Sisters and Graves Read online

  “Howdidyoufindout?”

  “Motherwashere,andIwaslookingforsomethinginherroom.”

  “Youweregoingthroughherthings?”

  “Yeah,obvy.WhenwouldIevergetachancelikethatagain?Ithoughtit wasgold.Ididn’trealize.So…Ifoundyourbirthcertificate,andithasyour Dad’snameonit.”

  Iblinked.Iwantedtoaskwhatitwas.ButIdidn’t.Ineverwantedtoknow.

  Iwantedittobechanged.Immediately.ToMYdaddy.Hisnamewastheonly namethatmattered.TheodoreJones.Daddy.Theperfect,teddybearofadaddy, whodidn’tbelongtoussnakes.Ohgods.He didn’tbelongtous.Hehad NEVERfitin.Hewaslikethesunussoullessoneshoveredaround.

  Ijustlistenedbecausemythroathadsuctionedtogetherasmyemotions startedtoriseagain.

  “ThenIfoundmine.Thenamesweredifferent.Theyweren’tthe right name. So,Iwaslike…well…I’mgoingtofindmyDad.Iwantedtoseehisface.

  SeeifIlookedlikehim.Seeifitwasreal.”

  Ithitmeagain.Imean.Wewere idiots.

  “ Gods,Bran.Wedon’tevenlookalike.Andwedon’tlooklikeDaddyor Mother.”Isniffedandshuffledandtriedtoburyitallinsidemymind.Butthat wasawarIlost.

  “Iknow,”Bransaid.“Yourdadishalf-Asian.Igoogledhim.MaybeI

  stalkedhimalittlebit.”

  Ididn’twanttoknowthat.Ididn’twantanexplanationformythicklength ofblackhairormyslightly-tilteddarkeyes.Mywillowybody.Wewere stupid.

  “OhmyHecate,”IsaidastheamountofstupidIwashitmeagain.Iwasn’t clearlyAsian.ButIwascertainlygeneticallyambiguous,andIhadjustfiguredI lookedlikeagreat-auntorsomething.Ihadn’teverputthepiecestogethereven thoughIsawtheminthemirroreverydamnday.

  “So,IwenttoPortland.Isawmydadanditwasobvious.Ihavehisnose andhisfreckles.Ilook just likehim.He’sevenlittle.AndIcouldn’tdealwith that,soIwandered.AndthenIfoundthistouroftheUndergroundPortland,and Isaw…shiz.Rue,Imetsomepeople.Iwasmad.Iwentonthisadventure.I knewifMothersensedme,she’dsenselike…motorcyclesanddrinkingand otherstupidstuff.She’dgetsoangry.She’dbebreathingfirefurious.Andthen, she’dfeelsomeofwhatIwasfeeling.Itwasn’tsupposedtoendlikethis—”

  Itookabreathandsatup.Focusonthis.Focusonnow.Puttherestaway.

  Tuckitawayinthesameplacewhereyoukeepwonderingjustwhathappenedto ChrysiewhenthedarkwitchhadherandthesightofProfessorLechner’s remainssprayedacrossherofficeand…shutitdown,Rue.Shutitdownand girl up.

  “So,therewasthistreasure.Andthishunt.Andwitchstuff.Andspells.

  Andwehavethatdamnarsenal.AndIwasgood.Imean…I’mnotyouor Mother,butI’mnotterribledespitewhatMothersays.”

  Branwasn’t.Isniffed,nodded,andsaid,“You’reagoodwitch.”

  Ifmystatementsoundedtired,itwas.Ihad,afterall,saiditahundred times.Athousand.

  “Wefoundit.”

  “Thetreasure?”

  Shenoddedandshivered,“Itwascursed.Itwashaunted.I’mhaunted.They letmecomealongbecausetheyneededanidiotwitchtotripthecurseandthat wasme.Thentheyleftmehauntedandittookmeawhiletofindmyselfagain.

  OnceIdid,IdecidedonwhattodoaboutDaddyandMother.ButwhileIdidit, Ikeptlosingtime.Andthingshappened.”

  “Thingslikewhat?”

