Lonely Graves Page 9

  “CanyoubelievetheythinkthatImightbethefatedKeeper?”Mylaughwas unamusedandIshookmyhead.

  MartharumbledslightlyandIcouldfeelherdisagreement.Herlove.Butshe was a house. Covered in spells and power that had given her something of a personality.Shedidn’tknow.

  “That’s enough,” Cyrus snapped and surprised us all. “We might have been stupid.”

  JessieandFelixinterjected,“Wewere.”

  “We might have been,” Cyrus agreed. “But you guys, at least, are witches.

  And there must be something we can do. So, quit moping and let’s do every singlethingthatmighthelp.”

  IlookedatCyrus.Helookedbackatmewithzerogiveinhisgaze.

  “Whatifwejust…didsomespells,”Jessiesaidvaguely.

  Like what? Didn’t they understand? Portia would have done whatever could bedone.IglancedatJessieandthenatFelixwhoshrugged.Welookedbackto Cyruswhowouldn’ttakeaadenial.

  “Whatifwemessupagain?”IrubbedmyhandsovermyfacesoIwouldn’t

  havetoseeChrysielyingsostill.

  “Portiawillprobablyfixit.OrElizabeth,”Jessieguessed.AndIfiguredshe’d rather try and fail than do nothing. I didn’t want to be a witch who relied on otherstocatchhermistakes,butIalsodidn’twanttobeawitchwhowasafraid tousehermagic.

  “Wehavetobecareful,”Isaid.

  They all nodded. I started with the obvious basic. A pentacle that I had to drawunderandaroundherbed.Myskillsetwasprettyamazing,butevenIhad tostopandthinkacoupleoftimesasIstruggledtoformitaroundeverything.

  This time the pentacle wasn’t born of desperation—it was born of caution and worry.ButwhenitwasdoneandIletmymagicsensesflutteralongitsedges,I couldfeelthatitwasright.Ithummedwithabarehintofmagicalenergy.

  Ilookedattheothers,theylookedbackatme.Iwasn’tsurewhattodowith theblankslate,andIwasn’tsureiftheyhadanyideas.Itwasquietforminutes as we considered. Jessie rose and left and came back with a stack of books. I picked one up and fluttered through. There wasn’t going to be a bring-your-vampire/ coven-sister/ best friend/cousin-back-to-herself-after-a-dark-witch-attackspell.ThebookIwasglancingthroughwasnomorethanadictionaryof runes.Istoppedononepageandstareddownatthestarklinesthattranslatedto theruneofmusic.

  Myfingerstappedagainstitasanideaoccurredtome.Ididn’treallyneedto lookuptheruneIwanted,butIdidanyway.AndIstareddownattherunefor safety.IglancedatFelixwhoseemedtoimmediatelyfollowmythoughtprocess.

  HeshruggedoneshoulderandIplaceditinthecenter.

  Jessie leaned forward, nodded, and said, “A magical message to Chrysie?

  Whataboutpeace?”

  Iplacedthatoneatthetipofthestar.

  “And love,” Felix said. I agreed putting it in the Northwest point of the pentacle.

  “Friendship,” Cyrus added. I placed that one at the Southeast point of the pentacle.

  “WhataboutReturn?”FelixpointedtotheNortheastpointofthepentacleand Inodded,addingit.Wewereflyinginthedark,andIhadnoideaifthiswould

  work.

  We all stared at the final point of the pentacle. We needed something. A placeholderfeltwrong.

  “Health,”Jessiesaid.

  ItwassoobviousIwouldhavefeltashamed,butIwasalreadyfloodedwith mylimitofthatemotion.

  “Let’skneeloutsidethepentacle,”Isaid.Eachoftheotherspickedapointof thepentacle.WeleftChrysieatthetip,andthenwereachedtowardseachother.

  Iwasn’tquitesurewhattodo.Itwasawardofsorts.AcallingtoChrysie.Itwas aninvitationtocomebacktous.Weneededhertofeel—us.Wehopeditwould beenoughtoenticehertowakeherself.

  I hummed. The others joined in. Fingertip to fingertip, we surrounded our friendandinfusedthepentaclewithourenergies,givinglifetoeachoftherunes until the pentacle flared with light and then faded into lines of chalk. But a personwhousedtheirwitch’ssensesonitwouldfeelwhatwefeltforChrysie.

  Perhaps it would be enough. Perhaps it would be a beginning. Or an easing of herwaybacktous.

  Itgavemeanotheridea.

  “Ineedtogo,”IsaidasIstood.

  “You’releaving?”Felixasked.Hedidn’tsoundhappy.Andhonestly,Ilooked asifIhadbeenbeatup.Ofcourse,thatwasaccurate.But,Ineededthepotions lab at the college. Mine was excellent. But it was also 20 years behind, while theirswasoneofthebestI’deverseen.

