“Yes, it’s extremely sensitive to lethargy and assholery.” Ariel crossed her legs. “No. I meant it as a figure of speech. The ironic figure.”
Ellison sat in the opposite chair, her back as straight as her long blond hair. She shifted a little and Ariel tracked the movement. “I’m fine,” Ellison told her sister. “Stop fretting.”
“I am sorry,” Persephone said, biting off the apology when Ariel growled out a sound.
“Did you mean to do it?” Ellison asked, picking up a mug from the table, and taking a small sip. “The binding spell?”
“A binding spell?” Persephone shook her head. Dorian had accused her of trying to split the worlds apart, not bind someone.
She thought back, and recalled what came after the attack on Ellison. When Persephone had tried to leave the island after she was unable to call Dorian to her. Was that what he meant by splitting the world apart?
The two witches were waiting, and Persephone tried to focus. “No, I just wanted you to stop. I thought you were…”
“Trying to kill you?”
Persephone shrugged a shoulder and Dorian’s shirt slipped. She tugged it in place and Ellison set the cup down.
“That’s an eighteenth-century man’s work shirt, it looks authentic.”
“Ellison is a history buff as well as a writer,” Ariel said. “The writing runs in our family.”
There was a long silence, the kind that dares, and Persephone wished she had her own cup of something to sip on. From the kitchen a cup clattered and Ariel turned toward the sound.
“Tea or coffee?” Ariel asked.
“What?”
“Your aura,” Ellison said. “The house can’t help but read you.”
“Oh,” Persephone blinked. “So it’s not completely ironic then.”
Ellison bit back a smile, while Ariel issued another low snarl.
“Tea, please,” Persephone said.
“Chamomile, I’d wager,” Ellison said, looking her over. “Caffeine will only increase your adrenaline and right now I’d say you’re running at about ninety percent.”
“It’s…” Persephone brushed her hair behind her ear. “Been an interesting day.”
Ariel walked into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a small silver teacup full of freshly steeped chamomile.
“It’s not poisoned, is it?”
“I wouldn’t need to trick you to end you,” Ariel said, with a devilish smile.
Persephone barely refrained from rolling her eyes, but drank. Ellison was right; the herbs blunted the edges of Persephone’s adrenaline even as they sharpened her senses.
“Why do witches always know what someone else needs in their tea?” Persephone asked, thinking of Moira and Hyacinth.
“We were trained,” Ariel said. “Our mothers by their grandmothers, and us by them. It’s part of our heritage—reading other witches, charming our homes to protect us and occasionally help us.”
“You’ve known who I am since we met on the boat,” Persephone said. “Haven’t you?”
Ariel nodded while Ellison reached down for a floorboard, shifting it back to reveal a hidden compartment. From it, she pulled out a photo album. “You look like your gran.”
Persephone’s hand flew to her mouth as she took in the photo album. A hundred questions danced up to the tip of her tongue, and she took another sip of the tea to quiet them. Persephone might not yet be able to read every witch, but Ellison’s expression was one Persephone could read with ease—it implored silence.
“When she left,” Ellison said, “the images in the photos leapt into flames. Burnt themselves out from the pages or frames. The island tends to try and erase what is no longer here. Your grandmother turned her back on it and us, even if she had her reasons to leave. So what used to be an indulgent collection of photos, particularly considering the era, was reduced to one simple photograph.”
“Our grandmother,” Ariel said from where she paced in front of the fireplace like an impatient cat, “said your grandmother was doing her best to protect us, but she took something she should not have.”
“What?”
“Your mother and you.”
Just as Dorian thought.
