Always a Witch

  Approximately fifteen minutes later, during which we've stumbled our way over to a pink love seat and I've lost most of my hairpins, Gabriel lifts his head and says suddenly, "By the way, I found your family."

  "What?" I ask in a dazed voice.

  "Your family in this century. I found them. They're—"

  I struggle to sit up. "Just now you found them? Right now? I'm sort of offended that you—"

  Gabriel grins down at me. "Not now, now. When I came here. I figured you'd need my help sooner or later."

  Searching for hairpins in the couch, I say, "If you weren't so cute, I'd find you really annoying." Finally, I find one, jam it into my hair, and stand up. "Are you ready? Let's get the hell out of here."

  Gabriel arches an eyebrow at me. "What, and lose your job? Have you even been paid yet?"

  I snort. "I'm so done with being a lady's maid."

  ***

  I don't think I breathe once until Gabriel and I have safely slipped out the side gate. Then, holding hands, we break into a run down Twenty-seventh Street, dodging carriages, pedestrians, and carts full of produce. The wind whips at my ankles and slips under the hem of my dress. It feels delicious.

  "We could be back in New York tonight. I mean our New York," I say as we sidestep a group of well-dressed boys. They are playing some sort of complicated-looking game that involves tossing marbles into a circle drawn on the cobblestones.

  "Yeah," Gabriel says, his eyes scanning the street. "It is kind of amazing here, though. I mean, how many people can say they saw Old New York in—"

  "Don't even think it," I say, and press my fingers over his mouth for good measure. "You remember what I told you about the effects of Traveling."

  Gabriel kisses my fingers. "We've got a long trip ahead of us. Your family's uptown. And I mean way uptown. In fact, I don't think we can call it town. It's more farmland."

  "Pig farmers," I say slowly, remembering Liam's derisive laughter.

  "Excuse me?" Gabriel says.

  I nod. "Yep, pig farmers. There's a lot I've got to fill you in on," I say as Gabriel waves down a hansom cab drawn by two black horses. The one closest to me tosses its head as the driver pulls the carriage to a stop.

  I raise one eyebrow at Gabriel. "Wow. And here I thought we'd take the elevated train."

  "It doesn't go up that far. Besides, Tam," Gabriel adds, "you've always wanted me to take you for a carriage ride in Central Park."

  "No, I haven't."

  "Oh, really," Gabriel says absently, as the driver clambers down from his perch and whisks out a folding step. "That must have been some other girl, then."

  "What?" I punch him in the arm. Our driver blinks, then looks away quickly.

  "Appearances, Tam," Gabriel says out of the side of his mouth as he practically shoves me into the carriage. "We're in the nineteenth century, after all."

  "Was that Central Park West back there?" I ask. Our driver touches his cap once, then shakes the reins and the horses move off down the lane. The carriage couldn't make it any farther down the dirt path that Gabriel had directed our driver to.

  Even though I've been in the 1800s for days now, every once in a while I still expect the New York City I know, full of skyscraper buildings and yellow taxis and limos and skateboarders, to superimpose itself on all this. I take a deep breath. It's quieter. The reach and sprawl of the city seems to lose its grasp here. A while ago we had passed what looked like a stately apartment building and I had read the sign in a blur: the Dakota. But farther north here, the country is still undeveloped and wild-looking—a tangle of trees and brush and winding dirt paths and parkland and farmhouses. Prosperous farmhouses, though.

  "That's the one," Gabriel says softly, nodding toward the closest of the white stone buildings. In the muted light, the stones seem to glow, the windows sparkle, and the pigs, if my family happen to be pig farmers, seem to be contained neatly in some invisible pen. A white windmill churns slowly, and smoke dribbles out from one of the several brick chimneys, a fluted gray column that thins and dissolves into the sky. Blackbirds, too many of them to count, are perched on one gable, eyeing us relentlessly. I would think they're carved from obsidian until one of them flicks a wing open and resettles it. A breeze touches down on an iron weathervane in the shape of a prancing horse, making it spin faster and faster.

