The Sisterhood

by A. J. Grainger

  After settling the girl back on the sofa, Lil dashed upstairs to get supplies. She was reluctant to leave her alone for long. Lil ran their conversation over in her mind. Calling for help was the sensible thing to do. Sabrina, her aunt, was a police officer. She would know exactly how to protect and care for this girl. Lil could use the telephone in her mum’s bedroom. The girl wouldn’t even know. Lil weighed her decision. Rationally it made sense, and yet she balked at the idea of going back on her word. It felt wrong. Check her injuries, Lil told herself, then work on persuading her to accept real help.

  Lil grabbed some towels from the airing cupboard, and bandages from the cabinet in the main bathroom. Even though it was only midafternoon, the storm had turned the sky dark purple, and the bulb was out on the landing, so everything upstairs was in shadow. Lil’s earlier anxiety returned, and once again she had the sense of being watched. She was being silly, letting her imagination run away with her. This was her home; there was nothing bad here. Still, Lil only just resisted the urge to run down the shadowy stairs and back into the brightly lit living room.

  When she entered, the girl was drawing the curtains, shutting out the dark sky and barren landscape. “The mountain was staring,” she said.

  Despite the odd choice of words, Lil knew what she meant. She had always loved the view from that room, but today it was oppressive, the way the desolate landscape crept up to the window, like it was trying to get in. It didn’t help that there were no other houses for almost four miles.

  Resisting the urge to turn the latch on the door, Lil sat beside the girl on the sofa. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  The girl stared at Lil a long moment, as if registering her words. When she didn’t answer, Lil said, “Your head’s still bleeding. I’ve got all this stuff, but I don’t know. . . .” Lil dropped everything on the sofa cushions. The supplies looked pathetic now. She picked up a towel. “Maybe wrap yourself in that as well, so you don’t get any colder. I can get you some dry clothes after we clean you up a bit.”

  The girl took the towel and put it over her knees. There was more color in her face. She picked up the bottle of antiseptic and stared at it as if she’d never seen anything like it before. After a minute, she placed it down and began to wad some cotton pads to hold against her head to stem the bleeding.

  “Let me,” Lil said, although she’d never been good with blood. “I can sort it. You just get warm.”

  “You are cold also.”

  “I’m all right. Honest.” Lil went around the sofa to reach the girl’s head more easily. A wave of nausea washed over her as she saw how matted with blood the girl’s hair was. Don’t be pathetic. And don’t you dare faint. Taking deep breaths in through her mouth, Lil poured antiseptic onto a cotton pad. “This might sting.” The girl flinched slightly but made no sound. “So,” Lil said as she cleaned the cut, relieved to see that it was long but shallow, and less bad than the amount of blood suggested, “will you at least tell me your name?”

  The girl hesitated a long time. Finally she said, “Alice. My name is Alice.”

  “Hi, Alice. I’m Lil.” She had finished with the antiseptic and replaced the lid. “I’ve cleaned it up as best I can, but you should see a doctor.”

  “I have no need of further care,” Alice said. She murmured something else, which Lil missed, then she raised her left palm up to the ceiling, and Lil caught sight of a mark, like a burn, running along the underside of her arm. Seeing Lil looking, Alice yanked her sleeve down quickly, her expression a mix of fierce defensiveness and terror.

  Lil was too scared to ask any questions, in case Alice got even more spooked, so she said nothing, just silently gathered up the bloodied cotton pads and spare bandages.

  Alice watched her warily, head tilted to one side, and then suddenly, she said, in a voice earnest and full of passion, “I thank you for offering me aid. ‘Help your troubled sister,’ saith the Light, ‘and you shall receive my blessing and protection.’ ”

  “Help your troubled sister,” saith the Light, “and you shall receive my blessing and protection.”

