Sisters and Graves Read online

  “Theretheyare,”Bransaid.

  Iwaswoodeninside.Feelinglessandhollow.ThehollowHallow.Thatwas me.Brokenfromthetruthofmylife—atruththatI should haveknown.Should havelongsincesuspected.

  Iturnedmyhead,becauseBranwouldn’tletmeleaveifIdidn’t.Butthis timeonewaslookingtowardsme.Shewassmall—petitewithshorttwinbraids ofblackhair.Theyendedjustabovehershoulderoneithersideofherface.Her darkeyes—mirrorsofmyown—werealittlemoretiltedthanmyown.Andshe wassoverysad.Sadinsideandwhenhergazemetmine,Iknewit.AndIknew sherecognizedjustwhoandwhatIwas.

  Withoutconsciousthought,myfingerswereatthewindow—almost waving,almosttouchingthoughshewasfeetaway.Shemighthavebeenseven.

  Shemighthavebeenmanythings,butshewasmybabysisterandalioness wokeinsideofme.Alionessthatlovedherinstantly.Thatwantedtoprotecther andsharestorieswithherandwatchasherabilitiesawoke.Andrightbehindher wasanotherone.

  Anotherbabysister.Anothergaze—thisonewasanotherlionesslooking backatme.Asisterwhowouldprotectthelittlest.MotheroftheGods,Iloved thisonetoo.

  “Gods,”Ibreathed,lovingthem.Wantingthem.HatingthatIhadn’tknown thembefore.“GodsourMotherisamonster.”

  “Yes,”Bransaid.

  “Whodidyoufind?”

  Shedidn’tanswer.Hergazelookedpastmeatthelittleones,andIsaw somethinginhergazeIwouldn’thavethought.Jealousy.

  “They’relikeus,”Bransaid.“They’retightlikeweare.”

  Theolderofmytwolittlesisterstookthelittleone’shand,pullingher away.Butsheshookherheadandwalkedrightuptoourancientstationwagon andknockedonthewindow.MyfingerswereshakingasIrolleditdown.

  “Hello,”Isaid.Myvoicecracked,andIwasproudthatwasallitdid.

  “Hello,”thelittleonereplied.

  “Saki!”Theolderofmytwolittlesistersdartedforwardandgrabbedthe littleone—Saki’s—handandpulled.“Whatareyou doing! Come on!”

  ButSakiyankedawayandsaid,“Tane,sheisoursister.”

  IwouldhavethoughtthatTanewouldhavemockedSaki,butTanedidn’t.

  Shestoppedandturnedandlooked,andasshedid,herheadcocked.Justlike mineoftendid.Aslighttilttotheside,awideningofeyes,arecognition.And thensadness.

  “Mamawillbesosad,”Tanesaid,channelingthatsorrowforhermother.

  “Whatisyourname?”

  “Shedoesn’tneedtoknow,”Ioffered—notsurewhatIwantedasIsaidit.

  ButassoonasIrealizedthatitwouldmeanthatIcouldnotbeanopenpartof theirlives,myentirebeingrejectedit.ThatlionessinsideofmescreamedandI prayedtheywouldnotagree.

  “No,”Sakisaid.“No.Mamahastoknow.Thisisour sister.”

  “I’mRueHallow,”Isaid.“I…now…I…Ijustfoundout.”

  “It’sok,”Sakisaid,reachingouttotakemyhand.

  Thatsmallhand—sosweetandsoftandlittle.Gods.Therewasabitofa zing.Abitofrecognition.Abitofmysoulandhersoultouchingandsomething thathadbeenmissingforagessettledintoplace.Itookashakybreathand whispered,“Ican’tdothisyet.I’msorry.”

  Saki’sheadtiltedassheexaminedme.Ihopedshedidn’tfindmewanting, butHolyHestia,motherofthegods,Ididn'tbelonghere.Itdidn’tmatterthat thesewere my sisters.IstilldidNOTbelonginthathouseandthesegirlsmight be mine butIwasn'tsureIwantedtoclaimanyoneelse.

