“Youdon’tknow?Shutupandtellthetruth.”
Felix,ChrysieandCyruswerewatchingthetwoofusfightasiftheywere watchingatennismatch,headsbackandforth,utterlysilent.
“I.Don’t.Know.Quitbeingsuchacowbi…”Shetookadeepbreathand begged,“…listen.”
“Excuseme,”Isaid,eyesnarrowingasIconsideredher.“Youshouldhave toldmewhatwasgoingonbeforeMarthawaspinningyoutothefloorand Jessietothewallforjusttryingtohelpyou.It never shouldhavegottentothis point.”
“SoIdidn’t.I’msorry.”
“Speaknow.”
Wefacedoff,staringateachother,bothofusbreathingheavily.
Brantookadeepbreath,swallowedandthentookanotherbreath.Shetried tospeaknormally,butshewasshoutingbyhersecondword.“IsaidIdon’t know!Gods.”
“Iknowwhenyou’relying,Bran.WhatIdon’tknowiswhyyou’relying.
Youcamehereforhelp.You’regoingtohavetotelluseventually.”
BranswallowedandfinallyIheardtruthfromhermouth,“Idon’twantto.”
“Why?”
“Iwasstupid.Andthestorybeginswithsomethingthatruinseverything.”
“Quitbeingmelodramatic.”
“I’mnot,”shesaid.AndIrecognizedthetruthofitagain.Isawthatlook onherface—theonethathurtforme,anditfrozemeinsideofmysoul. What couldhavehappenedthatwouldaffectmeeventhoughIwassofaraway.Her expressionsaidthathertruthwasmytruth.Thatthiswouldhurtmetoo.That whateverhappenedwouldchangeeverythingjustasshe’dsaid.SweetHecate, whatwasgoingon?
“Howdoweknowyou’llbesafe,”FelixaskedBran,cuttingin.
“Oncewhateverhappensisover,it’soverforawhile.”
“Idon’tknow,”Cyrussaid.
“Martha,”Iaddressedthehousebutspokeclearlysothateveryonecould hearme.“Slammysistertothefloorthemomentshefeelswrongtoyouagain.”
Chapter4
Inmydefense,Iwasfedup.Branwasstillpeelingherselfoutofthe pentacle.Shewaswhite,sopaleandpastythatshelookedasifshehadabad caseoftheflu.ThereweredarkcirclesunderhereyesandI’dwatchedhernot reallyeatforthelasttime.
“Tellmewhatisgoingon,”Isaid,hatingmyselfforwhatI’ddoneasI handedheracupofwarmtea.
Branrubbedoneeyewhilesheliftedtheteatohermouth.Itwassteaming andheavilysugaredup.I’daddedcreamandalittlevanillatoo.Shetookalong slowsip,lettingitrollaroundhermouthandthenswallowed.Shetookanother drinkandthen,finally,openedhermouthtoreply.I’dmadeaxxteawhich maskedwhatI’ddone.
Isniffedassheclosedhermouthandtiltedherheadtotheside.Bran almostgrowled,“Youmassivecow-witch.Iwillmakeyoupay.”
Giventhatshewasheavilydosedwithtruthserum,whatevershehadin storeformewasprobablyugly.Andvery,veryintended.
“Ican’thelpyouifyouwon’ttellme,”Isaid.AndthenIchokedalittlebit asBran’s…Gods. Bran’s eyestearedup.Ishookmyheadinsheerprotest—we werethechildrenofasnake.Wedidn’tcrylikethis.Ialmostpleadedwithherto notbedoingwhatshewasdoingasIsaid,“Ididnotmakeyoucry.”
“ButI’llmakeyoucry,”Bransaidandatearrolleddownherface.“Itwon’t bethesame everagain.Ican’ttellyou.”
“Tellme,”Iordered.Iwatchedtheserumworkinher,pushingthetruthat thebackofherteeth,yankingonhervocalcords,demandingthatshegiveup hersecrets.