  —THE BOOK

  Despite the rain, all of the sisters had gathered outside to welcome the newcomer. It was always a celebration when a girl was brought out of the Dark, and a cheer went up as Moon brought the girl forward. She was round as the sun and apple cheeked, but Brilliance’s eyes flitted over her only briefly before fixing, as they always did, on Moon. You rarely noticed anything but Moon. She was beautiful, incredibly so, like a Pre-Raphaelite heroine: something by Millais or Rossetti. Her colors were straight out of a paint pot: titanium-white skin, indigo eyes as pale as the early-morning sky, and cadmium-red hair. Brilliance always felt an urge to paint her, but no artist would ever capture Moon. And it wasn’t only how she looked that made you stop. She was just fascinating—each movement was fluid as a brushstroke. Each word considered. When she spoke you wanted to listen; when she asked you for something, you wanted to give it. You couldn’t put your finger on why. Charisma or personality that some people had. Brilliance’s ex-boyfriend had had it too. It was alluring; it was dangerous.

  Moon held the new girl protectively in the curve of her arm, and Brilliance felt a surge of envy as the memory of her own salvation flitted through her mind.

  That guy had been hassling her for ages as she’d sat begging on the corner of the street, not taking no for an answer, until Moon had arrived and told him to “back off.” She’d smiled at Brilliance the way she was smiling at the new girl now, like they were old friends. “I’ve been looking for you,” she’d said. “Come on, everyone’s waiting.” She’d put a hand out to her, leading her away, out of the Dark and into the Light.

  Something about Moon just made you feel less alone, less like the big idiot you were for leaving home with no plans and no money. And from the moment she met her, Brilliance had known she could trust her. Maybe it was just that she’d needed to trust her. Brilliance had been running on empty, with no money, no prospect of getting any, no food for days, and barely any sleep. Brilliance had been sleeping on the streets for weeks. The guy Moon had rescued her from had been the last in a long line of creeps.

  Brilliance had felt a spark of fear when she first arrived at the Sisterhood. She and Moon had driven all night, arriving at dawn, and in the harsh morning light, Brilliance wondered if she’d been mad to come all this way with a woman she’d only just met. There was something unnatural about Moon’s extreme beauty. Her eyes glittered almost too bright in the rising sun, like the underside of a knife. Brilliance felt afraid, but it was too late by then. She was miles from anywhere; Moon’s arm circled around her as she led her from the car. So Brilliance had let herself go—because what other choice did she have? She never regretted it. Coming here had been like coming home.

  Moon was introducing the new girl to the rest of the sisters, moving along the line of them. Her arm was still tight around her, holding her close.

  Another sister for the Light.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “ ‘Help your troubled sister,’ saith the Light, ‘and you shall receive my blessing and protection.’ ” That was what Alice had said. What did it mean? It sounded like some kind of blessing, a religious thing maybe. . . . Lil pondered the words as she threw the dirty cotton pads into the kitchen bin.

  And where had Alice come from? Something bad had obviously happened to her. That cut on her head. That burn. Why was she so afraid? It had seemed like she was looking for someone in the trees on the side of the road. No, more like she was hiding from someone and was afraid they’d found her. Lil wondered again if she should call her aunt, and again decided to leave it for the minute. Alice’s injuries weren’t as bad as they’d first appeared, and Lil didn’t want to risk her running away. That would be more dangerous than not calling the authorities immediately, surely. She’d talk to Alice once she had a chance to rest and see if she could convince her to get proper help.

  After washing her hands in the kitche
n sink, Lil went back into the living room. Alice had fallen asleep sitting up, her head drooping down onto her chest, like a child, and Lil felt a rush of protection. She went over and eased a cushion under Alice’s head, sliding her gently down the sofa so she was resting more comfortably. Then she tucked the blankets around her tightly. As she did so, Lil remembered how Mella had lain under these blankets a couple of winters ago when she got the flu. Mella. Where was she right now? Was she out of the rain? Was it even raining wherever she was? Lil hoped, more than anything, that someone was looking after her and at that thought, she piled another blanket on top of Alice.