If Persephone had had any question of her lineage, of her family truly being who her cousins and the library promised her they were, the picture would have been enough to squelch any remaining concern. The women in the photo were in their twenties, younger than the witches in the room today. One looked a good deal like Ellison, with long blond hair and overarching eyebrows. The woman happened to also have Ariel’s determined eyes. The other woman had the shape of Persephone’s face, her dark eyes and lashes. It was similar to the photo from the library, but in that picture Persephone’s grandmother had been looking away, her face devoid of emotion. Here she was a prettier version of Persephone, the photo capturing her mid-laugh, her grandmother’s eyes sparkling like they knew all the secrets in the world and were only too happy to keep them. The ladies were pressed close together, their arms entwined. It was easy to identify them as sisters, easier yet to see they were the best of friends.
“I’ve been seeking information about my family my whole life,” Persephone said, and wondered what her grandmother would think if their situations were reversed and she was looking at a photo of her granddaughter. “You could have shown me this before, you know.”
“You came to the island to seek Ever House,” Ariel said. “I asked if you knew where you were going that day on the boat when you arrived, and do you recall what you told me?”
Persephone thought back. To the first time she smelled the shore, saw the large oaks and the swaying lanterns along the dock. To the woman whose beauty had intimidated her, and whose rude reaction left a strong impression.
“I said that I was here to see a friend.”
“A friend.” Ariel spat the word out. “You chose the Evers and their path over ours, and then you attacked us.” Ariel leveled Persephone a look that made her toes curl.
“I never attacked you.”
“No,” Ellison sighs, reaching over to squeeze her sister’s hand. “That would be Hyacinth. Ari, you know where the blame lies.”
The tiny witch only crossed to the window and stared out it.
“Hyacinth?” Persephone asked. They thought Hyacinth attacked them? “You’re mistaken. She couldn’t have, and wouldn’t have done that.”
“She has done worse,” Ariel said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Is this…?” Persephone tucked her hair behind her ear. “Is this about the girl who came between you?”
“Stevie is just a small section of the footnote in why Hyacinth is evil,” Ariel said, her cheeks flushing and her jaw clenching tight.
Persephone stared at Ariel, and had a sudden flashback to the memory she pulled from Hyacinth. Of Ariel and the postmistress, and how Laurel had looked at Ariel with an expression of fascination and something deeper.
Ariel stalked from window to window like a panther seeking its prey, and Persephone sighed.
“I’m sorry,” Persephone said, because she knew well that at the root of strong anger rested hurt or fear, and that only Ariel could shift those emotions away.
“You don’t need to be sorry,” Ariel said, cutting her another look. “You should, however, be careful. Unless you’re a moron. You may prove to be a moron.”
“Ari,” Ellison said, admonishing her sister. She flashed an apologetic look at Persephone and pulled her long locks back into a ponytail. “What do you know of the curse of Wile Isle and the land beyond the veil?”
“The curse?” Persephone shifted in her seat, not thrilled with Ariel’s low opinion of her being given so freely. “Quite a lot, seeing as how I’m here to break it.” She cleared her throat. “Amara and True Mayfair caused it. Hyacinth and Moira filled me in on everything, and explained why Hyacinth went looking for me. That I am the key, prophesied to break the curse.” She glared in Ariel’s direction. “The
y also explained how you didn’t want the curse broken.”
Ariel stopped and turned. Persephone bared her teeth, and Ariel’s lips quirked into a surprisingly charming smile before she sighed. She crossed to the other side of the room and blew into the wick of a long black candle, bringing the flame to life. “Obsidian base,” she said, tapping the candle. “It will keep the negativity from the room, help block those nosy witches from trying to listen in, should they realize you’re here.”
“I can’t imagine they would, or that Hyacinth would ever attack you,” Persephone said, feeling like years had passed in one day instead of minutes.
“Then you would be a fool,” said Ariel.
“And you would be a broken record.”
Ellison bit off a laugh and Ariel rolled her eyes.
“They are craftier than you can imagine,” Ellison said. “We trusted them once, and carry the scars for it.”
Ellison didn’t offer more, and seeing the sadness veil over her face, Persephone rubbed a hand across her eyes.