Sheopenedhermouth,closedit,shookherheadandthensaid,“I haa….damnit!Idon’thateyou.”
“Idon’thateyoueither,”Itoldher.Thedoorcreakedopenbehindher,but shedidn’tlookback.IglancedupandsawFelixandChrysieinthedoorway.I wonderedhowmuchofwhatwashappeningtheyunderstood.Wasitpossiblefor anyonebutmeandBrantoknowhowbigofabetrayalitwasforoneofusto
truthserumtheother?
“Ican’tbelieveyoutruthserumedme.”
Shewassoright.ButItoldhermyreasoninganyway,“Youhavebeenhere twoweeks!YouhavetriggeredwardsinMartha.Somethingisgoingon,andI can’thelpyouifyoudon’tgivemeafriggingclue.Alsoyouwereterrifying today. Terrifying. ”
“I….Rue…Gods….Rue…”
“OhmyHecate,BrankaPenelopeJones,speak.Speakfortheloveofthe pantheonofthegods.Spillit.We’llgetthroughit.”
“Mother…”
“Mother…”
Iclosedmyeyes,waitingforit.Therewasnowayitwasn’tgoingtobe bad.Notwhenitstartedwith,“Mother.”
“She…godsRue...she…”
“Spititout.”Thewordswererough,butmytonewasn’t.Iknew—alreadyI knew—thatmylifewasnevergoingtobethesameagain.
“Rue,Daddyisn’t ourDad.”
Icouldn’tevenprocessthatstatement.Thatwas not true.Nomatterthe truthserum.Itwas nottrue.
“Mother…Rue…Motherhasbeenlovepotioninghim,everymorningour entirelives.”
Chrysiesqueaked.ButallIcoulddowasstare.Agrowingneedtovomit wascrawlingupmythroat.
“Inthegreensmoothiehedrinks?Theonewithorganickaleand cucumber?”
Mothermadeitonlyforhim.Nowthereasonwhywecouldn’thaveasip, ever,wassoveryclear.Therewasabuzzinginmyears,butitdidn’tdrownout Bran’svoice.
“WehavedifferentDads.Wedon’tevenhavethesameDad.”
Felixputhishandsonmyshouldersandpushedgentlydown.Isatina chairthathadn’tbeentherebeforeandIhadn’trealizedhadbeenplacedbehind me.Idroppedmyheadtobetweenmykneesandlettheairwhistleinandoutof mylungs.Afteramoment,Itwistedmyheadsoitwasstillonmylap,butI couldseemysister.
Mytruth-serumed,whiteasabadcaseoftheflu,torturedsister.Icouldn’t
evenimagine.NowIknewwhyshe’dbeenavoidingme,hanginguponme,not answeringwhenIaskedherwhatwasgoingon.Ihad knownsomethingwasup, butIwould never haveimaginedthis.Notever.
Brankepttalking.Ihadtruthserumedher,shecouldn’tstopnow.Thetruth serumwasgallopingaheadlikeIdeserved.Itwasn’tgivingmetimetothinkor process.AndBranwouldhavebeengentler,ifIhadgivenherthechoice.
“Mothergotpregnantwithyou,movedtoPortland,gotpregnantwithme, basicallytookDaddyforherown,andmovedusalltotheisland.Hewasinlove withsomeoneelseandshejust…tookhim.It’sallalie.”
“Weshouldhaveknown,”Isaidasmyentirelifeshiftedinmyhead.Itwas likeIhadbeenseeinginthedarkandsomeonehadjustturnedonthelight.
“Godsand monsters. WeshouldhaveKNOWN.”
“Yes,”Bransaid,flatly.Hereyeswereshining—sadandangry.
I’msureshewasthinkingthesamethingasme.ItwasOBVIOUS.We wereso blind and stupid.