  A knock on the front door made her start, and she hurried over to the window to see who it was. Kiran. Kiran. Dressed as brightly as usual: luminous green rainproof jacket, navy cargo pants, and yellow Adidas trainers. He stood huddled on the small porch to keep out of the rain. Lil had never been happier to see him.

  “Lilian!” he said when she opened the front door. “I’ve been . . .” He broke off as he took in her sodden and muddy clothes. “What happened?”

  “I fell off my bike.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Lil’s voice sounded strained to her, unnatural, like an out-of-tune violin.

  “Seriously, I wish you’d called.” Kiran sounded really worried; his beautiful dark-brown eyes assessed her carefully. He’d driven all the way over here just to see if she was all right. He was so thoughtful. Lil wondered for a second if maybe it meant something . . . something more. Things with Kiran had been kind of charged recently, like there was a current between them, an energy that hadn’t been there before. Was Kiran’s worry part of the same thing? No, she cut the thought off, mentally shutting the door on it with a slam. She was being ridiculous. It was thoughts like this that were making stuff weird between her and Kiran.

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

  “You’re not. You’re bleeding.”

  Her hand went automatically to her shoulder, where Alice’s head had rested while they stumbled home. “It’s not mine.”

  Kiran’s eyebrows shot up. Kiran had the most expressive eyebrows of anyone ever. Most people could just raise their eyebrows (one or both), whereas Kiran’s had a gamut of emotional responses.

  Before he could say anything else, Lil took him by the hand and tugged him into the kitchen. She shut the door behind them and leaned against it, breathing a deep sigh. She hadn’t realized how overwhelmed she felt until Kiran arrived. This slice of normality made everything even weirder. She felt uneasy and on edge. Something terrible had happened to Alice. Something that wasn’t over. Lil knew that with absolute certainty. It was a sixth sense.

  “Lil, what the hell is going on? You’re freaking me out here.” He was close to her, and he smelled of rain and dry coffee beans, which was what the kayak club always smelled of. Just being around Kiran made Lil happier in a way no one else could—not even her best friend, Rhiannon, these days. And the best thing was, Kiran had never even known Mella. There was no Before Lil for him. He didn’t say things like: “Oh, Lil, you used to be . . .” There was only a Now Lil, and there was something comforting in that.

  She tucked her wet hair behind her ears. “So . . . when I fell off my bike, I did it to avoid knocking into this girl.”

  “What girl?” Kiran asked.

  “I don’t know. She was just lying in the road. She’d fallen down the bank, I think, just along the road at the end of the drive.”

  “Whoa. Was she badly hurt?”

  “She’d hit her head . . . and . . . and . . .” She trailed off. Something stopped her mentioning the burnlike mark on her arm. She didn’t know why, but it felt secret somehow, like telling Kiran about it would be a betrayal.

  Kiran didn’t notice her half-finished sentence. “Did the ambulance get here okay in the storm?” he asked.

  Such a simple question. Such an obvious thing, and yet Lil hadn’t called for one. How could she explain why not? “I didn’t . . . ,” she said. She shuffled uncomfortably on the spot, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet. “The paramedics didn’t come. I didn’t call them. I brought her back here.”

  Kiran’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “What? Why?”

  Lil drew a deep breath and tried not to sound defensive . . . or guilty. But why should she feel guilty? Again she got that sense of something unspeakable having happened to Alice. A shameful secret that had now rubbed off on her.

  “My phone broke,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, “when I fell off my bike. I didn’t have any other options. I couldn’t just leave her in the road! I was going to call as soon as we got back here, but then . . . then . . . she . . . she made me promise not to . . .” Lil trailed off again. She was rambling.

  If Kiran thought what she’d done was crazy, he didn’t say it. “Where is she now?”

  “In the living room. Come on, I’ll show you, but be gentle. She’s terrified. She doesn’t want anyone to know she’s here.”

  They crossed the hallway.

