Sisters and Graves Read online

  ‘Thereis nothing Iwon’tdo,”IsworeandIflippedmysisterusingamove she’dtaughtme.But,ofcourse,itwasn'tmysisterIwasfighting.Notreally.

  Andtheeyesofthatfiend,theeyesofmysisterwerewideasIstraddledher, kneesonherarms,andchokedher.Iletgoofher,forasecondtodipmy forefingerinthebloodshe’ddrawn.

  Andthen,Iusedmyownbloodtowritearuneonherforeheadforsleep.A swift,stringentcommandinproto-Romanianpoweredtheruneandshedropped.

  ItwasonlyafterItooklong,shakybreathsdidIrealizethatI’dusedtheether magicratherthantraditionalmagic.OrmaybeIhadusedboth.Iwasn’tsure.But

  thenecromancyinmehadcomeoutasIdealtwithwhateverwashauntingmy sister,andithadbeen effective. Today,foronce,IwasgladtobewhatIwas,to havethetoolnecessarytohelpmysister.

  Mysisterlayontheground,asifdead.Butthebarelydiscernibleshallow breathstoldmewhatIalreadyknew.Thatsheslept.Ilookedaroundandsaw thattheminivanandtheguywiththedogwaslonggone,butthekidswith skateboardswerewatchingme.

  “Don’tmindus,”Itoldthekids.“Shestolemysweater.”

  Onelaughed,whileanotherbackedaway.Butathird,withtheglowof magicabouthimsaid,“Thecopsaren’tgoingtodelayforever.”

  Inoddedonce,leaneddown,andgrabbedmysisterbytheankles.Itossed theskateboardersoneofthosecasual,upwardnodsandthenleanedover.My sisterwassmall.Shecouldreasonablybecalledadorable.Ihadinfuriatedherby callingherapocketfulofcutemorethanonce.Thatdidnotmakedraggingher inertbodyacrossthefieldanyeasier.Ihadtoignorethethrobbingpaininmy armandthehorrorofwhatIhaddoneinmymind.Ihadtosetasideeverything andfocusonthenextstep.

  ThepaininmyarmintensifiedasIdraggedBrantowardstheancient wagon.Herheadandshouldersburrowedatrailinthegrassanddirt.Whenwe’d foughtbefore—we’dfoughtinquickexchangesthatendedalmostbeforethey began.Ithadbeenyearssincewe’dactuallywrestledandpulledhair.Andeven thoughIhadbeenthroughsomeprettyintensethingssinceI’dgoneawayto school,myreactiontothishadleftmeshakierthanIwouldhaveexpected beforehand.

  Theyoungwitchjoggedacrossthegroundtome,magicready,hatturned aroundbackwardandjeansridinglow.

  “Youneedtogetgoing,”theskateboardingwitchsaid.

  Ilookedhimupanddown.I’dletgoofmymagicanddidn’tpullitback now.Instead,Iasked,“You’renotalarmedbythefactthatI’mdraggingan unconsciousgirlacrossafield.”

  Ihadstumbledtoastopandstoodwavering,lookingdownatmysisterand wonderingwhatinallthehellsIwassupposedtodotohelpher.

  Thekidshuffledasheanswered,“Itookholdofmymagicandmywitch senses…I’mnotcomfortablebeingthisclosetoherevennow.What’swrong withher?”

  “Sheis,”IhuffedasIdugthroughherjeansforthecarkeys,“haunted.”

  “Ohshiiiii,”hestarted,butstoppedwhenweheardsirensinthedistance.

  Hefinishedhiscurseunderbreath,apparentlyfightingtheneedtorunandthe needtohelp.

  “Lifeisnevereasy,”ItoldhimandgrabbedBranbytheshoulders.“Take herankles.”

  Hehelpedmetoliftmysisterintothewagon,Icoveredherwithanold blanket,andwrotethe‘obfuscate’runeonthebackwindowwithmyblood.And thenIfocusedmywaveringpowerandwillandorderedinproto-Romanian,

  “Burn.”