  “Let’sjustsayit’sgoodMotherneverletushavepets.”

  Wellthatmademewanttopuke.

  “Yeah,”shesaid.“Itwassostupid.Thearsenaldidn’tdomeanygood.But Ididn’tcareatfirstbecauseIdidn’tcareaboutwhathappened.Only,what’s happeningisterrifying.AndIcan’tstopit.AndIneedhelp.”

  “AndI’manecromancer,”Isaid,suddenlyunderstandingwhyshe’dcome.

  Shecouldn’taskMother.Notnow.Notafterthis.

  Brannodded.Shepausedandfoughthernextstatement,butIhad,afterall, truthserumedher.Ormaybethatreallywasgoneandshejustknewitwaspast timetotellthetruth.“Ithinkitmightbeghostsorsomethingtodowithghosts.

  Your—whatshallwecallhim?Bio-dad?SpermDonor?Idon’tknow,butI knowhe’sanecromancertoo.”

  Thatmademepauseandcalculate.Thepartofmethatwantedtobelike Daddywasdisgustedbythereasoningofmymother.Ibet…gods…Ibetshe bred me.Ibetshechosemybio-dadlikeaprimestud.

  IknewthatBranhadfigureditouttoo.Itwaswhyshe’dtoldmeaboutthe spermdonor.Itwaswhythetoneofhervoicehadchangedwhenshe’dsaidit.

  SheknewhowMotherthought.Afterall—wetwoweresnakes,justlikeour mother.

  “Weshouldroad-triptoseehim,”Bransaid.

  “Idon’twanttoo.”

  “Girlup,whinywitch.”

  Iscowledather,butshecouldn’tseemeinthedarkness.

  “Ineedtopunchsomething,”Isaid.

  Sobad.Sohard.Ineededtopunchsomething.Everything.Ineededtoset somethingonfire.Andscream.ScreamforsolonganddeepthatIforgothowto talk.Ineeded…Ineededthistobealie.Butitwasn’t—Ihadmadethatcertain withthetruthserum.Ihaddosedmysister.IknewtruthwhenIheardit,andit wasasifshe’dtoldmesomethingI’dalwaysknownbutforgotten.

  Therewasthisopeningchasminmyhead—wherethebio-dadandgods…

  gods…didIhaveothersiblings?DidIhavebrothersorsisters?Peoplewhohad beenraisedbyrealhumansinsteadofmonstersinhumanform?Whatwerethey like?Whatweretheirnames?WouldIlikethem?Would theylikeme?Would theyhatemeforwhatmymotherhaddone?

  Ididn’tseehowtheycouldn’t.Ihatedmyselfandeverythingthatmybirth andfamilyrepresented.

  “Let’srun,”Isaid.

  Branrosewordlesslyandranbesideme.Ihadlearnedtorunfarandfast becauseofher—foronce,shewasrunningwithmeratherthantheotherway around.Foronce,Iwastheonewhowasescapingmylifeandshewastheone whowaslettingmeknowthatI’dnevergetawayfromher.

  Iranuntilithurtmysides.Iranuntilmyfeetfeltnumb.Untiltherewas nothingbutthepound,pound,poundofmyfeetagainstthepavementandthe burningrushofbreathinmylungsandmouth.IranuntilIcouldn’thear anythingbutthesoundofmybloodandthewindinmyears.AndwhenIfinally

  stopped,Ididn’tknowwhereIwas,butitwasn’tfarenoughaway.

  Ihadn’tbroughtmyphone,Ididn’tknowwhattimeitwas,butIknewthat thesunwasrisingandschoolwouldstartsoonandIhadexamsinmyWorldLit andGuitarforBeginnersclasses.

  *****

  IhatedWorldLit.We’dreadsomestupidstoryaboutaguywhotookaboat intotheheartofAfricaandwentweirdontheway.Nativesstarvedinthatbook andnooneseemedtocare.Ididn'twantthatinmyhead.Wereadastoryabouta dudewhowasturnedintoacockroach.Iwasn’tsurewhatthepointwas,but we’dreadanabridgedversionanditwasstill fartoo long.