  "They know we're here," I say suddenly, staring at the windows. The sun, emerging from behind a shawl of clouds, winks and gleams on the diamond panes, sending edges of light dancing across the stone walls.

  "Then let's go introduce ourselves," Gabriel says, and folds his hand over mine.

  Seventeen

  THE FRONT GATE IS UNLOCKED and swings open on well-oiled hinges. Still, the coven of birds on the roof takes flight in one wheeling mass. No one seems to be around in the late afternoon, but we both approach the massive front door cautiously, almost on tiptoe. And then, like a dream image, a large silver dog appears from the corner of the farthest outbuilding. It sights us, tips its ears up, and moves toward us on silent paws.

  Huge paws. To go with its huge teeth on display in its open mouth.

  "Um ... think that's their attack dog?"

  "That's not a dog," Gabriel says, his hand tightening on mine. "That's a wolf."

  I blink. I've only seen pictures of wolves, but now that he mentions it, there's something definitely "not dog" enough about this animal. Maybe it's the complete lack of recognition in its eyes of us as anything other than meat. Maybe it's the way its legs are bent at sharp angles, clearly built for massive speed. Or maybe it's the way its jaws are designed for crushing larger animals between its teeth.

  I reach out silently, praying that this is one of my family members in disguise. Nothing. The wolf stalks forward, tufts of silver-gray fur spiking up in clumps along its spine. Definitely not a good sign in animal-speak.

  "Okay," I say as the wolf closes the gap between us to fifteen feet, then ten. "Let's hope Aunt Beatrice's Talent hasn't decided to desert me."

  "That's a plan," Gabriel says, edging in front of me.

  I throw a glance at the door and note the griffin-shaped door knocker. I reach out for the brass ring enclosed in its talons.

  The griffin's wings ripple and its beak moves. "Friend or foe?" it intones.

  "Friend. Family," I add quickly. Who would identify themselves as a foe anyway? Especially with a wolf heading toward them?

  The griffin's beak clicks shut as if seeming to consider this. "Please hurry," I urge it.

  It turns its head and regards me with its carved brass eye. It considers some more.

  Just then the wolf reaches Gabriel and me. The sharp animal smell rising from its fur washes over me. Its tongue slides from the side of its open mouth. Three drops of saliva fall to the stone walkway. It looks hungry.

  Then it turns its head sharply as if called by its master.

  A girl emerges from the same direction as the wolf. She is carrying a wide wicker basket filled with all kinds of plants and roots, some of which fall to the ground as she catches sight of us.

  "It's the crow girl," I whisper to Gabriel. "The one I told you about."

  "Seems like she's a wolf girl, too," he whispers back, his eyes still fastened on the wolf, who is now sniffing around our legs with pointed concentration.

  "Hello again," I say weakly. "Sorry for yesterday. When I made you fall. I know you said you'd find me, but—"

  "You found me first," she says, but there is no surprise in her voice.

  Sunlight splashes down on the walkway, shining across her bare feet, which are covered in dirt. Leaves have tangled themselves in her waist-long red hair, and a muddy streak covers one forearm. More mud dots the front of her skirt. Despite her unkempt appearance, she is every bit as beautiful as the last time I saw her.

  For a long moment, she seems to be deciding what to say next, but then finally settles on "Silvius warned me there were strangers on the path," the girl says as she approaches us.

  "T
hat's good," I manage, feeling the heat of the animal's breath through my thin skirt. "Is Silvius your wolf?"

  At that she laughs, her eyes scrunching up into half moons of delight. "Not my wolf. Silvius is nobody's wolf," she adds, scrubbing the animal's head with her knuckles. But Silvius's actions seem to disagree with that as he bumps up against her hip with his long snout, then licks her hand with that pink tongue. "And the birds also," she says distantly, her eyes scanning the sky. "The birds."

  Gabriel and I exchange glances. "We—"

  "You'd better come in, then. Thom's been waiting for you for a while."

  "Oh," I say, and close my mouth. Hopefully this is going to be easier than I expected. But her next words drive that hope right out of my head.

  "Although not everyone agrees that you're what you seem. Not everyone wants you to come here."

