the seat. He reached out and took my hand, but I didn’t lift my head.

  “What am I going to do?” I begged.

  He took a moment to answer and then said, “I don’t know. But we’ve made it so far.”

  There was a bit of rustling, and I lifted my head to face the sound and found the rest of my coven. Cyrus the long, lanky normal human who was learning magic from us. There was Jessie our auburn haired, book worm. She was all nerd and quietness and facts. And there was my cousin, Chrysie. My cousin who had been murdered before classes even started and turned into a vampire by the school who wanted to prevent outrage.

  I’m not sure how turning a young witch into a young vampire was supposed to do that, but at least Chrysie was still with us and breathing. She’d been kidnapped by a dark witch, and her hand had been removed. And because she was a vampire, it had been returned to her though it was definitely her ‘bad’ hand now.

  She used to move like a fairy ready to take flight, but she’d been grounded ever since the dark witch kidnapping. Until Branka arrived, Chrysie had been my greatest worry. And I’d barely thought about her trouble since Bran had started acting up. I wasn’t sure if that was normal or if I were just a bad friend. I had never been sure of any of my reactions since my upbringing had been so off, I couldn’t trust myself.

  “Rue,” Chrysie said carefully, sitting next to me and taking my other hand. “If anyone can save Bran…”

  “Everyone is telling me she cannot be saved,” I said. “I guess the bite makes me super iffy as well.”

  “What?” Felix’s voice was a low-shout, and he turned my hand over to stare down at the bandage that had been replaced by Portia. Underneath was a perfect circle of teeth and scabs. It had been a nasty bite and it hurt a stupid amount.

  There was a part of me that relished that pain. Relished that I could feel it and was certain I deserved it.

  “We’ll help however we can,” Cyrus said. He was such a good guy. It made me tired. If I lost Bran, I wasn’t sure I could keep functioning. I was sure our coven would fall apart, and no other coven would take poor Cyrus who was coming to love magic so much.

  Someone rang the bell of the house as Felix pulled out hamburger and started forming patties for cheeseburgers. It was my comfort food. Cheeseburger with cheese, bacon, avocado, and more cheese. We always had the ingredients, and Felix had made me a burger more than once.

  Chrysie helped, while she nibbled everything in sight and Jessie went to answer the door. When she came back, she had my siblings Hiro and Saki as well.

  “They asked for you,” Jessie said, carefully, “And refused to leave. When they mentioned Bran, I thought maybe it would be better to let them come in.”

  I stood, didn’t know what to do, and sat back down.

  “Guys,” I told my coven, “this is my half-brother Hiro and sister, Saki.”

  “Oh shiiii,” Cyrus started, cut himself off, and then blushed.

  “Saki says your sister is haunted,” Hiro said without greeting. I met his gaze and he stared back at me without welcome or any emotion.

  “She is,” I said, wanting to know what he needed to know by that.

  “You didn’t look so beat up before,” Saki said.

  “Bran’s haunt came out on the drive home,” I told Saki. “We fought. It wasn’t a clear victory.”

  “Did you bleed?”

  “Did I get bitten or scratched?” I asked for him. I flashed him my arm. “It’s currently contained.”

  “What does that mean,” Felix demanded as he flipped the burgers. He’d added two more to the pan and continued cooking when the others had come in. But he’d been watching carefully.

  “It means,” Hiro answered, “That my half-sister is in danger of being haunted herself. What have you done about it?”

  “Why are you here,” I countered.

  Saki crossed the room, bypassing her brother who tried to catch her, and squeezed in between Chrysie and me, taking my hand from Chrysie.

  “I’m sorry about your sister,” Saki said softly. Her eyes teared up and she was crying for me.

  “I am going to save her,” I told Saki. “Sisters are important. You need them.”

  A tear rolled down Saki’s face and she nodded solemnly. That lioness inside of me that had awoken for Saki and Tane before shifted. Gods, I loved this little girl already.

  “The only way to slay a haunt,” Hiro said, “is with a magic object like keepers use. You can’t do that while it is inside our sister without
also slaying your sister.”

  I let go of Saki’s hand to stand and pace. I vowed to them, “I will find a way.”

  “I hope that you do,” Hiro answered. “Why did you come visit my home?”

  “Why are you here?” I countered as I kept moving, back and forth, back and forth. As I did, I thought of my mother. She was ruthless. For Mother, being ruthless was a part of Mother’s arsenal. She’d ruthlessly made Bran and I spend our childhood forming pentacles until we could draw them quickly and with muscle memory.

  It was a skill set that had saved my life more than once. It was because I’d spent much of my childhood brewing that I had been able to do what I had with the dark necromancer who had been responsible for the death of Cyrus’s good friends and the reason why he was part of our little family now. Mother had been ruthless when it came to my summer days, weekends, holidays, and evenings. It was because my mother had taught me to disregard things like pain that I had been able to trap a dark witch in my house and set off cleansing spells for dark magic—despite the fact that I’d used it myself.

  I had taken the pain, embraced it and saved us all. Because I’d been ruthless. Mother was ruthless. I was ruthless.

  I had a horrible idea.

  “Would the talisman of the St. Angelus Thinning work?”

  Hiro nodded once. “Do you know the keeper?”

  I let my next question be that answer. “I wonder if you know how to break a talisman from the current keeper?”

  There was silence from my friends who had heard me say, time and again, that I did not want to be the Keeper of the St. Angelus Thinning. And I didn’t. I didn’t even have words for how much I didn’t. I wasn’t noble like Finn. I wasn’t ambitious like Monica—at least not in that way. And I couldn’t state enough how many keepers died. Let me just reiterate before you say I’ve been protesting too much, my Aunt Dominique and my grandparents had died in the calling. As far as I knew you could keep going back to find more murdered generations of my family, I just didn’t know that much about my family to know what had happened to them, but I would not be surprised.