  Guitar,however,Iloved,andmyfingerswerecaressingthestrings,Iwas focusingonthesoundstheymadeandignoringeverythingelsethathadbeen dumpedonmewhenafamiliarvoicesnappedmeoutofmyreverie.

  Onmykindestdays,IrarelywantedtoseeFinn.Hewasthegoldenboyof myfamily’scouncilandgenuinelygoodwhilealso—somehow—beingajerkat thesametime.

  HefollowedhisgreetingwithmynameandIdidmybesttopreventa scowlfromformingashesatinanemptychairnexttome.Hewasn’tinthis class,sohe’dtrackedmedown.Likethegoodlittleerrandboyhewas.Hewas movie-starhandsome,dedicatedtohelpingothers,andthecaptainoftheteamof do-gooderswhoweretryingtofillthesupernaturalroleoftheKeeperoftheSt.

  AngelusThinning.Ihatedhim.Kindofpassionately.And,Ikindofrespected
himmorethanIcouldsay.Histeamwastrying—andfailing—tokeepghosts fromfeedingoffthelivingandnecromancersfromabusingghosts.Butthey were trying, anditwasathanklessjobthatendedinearlydeathasfarasIcould tell.

  “HeyFinn,”Isaid,surprisingmyselfand—Ithought—himwhenmyvoice soundednice.

  “So…haveyouheardfromyourmom?”

  Myeyetwitchedandtheboilingragecameback.

  “DoyoumeanhasmymotherreleasedherholdontheTalismanoftheSt.

  AngelusThinningsoanotherkeepercanbecalledtoduty?I’mnottalkingto her,butgivenmysisterboundMother’smagicforseveralmonths,Idoubtit.”

  Hisfaceshowedhisfrustration,andIdidn’tthinkhewaswrongtobe frustrated.Mymotherhadbeenevilwhenshe’ddecidedtotaketheroleof KeeperoftheThinningandthenrun.Itwasonethingtotrytobreakherholdon theTalisman—andIthinkshe probablytried.Maybe.Butshehadn’tbeen successful,andIdon’tthinkshewasunawarethatshefailed.Yetshe’dlet decadespasswithoutdoingathing.Itwasanastymoveandalotofpeoplehad

  beenhurtbecauseofit.Shedidn’tseemtocare.

  Shewasasnake.Ithadbeenthoroughlyestablishedtimeandagain.

  “Why wouldyoursisterdothatwhenweneedyourmomtoreleasethe talisman.”

  “Shehadgoodreason,”Isaidflatly.Obviously,Iwasn’ttellingFinnwhy.

  “Idon’tknowhowyoucansaythat.Peopleare dying. ”

  “Iknow,”Isaid.Icouldn’tcarerightthen.I should care,butwe’d establishedIwasasnake.IwasdoingwhatIcould.

  Noteverypartoftheworldhadathinningbetweentheworldofthedead andtheliving.ButthePresidium—whoweresortoflikethepoliceof supernaturals—hadsetupkeepersoftheactivethinningsalongtimeago.

  Beforethestatesweresettled,keepershadexisted.Itwasthissupernatural callingthatprotectedthelivingandthedead.

  Mysister,Bran,was17.Shedidn’tknowwhatshehaddonebyblocking mymother.Shecouldn’thaveknownhowbadthingscouldbeinSt.Angelus.

  Andevenifshehadbeen,shehaddonewhatwasjustandrightinhersituation.

  Thatwasimportant.But—thereitwasjusticeforourDaddy.Everyoneelsehere whoBrandidn’tknowanddidn’tcareaboutsuffered.Suchwaslife.

  Finnshovedhisfingersthroughhishairandclearlybitbackhisanger beforehecarefullysaid,“TheHallowFamilyCouncilwantstomeetyoursister.”

  TheguitarprofessorcameintotheroomandIdidn’tsucceedinhidingmy reliefasIsaid,“WelltheyknowwhereHallowHouseis.”

  “Theythoughtyoucouldbringhertothecouncilmeetingthiseveningat eight.”

  “Ihaveplans,”Iliedandturnedtofacethefrontoftheroom,dismissing Finnwithmymove.