  She taps the griffin's beak once, then waits while it fluffs its wings and resettles its head under them. This seems to be the signal for her to push open the door. We follow her. The floors are a wide-planked honey-colored wood and the furniture is solid and heavy and plain, but clearly good quality. Logs are stacked in abundance at one edge of the fireplace guarded by two china dogs that look very familiar. The last time I saw them they were spilling everything to Rowena in my family's library.

  Three people are seated on a long low couch adjacent to the fire. The girl leads us to them, then stops and gestures us forward. I can't help but get the feeling that we're standing before a panel of judges. A woman who could be anywhere from forty to sixty is seated between two men. Her eyes probe mine, then skip over to Gabriel, then back to me. I wait for the tingle to slip over my skin, indicating that she's attempting to use her Talent on me, but nothing happens. One of the two men turns his head and whispers something to her, but she raises her hand in a little motion and he falls silent.

  Okay, so it's clear who's in charge here. I study the woman more closely as the girl says, "I found them on the path."

  The woman nods. "Thank you, Isobel."

  The girl shrugs, then adds, "Silvius vouches for them."

  A flicker of annoyance crosses the woman's face, but the man brings his hand to his mouth to suppress a cough that sounds a little too much like laughter. "Thank you, Isobel," the woman says again, but this time it sounds more like "Goodbye, Isobel."

  Turning swiftly, Isobel heads toward the door with the wolf padding close behind her. Then the second of the two men leans forward, his face no longer in shadow, and I gasp. "You!"

  Gabriel tightens his hand on mine, so I know he recognizes him, too. But there is no recognition in this man's eyes. "It hasn't happened yet," Gabriel breathes next to me, and I nod slightly. Still, that's hard to make myself realize, since the last time I saw this man, he was doing his best to kill us.

  "I beg your pardon," he says in that cultured voice that I remember all too well. I close my eyes briefly. You really don't know what you've done, do you?

  Now I shake my head. "Sorry—the last time I saw you, you tried to set us on fire."

  Seeing the confusion on his face, I backtrack. "It hasn't happened yet. It happens in 1899. But no hard feelings. You didn't succeed," I say, realizing a little too late how bad this sounds.

  And just in case I needed more confirmation, Gabriel mutters, "Smooth, Tam."

  The man's frown deepens and then he exchanges glances with the woman. "Thom made no mention of that incident. Why?"

  The woman shakes her head. "Perhaps because he didn't foresee it. Or because it doesn't happen."

  "So they're lying," the man adds, his voice crisply decisive, and I feel prickles of annoyance at that smug, familiar tone. He sounded exactly the same in 1899, right after he nearly burned Gabriel's hand off.

  "No, we're not lying," I snap, too impatient to wait any longer. "I don't know who Thom is, but I'm guessing he's the one who reads the book in your time?"

  Silence as three pairs of eyes regard me.

  "You know the book I'm talking about," I say impatiently. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gabriel give a warning shake of his head, but I ignore it. "Then you'll also know who I am and why I've come here."

  The woman leans forward, studying me again, before she speaks. "All we know is what Thom can see-which is that a stranger came to town and entered the house of the Knights."

  "That's Alistair," I cry out.

  But she continues as if I haven't spoken. "She is a harbinger of death."

  "Wait ... what?"

  "She's not," Gabriel says hotly, having apparently decided to abandon the calm and collected routine.

  "I'm not a harbinger of death," I say at the same time. I thought I was supposed to be a beacon. According to my grandmother.

  But the woman is shaking her head. "If we listen to you, we face peril and a change in our way of life. A change so great that we cannot ever return to what we were before. That's what the book tells us."

  "Then your Thom isn't very skilled at reading it," I say, wishing that this Thom had one-tenth of the foresight of my grandmother.

  "Thank you," a voice says from behind me, and I jump.

  A third man crosses the room, leaning heavily on a cane. Halfway between us and the couch, he stops and flicks his hand toward an unlit lamp on a side table. It flares to life, illuminating his long, craggy nose and chin. "That's not all it says, you know," he adds in a mild tone as he settles himself into an armchair adjacent to the couch.