  Bran’shandreachedpastmyfaceandhandedthegirlsasmallpieceof paper.“I’mBran.ThisisRue.We’restilllearningaboutwhathappened.But…

  yougotprettyluckyingettingRueforasister.”

  TherewasabitofacrackinBran’svoice.BeforeIcouldturntotheonly personwhogotme,Saki’sgazemetBran’s.Saki’sexpressionturnedfromsadto terrifiedassheskippedbackafewsteps.

  “You’rehaunted,”SakisqueakedasshegrabbedTane’shandandtwirled, runningheadlongintotraffic.

  Chapter7

  “You’rehaunted,”ItoldBranasifthekid—gods,asifmylittlesisterhad toldBranshewereuglyorstupid.Ihadn’tbeenabletospeakuntilshewas acrossthestreetwithTaneandrunningupthesteps,butthatdidn’tmeanI wasn’tgoingtomockBrannow.

  Theyhadn’tlookedbackastheydartedthroughthedoorsandIwasn’tsure Iwasableto.

  “Shutit,”Bransaididlyandstartedtheoldwagon.Thecoolnessintheair hadintensifiedtoanuncomfortableextent.Iprobablyshouldhaverolledupthe window,butIlikedhowithurtalittlebit.Ilikedhowitmademyfingersas numbasthewholeofmyinsides.

  “Whatabouthim,”IaskedasBranwoveinandoutoftrafficlikea possessedclown.ThenIrememberedshewassomeweirdvariationofpossessed anditwasn’tfunnyanymore.Mandi—thewomanwhohadkilledgenerationsof myfamily—hadbeenpossessed.Iftherehadbeenanythingleftofthe necromancerwhohadbecomesotwisted,shehadbeenunrecognizable.What wasgoingtohappentoBranandhowcouldIhelpher?

  “Who?”

  “Don’tplaygameswithme,”Itoldher.

  Sheglancedmywayandgavemeasmirk.

  “Ihadassumed,”Isaidwhenshedidn’tanswer,“thatweweregoingfora drivelikeweusedtodoontheisland.”

  “Thatwasstupid,”Bransaidasshepassedyetanothercar.

  “Youdrivelikeamadwoman,”Itoldher,watchingtheroadsignsgoby.

  St.Angeluswastoolittletobeonanyofthemyet.Wehadstatelinestocross andthingstodo.“Tellmeaboutthishaunting.”

  Sheglancedoveratmeandbacktotheroad,startingtopassanothercar.

  Thisonewasayellowsedanwithkidsintheback.Everyonebuttheparents werelookingdownattheirlaps.Probablytheywerewatchingtabletswhiletheir stay-at-homemomandwell-employedfatherdiscussedpoliticsorasummer garden.Probablytheywereanormalfamilywholovedeachotheranddidn’tsee

  theneedtousespellsandpotionsinanendlessgameofpowerandone-upmanship.

  Ididn’tdenytherushofenvythatflowedoverme.IknewBranwouldhave beenfeelingthesameifshehadnoticedthem.ItusedtobethatIwouldgetpast thosemomentsofenvybythinkingofmyperfectdaddy.Excepthewasn’tmine anymore.

  Hehadbeenstolen.Manipulated.Takenfromwhathewantedandforcedto loveus.

  “Ihateher,”Bransaid,weavingbetweenaminivanandasportscar,“butI don’t.Idon’twanttothinkwhatitwouldhavebeenlikewithoutDaddy.”

  “Thatmakesuslike her,”Isaid.“Itmakesus justlikeher.”

  “We arelikeher,”Bransaid.“We’repowerfulwitches,withanarsenalof spells,andwedowhateverwewant.Justlikeyouandthetruthserum.Andme and…”Hervoicetrailedoffandthencuttoaquickstop.

  Thoughshedidn’tfillinthestatement,shemeantwhateverhadhappened whenshegothaunted.Myphonehadbeenbuzzingforawhile.Ihadn’tbothered topickitupfromthefloorofthecar,butthistime…thistimeitwasDaddy.