  ThegarbageatthebackofschoolburstintohighflamesasIheldontothe sideofthewagon,andforcedmybodytothedriver’sseat.

  “Ohman,”thekidsaid,joggingtowardshisfriendswhowerealready scatteringaway.Giventhewaytheyfled,Iguessedthatifthepolicefoundthem around,itwouldn’tbethefirsttimetheyhadgottenintrouble.

  “Gottago,”Iorderedmyselfandstartedthewagonwiththerealizationthat thesmellofoldladyandmoldwasfadingwiththesmellofmyblood.

  Chapter8

  IwouldhavedrivenuntilIreachedMarthaandcollapsedintomybed,but thatbitedemandedattention.Somethingwasnotrightwithit.Morethanjustthe factthatmysisterhaddrawnblood.Itwasbleedingmorethanitshouldhave, thoughwhatdidIknow?

  Except,whenIcaughtmyowngazeinthemirror,Iscaredmyself.Myeyes weretoo-dark,thecirclesunderthemwerechasms,thepalenessofmyalready paleskinwasalarming.Somehowinthestruggle,Branhadgottenagoodhitin onmyfaceandwhenshe’dknockedherheadback,she’dgottenmynoseand mouth.

  Imustbeinshock,Ithought,asIstaredatmybloodyfaceandnoticedfor thefirsttimewherebloodhadstartedtodryaroundmynoseandlips.Ihadbeen tastingbloodandhadn’tevenrealizedit.MyphonebuzzedanditwasDaddy, andthistime,Ihadtoanswer.Ineededtohearhisvoice,Ineededtofeelhis strengthafterwhatIhaddone.SoIpulledthecaroverandanswered.

  “Rue,baby,”hesaid.

  ThesoundofhisvoiceandthefactthatIwasbeatenandbloodywithmy unconscioussisterinthebackofmycarmademecry.

  “Daddy…”MyvoicesoundedsimilartohowitmusthavewhenIwas5, andhe’dholdmyhandafterabaddream.“Iwant you tobemydad.”

  “VerucaDominiqueJones,”hesaidsternly,“I am yourDad.Thathasn’t changed.”

  IshudderedandittookmeseveralattemptsbeforeIsaid,“She stoleyou for us.”

  Hetookashaky,shiverybreathandthenhesaid,“Iknow.ButIcould never regretyouoronemomentasyourDad,Veruca.”

  “Youshould,”Itoldhim,usingmysleevetowipesomeofthebloodfrom myface,mostlysmearingit.“We’resnakes.”

  “You’remybaby,littlesnake,”hesaid.“AndIloveyou.”

  Ilaughed,ashuddering,tear-filledlaugh.Itwasquietforabreathandthen Idaredtoask,“Whatareyougoingtodo?”

  “I…”HisvoicecutoffandIcouldhearthefloodofemotionthathewas holdingback.And becausehewas myDaddyandbecauseIknewhim,and becausehe’dwalkedmeasababy,andheldmeaftermynightmares,and fathered meinallthewaysthatmattered,Iknewwithmyheartandmymagic thathewasconflicted.“Irememberlovingyourmother.ButIdon’tfeelit.”

  Iwantedtosaygood.ButIcouldn’t.Istartedtospeak,stopped,startedand thenstoppedandthenIfinallyadmitted,“IwantyoutoloveherDaddy.Iwant thingstostaythesame.Italways mattered thatmyparentslovedeachother.

  But…”

  AnothertearrolleddownmyfaceasIforcedmyselftospeakwhatwas true,“You don’t loveher.Andyoudeservetoloveandbeloved.”

  Daddyclearedhisthroat,andIknewhewascryingtoo.Iknewthathewas brokentoo.Iknewthathewishedthingshadn’tchangedtoo.

  Buttheyhad.Andgodsand monsters,therewasnogoingback.

  Thenpaininmyarmpulsated.Myfacefeltnumbandtightanditachedina waythatsaiditwouldhurtmorelater.Iwas tired.Iwassoul-wornandbroken andIneededmyDaddytolovemysnakemother,andmysistertonotbe hauntedandsomanymorethings.Ineededschooltobelesscomplicatedthatit was.Ineededforthereto not besomestupid,supernaturalcallingpending.I needed…IneedednottohaveanotherfamilywhoIdidn’tknowanddidn’tknow whattodowith.