Istoodupandstartedfranticallyshufflingthroughourcupboards.Ididn’t drink.ButIwantedalcoholverymuchrightnow.IwanteditsobadIcouldtaste itinmymouth.
“Didyoutell,Daddy?”Mywordsfloatedovermyshouldersincetherewas nowayIcouldhandleseeingBran’sfaceassheanswered.
“Yes.Hasn’thecalled?”
Gods.Yeshehadcalled.Itcamebacksoveryclearly.
“Baby,”Daddysaid.“IjustwantyoutoknowhowmuchIloveyou.
Nothingwilleverchangethat.”
“IknowDaddy,”Isaid.
“It’simportantthatyouknow,Verucababy,Iloveyou.”
He’dcalledandhe’dtoldmehelovedmenomatterwhat.Ihadjust thoughthewasbeingsweet.Sincehewasoften.I’dshruggeditoffandfocused onmytroubles.Itwasapunchinthegut.DaddyhadknownthatBranwouldtell me.Hehadknownthatitwoulddestroyme.Howcouldheloveme?Iwasthe childofasnake.Asnakewhohadstolenhimfromhislifeandhislove.He’d beenlovepotionedtoloveus.He’dbeenlovepotionedtocare.Hedidn’tlove me.
“Martha,”Itoldthehouse,“Ineedwine.”
Therewasashufflingandacupboardopened.Itwasn’twine.Itwas somethingamberanditlookedlikeitwouldhurtasitwentdown.Perfect.I wanted tohurt.Iwantedittohurtsobadthisvoidinmychestwouldbefilled.
“Whatishedoing?”MyhandswereshakingasIopenedthebottle.This lookedlikesomethingthatyouputinasmallcup.Oneofthedollopsofbooze
thatmadeafaintingchickinthemoviescomebacktoherself.Ididnotdollop thealcohol.Ididn’tcare.Ifoundawaterglassandamug.Ifilledthemquickly, splashingonthecounter.Ihandedonetomysister.Itookanotherformyselfand leftthepuddleandthebottleonthecounter.
“Rue,maybe…”Felix’svoicewasgentleashetriedtofindawaytotellme nottodrink.Rightnow,Ididn’thaveitinmetoberesponsible.Rightnow,I didn’tcare.
“Leaveit,Felix,”Chrysiesaid.She’dbeensilentwithanemotion-filled gazethatsaidshewashurtingforme.ThatwassomethingIdidn’twanttosee.
Couldn’taddtoeverythinghappeninginsideofme.
Branshookherheadandthensaidsoftly,“Heisn’tsaying.He’sso confused.”
“That’swhyyoufiguredouthowtoblockMother’smagic.”
“Hedeservestimetofigureoutwhathewants.Iputamagicblockonher thatIstolefromHazel.It’lltakeafewmonthstofade.Idestroyedherpotions stuffandallofherback-stock.”
Mybreathwhistled.Motherhadpotionsbrewing allthetime.Herback-stockwaseffortandproductionthatwentbacklongerthaneitherofushadbeen alive.Speakingofmakingpeoplepay,Branwasinaprecariousposition.Mother wasasvengeance-orientedasBranandI.Andyet,IwasjealousIhadn’tbeen theretohelphercrushthatback-stockasitdeserved.
“I…”IwantedtobebigenoughtosaythatDaddyshouldleaveourMother.
Iwantedtobeunselfishwhenitcametomyblueberrypancakemaking,ever cheerful,alwayslovingDaddy.Therewasthisquiet,horriblepartofmethatwas soverygratefultomymotherforgivingmeDaddy.Except.Gods.ExceptI wantedtobesomeonedifferentthanthat.
Atearrolleddownmycheek.IdeservedthefieryhellsofHades.Ideserved tobedestroyed.Ideservedformymagictobestolenfromme.Ideserved horrible,terriblethings.