  Ilookedathisfaceasitflashedonthescreenofmyphone.ItwasapicI’d takenofthetwoofusatthefarmer’smarketontheisland.We’dgottenupearly eventhoughI’dgonerunningwithBranthenightbefore.Justthetwoofus, thosepreciousmomentsthatrarelyhappened.Wehadsatonabenchnearthe freshdonutsstand,eatingthemfreshandhotfromthestandbeforewewent home.MotherwouldneverhaveletDaddyhavesomethingsounhealthy,sothe twoofushadsnuckout.

  Myheadhadbeenonhischest,andhisarmwasaroundmebecauseI hadn’tbotheredwithacoatandthewindoffthesoundwasfreezing.He’dkept mewarm.Hewasalwayswarm—Ihadjustthoughtheranhot,butthatwasa sideeffectofcelandinebasedpotions.Hiseyeswerewarminthepicture,
his smilewaswide.He’dalreadychokeddownhispotion,andtherushoflove potionwasinhisgazeonceyouknewwhattolookfor.

  Icouldn’tanswerthatcall.IfIdidn’t,Icouldpretendthingshadn’t changed.

  “It’seasierafterthefirsttime,”Bransaidquietly,jerkingthecaragainto weavepasssomeminivan.Ididn’tneedhertoexplain.Shemeanttalkingto Daddy.Nowthattherewasallofthis…madnessbetweenus.Icouldn’tjust answerandaskhimtosendmesomemorebeeswaxorsomeofthedried jasmineinthepotionlarder.

  Icouldn’t.Notyet.

  “Hemusthavetalkedtoherafteryoucalled,”BransaidasDaddy’sface

  wasreplacedbyablackscreen.“Ihadhopedhewouldleave.”

  ThewordsweremorethanIcouldprocess.Iopenedthecheesecakeand shovedabitein,tryingtofocusonthecreamygoodnessofit,but—likethe burger—ittastedlikeashes.

  Iwantedtospititout,butthecarsmelledenoughalready,andIdidn’twant tohurtBran’sfeelings.Soinstead,Ichokeditdownwithmyfeelings.

  IttookBranuntilwewereoutofBostontosay,“YourDadisa necromancer.FromwhatIcouldfindout,he’salongtimecheateronhiswife.

  Whoprobablyloveshimoratleasthismoney.”

  “Sheloves him, ”Isaid,thinkingofwhatmylittlesistershadsaid.Their motherwouldbesosad.“Gods.”

  “Yeah,”Bransaid.“Theyhavefourkids.Thethreegirlsandtheheir apparent.Thesonistalentedlikeyouare.He’shonorableandgood.He’slike…

  everyperson’sdreamsonever.He’sevennamed Hiro.”

  Mysisterdrewthatnameoutlikeitwasatitleofpowerinsteadofaname.

  Andmaybehewasahero.Maybehemadeupforthemesshisparentswere.I certainlydidn’tmakeupforthemessthatminewere.

  Brankeptgoing,“He’spowerful.Likeyou.Expectedtobethenextkeeper.

  Likeyou.YourDadisn’tthekeeper,buthisbrotheris.Intheirfamily,theroleof keepertendstogotothenephew.”

  Ichokedatthat,addingtomyconvictionthatmotherhad bred me.Likea prizebulldog.

  “Nowweknowwhyshefocusedonmemore,”Isaid,andIsoundedas tiredasIfelt.

  Branlookedatmeandthenbacktotheroad.Therewassomuchunsaid historybetweenusaboutthatstatement.Somanymomentsofourchildhood whereMotherhaddisregardedBran—justalittlebit.WhereMotherhadpushed Branless.WhereMotherhadn’texpectedanythingbuttroublefromBran.

  “What is yourDad?”

  Brandidn’tanswer.Instead,shecarriedonherlittlefamilyreportasifit wereaschoolprojectandshewasbeinggraded.“Theonethat’saroundyourage issixmonthsyoungerthanyou.HernameisRuby.”

  “Ruby?”Mysarcasmmusthaveshowngiventhatthisonedidn’thavean Asianname.

