Born Wicked
Page 63

He turns and smiles. “Good evening, Miss Cahill.”
“Good evening, sir.”
It’s not until he gives an impatient gesture toward the floor that I realize what he’s waiting for. I go to my knees before him, padding them with my skirts. It’s hateful, pretending obeisance to a man I neither like nor respect. I think of how he fathered Rory out of wedlock, how he’s allowed himself to be blackmailed by her mother, how he drove Mrs. Clay out of town when she became a liability. It’s all I can do not to cringe when he lays a hand on my brow. His fingers feel too soft for a man.
“Lord bless you and keep you this and all the days of your life.”
“Thanks be,” I mumble.
I rise to my feet as he sits on one end of the cream sofa. He gestures for me to sit next to him. I do, keeping a careful distance between us.
“Miss Cahill, as you know, your intention ceremony is not scheduled until mid-December. However.”
Nervousness swims through me. “Yes, sir?”
“Finn Belastra came to see me earlier this evening. As your father is away on business for some time yet, he asked me for your hand in marriage. He assured me that you had already agreed, and that the two of you are eager to announce your betrothal.” Brother Ishida looks at me, his thin mouth like the slash of a knife. “I hope you have not compromised yourself in any way that necessitates this, Miss Cahill.”
My head jerks up. Good Lord, is he suggesting—? I let outrage play over my face. “No, sir. Certainly not!”
“I’m glad to hear it. Particularly given your friendship with my daughter. Sachiko has a good heart, but I won’t have her associating with girls who are not her equal in virtue or obedience. Believe it or not, I do recall what it is like to be young.” Brother Ishida rakes his eyes over me, lingering on my bosom, and I fight the urge to cross my arms over my chest. “We must all be wary of the devil’s lustful whispers.”
“Yes, sir. I will pray to the Lord to strengthen my sinful heart.” I inch away, folding my hands primly in my lap.
“I’m willing to move your intention ceremony up, as young Mr. Belastra requested,” Brother Ishida continues. “I know your father thinks very well of him. He recommended Finn months ago for the position in our school. I can’t imagine he would object.”
“No, sir. I would never dream of making a match Father wouldn’t approve of.”
Brother Ishida’s smile is slippery as a snake. “I trust you know that Finn has accepted our invitation to join the Brotherhood. He’s already made a very wise decision in closing down his family’s shop. I hope you are sensible of what a great honor it is, to marry a member of the Brotherhood.”
“Yes, sir.” I smile. “I shall do my best to deserve it.”
“See that you do, Miss Cahill. See that you do.”
There’s a noise out in the hall. The repeated thump of John dragging Elena’s trunk down the steps.
“Was Cate right? Did you ever care about me at all?”
Maura’s voice is furious—and loud. If she doesn’t know Brother Ishida is here, Lord only knows what else she might say.
“What’s that clatter?” Brother Ishida asks.
I smile nervously, hoping his hearing isn’t what it used to be. “Pardon me. It seems my sisters are having some sort of quarrel.”
The front door closes and Maura wails. Her voice is closer now—in the front hall.
Something smashes to the floor.
“What the devil?” Brother Ishida is on his feet.
I run, terrified, into the hall. I’m too late. Mrs. O’Hare and Lily stand in the doorway to the dining room. Lily is cowering, one arm thrown up to protect her face. Mrs. O’Hare is sidling along the wall toward Maura, one hand outstretched.
Maura’s lost control of her powers.
Maura, whose heart is breaking, is breaking everything in her path.
The cut-crystal vase is smashed, shards gleaming on the wooden floor. Roses are scattered helter-skelter, bent and bruised. As I watch, the hall mirror flies off its hook and shatters. The portrait of Father’s parents that hangs on the wall follows suit. A piece of glass sticks in Mrs. O’Hare’s hand.
“Maura, dearie,” she says, still inching forward.
I wonder how long she’s known.
Another shard, several inches long, flies past my head. I freeze.
“Get back, Mrs. O’Hare. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
Maura stands by the door, head thrown back, arms wide. Her blue eyes are helpless, unfocused. The rich mahogany hall table rises and dashes itself against the wall, again and again. The legs splinter.
The front door slams open as if pushed by an invisible hand. Outside, thunder rumbles. The sky is full of angry clouds.
“Good Lord,” Brother Ishida says from behind me.
Maura looks at him. At me. “You—you made her leave.”
The curtains from the hall window break away and float toward me. I step on the fabric to keep them down, but it twists around my legs like snakes. And then there are snakes—glossy and sinuous, hissing, tasting the air with their forked tongues. I will myself to see past the illusion. Curtains. It’s only curtains. I push against the glamour, and it breaks. The curtains drop to the floor, harmless.
“Stop it! Maura. You have to stop.”
Maura’s hands are clenched in fists at her sides. “I can’t.”
The curtains rise up again. Now they’re not curtains anymore but spiderwebs, sticky and horrible, with fat black spiders. I scream and brush at my face.
“They’re not real, Cate,” Tess says calmly from the top of the stairs. “You know that.”
But Lily is screaming her fool head off, and behind me Brother Ishida is mumbling prayers, and I can’t concentrate. Maura knows I hate spiders and she’s using it against me and I can’t make her stop and—
“Intransito,”Tess says.
The spiderwebs disappear. Maura’s frozen in place, her mouth stuck in an O of dismay. Her blue eyes are scared, pleading, and she focuses them on me. Even now, after everything she’s done, I feel a pang of sympathy.
How did Tess know that spell? It seems my sisters are full of surprises.
The house goes silent for a long moment.
Then Brother Ishida steps forward. His cold marble eyes are shining. He points to Maura and then to Tess.
“Witches!”
Chapter 20
IT’S THE STUFF OF NIGHTMARES.
“Miss Maura Cahill! Miss Teresa Cahill! You are both under arrest for foul and flagrant crimes of witchery,” Brother Ishida declares. He moves to
block the open door, his long black cloak trailing through water, his boots crunching on broken glass. “Miss Belfiore, ask my driver to come inside.” If she tells the driver—that’s one more witness—
“Lily, no. Don’t. Haven’t we always been good to you? Please!” I cry, desperate.
But Lily picks up her blue skirts and runs outside. Tess stares down at me from the top of the stairs, gray eyes frantic, looking for instruction. She
doesn’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.
“Should I—Maura?” she squeaks.
I nod, and Tess casts—silently this time, reversing herintransitospell. Maura falls into a heap on the floor. Mrs. O’Hare, nearest her, wraps an