  “Youmakeithardtolikeyouverymuch,RueHallow,”hesaid.

  “It’sHallow-Jones,”Ireplied,claimingmydaddy.“AndI’mwellawareof it.”

  Chapter6

  Myguitarclassletmeignorewhathadbeensaidexceptforinpowerful jabsthatroseupinmymind.Ipassedmytest—barely.I’dhaveaceditifIhad takenitbeforeIfoundoutwhathappened.AndmaybeifIhadsleptlastnight.

  WhenIleftthemusicbuilding,mysisterwasoutfrontidlinginthestation wagon.Itwasa1952MercuryStationWagon.Giventhatitwasadeeppine greenwithwoodpaneling,therewasnoquestionthatitwasmineandnotsome lookalike.

  Iwalkeddownthestairs.Mylegshurtfrommylong,longrunandthelack ofsleep.Myhearthurtwithahurtsodeep,itwashardformetobreatheifIlet myselfthink.

  “Whatareyouupto?”

  “Getin,”shesaid.Imethergazeandshestaredbackatmebeforeshe added,“Ihaveburgersandchocolatecheesecake.”

  Iwasbribed.PlusIdidn’twanttogohomeandseeFelixandChrysie’s lovingeyes.Lovingandsorrowfulandsadforme.Icouldn’tkeepitallburied awayifIsawotherpeoplecaringaboutit forme.Carefullynotaskingquestions.

  Silentlymourningforme.

  Ifloppedintothepassengerseatandsaid,“TheHallowFamilyCouncil wantstomeetyou.”

  “Iamsureyouknowwhichfour-letteredwordsIhaveinreplytothat.”

  ShepulledawayfromthecurbasIignoredthefoodtotossmyphone betweenmyhands.

  “Justdoit,”shesaid.

  Ilookedatherandbackatmyphoneandatheragain.

  “Girlup,”sheaddedcaustically.

  IglancedatherandthenoutthewindowbeforeIpushedmymother’s namefrommylistofcontacts.

  “Hello,Veruca.”

  Ididn’tspeak.Ifoundthereweren’twordsforwhatIhadtosay,forthe feelingsroilinginsideofme.

  “Iseethatyoursisterhastoldyouherdiscovery.”

  Bransentthecartowardsthefreeway.Iglancedoveratherandthenback tothedash.Islippedoffmyshoesandputmytoesupontheancientwood paneling.

  “Doyouhavenothingtosay?”Motherasked.“Iamnotgoingto apologize.”

  “Iwouldlike,”Isaidcarefully,tryingtokeepbackthefloodofmy emotions,“forittobeuntrue.”

  “Lifeisnotafairytale,”shesaidinthatcool,snakevoice.“Ididwhatwas necessary.”

  ThefloodofragehitmesohardandfastthatIdroppedthephone.Itwasin the50soutside,butIrolleddownthewindow,putmyfeetonthecornerofthe glass,andletthewindblowonme.AsIclosedmyeyes,Isaid,“Idon’tknow howthisisourlife.”

  “Otherpeople,”Bransaidinacheerytonethatdidn’thideherrage,“have soccermoms.Thiscarsmellslikedeathandflowers.”

  “Tootrue,”IsaidasIunwrappedmyburger.She’dgonetomyfavorite placeandboughtmeonewithdoublecheese,avocado,andbacon.The cheesecakewasfromadifferentshop.“Foodisn’tgoingtomakemefeelbetter.”

  “Youwon’teat,”shesaidasshechangedlanesandpassedapackof motorcycles,“ifpeopledon’thandyouyourfavoritethings.Notondayslike today.”

  Iwouldnormallyhavesaid,‘Thanksmom’sarcastically,butIwasn’tthat cruel.Andthatwasnolongerfunny.Beforethis,I’dbeenabletoconvince myselfthatshelovedusandwasjustbroken.Infact…Ithoughtthatmightstill betrue.Itdidn’tmatterwhatherreasoningwas—whatshehaddonewasso disgustinglywrongthatevenIdidn’thavetothinktwiceaboutit.Andshe’d keptdoingit.She’dkepthimthatway.Foryearsandyearsandyears.Iwas eighteen.Eighteenyearsofthis.Eighteenyearsstolen.ButIcouldn’tsayanyof that.Notrightthen,soinstead,Itookalargebiteofthefoodmythoughtless sisterhadthoughtfullyboughtforme.Andfailedatpretendingittastedlike anythingbutashes.