  “YourDadandhiswifearehalf-Japanese.Rubywasnamedafteryour paternalgrandmother.Whowasakeeperofadifferentthinningaswellasaspy andgenerallyabadass.”

  Thereitwasagain—thatrushoffearandenvy.Ilikedthesoundofthis woman,thisunexpectedgrandmother.Ilikedsomuchaboutherfromthosefew

  sentences.Andwouldshelikemeinreturn?Wouldshedisregardme?Would sheacceptme?Whatwouldithavebeenliketohaveagrandmothergrowing up?Onewhowasbadass?

  “Issheevenalive?”Therewasfearinmystatement,andBranheardit.Her expressionwasgentle—asideofherthatothersrarelysaw—whenshenodded.

  “She’sstillbadassasfarasIcantell.Rubyistoo.Ilikeher.She’sgiving yourdadanepicrunforhismoney.”

  Isaidnothing.Ididn’tknowwhattosay.Therewasthischasminsideofme thathadopenedwithalltheseplacesandholesforpeoplethatshouldbepartof mylifeandweren’t.ForthosethatIshouldloveanddidn’t.

  “ThelittleonesareTaneandSakiko.Sincethey’relittlekids,peoplegot suspiciouswhenIaskedquestions.Ican’ttellyouanythingaboutthem.”

  Icouldthough.IcouldtellBranthatSakiwasinsightful,thatshewassad aboutsomething,thatshewastalentedmagically.IcouldtellBranthatTanewas thecaregiver,thatshefelttheweightofprotectingSaki,thattheremustbea reasonforthatprotectiveness.Thatbothofthemalreadyunderstoodthe consequencesofhavinganothersister,andmypresencewasnotanexcitingone forthem.

  ButIcouldalsotellBranthesamethinghadhappenedtothemhad happenedtome.Mypresence,myface—ithadcarvedaholeintheirheartswith aplaceforme,andthatspot ached. Achedwithallthathadbeenlost,thatcould neverberecovered.Therewasnogettinganyofitback.

  SweetHecate,Iwasmelodramatic.Iwasn’ttheonlypersonwithhalf-siblings.Orpeopletheydidn’tknowbut‘should’love.Whatever,Rue,Ithought.

  Whatever.Shakeitoff.Acceptthings.

  Myphonebuzzedagainwithmydaddy’sface,andIflippeditoverwithmy toeandsaid,“Let’sstopsomewhere.”

  “Where?”Branaskedasshepassedyetanothervehicle,asemi-truckthis time.

  “Idon’tcarewhere,”Isaid,feelingacrawlinginmyfleshthatdemanded thatIrun.Branpulledoffthehighwayanddroveuntilwefoundaschoolwitha track.

  Runningincirclesaroundadeadgreenfieldwasnotfun.ButIwasn’t runningforfun,Iwasrunningfortheburninmylegs,mylungs,andmyhead.It waslateafterthedrivefromSt.AngelustoBostontowhereverwewere.The skywasmostlydarkandthemoonwashigh.ThetownwassmallenoughthatI couldseethelightofthestars.Therewassomethingaboutrunninginthedark withnothingbutthesoundofmyfeetandthethud-thudofmyheartcombined withtherushofwindinmyears.

  Acrosstheschoolfield,therewerepeoplestillmovingaround,soitwasn’t solate.Icouldseeaminivanafewcarsdownfrommyancientstationwagon.

  Therewasaguythrowingaballforhisdogandafewpeople,notthatmuch youngerthanBranandIwhowereskateboardingaroundtheparkinglot.

  Iwasn’tpayingmuchattentiontoanythingotherthanthesoundsIwas seeking,soittookmetoolongtonoticethatBranhadstopped.Shewasstaring downsomepoorcat,andthecatwashissing—backarched,haironend,classic horrormoviepose.

  “Welllll….”IsaidasIcametoastop,staringatmysisterwhowasfixated onthecat.“ByHecate’sfieryeyes.”

