Persephone closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, on finding the next breath and the next moment as Moira had taught her.
Persephone couldn’t move, but she could outlast Ariel.
She smiled down at her cousin, and the room’s heat warmed. Ariel’s arms trembled, shook. They grew heavy, her breathing ragged on the exhale.
The voices of the Many whispered against Persephone’s mind.
Persephone turned inward, to a vision of a rolling sea and green cliffs. Of a land with white flowers and sunlight that made the dew sparkle. She found the answer waiting there.
Persephone opened her mouth and said, “Más é do thoil é.”
Please. If it is your will.
The power seeped from Ariel and traveled along the prismed path up to where Persephone floated. Like petals of an iris opening after the rain, the power unfurled. She absorbed every single drop. Then, as Ariel crumpled to the floor, Persephone turned it around and threw it back to her.
Instead of breaking Ariel, she refilled the drained well of her cousin’s reserve. As Persephone returned the magic, she released herself from her pinned prison against the ceiling and glided to the floor. Persephone’s feet brushed the hardwood as they settled, her hair wafted back from her shoulders. Her cheeks flushed and her lips curved.
“Sweet Goddess,” Ellison said, from where she stood in the corner. “I’ve never seen anyone siphon that much power at once.”
Ariel, who was pulling herself together with jerky, agitated motions, rolled out her shoulders and dusted off her skirt. Ariel’s skin had an extra shine to it. Her dark eyes and hair seemed a shade deeper, and the freckles across her own nose stood out like stars in a country night’s sky.
“You drained me,” Ariel said, two irritated lines bracketing between her brows. “Then you gave me more back?”
“It seemed the polite thing to do,” Persephone said, biting back on a laugh fueled by power.
“I’m glad you find this funny,” Ariel said, her eyes bright. “I wonder if you’ll be laughing when you pay the price for that magic, for no theft of power is ever obtained without cost.”
A ribbon of static skidded through the room. Persephone rubbed at a chill on her arms. Ariel’s smile was smug, and Persephone felt a jolt of power tug at her middle.
“I’ve already paid,” Persephone said, thinking of the losses she’d suffered so far.
“You only think you have,” Ariel said, shaking her head. “Let’s hope the Goddess doesn’t test your good fortune.”
With that she turned and marched out of the house, leaving Ellison and Persephone behind.
Twelve
ELLISON WAITED A MOMENT before turning to Persephone. “Ariel loves a dramatic exit.”
“As if all of this hasn’t been dramatic enough,” Persephone said, earning a nod in agreement from Ellison.
They went outside and met Ariel by the side of the house. “It will be faster to travel to Ever House on wheels,” she said, of the wind-protected golf cart she stood beside. “I’d suggest broomsticks, but I can’t guarantee I won’t knock you off yours.”
“Ha ha,” Persephone said, while mentally preparing to block the witch should she try.
Ariel eyed the mechanical man on Persephone’s hip. Persephone couldn’t leave him behind, he even smelled like Dorian somehow, of pine and books.
“He’s not a baby, cousin,” Ariel said, her brow furrowing.
“Neither are you and yet you keep trying to prove me wrong,” Persephone snapped.
Ariel surprised Persephone by offering a real grin before climbing into the driver’s seat. “Snippy witches and their mechanical men ride in the back,” Ariel said, before starting the cart and spinning it in a U-turn. “Whoever your Dorian is, I hope you’ve better luck than I when it comes to matters of the heart.”
Persephone and Ellison climbed in. As they continued up the road, the grass around them deepened its shade from shamrock to olive to hunter green.
If it weren’t for the way the shadows grew as they traveled up the path, Persephone would have found the ride almost idyllic.
“What are the smudges along the ground?” she asked. The wind swept up, swatting at them from both sides, causing the cart to sway. Persephone tightened her grip on the side of the white pleather seat. “And how can you choose not to follow the wind when it’s stalking you?”
“That isn’t the wind,” Ellison said, one hand forcing her long blond tresses in place as they tried to whip free. “That is shady magic. Shadow magic. It clung to you when we first met, but now that you’re free of it, it’s revealing itself. It’s an old magic and can’t mean anything good.”