  Butthatwasn’tmylife.AndIwasn’tgoingtogetanyofthosethings.

  “Daddy,”Ilied.“Ijustwantyoutobehappy.”

  “That’sallI’veeverwantedforyoutoo,baby.”

  “Youaren’tgoingtobehappystayingwithMotherwithoutthepotions,”I toldusboth.Aspainfulasitwas,ithadtobesaid.Mostly,Ineededtohearit andacknowledgewhatIwanted.Asterribleasitwas,Iwouldneverresteasy leavingmyDaddywith her.

  “No,”hesaid.“No,Iwon’t.”

  “Andifyoutakethemagain,itwon’tchangeknowingthat
it’sallalie.”

  HesniffledandIknewagainthattherewasthisbigpartofhimwhowanted togoback.Whowantedtotakethemagain.Whodidn’twanttoknowthetruth.

  Sometimes,thetruthmightsetyoufree.Butthecagehasitsownallure.

  “WillyouhatemeifItakethemagain,”hisvoiceshookandcrackedandhe sniffled,andIwantedtobeghimtotakeitagain.Topretendforme.

  “No,”Isaidstarkly.Andknewitfortruth,painfulasitwas.Andsaying thathadhurtfarworsethanthebiteonmyarm.

  “WillyouhatemeifIleaveyourmother?”

  Gods.

  Ithurtmemoretoanswer,“No.”

  Iwantedtobeghimtotakethepotionsagain.TobetherewhenIwent home.Tonotleaveandfindsomeotherlife.Ididn’twanthimtomovebeyond homeeventhoughIknewIwouldneverlivethereagain.Theanchorofmy parentsunitedhadbeenstolenfromme.Ididn’tknowhowtokeepgoing withoutthatsecurity.

  “Iloveyou,Veruca.Nothingwillchangethat.Ihavebeenoffthepotions forawhilenowandthathasn’tchanged.Notonelittlebit.”

  “Notforme?”Iasked.

  “Notforyou.”Hereplied.

  Isniffedandusedthetrailoftearstocleanupsomeofthebloodonmyface asIlookedtowardsthebackofthewagonwheremysister’sunconsciousbody wascoveredwithanoldblanketandthenasked,“NotforBran?”

  “NeverforBran.Neverforyou,”Daddypromised,andthetruthwas evidentinhisvoice.Itdidn’tmatterthathehadn’tbeenmybiologicaldad.There wasalinkbetweenhisheartandmineandthewitchinmeheardthetruthwhen itcamefromDaddy.Hearditandknewitforwhatitwas.

  “ButforMother.”Thiswasn’taquestion.Itwasanacknowledgmentof whoshewas.

  “I…”DaddystruggledtoreplyandIknewthathewantedtosayheloved her.Hewantedtogivethattome.Andtohim.Andtoourfamily.Buthe couldn’t.

  “ThingshavechangedasregardstoyourMother.”

  Suchapreciseanswer.

  Ilookeddownatthebiteonmyarmandreachedovertograbthebottleof waterthatwasrollingaroundinthepassengerseat.Icrackedthedooropen, ignoringthesoundsoftraffictopourwateroverthebite.Therewasaflashof grayandblackinthewound.Well…damn.

  WasBrancontagious?ButthesoundofDaddybreathingsocarefully distractedme.

  Hefinallyclearedhisthroatandasked,“SomethingiswrongwithBranka?”

  “She’shauntedDaddy.”

  “Haunted?”Hisvoicewascutoffashesaid,“ExcusemeAutumn.Iam speakingtoVeruca.”

  ButMothermusthaveignoredhimashervoicecameoverthephone,“If sheishaunted,she’sdangeroustoyouaswell.”

  Ilookeddownatmybitewithmymagicsensesandcaughtthatsamesort ofgray,black,edgingthatshouldn’thavebeenthere.