  ThecathissedatBranandmysisterdartedatthecat.Asshedid,Idarted aftermysister.Ishouldhavebeentooslow,butIpushedmagicintomysteps andflewatheringreatboundingleaps.Shetackledthecat,snarling,Itackled hercursing.She growled atme.Igrowledback.Shesnarled,andIletgoto punchherashardandfastasIcould.AsIhither,thecatsquirmedfree,leaving usbothscratchedonitswayout.

  “Bran!”MycallechoedintheparkandItriedtoholdherdown,tocallher backtoherself.Sheflungherselfbackward,knockingthebackofherheadinto myfaceandleavingmereeling.

  Theonlyreplytomyyelledpleawasgruntingandsnarls.Ihadgottenmy wish—Icouldhearnothingbutmysister,thebloodinmyears,andthethud-thudofmyracing,terrifiedheart.Ihatedmyselfalittleforcravingthisfeeling sinceIwantednothingmorethanforittostopnow.

  Innormalcircumstances,mysistercouldcleanthefloorwithme.Whatever washauntinghermadehermoreanimalisticthancalculating.Whichletmewrap myarmaroundherneckandchokeherwiththecrookofmyelbow.

  “Mommy!Mommy!”Ilookeduptomeetthegazeofsomepoorgrade schooler.

  Withthedistraction,mysistertwistedandIlostmygriplongenoughfor hertodigherteethintomyforearm.

  “Ahhhh,fuu….”Imetthosegradeschoolereyesandcutmycurseoffto snarl,“Run!”

  Thelittlegirlwithblondepigtailsranforhermom.Themothermetmy gaze,tookagoodlookatmysister,andwhatevershesawterrifiedher.She grabbedherkidbythearmand ran.

  My
sistertwistedoffofmeandleapedtoherfeet.Shesortofbouncedon herknees,likearabidninja.

  Imethergaze,butshewasn’tthere.Hereyeswereananimalistic,a combinationofred,yellow,andblackandtheywerefocusedonmyneck.

  “Rueeeee,”Brancalled.“I’mhungry.”

  “Yeahno,”Itoldher,knowingwithoutexplanationthatitwasbloodshe wanted.Perhapsthatwasbecausemysister’sgazehadshiftedtowherethe bloodfromthebiteshe’dgivenmedrippedontotheground.

  “Hunggrrrryyyy,”Branmoaned,lickingherlips,eyesonmyblood.“So hunggrryyy.”

  Sheflewatme,clawsout,andItookmymagic,pusheditthroughmy fingers,andgrabbedherbytheneckwithonehandandherhairwiththeother.I yankedherheadbackandshovedherawayagain.Ihadn’tbeenabletogeta goodholdonher,butatleastshewasn’tgnawingonmyflesh.

  Shestumbledbackandcameatme,lowandmean.Shewrestledmedown bythelegsandIhitthegroundbeforeIcouldevenmoveaway.Brancrawledup mybodylikeapanther,andIpanted,freakedoutandsquirmingasIwonderedif mysisterwouldripoutmythroat.

  “Hungrryyy,sohungrrrry.”Itwashermouthmoving,butitwasnother voice.Thepanicofseeingher—Bran—mysisterlikethis—itwas wrong. She wasthepersonIknewbestintheworld,itmovedbeyondhorrifyingintonear paralyzing.

  “Listenfiend,”Isnarled,takingmysisterbyhermopofredcurlsand yankingherhair.Shealmostdidn’tnotice,butmygriponherhair,fueledby magicandadrenalinekeptherfrombeingabletodigthose,too-whiteteethinto myneck.“Youcan’thavemysister.”

  Ahigh-pitchedlaughescapedmysister’smouth,butitwasn’thernormal sarcastic,huskychuckle.

  “You.Can.Not.Have.My.Sister,”Igrowledagain.Thefuryinmewas changingmetotheanimalratherthanher.Myvoicewasallsnarls,myvision wasallfury,mybodywasfarstrongerthanitshouldhavebeen,butIopened myselftotheuniverseandletwhatevermagicIcouldholdflowintome.

  “She’sminealready,”mysister’smouthlaughed.“There’snothingyoucan do,littlewitch.”