  Afterafewminutes,mysistersaid,“NowimagineifI’dbroughtyouatuna saladsandwich.”

  Isnortedahumorlesssoundandclosedmyeyes,lettingthelightplay acrossmylidswhileIrefusedtothink.

  “Wakey,wakey,”Bransaidcheerily.“Considerthismyrevenge.”

  Iopenedmyeyes,stretchingasImoved.Ihadfallenasleepfarharderthan Iwouldhavethought.

  “Sorrrrryyy,”Bransangascheerily,“Idruggedyourdrink.Andtheburger.”

  Ilookedatherandthenshrugged.Shedidowemeone.ThenIturnedto takeagoodlookoutthewindow.Itwasamassivebrownstone—thekindyou sawonTV,withivycreepingupthesideofthebuilding.Littledetailsinthe stonework,glass,andwroughtironpronounceditsextremeageandthewealth ofitsinhabitants.Youwouldthink,afterlivinginMartha,thattheluxuriousness ofthismansionwouldn’tintimidateme—butitdid.Marthawasfriendly.She mightbebig,clearlycraftedfromskill,andwealth.Butshewasmine,andher windowsglintedwhenIcamehome,andhergateopenedforme,andanything thatwasminewouldneverbeasopulentasthismonstrosity.

  AsIwatched,aguyafew
yearsmyseniorjoggedupthesteps.Hishairwas longandpulledbackintoalowponytail.Itwasalsotheexactshadeofmine.He wasbiggerthanmeineveryway,buthehadthatsame,lean,yogaframe.

  “Hiseyesarelikeyourstoo,”Bransaidquietly.“Igotapicofhimfrom Facebook.”

  “Iwouldliketoleavenow,”Itoldher.

  Branshookherhead,withoutanounceofgiveinher.“Girlup,besides,you havemoretosee.”

  SherefusedtodriveawayandIrefusedtotalktoher,soIsilentlywatched outthewindowwhileanotherperson—part-asianandslimwalkedupthesteps.

  “Shelookslikeyou,”Bransaid,alittlegently.Ididn’tlookatmysisterfor thesisteracrosstheway.TheonewhoIwouldn’trecognizeifwebumpedinto eachother.TheonewhosenameIdidnotknow.Theonewhoseveryexistence wasastabintomysoul.

  “Exceptshehascurves,”Ireplied.Shehadmylipsandmyhair—though herswasinalonga-linethatwasedgyandcoolerthanIwouldeverbe.“And she’smyage.”

  “Yup,”Bransaid.So,mybirthfatherhadcheatedonthemotherofthese kids—whilehiswifewaspregnant.Unlesstheyallhaddifferentdads.Lovely.It seemedlikeIcamefromyetanother‘wonderful’person.

  “Iwouldliketoleavenow,”Isaidsoftly.Myfingerstouchedthewindow andIstaredoutatthehouse,thelife,thepeoplethatshouldhavebeenmine.But instead,I’dbeentakenawayfromhereandraisedbysomeonewhohadbeen stolenfromhislife.AndIdidn’tregretthatdifference.Iknew,withouthavingto experiencethedifference,thatIhadbeenluckybecauseIhadbeengivenmy daddy.Itdidn'tmatterthatIdidn'ttrulyknowmybirthfather.Iknewmydaddy andrecognizedalltoowellthatIwasluckytohavehim.

  “Therearetwomoretosee,”Bransaidwithoutgive.“They’llbealong quickly.”

  Iwaitedwithoutspeaking.WhatIhaddonetoherwiththetruthserumwas nearlyunforgivable.She’dgottenmebackgoodandhardandtheonlywaywe’d beleavingisifIwrestledheroutofthedriver’sseat.Buttherewasthat unfortunatefactthatshewasfarmorelikelytowinsuchaninteraction.