  The three people on the couch turn to him, but it's the woman who speaks. "What else did you see?" she whispers, as if she doesn't want to know. She puts one hand to her curly hair, and my throat suddenly aches. The gesture reminds me of my mother.

  The man leans forward a little and regards me curiously. "Apparently, you aren't just the harbinger of death. You're the harbinger of my death." He nods, as if impressed with whatever it is I'll do to bring this about, before pulling out his handkerchief again.

  I stare at the man again, then at his cane. It's the same person I saw on the street corner at dusk. "You were standing on the street. The other day at the Knights' house. You made the lights go out."

  He smiles at me just as the woman on the couch gasps softly. "Thom," she says. "You didn't tell me this. Why would you go there?"

  Now the man shrugs, examines a button on his overcoat as if it's fascinating. "If you knew who was going to kill you, wouldn't you be curious to catch a glimpse of him or her?"

  This is too much for me and apparently for the woman on the couch.

  "I'm not going to kill you," I snap just as the woman says, "This is just further proof that we cannot have anything to do with her, Thom." Then she turns to me, takes a deep breath, and says, "You must leave at once and not come back here."

  "Ignoring the future won't make it go away, Cera," Thom says, and now he smiles at her. There's a bittersweet tone to his voice. "And death comes for us all. This young person seems like a rather charming vehicle, when you think about it."

  "Enough," says the third man, the one who hadn't spoken yet. "Cera has decided, and Thom, based on what you revealed, it seems wise of her to caution this. Unless you're not revealing everything?"

  Thom sighs, presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose in a gesture that my grandmother will learn in another century. It makes me wonder if reading the family book brings on blinding headaches or something. "Nothing is ever revealed completely. All I know is, this young woman and young man," he adds with a nod to Gabriel, "have Traveled a long way to warn us, and whether we listen or not, the future is uncertain. They don't mean us harm, but this young woman will be the harbinger of—"

  "The Knights are killing people," I burst out. Everyone turns back to me. There is a silence like a collective breath being held. "By taking too much of their blood. At least one servant girl I know has died, probably more. And their blood is making the Knights stronger." And then, because still no one speaks, I add, "They're killing people."

  "We know that," the man from 1899 says
. Those three flat words shock me into silence.

  "We suspected that," Cera corrects. "They've always been ... fond of experimenting on humans."

  Behind my back, I flex the fingers of my right hand wide, then dig them into the palm of my left hand, all while staring at her. "So you don't care? Because they're only humans? What are you?"

  She recoils from my tone, her head moving sharply until I am left with her profile as she exchanges glances with the two men on the couch. "Years ago, La Spider came to our mother." She gestures toward the two men sitting on either side of her. "I was not much older than Isobel, and I remember listening at the doorway as she proposed that we join them in expanding their power. La Spider told my mother that we placed too much emphasis on the four elements while ignoring the fifth."

  "The fifth?" I ask.

  Cera's lips tighten with distaste. "Blood. If only we would explore its properties. She enumerated all the possibilities of what we could do with this unlimited power at our grasp." Cera puts one hand to her throat as if to swallow the memory. "Fortunately, our mother declined. She explained to La Spider that we have always been a quiet people, choosing to live here, where there are not many to observe us, to comment on our way of life." She sighs.

  "That's all changing now," Thom says gently, as if reminding her of another discussion.

  She doesn't look at him, but nods, her face folding downward. "La Spider called my mother a fool, a child content to play in her gardens. But she left. More important, she left us alone. And we've lived in peace ever since."

  "Do you understand that the more you ignore them, the worse off you'll be?" Gabriel says suddenly, taking a step forward. "Do you know what happens in a hundred years? You defeat them now, but they rise again and then all of your lives are threatened."

  "More than threatened. There will be no Greenes left. That's what our book says in our time," I add.

  "But time is so unpredictable, and clearly if we defeat them as you say, then they'll rise to seek revenge." She pauses, then continues, her voice inflexible. "Perhaps it's something we never should have involved ourselves with in the first place."