  “Ihaveanidea,”Isaid.“ButIneedthelabattheschool.”

  “It’saschoolday,”Cyruspointedout.“It’llbefulloncetheschoolopens.”

  I made a face and then nodded. I hobbled down to the workroom off the gardenswherethepotionsingredientsthathadgrownandbeenpreservedwere kept,aswellasthosethathadbeenstockedinthehouse.Thetablewasancient.

  Thecupboardsweredarkwood.Therewerenowindowssincelightwouldaffect alotoftheingredientshousedintheroom.Thefloorwasstonewithadrain,and it was a brewer’s paradise. Outside of my lab, it was my favorite room in the house.

  I pulled out some frankincense, blue chamomile, blue tansy, spruce, and cinnamon.Thatwouldhelpwithpeaceandanxiety.ButIwantedittosmoke.I rummaged until I found magically cleansed and purified wax. I tossed it back andforthwhileIleanedmyachingbodyagainsttheworktableandthenputit back,goinginsteadforcrystalorbsthatcouldholdasmokepotion.

  Icouldn’tusetheschoollabs.IwasshockedtofindIwasmissingschooland not caring, but it was world literature and guitar day—so whatever. I was also

  missingNecromancy101,butIhatedthatclass.Andnothingmatteredoutsideof Chrysie.Icouldn’tusetheschoollabs.Mylabswerenotasefficient,butmaybe ifI…

  “Whatareyoudoing?”Felixaskedfromthedoorway.

  “I’mmakingapotionforChrysie,”Isaid.

  “You’reavoidingcallingElspeth.”

  I swallowed. That was also true. He tossed me my phone. I picked it up, tapped it against the work table. My hands were shaking. I wanted to demand whyitwasmewhohadtocall.ButIknewwhy.Iwasthecovenleader—evenif ourcovenwasonlydaysold.Iwastherelative.Iwas.Iwastheonewhohadto doit.

  Ididn’twantto,butitwastimetogirlup.Ipickedupmyphone,scrolleduntil IfoundElspeth,andpressedmyfingerslightlytohername.Theringingseemed toechothroughtheworkroomandthroughmyhead.

  “Hello,”Elspeth’svoicewasbrightandthememoryofthetightsqueezeshe’d given me before she left, the feeling of love she conveyed to me, that mix of emotionsrosehighinmymind.“Rue,dear,howareyou?”

  “I…” My voice broke. It was the croak of a frog trying to form words but unableto.

  “Ohgods,”Elspethbreathed.“Isshealive?”

  Ittookmeseveralattemptstosayyes.

  “Willshebeok?”

  “Idon’tknow.”Wordswerecomingeasiernow,nolesspainfullybutIcould formthem.“Ithinkmaybe.”

  Elspeth’sbreathingwasharshintheroom.Iguessedshewastryingnottocry, to scream, I couldn’t imagine how she felt. She’d already faced so much with Chrysie. A daughter sent to college, murdered, turned into a vampire, and now this.

  “I’msorry.”

  “Whathappened?”

  Itoldher.Itookresponsibility.Iexplainedthemistakeswemade.Andwhat happened.

  “Rue
,” Elspeth said, and I could feel her fighting to think. “None of us are responsiblefortheactionsofthewicked.”

  “Weshouldn’thavegone,”Isaid,refusingtheexcusesheprovidedme.

  “Maybe,” she agreed. “But you still aren’t responsible for the actions of my daughter.IfIamnotmistaken,sheisactuallyolderthanyou.”

  Ifeltresponsible.Ididn’tunderstandwhyshewasbeingnicetome.Ihelped pavethewayforherchildtobe,yetagain,putindanger.SoItoldheraboutthe

  firsttime.HowIhadn’tlikedthefeelofourdormroom.HowIhaddonespells to protect just my side. How maybe I had been the target the whole time and Chrysie’sdeathwastheconsequenceofmynotspellingthewholeroom.

  “Rue,”Elspethsaidagain.

  IcouldfeelFelix’sgaze.Icouldhearhisraggedbreathing.Iwasdyinginside.

  Now they knew. They knew that I had protected only myself, that I was a monster,thatitwasmyfaultChrysiehaddiedthenandwashurtnow.Itwasmy faultthatChrysiewasn’tayoungwitch,livingwiththefuturefatehadintended forher.Itwasmyfaultshewasavampire.

  “That is NOT your fault, Veruca Dominique Hallow-Jones. It would have been unacceptable to spell Chrysie’s space without telling her. You followed witch ethics as you should have. Chrysie was murdered because she was murdered.Shewasthevictimofamonster.Notyou.”