There was a scent of grease in the air, oil and thyme, and something earthier, more pungent. Ever House appeared over the hill, and a dark presence edged along the ground.
“It’s neither born of the light or the dark, but something in between.” Ellison said, and reached back and took Persephone’s hand. She dropped the ruby in it and offered a smile Mona Lisa would envy. “Our family stone, to give you strength.”
“Stones,” Persephone said, holding the mechanical man tighter, “are just what I always wanted.”
When they crested the hill, power pulsed over them. Ariel stopped the cart, reached out, and pushed at the invisible field. “Fucking Hyacinth. She can’t help but make everything harder.” Ariel pulled off the road and got out. “The cart won’t go beyond this point. We’re meant to go on foot so they can watch us arrive. Like they’re generals and we’re plebeians in a war against the crown.”
Ariel stalked forward. Ellison serenely followed, and Persephone peered into the growing mist surrounding the house, desperately hoping this was all a misunderstanding. She tried to carry the doll through the mist, and was pressed back. She set the mechanical version of Dorian in the cart, patting his cheek once before she left him behind.
Persephone thought of the letter her grandmother had written to her sister, of how she said it was up to them to break the curse, and how the curse would not be broken while they remained divided. Her grandmother had meant by evil, but Persephone thought maybe there was more to it. They were dividing each other, and wasn’t that a powerful sort of wickedness?
When they reached the lawn to Ever House, the mist cleared.
Moira sat on the porch, tea in one hand, a book in the other. She offered Persephone a quiet look of reproach. “You trust too easily, little one.”
“And you’ve been reading the same passage for ten years, Moira,” Ellison cut in. “We’re all who we are…” She lifted a hand and snapped an invisible thread. A shriek came from inside the house. “Well, most of us.”
Moira set the book down and held out a hand. “Come, Persephone. You’re on the wrong side of this divide. I don’t know what spells they’ve been weaving to trick you to their side, but we are your family. Haven’t we proven that?”
The hurt in her voice gave Persephone a pang. “I didn’t choose them over you,” Persephone said, taking a step forward. “I went to them for answers, but that was never apart from you or Hyacinth.” She held up her hands as though they were white flags. “I was wrong before, they weren’t trying to hurt me.”
The screen door slammed as Hyacinth stalked outside, rubbing the back of her head. Hyacinth glared daggers at Ellison, but refused to even glance to the space where Ariel stood.
“They lie,” she said to Moira. She turned to Persephone. “You can’t trust them, Persephone. We are your family. Everything I’ve done is to show and prove that to you.”
Persephone stared at her cousin in frustration. “They think you’re behind the attacks. Did you attack them? Did you attack me?”
Moira gaped at her sister, while Hyacinth shook her head. “It’s not what you think—I was protecting you.”
“Hyacinth,” Moira said, groaning. She stared at her sister like she’d sprouted a second head. “You didn’t.”
“Of course I did,” Hyacinth snapped. “I
am trying to save the island and protect Persephone. They couldn’t be bothered to help us, and I knew they’d screw everything up if I didn’t keep them away from her.”
The air around them shimmered and black oil bubbled up from the side garden. Persephone gaped as the little gnome was turned onto his side and rolled down into the muck.
“Control yourself,” Ariel said, her voice thick.
“That’s not me,” Hyacinth said, her eyes following the oil as it slicked through the garden.
“Sure it’s not,” Ariel said, her eyes steady on the front door. “Our barrier was broken—the one our grandmother set fifty years ago to alert us to returning evil. How did you do it, and how many creative ways do I get to kick your ass before you send whatever you called back?”
“Did you hear something?” Hyacinth asked Moira, cocking a hand on her hip. “It sounded vaguely like buzzing from an infected beehive. I hate when good creatures go bad, but I think I might need to put this one out of its misery.”
“Try me,” Ariel said, stepping forward. She bared her teeth and Ellison put an arm out, holding her back.
Persephone watched, her brows knitting together. Ellison saw her, and asked, “Don’t you feel it?” She left her sister and walked to the edge of the steps. For ten long seconds Ellison stared up into the trees.