  “Head injuries can be—”

  “Serious, I know,” Lil interrupted. “She was unconscious when I found her, but she seemed all right when we got back. Well, not all right, but better, and the cut on her head wasn’t as bad as I thought.” Nausea turned Lil’s stomach over as she realized what she was saying. “I’ve been really stupid. I just . . . I didn’t know what to do! I think something bad’s happened to her, K. Like, really, really bad. I should have called Sabrina, but I . . . if you’d seen her. . . I just felt like she needed someone she could trust. . . .”

  Lil was struck again by a thought of Mella. If Mella were scared and injured and begged a stranger to help without telling anyone, Lil would want that person to do it immediately and unconditionally. She wouldn’t want them to go back on their word. She wouldn’t want them to risk Mella running away again—and that thought tore through Lil. Because it was Lil’s fault that Mella had gone and stayed gone. And Lil suddenly understood her reluctance to call the police and tell them about Alice. She’d failed Mella, and she couldn’t fail this girl. She could not be responsible for another person going missing.

  Lil pushed open the living room door.

  The room beyond was empty.

  “Hello?” Lil called. “I left her right here.” The blankets were strewn across the sofa. Lil picked them up, as if Alice might be hidden underneath. “Where would she . . . ? Oh no. She must have heard me talking to you in the kitchen, or you knocking on the door, and thought I’d called someone. She thought you were the police! We have to find her.” Lil went over to the windows and yanked back the curtains. The windows remained shut and bolted. She hadn’t gone out that way.

  “Okay, Lil, but I don’t think she can have gone far. I mean—”

  Lil cut him off, her panic spiraling out of control. “You don’t get it! I have to find her! I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone. She said she’d run if I did! I promised, Kiran!” Mella was slipping away. Lil was failing her sister again.

  It felt like that game she and Mella had played when they were little: If I make it to that lamppost before the next car goes past, I’ll pass my French vocab test. If I hold my breath until that woman with a dog passes me, Mum will buy that new sweater for me. If I can look after this girl, help her, then Mella will come home. It was ridiculous. Impossible. “Superstitious nonsense,” Nain would have said, but it felt like hope, like control, like something that Lil did could finally make a difference.

  Lil darted out into the hallway, pushing open each door. “Alice!” she called. “Alice! No one is going to hurt you. I promise. Please answer me!”

  As Lil pulled the door to her granddad’s old study shut, she felt a breeze on the back of her neck. The back door. It was never closed properly unless you bolted it at the top, and her mum must have forgotten this morning. It swung open at a gentle push from Lil. She stepped outside, the rain buffeting her. Lil cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted again.

&nbs
p; Kiran came up behind her. “You think she went out there?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

  “We can walk out—”

  Lil held her hand up. “Hang on,” she said. “I thought I heard . . .” Lil rushed past Kiran, back into the house. “She’s upstairs. Come on.”

  She hurried up the stairs, shouting as she did so.

  “Lil,” Kiran called, coming up after her. “Calm down. Why are you getting so upset?”

  Lil didn’t answer. How could she explain why she was freaking out? Because this wasn’t about Alice anymore. It was about her sister. They’d become mixed up in her head, and Lil didn’t care how illogical that might be. To ensure Mella’s safety, she needed to ensure this girl’s.

  All the doors on this floor were closed, and Lil began working through the rooms: her grandma’s old sewing room, the guest room. Kiran was checking the bathroom. They were making a lot of noise. “Maybe we should go more quietly,” Lil suggested. “We don’t want to scare her worse than she is.”

  Kiran nodded. His hand was on the handle of the door to her mum’s room. “Maybe you should look in here. It feels personal.”

  Lil nodded and pushed the door open. Please let Alice be in here. There was no one there. Disappointment swept over her. She cast only a fleeting glance around her mum’s room. It was so messy these days. Another thing that had changed since Mella had gone. Her mum used to be so tidy. Now sheet music was piled up in corners; paperbacks, their spines broken, lay strewn across the floor; yesterday’s coffee mug and the day before’s (and the day before that’s) sat in a row along the chest of drawers. Lil’s eyes passed over the bright-red one, musical notes and the words “I might be crotchety” emblazoned on it in gold letters. A present from Mella.