  Myhandswereshaking.Ihadbeencarryingthatforsolong.Ihadn’tintended tosayit.Ihadn’tintendedtoletthemknowwhatIhaddoneorhadn’tdone.I hadn’tintendedtoeverconfess.Girlup,Itoldmyself.Girluprightnow.

  Iswallowed,grittedmyteeth,andsaid,“Ok.”

  Felix laid his hand down on the table. It was open and available. It was an offering of support. I shouldn’t need it. I should girl up and take responsibility forwhatIhaddone.But,butIcouldn’tbestrongallthetime.Iwasdyinginside with Chrysie up there broken and lost in her mind. I was dying not knowing where Branka was. My mother—gods—she was without her power, and it rockedmyworld.Daddy…myhousewasinvadedbyHallowFamilyCouncil.I

  hadcalledFinnforhelp.Iwas…Iwasthelostone.

  “I’mcoming,”Elspethsaid.“I’llbetherewhenIcan.TellherIloveher.”

  “Ok,”Iagreed.

  “Rue,”Elspethsaid,waitinguntilIansweredher.

  “Yes?”

  “Iloveyou,too.”

  I closed my eyes against the emotion in Felix’s gaze, the truth in Elspeth’s voice,andthecomfortIfeltinthatlargehandwrappedaroundmine.

  Iletmyheadfalltothetableandsaid,“Iloveyoutoo.”

  Sheendedthecall.AndIdidn’tmove.Ididn’twanttoletgoofFelix’shand, but I needed to. Maybe if I kept my face against the table and didn’t move, I wouldfallasleepandwaketofindthatthiswasn’thappening.Thatthiswasn’t real.Godsandmonsters,ifonlythatwouldbemyfateinstead.

  CHAPTERFOURTEEN

  Ihadescapedtomylabtolettheessenceoffrankincensemeldwithlavender oils. They would steep over a flame I controlled magically and the magic that wasreleasedwouldcollectintheorbsI’dhungoverthefire.Thereweremini-pentaclesundermycauldronsmirroringtheonesaroundChrysie’sbed.

  “Hey,”Felixsaid.Hestoodinthedoorwaywhenbeforehe’dhavestumbled

  inwithajoke.

  Imethisgaze,andfeltaflashofwanting,strongerthanI’deverfeltbeforefor anyone. What was that? Was it because I knew he wanted me? Was it because I’dbeenpretendingtonotwanthim?Lookingathimlikeafriendandnothing more?

  “Whatareyoudoing?”HefinallyaskedwhenIsaidnothingelse.

  Gods, I was a cold beast. I just…couldn’t. And he didn’t expect me to anything.Isuspectedhewastryingtobridgetheawkwardness.Didheregretthe kiss?Thehandholding?DidI?DidIwantthingstogobacktowhenIhadn’thad asecondthoughteverytimeIsawhim?Whenhewasjustafriendandsortof cemented in that category? Was it just the fact that we were alive? Did he feel something for me? Did he not? Did he hate me now that he knew more about me?

  “It’snotyourfault,”hesaidasifhecouldreadmymind.Andtheideathathe couldmademycheeksblazewithcolor.

  “It isn’t.” he insisted wrongly interpreting my blush. Thank the gods. He couldn’treadmymind.WhichIknew.ButIwasstillrelieved.

  “Whatisn’t?”

  “Allofthis?Notyoursaloneanyway.Maybeweshouldhavecalledsomeone,

  butgivenwhatweknew,whocouldwecall?Whocouldwetrust?”

  “Saffron,”Isuggestedsarcastically.“Mycovensisterandtrustedofmyelder.

  Elizabeth the vampire who turned Chrysie giving her a second chance at life.

  Maybe Dr. Hallow who has been involved time and again in our stupid…

  adventures,”thelastwordwaslacedwithsarcasm.

  “Maybe,”hesaid.“ButwefoundSaffronatthehomeofadarkwitchandshe camefromadarkcoven.Howdoweevenknowthatourstupidfindingspellled ustothechickwholivedatthathouseandnotSaffron?”

  Theideahadn’tevenoccurredtome.Whatif…Gods…shewasINourhouse

  if it was Saffron. But no. No. There were too many graves. Relief flooded me

  followedbymoreworry.Whatifshewasworkingwithwhomeveritwas?That witchwassopowerful.Shecouldhavebeenthefocusofadarkcoven.

  He didn’t stop there though. “It’s not your fault that Chrysie got taken and hurt.It’snotyourfaultthatChrysiedied.”

  I swallowed and tried to smile. I failed. I licked my lips, pushed my hair behindmyear,andimmediatelyhatedmyself.Gods,thankgoodnessBranwas

  missing. If she had seen that, I might as well have fluttered my lashes and faintedinFelix’sarms.