  “Yeah,”Irepliedcarefully.“I’mfiguringthatout.SayIwasbittenbyher.”

  “Bitten?”Mothersoundedworried.Shewasworried,Igaveherthatmuch.

  Shewasalovingmotherenoughtostealusagoodfather.Wasthatsickand twisted?Yes.Butitwas how someonelikeAutumnJonesloved.Ididn’tknow whatorhowtodealwiththat,soIshoveditawaytofocusonthefactthatIwas probablyinfectedwithahaunting.

  “Youneedtocleanseit.”

  “How?”Isnappedather,butforonce,sheignoredit.

  “Fire.”

  “Fire?”IgaspedasIimaginedhowbadlythatwouldhurt.

  “Abalminfusedwithsage,butitwouldneedtohaveaged.Idoubtanyone aroundyouhassuchathing.Ofcourse,I did. Butyoursistertookcareofthat.

  Andfireisthoroughenough.Maybeifyoucanfindagoodhealer.Usetheright runes?”

  Well,gods,Ithought.Iknewagoodhealer.PortiaHallowwasamemberof theHallowFamilyCouncil,ahealer,andconvincedthatIwasn’tgoodenough tobetheHallowofHallowhouse.Idid not wanttogotoherforhelp.ButthenI rememberedthesightofBran’srollingredandyelloweyesfilledwitha presencethatdidnotbelongtoher.

  “Whatrunes?”

  Ilethertellmewithoutscreamingather—anddespitetheflashesofgray andblackinmybite,itwasridiculouslydifficultnottocutoffherexplanation andrageinstead.

  I did knowagoodhealer.PortiaHallowwasagoodone.ThelastthingI wantedwastoaskherforhelp,butthenIrememberitwasn’tthelastthingI wanted.ThelastthingIwantedwasallofthethingshappeningtomeandthoseI loved.

  Perhaps,Icouldmusteruptheabilitytoaskforhelp,regardlessofwhowas givingit.Whatdiditmatternow?MyphonebuzzedandIpulleditawayfrom myeartoseeJessie’sfaceringingin.

  “Gottago,”Itoldher.Beforeadding,“WhatyoudidtoDaddywas unforgivable.”

  “Iam still yourMother,VerucaJones.Andyouwillspeaktomewith respect.”

  Mysnortwastheonlyreplyshegot.

  IwouldhavehungupbutDaddytookthephoneback.

  “Veruca,baby,”hesaid.

  “Yes,Daddy?”

  “IknowIcancountonyoutotakecareofyoursister.Andyourself.”

  Gods,Ithought,layertheworryandguilton,butIknewthathedidn’t

  intendtodothat.HereallythoughtIcouldfixBran.Hehadnoidea.Noideaat allwhatwashappening.Hewasa pharmacist.Heworkedinthelittleisland pharmacydolingoutdepressionmedsforgrayskiesseasonalbluesandbirth controlpills.ButIknewthathedidn’tintendtomakemefeelasresponsiblefor whathappenedtoBranashewasactuallydoing.

  “Daddy,”Isaid.“I’mgettingacall.”

  I’dhaveliedratherthantellinghimthatIwasn’tsureBranwasgoingto makeit.Butliesweren’tnecessary.Jessiewascalling.

  “Ok,baby,”hesaid.“Iloveyou.”

  “Hello,”Ianswered,consideringhowthoroughlyscrewedIwasatthat moment.

  “Whereareyou?”

  “Noidea,”Itoldher,watchingthegleamoflightsflashbywhileI calculatedjusthowmuchlongerI’dhavetodrivelikethis.I hurt. Iwas tired. I wassotiredIcouldfeelitinmystomach.Inmybones.Inthewaymymindwas buzzingandshuttingdown.

  “You’reindanger,”Jessiesaidinarush.“I’vebeenlearningabout hauntings.They’rebad.They’recontagious.She’sgoingtoattackyou.She’ll keepcominginandoutuntilshe’ssuccessful.”

  “Yeah,”Isaid.SomethingmusthavecomethroughbecauseJessiechoked.

  “Areyouok?”

  “Yes,”Isaid.“Sortof.”