“You’re being haunted, which I think you know,” Ariel said, as though she were discussing the weather. “But we’ll get to that in a moment.”
“Wait, what?”
“Prophecies are usually self-fulfilling,” Ariel said, waving a hand as she talked over Persephone. “You believe it to be so, you will work to make it so. In this case, I’m not against you working toward breaking the curse, if you really mean to break it and not further complicate things. That’s what we are against.”
“I’m sorry, did you say haunted?”
“Yes.”
“But—”
Oh. Right.
The Many.
Ariel pursed her lips and Ellison gave Persephone a sympathetic nod.
Before Persephone could say another word the air in the room thickened. The pink vapor in the cauldron that sat by the fireplace grew from a gentle, soothing waft into a wall of thick smoke.
“The alarm,” Ariel said before she muttered a curse, jumped up, and ran from the room. She was a smear of dark eyes and hair against the pink smoke. Persephone coughed, waved a hand in front of her face, but it was no use—she couldn’t clear the air.
“There is wickedness on the island,” Ellison said, her voice quiet but close. “That warning alarm was set before we were born. Something that should have remained lost has returned.” Ellison began to murmur softly, a gentle incantation that swelled into the room:
“Goddess above me,
goddess below me,
goddess all around me.
Cleanse the air and protect us well,
as I will so mote it be.”
The smoke receded. Persephone watched Ellison’s hands as they wove through the air, like they were plucking back each plume and returning it from whence it came.
“You’re manipulating space,” Persephone said, her eyes still watering.
“Yes,” Ellison nodded. “That’s one of my gifts.”
Persephone gaped at her. “Your element is aether?”
“Of course.”
“I can walk through worlds, manipulate space as well.”
From the attic came a great crash. Persephone jumped, and looked over to find Ellison’s hands, which seconds earlier had moved as if possessed by a dervish, hovered in the air.
“You’re a walker?” Ellison asked, her brows drawn up.
“Yes, that’s what…” Persephone paused, thought of Dorian. “My friend called it, yes.”
“Moira and Hyacinth know this?”
Persephone nodded.
“Ah.”
The next moment, Ariel returned downstairs. “I’ve reset the wards,” Ariel said. In her arms she carried an object covered in a blanket. Ariel’s face was so serene Persephone almost missed the fierceness banked in her eyes. Persephone was still not accustomed to holding eye contact, and the gleam in Ariel’s had her back stiffening.
“You walk in worlds?” Ariel asked, her tone as sweet as freshly spun cotton candy.
“Yes.”
“You walk in worlds, my sister weaves space at her will, and I can reach into certain spaces.”
Ariel pulled back the sheet with a flourish, revealing the miniature man. Persephone’s eyes grew as round as two full moons.
“Oh. Where did you get him?” Persephone asked, forgetting herself, forgetting her desire to stay still and centered, and crossing to snatch the mechanical man from Ariel’s hands. He was two feet of metal, wires, and bore an unmistakable likeness to Dorian.
Persephone did not see the look that passed between the two sisters.
“He looks so much like him,” Persephone said, a sense of longing rising from deep within her.
“Who?” Ellison asked, her voice as soft as a rose’s petal.
“Dorian,” Persephone said, the words loosened from her tongue and the green eyes of the mechanical man whirred to life.
The voices chorused out of Persephone.
“We are the Many. We are here to guide. What way? We may.”
The room spun once, twice. Ariel threw the sheet over the creature. Persephone put a hand out, and Ellison caught it, just before Persephone fainted face-first onto the couch.
* * *
THE SOUND OF rain brought Persephone’s eyes fluttering. She opened them to find the two witches seated with her on the sofa. Persephone lay with her head against Ellison’s lap, her feet in Ariel’s. Ellison had one palm on the crown of Persephone’s head, and the other tucked into her sister’s hand, while Ariel’s free hand firmly cradled the heel of Persephone’s foot.