“Idon’twanthimtoleave,”ItoldherandthenIthrewmyglassagainstthe wall.Itshatteredandwhateverthatamberstuffwassprayedusall.“Idon’twant tolosehim.”
Brannoddedsilently.Sheknew.Sheknewhowmuchitmatteredthatour parentslovedeachother.WhenyouhadamotherlikeAutumnJones,itmattered verymuchtohaveafatherlikeTheodoreJones.
Istood,lookedaroundandsawthebrokengazeofChrysie.Mysister—
we’dneverbethesame.Shehadn’tbeenwrongwhenshewarnedme.And Felix.GodsFelix.Hiseyesshonewithloveandpainforme,andIjust couldn’t.
“I…”
Icrossedtheroominaboundandflewoutthedoor.Iranuntilithurt.I couldhearmysisterpoundingbesideme.Running.Running.Runningfromour Mother.Likeusual.Fromfeelingswedidn’tknowhowtoprocess.Fromour livesandourhistoryandourbaggageandthesnakesinsideofus.
Butyoucouldn’tevergetawayfromthemonsterinsideofyou.Nomatter howfastyouran.
*****
Ididn’tthinkasIran,butIwasn’tsurprisedwhenIfoundmyselfracing downthelaneofcypresstreesinthewoods.TheHallowfamilyhadfoundedSt.
Angelus.Theiroriginalestatewasinruins,buttheCypresslanethathadledto theirhouseremained.Theirgraveyardremained.Thecypressgrovearoundthe graveyardthatledintotheoakgroveandeventuallytothelakeandthecollege andwoodsthatdidn’tcalltomybloodandmagic.Woodsthatwerewoods whereasthesetreeswereapartofme.Itwashardtoexplain.Itwasmagic.It wasfamily.
Iheadedoffthepathandintothecypressgrove,usingmymagictoleapthe stonefencethatkeptmefromthegravesofmyancestors.Ididn’teventhinkasI floppeddownontomyfavoritegraveandlaidundertheangel.
“Hecate,”Isaid.ItwasallIhadtosay.Therewerenowords.Therewas nothing.
“Yes,”Bransaid.
Ipressedmyheadagainstthethicklawnoverthegraveandstaredupatthe carvedstoneangelwithitssadfaceandwide-spreadwings.
“Whyanangel,”Branaskedasshestaredupatthesky.“We’repagans.”
Ishookmyheadandstaredhighatthesky.Cloudshadrolledinandthesky wascovered.Thestarswereobscuredandtherewasnocomfortinthesky,the angel,orthegrove.
“Ihateher,”Isaid.“Ihatehersomuch.”
“It’slikeafireinsideofme.Afiremadeofthornsthatprodmeallthe time.”Bran’svoicewassoft.Therewassomuchtosayandthatdidn’tneedto besaid.Sheknew.Iknew.Wekneweachotherlikesnakesfromthesamenest.
We were snakesfromthesamenestwho’dthought—thatmaybe—becauseof Daddyweweremore.Butnowweknewthetruth,weweren’tanythingbut snakes.
IspenttoomuchtimetryingandfailingtobelikeDaddy.Toomuchtime thinkingofwhathe’ddoandtryingtoliveuptothatsideofme.
“YourotherfamilyisinBoston.”
Iheardthewords,butIdidn’twanttohearthem.Ididn’thave another family.IhadBran.Mother—maysheburn.ButDaddyhadneverbeenmine.
“Baby,”Daddysaid.“IjustwantyoutoknowhowmuchIloveyou.
Nothingwilleverchangethat.” Icouldhearhisvoiceinmyhead.Thelies.
Clearlythepotionhadn’tfadedenough.Clearlyhehadn’twokenfully.
“Howlongwillittake,”Iasked,“untilthepotionsareoutofhissystem?”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Bran’sfacewasn’tseeableinthedarkness.