  Ipressedmypalmsintomyeyes.

  “Youneedtoconfineher.”

  “She’ssleeping,”Iconfessed.

  “Thenshe’llbeeasiertoconfine,”Jessiesaidwithoutsympathy.Shewas serious.“ Youhaveto,Rue.”

  Thecardoorwasstillopen,soIshovedmylegstowardstheroadandtook adeepbreathasIstoodup.It hurt. Ithurttomoveandtobreathandtofigure outhowtotieupmybabysister,whoIadored.

  “We’llfigureouthowtohelpher,”Jessiesaid.“IcalledFinnandDr.

  Hallow.”

  “Lovely,”Isaid,knowingIwouldhavedonethesame.Eventually.Damn it,Bran,Iwantedtocurseather.Toyellather.Toscream.Icouldn’thandlethis.

  Notwitheverythingelse.ButIhadn’tbeengiventhatchoice,hadI?Ishuffled throughthebackofthewagonbuttherewasnothing.Felixtooktoogoodcareof thewagon.Itmightsmelllikeoldlady,butithadbeencleanedwell.

  Andwithoutleavingbehindahandypieceofrope.Istaredaroundalittle blanklybeforeIrealizedthatI’dstoppedandJessiehadkepttalking.

  “Rue?Rue?Hecate!Rue!”

  “Oh,”Isaid.“Idon’thaveanythingtotieherupwith.I’lljustdrivefaster.”

  “No,”Felixsaid.HemusthavetakenthephonefromJess
ieormaybeIwas onspeaker.Ididn’tknow.“Useyourshirt.UseBran’s.Useyourbra,butyou tie herup.”

  “IfIweren’tsotired,”Isaid,“You’dbefreakingmeout.”

  “Whereareyou,”Felixaskedgently.Hisvoicespoketome.Itcalledtome.

  Inthissortofsurrealmoment,IrealizedthatifIdidn’tlovehim.I could.It wouldbesoeasy.

  “Idon’tknow.WewenttoBoston.”

  “Boston!”

  “Rue,”Jessiesaidgently,“Youdon’tknowhowlongyourspellonBran willhold.Youputhertosleepwithaspell?”

  ‘Yes,”Iagreed.

  “Thehauntingwillfightthespell.Youcan’tcountonit.Andifthehaunting wakeswhileyou’redriving,you’llbeinbigtrouble.”

  AvisionofBranatthefieldcamebacktome,thesnarling,thewayshe’d saidshewassohungry.Inodded.HercrawlingtowardsmewhileIdrovewasa terrifyingthought.

  “Rue?”Felix’svoicewasgentleagain,butinsistent.“Doyouunderstand?”

  “Sure,”Isaid.Iputthephonebetweenmyshoulderandeartoslipmybra offandwalkaroundtothebackofthewagon.HavingBranasyoursistergave youallsortsofskills.Tyingpeopleupwasoneofthem.AndoneI’dswornI’d neverneed.Ifwebothgotoutofthisintact,I’dhavetothankher.

  IknottedmybrasoundheranklesuntilIcouldseethey’dhurtandthenI pulledtighter.Sometimesyoudidhorriblethingsforthepeopleyouloved.And therealizationthatmymotherhadusedthatsamejustificationtostealmydaddy mademeill.

  Herankleswouldn’tbeenough,soIflippedheroverandtookoffherknee highsocks,tearingthemusingmyteethandmagic,andthenknottingthem togethertomakeacrappyrope.Regardless,Iinfuseditwithmagicandrunes andthenboundmysister’sarmsbehindherbackandherwriststoherankles.

  ShewaswellandtrulystuckunlessthehauntingwasstrongerthanBranwasall onherown.

  ThatthoughtmademeshiverandIrenewedmyruneonherforeheadand putanotheronherstomachandanotheronthebackofherneck.

  Hopefullythatwouldbeenough.Thoserunesremindedmeofwhatmy motherhadsaidandIstumbledbacktothefrontofthewagonanddugthrough mybaguntilIfoundasharpiemarkerandwrotealongmyarmaseriesofrunes