“Of course,” Oliver responded for Ellen. “We all will. And there’s no time to start like the present,” he said, shifting to face me. “You already understand the fundamentals of the lottery. All of us with shared blood will take turns drawing a tile,” he said, motioning to the tiles on the table with a wave of his hand. “Connor, of course, won’t be involved, but the two of you will be.” He gave Connor a loaded glance. I knew without asking that Connor had supported Ginny’s decision to keep me ignorant, and I could tell that Oliver enjoyed putting the older man in his place. It was rare for any of us to have that opportunity. Connor noisily pushed his chair back from the table and got up to pour himself some coffee.
“But what would lead the power to select a specific person anyway?” I asked. “I mean, why would it pick one of us over one of the Duvals?”
I expected the golem to offer his opinion, but he remained silent.
“I honestly cannot say that anyone knows why a particular person would be picked over another,” Iris responded after a pause. She had evidently expected the nine families to put in their two cents as well. “I suspect that the power may have chosen Ginny because it knew she would be willing to sacrifice her entire life to focus on her role as anchor. She was truly single-minded in performing her duty, and I doubt that any other anchor has ever served as loyally. But whatever its reasons, the power may have behind selecting an anchor, it has chosen a Savannah Taylor for generations, so it’s a pretty safe bet that it will choose one of us at this table.”
“The important thing for all of us to remember”—Ellen said “us,” but her gaze was plainly fixed on Maisie—“is that we don’t have to consider Ginny as any kind of role model for how the anchor should live his or her life. Being the anchor was Ginny’s entire life. She chose to cut herself off, and her own choices embittered her. Some of the other witch families have anchors who remain very engaged in the world around them. They have careers and children, and anything a body could want from living.”
“Of course,” Iris said as she turned to face her brother, “if Oliver were selected, he would have to move home. Finally.”
“Well, let’s burn that bridge when and if we get to it,” Oliver replied tersely.
“You are not exactly telling Maisie the truth,” Connor said falling heavily back into his chair. “These anchors with careers and children and bright and shiny lives, they are able to have these careers and children because they A, pick a career that allows them enough freedom to be where they need to be when they need to be there and B, marry someone like them. Another witch who can help share the burden of maintaining the line.” He looked over at Maisie. “That Jackson boy of yours, he’d get his fuses blown before the rice even got thrown. You’d have to marry into one of the other witch bloodlines.”
“It is true,” the golem said. “Should Maisie be chosen, the boy would not prove a suitable mate.”
Maisie looked at me with panicked eyes. The thought had never occurred to her that becoming the anchor might interfere with the future she wanted with Jackson.
“But what if you don’t want it?” I asked for Maisie’s sake. “What if you don’t want to be chosen?” Maisie was bracing herself to be selected, but I felt certain that she didn’t really want it. She wanted the freedom to live her life as she saw fit. She wanted Jackson. Oliver looked at me, and then at Maisie, his eyes zeroing in on the ring hiding beneath Maisie’s shirt. Damn it, he was reading me again! I silently pleaded for him to keep quiet.
“Then you are just plumb out of luck,” Connor said.
“You don’t reason with a lightning bolt or negotiate with a hurricane,” Iris said. “The power is a force of nature; witches didn’t create it, we merely found a way to ally ourselves with it. I know on the surface it seems like the power is something witches control, but more often than not I think it controls us.” She shook her head. “Sometimes it seems to me like there is a sentience, a mind behind it. Sometimes it seems like it’s just a current. Either way, it will not be denied.”
“Well,” Oliver said. “Let’s see how things play out before any of us get our panties twisted.”
Out of the blue, a new line of reasoning hit me. “What if it were possible for the job to be shared by more than one person?” I asked, still eager for an out.
“It isn’t a ‘job,’ ” Iris corrected me. “It’s a duty. A calling.”
“Besides, sweetie,” Ellen added, “there is only so long that a group of people can share a focus strongly enough to hold the line in place.”
“But Connor just said that the anchors who married other witches could share,” I objected.
“Yes, but for a day at a time or, at most, a week. Small breaks, not on a permanent basis. And it only works then when the two are totally in sync. Almost like twins…” She stopped dead.
We all knew what she was thinking, but not even Connor was callous enough to finish her thought. “And if I had any power?” I asked, forcing her to continue.
“Well, then who knows, perhaps you two could have shared the burden successfully. But that obviously wasn’t meant to be.”
“Mercy, it ain’t your fault.” I was shocked to hear the words coming from Connor. “You couldn’t have chosen to have the power in you any more than Maisie could choose not to. Regardless of who is chosen, your part will end with the drawing of the lots,” Connor said, but not in his usual scornful tone. For once he seemed like he was trying to be kind to me. “And that is all you really need to know.”
There was silence at the table. “Well, am I lying to the girl?” Connor barked.
“No, you aren’t,” Iris responded calmly.
“Listen, girl.” Connor eyed me. “I know I am not the best uncle a girl like you could want. I know I am a mean old bastard. And yes, I try to exclude you from things like this. But maybe, just maybe, I exclude you because you are the only one who can be excluded. Who doesn’t have to be involved. Look at your sister. You don’t think I would love to be able to chase the both of you outside with a fly swatter? Let you both get out in the world and live outside of this bullshit? I may not be kind and I may not be patient, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want the best for you. Be grateful you don’t have to be any more involved in this mess than you are.”
“It is her birthright,” the golem said coolly. “You have no say in this.” Connor and the creature stared at each other. My uncle’s face turned purple with rage, and I knew he was about to let loose. A loud knock on the side door made me jump and lanced the tension from the moment. Oliver jumped up and opened the door before the rest of us could blink.
TWELVE
“Adam,” Oliver said and stepped aside to reveal Detective Cook.
“I’m sorry to bother y’all today,” Cook said. “But I have some news.”
“Come on in,” Oliver replied. For a brief second Oliver’s eyes locked with the detective’s and a nearly electrical charge shot between them, heavy with regret, false pride, and hunger. Oliver looked at Cook the same way I knew I looked at Jackson, guilt and desire wrestling it out in his gaze.