Justtheshapeoftheangelagainstthesky,probablyonlyviewablebecauseof themagicI’dtakenholdofandnotletgo.Akillingspellhoveredinsideofme, readytogo.Iwanted,neededtokillsomeone.Something.Butwho?What?
Noamountofdestructionorvengeancewouldtakebackwhathadbeen done.
“Howlongdoesittakeforthepotionstofadeandforhimtocometohis senses?”
“Shepotionedhimdaily,Rue.Ittookliketwodaysprobably. You should knowbetterthanme.”
But…butIhadspokentoDaddyonSundayoverbreakfast.He’dtoldmehe lovedme.He'dsoundedweirdandupset,but…
“Whatdidsheputinthepotion?”
“Sheusedthebasicone.Theonewithjasmine,greenwillow,and celandine.”
“Thebasewascelandine?”
“Whatisyourproblem?I’mnotapotionsnerdlikeyou.Ithinkso…”
“Whatcolorwasit?”
“Itwasyellow.Aclearyellowanditsmelledlikeflowers,sunshine,andI don’tknow…rainbows.”Hervoicewasangrybutasshesaidit,herhandtook mine.ShesqueezedandIsqueezedback.Whoelsewouldeverunderstandwhat this meant?
Thatwouldhavebeenoutofhissystemin,atmost,threedays.Andnot veryefficientafterlike—36hours.Itwasthesimplestofthepotions.Shegaveit tohimdaily.Heprobablyjustrememberedlovingus.Heprobablyjusthadn’t beenabletoseparateyearsofbeingmanipulatedfromhisrealfeelings.
“GodsI hateher,”Isaidanditwas true. I hated her.Ihatedthethingsshe did.Thewayyoucouldnevertellwhatshewasupto.Thewayshemanipulated andcontrolled.AndIlovedher
.AsmuchasI hated her,Ilovedher.
“We’redumb,Rue.”
“Weshouldhaveknown.”
“Weshouldhavestoppeditalongtimeago.”
“Iwonderwhatit’slikeinherhead,”Isaid.“Whereshefelttheneedto stealsomeonefromtheirlifeand make themloveher.”
Herfacewasinmyhead.Herimage.Thatportlyhousewifewhohadsmall,
coldeyes.Ididn’tlooklikeher.AndasmuchasI was likeherontheinside,I wantedtobedifferent.IwantedmyDaddytobemyDaddyandIwantedtobe likehim.
“It’sawastelandinsideofher,Rue.”
BecauseIdidn’twanttothinkaboutMotheranymore.OrDaddy.Iasked,
“WhoisyourDad?”
Brandidn’tanswer.
“Iknowyouknow.”
Sheshiftedagainstmeandsatup.“Theangeldoesn’tmakeanysense.”
“Iknow,”Iagreedandthenaskedagain,“WhoisyourDad?”
Icouldjustseeherwrapherarmsaroundherkneesandpressherfaceinto herknees.“He’sinPortland.Hehasredhair,freckles,andgreeneyes.”
“Doeshehaveotherkids?”
“Idon’tknow.IwatchedhimfromacrossthestreetforlikeadayandthenI left.”
“Liar.”
“Hedoesn’tmatter,”shelied.Clearly,theoneswallowoftruthserumhad burnedout.
Chapter5
“ WhyareMartha’swardstripping?”Idecidedtofocusonwhatmatteredso verymuchless.Ohmygods…Daddy.Ineededtoseehimrightthen.Iwantedto curlupnexttohimandlaymyheadonhisshoulder.Forthefirsttimeever,I wantedtore-watchoneofthosestupidmoviesonlyheloved.Iwantedtositat thekitchentablewhilehemadeblueberrypancakesandsangfolksongsoff-key.
Ineededahugfromhim,rightthen,morethanIneededtobreathe.
“Well…whenIfoundout,”Bransniffed,andhervoicecracked,butwe didn’thavetoseeeachother’spaininthedarkness.Itwouldhavebeenworseif wecould.“Itookoff.”