Hyacinth glared at the witch. “Don’t even think about—”
Ariel flipped Hyacinth off. She ignored the outraged look on Hyacinth’s face and the wary one on Moira’s. “Do it,” she told her sister.
Ellison raised her palms to the sky, and let her fingers dance. It looked to Persephone as though Ellison was playing imaginary notes on a piano across the air.
The house groaned and the mist pressed back in. A line of sweat broke out along Ellison’s brow. Ariel raised her own hands, sending waves of energy toward where her sister stood. A crack reverberated through the air, settling into the ground and splintering it along the edge of the path.
Persephone gasped in wonder, the aether in her humming to life beneath her veins.
Space was being rewoven. A barren tree broke out in blooms, the sun shifted its position in the sky over the home, and the grass beneath their feet bent forward against an unseen wind. The natural order of Ever House was out of sync and Ellison was revealing what should be and what was hidden.
“That’s enough,” Hyacinth said, her teeth gnashed together.
“Is it?” Ariel asked, even as her arms trembled in support of her sister.
Ellison turned her face to Moira’s. The witch had yet to voice an objection, and Persephone realized whatever was hidden inside, Moira did not want it there.
That was what made her do it. The need to protect Moira, to help. Persephone lifted her own palm and a shot of aether streamed out. It floated down like a sea of shooting stars, raining onto Ellison.
“You can control your magic,” Hyacinth said, a victorious look passing over her face.
“Unlike some people,” Ariel said to Hyacinth, her brow furrowed in concentration, a line of sweat trickling down her cheek.
The ground shook once more and the door to Ever House flew open. A shadow jerked into sight, before it was dragged onto the porch.
Persephone waited, but no one followed. A lone shadow stood, wringing its hands and tapping from foot to foot.
“That’s enough,” Hyacinth said, her eyes on Persephone’s face.
“You brought a shadow creature into this world?” Ariel asked, her voice full of outrage as she stared at Hyacinth. “After what happened with Stevie last time, you still tried to trick the Goddess. That’s what’s been following Persephone?”
Hyacinth shook her head, but a sharp pain pinged in Persephone’s chest. She was lying. It was all wrong, the shadow and Hyacinth’s anger. Moira’s face was grave, and Persephone rocked back onto her heels, rooting herself in the earth.
Ellison dipped her hands and Moira gave the slightest nod. Persephone raised her own, pouring power into her cousin. Ellison tugged down, like she was towing the stars from the sky, and a crooked form of a being fought its way out onto the porch. The limbs were agitated, the body moving out of sync with itself. When the light hit the face, Persephone swallowed a gasp and dropped her arm.
“I haven’t been following anyone,” the voice of the being said as it lulled from side to side. “I am protecting. You think Hyacinth could magic such forces of nature on her own? Hyacinth needed a siphon, and I am more powerful than you could ever hope to be. You should know that, Ariel Way.”
“Oh dear Goddess,” Persephone said, one hand flying to her throat. “Deandra?”
Deandra Bishop stood on the porch, refusing to look up. Her head was bent and cocked to the side, her arms rigid against her angled torso. The shadow cowered, separated from the girl.
“Hello, Persephone,” Deandra said, her voice a broken whisper. “Do you know?”
“Know?” Persephone asked, her stomach flipping over as she watched the woman move.
Deandra turned her head back and forth, up and down, like a bobblehead nodding on a rotation. It was like watching the earth try to spin off its axis, and Persephone swallowed bile.
“What the hell you are,” Deandra said, her mouth tilting up at one side.
Persephone’s knees shook.
“That’s not whoever you think it is,” Ariel said, her face going pale.
“Oh, Ari, you’re still just as dull as always.” Deandra put her hands to both sides of her head and held it steady. “If you could keep those guard dogs from attacking, maybe I’ll give you a kiss for old times’ sake.”
Ariel swayed where she stood and Ellison rushed to her side.
Deandra showed her teeth, and the poem Larkin had written one month ago rose up inside Persephone. The voice of the Many urged her in a fevered whisper, “Swish, swish, a siren’s wish.”