“As I said earlier,” Ariel murmured, giving her foot a gentle squeeze. “You are haunted.”
“And the miniature Dorian?” Persephone asked, an illogical urge to protect it rising in her as she searched for it.
“He’s a mechanical beastie, not a person,” Ariel said. “I can manipulate space by creating a type of mental door between worlds. The doll spoke your name to me once. I needed to test and see if the doll is tethered to you. It is, but it’s not what’s haunting you.” She nodded to the doll resting on a chair, and Persephone’s shoulders relaxed. “The doll was the trigger for those that are.”
“We are the Many,” Ellison said, tapping Persephone’s temple. “You spoke to us, and that is what you said, but you were not the one in charge of the words you spoke. Many indeed.”
Persephone tried to tuck her feet in and sit up, but Ariel’s strong hands held her in place.
“We can’t break connection yet,” Ariel said, her tone not quite apologetic. “We need to know if they’re trying to hurt you.”
“They aren’t,” Persephone said, unable to stop the possessive tone creeping into her voice.
“You’ve been lonely,” Ellison said, running her palm in a soft caress over Persephone’s hair. “Of course. You’re protective of them, like you’re protective of Moira and Hyacinth.”
“Moira and Hyacinth are my family.”
“They’re relatively horrible people who share a few lines of coding in your DNA,” Ariel said, before tapping Persephone’s ankle. “We cannot find the exact source of the haunting, but it’s got to be connected to Hyacinth.”
“That’s insane,” Persephone said.
“Each time we have met, we have been attacked,” Ariel said, counting off on her fingers. “Lightning, green energy, storms, and natural disasters.”
“I…”
“Disagree?”
Persephone shook her head.
“I know only one witch with the type of power used to manipulate the natural world like that, and you’ve been staying with her.”
“Hyacinth wouldn’t want me harmed. I don’t believe that.” Persephone bit the inside of her cheek. “And she’s not that powerful, you know. I’ve watched her struggle with her magic.”
“Maybe Moira is assisting her.”
“But why?”
“Best guess is she’s using you.”
“I need to get to Ever House
,” Persephone said, shaking the witches off.
“That’s a good idea,” Ellison said, releasing her, and surprising Persephone.
“You want to go there?”
“Our home has been rattling the windows. If we do not go to the Ever witches, they will come to us.” Ellison closed her eyes, and said an incantation that sounded like a spoken lullaby.
Ariel stood up and Persephone followed suit. She tested her balance, found she was steady and the Many were silent.
“We don’t know what we will face at Ever House.” She turned to Persephone. “How adept are you with your new powers?”
“I’ve…” Persephone’s head spun at the worry in Ariel’s voice and the dread in her eyes. Could what the Way witches said be true about Hyacinth?
Or were they playing her?
She reached for the connection to the island, and found it secure. She was meant to be here, with the Ways. But did that mean she was safe with them? She took a steadying breath. “I’ve been working with Moira and Hyacinth for six weeks. I know how to protect myself.”
Ariel flashed her teeth. “Do you, cousin?”
In the next moment, a bright spear of green exploded from Ariel, slamming Persephone against the wall. The air worked alongside Ariel, lifting Persephone and pinning her to the ceiling. The pretty lace design dug into Persephone’s spine.
“Stop me,” Ariel said, her voice bored. “If you can.”
Persephone tried to lift her hands and force aether within them, but couldn’t move. She worked her shoulders back and forth. Struggling only made it worse. Invisible binds tightened against her skin. Persephone couldn’t move her hands, couldn’t open her mouth to call a spell. All she could do was stare.
A seductive whisper slid through her mind. “We are the Many. We support you.”
Persephone blinked, and the room splintered into sections.
Light refracted as though through a prism. Persephone could see shadows breathing and moving along the floor. She could locate the shift in the room where one reality would lead to the next. Persephone could, if she chose, she realized, walk out of this time into another.
The Orphan Witch Page 24