  Instead, I opened a drawer on my work table and pulled out Dominique’s knives.

  “What’sthis?”Hetouchedthelethalbladeofthoseknivesandthenlookedat me.Therewasnocensureinhisgaze.

  WhichwaswhyIlovedhim…godswhathadIjustthought?DidIlovehim?

  DidIlovelovehim?Orjustfriendlovehim?

  “They’re the knives that the last Keeper of the St. Angelus Thinning kept.

  They’renotmagical.”

  “Whatarethey?”

  “They’re deadly.” I had thought about them a lot since I’d learned they belongedtoDominique.Iwonderedwhyshehadthem.Whatsheusedthemfor.

  Whatherlifemighthavebeenlike.Iwantedtoseeapictureofher.ButIdidn’t.

  IwastooafraidI’dseemyselfinher.TooafraidI’dseethesamevagariesoffate hangingovermyheadthathadhungoverhers.“We’renotbetterthanthiswitch, Felix.Ourwholecoventogetherisnothingtoher.Shewillwipethefloorwith us.”

  “Sowe’llbeunexpected.”Felixsaidit,andIlookedupathim.Ithadbeenso longsinceI’dreallyexaminedhisfacethatIwasn’tquitesureIwasstillseeing the same person. Had he changed? Was he serious? Wasn’t he the poker shark who’dtriedtoconmeoutofmoneyrightafterwemet?Wasn’thetheengineer ofourpotionsmarket?Hadn’theshownhimselfinthequietmomentsofourlife to be a pretty talented witch in the most unexpected of ways? And he was so pragmaticinthatpronouncement.Unexpected.

  But he wasn’t wrong. Unexpected was our only chance. That and the dead Dominique’sway.“Anddeadlywithoutmagic.Likemygreat-aunt.”

  Wedidn’tnoticethecreakofthedoor.Ormaybetherehadn’tbeenone.But thequestionfromthedoor
waymadeusbothjump,“Whatareyouupto?”

  TheunwantedDr.MartinHallowstoodsocalmly.Perhapsascalmasthiseye of the storm we were in. He was a member of the Hallow Family Council but not,Ithought,powerful.

  “JusttalkingaboutDominique,”Isaidinnocently,wonderingwhymylifehad

  somanyadultsinitwhofeltthatitwasoktoquestionmeeventhoughtheyhad beeninmylifeforlessthanaseason.

  He just nodded as if he felt welcome, but I was sure he caught our true reaction.“Shewasagoodlady.Clever.Foul-mouthed.Shewasthecoolrelative whenyourmomandIwerekids.Theoneeveryonewantedtogrowuptobe.We didn’tthough,”hesaid.Hewasrememberingsomeoneintheheightoftheirlife who had been killed by an evil witch. I, on the other hand, was thinking of someonewhohadpickedupasupernaturaljobthatsheshouldn’thave.

  “Butyoudidn’t,”Isaid.“Youlivedinstead.”

  “Is that what you think? I was never Dominique-style material and always librarian material. Those were the dreams of a teenager who idolized someone whoselifehedidn’tunderstand.”

  I waited. What was his point? His agenda? How was he planning to throw down some pithy bit of wisdom and then get us to do what he wanted? He crossedtothetablewheremycauldronswerebrewing.

  “That was some pretty clever magic you did in Chrysie’s room,” he was looking at me with those prying eyes again. He actually stroked his beard.

  BecauseIwasmadandfrustratedandsadaboutChrysie,Ididn’tlaughathim likehedeserved.

  “Wedid,”Iclarified.Itwas,perhaps,magicthatonlywecouldhavedone,but I wish that they’d tried something. Instead of just mixing magic and medicine andhopingforthebest.

  His gaze circled my lab. The chemistry equipment might have been old for today,butwhenithadbeenpurchasedithadbeenthetopofthelineanditwas capableofbeingusedforthemagicIpreferred.Mycauldronswereancienthand medownswhichwaswhatawitchwouldwant.Ofcourse,itwasonlynowthatI knew they must have originally come from Hallow House. I had assumed my motherhadpickedthemupfromsomewitchsale.Instead,mymothermusthave packedwellwhenshe’dleft.Twoofmycauldronsgiftsfromher.Onefrommy oldcovenleaderHazel.AndseveralIhadfoundinthehouse.Ihadhugebatches ofvampirepotionbrewing.I’daltereditforChrysieinwaysthatwouldmeether developmentofvampirism.InwaysthatmatchedChrysie’snaturalmagic.There was a new potion distilling that I hoped would call to Chrysie—it smelled of friendshipandblood.IhadtheessenceofafreakingSnickersBarinoneofthe orbsreadytobehungoverherbed.