Deandra gave a slow blink, one eye and then the other. Her lips tried to stretch into a smile, but the corners turned down.
Hyacinth watched, the first glimmer of concern flickering to life in her eyes.
Persephone pressed her fingernails into her palms to keep the panic and terror at bay. She had to do something. She crossed to the base of the stairs.
“Look at me, Deandra Bishop.” Persephone cleared the tremor from her voice. “By your name, I call you to look at me.”
Deandra only rolled her head from side to side. “You’re getting in my way, Persephone.” She tilted her head forward at an angle, looked Persephone from top to bottom. “Hyacinth thinks you’re the key. You shouldn’t have gone to the Ways. They won’t help you. They can’t help you. You’re not like them. You know what you are, you’re just like me.”
“I am nothing like whatever you are,” Persephone said, a wave of revulsion rising through her at the evil glee on the woman’s face.
“Let’s play a game,” Deandra taunted. “Will you catch me or let me fall?”
The air cackled with static once more, and Deandra’s form took flight. She rocketed up into the air, higher and higher until she was a dot in the sky. Then, with an unnatural speed, Deandra’s body torpedoed back down to earth.
Persephone did not think. She saw the flying form of the woman who had stood beside her at the coffee counter with a bad attitude and a quick mind, and held her hands up as though in surrender. Power shot from her to the body as it tumbled from the sky.
Deandra’s body didn’t summersault, nor did it bounce.
It floated to the ground and hit with enough force to make Hyacinth wince, but not enough to seriously hurt Deandra. Then she rolled to her side and grinned up at Persephone.
“I see you,” Deandra said.
Persephone took a step back. Shook her head as if to clear what she was seeing, and then stepped forward to peer closer.
Deandra’s eyes were wrong.
Shadows along her face reflected in places where the nose was not, shading beneath cheekbones that didn’t exist. The face was trying to map o
ut its own lines in the light, but it couldn’t because the face the body wore did not belong there.
Persephone could see the soul inside the body. How it was iniquitous. How it most definitely did not belong to Deandra Bishop.
“Who are you?” Persephone asked, her power crackling along her spine.
“Oh, she’s figured it out,” Deandra said, looking back to Hyacinth. “She’s quicker than you.”
Hyacinth gave a strangled cry. To Persephone, the woman gave a half bow from where she crouched against the earth.
“You thought you were the sad lost girl, didn’t you? Scared to look anyone in the eye, to make true contact. Never really seeing what’s there, never really seeing who isn’t.” Deandra laughed, and her voice dipped and changed. “Everything’s been in front of your face, and you’ve been too stupid to know it.” Her laugh was a blade, and it sliced at Persephone. “The eyes are the windows to the soul, and you were granted a gift to see the truth. You looked away.”
The witch wearing Deandra’s face slowly rolled herself up into a standing position. Her body remained twisted, the arms not quite working in accordance with the shoulders or the hands.
Persephone couldn’t take her eyes off her.
Deandra stepped to the gently shaking form of Persephone and ran a finger down her cheek. “I’ll taste you all by the time I’m through.”
The darkness that rolled off Deandra swirled around Persephone, cocooning the two of them together inside it. Ariel rushed forward, but a tidal wave of power threw her back. Ellison and Moira aimed their magic at the maelstrom enveloping Penelope and Deandra, and it ricocheted. The three witches were thrown beyond the boundaries of the yard for their efforts. Only Hyacinth stood unaffected, watching, frozen to her spot on the porch.
Inside the storm the witch’s eyes changed back into her own.
“Amara Mayfair,” Persephone breathed the name, as recognition hit. Who else could the witch be?
The witch raised a brow. “You think you’re clever but your blood is tainted.” She inhaled, craning forward. “The library has granted you favor, and in return you’ve stolen from it. They’re whispering behind the walls, telling you what to do. You let them out, but it won’t matter. You can’t set them free. You can’t free anyone.” Her cruel mouth curved. “Didn’t you wonder what happened to your grandmother and mother? How the two women who sacrificed everything for you stayed away? I’ve been killing the people who loved you since before you were born.”
The Orphan Witch Page 25