“Howdidyoufindout?”
“Motherwashere,andIwaslookingforsomethinginherroom.”
“Youweregoingthroughherthings?”
“Yeah,obvy.WhenwouldIevergetachancelikethatagain?Ithoughtit wasgold.Ididn’trealize.So…Ifoundyourbirthcertificate,andithasyour Dad’snameonit.”
Iblinked.Iwantedtoaskwhatitwas.ButIdidn’t.Ineverwantedtoknow.
Iwantedittobechanged.Immediately.ToMYdaddy.Hisnamewastheonly namethatmattered.TheodoreJones.Daddy.Theperfect,teddybearofadaddy, whodidn’tbelongtoussnakes.Ohgods.He didn’tbelongtous.Hehad NEVERfitin.Hewaslikethesunussoullessoneshoveredaround.
Ijustlistenedbecausemythroathadsuctionedtogetherasmyemotions startedtoriseagain.
“ThenIfoundmine.Thenamesweredifferent.Theyweren’tthe right name. So,Iwaslike…well…I’mgoingtofindmyDad.Iwantedtoseehisface.
SeeifIlookedlikehim.Seeifitwasreal.”
Ithitmeagain.Imean.Wewere idiots.
“ Gods,Bran.Wedon’tevenlookalike.Andwedon’tlooklikeDaddyor Mother.”Isniffedandshuffledandtriedtoburyitallinsidemymind.Butthat wasawarIlost.
“Iknow,”Bransaid.“Yourdadishalf-Asian.Igoogledhim.MaybeI
stalkedhimalittlebit.”
Ididn’twanttoknowthat.Ididn’twantanexplanationformythicklength ofblackhairormyslightly-tilteddarkeyes.Mywillowybody.Wewere stupid.
“OhmyHecate,”IsaidastheamountofstupidIwashitmeagain.Iwasn’t clearlyAsian.ButIwascertainlygeneticallyambiguous,andIhadjustfiguredI lookedlikeagreat-auntorsomething.Ihadn’teverputthepiecestogethereven thoughIsawtheminthemirroreverydamnday.
“So,IwenttoPortland.Isawmydadanditwasobvious.Ihavehisnose andhisfreckles.Ilook just likehim.He’sevenlittle.AndIcouldn’tdealwith that,soIwandered.AndthenIfoundthistouroftheUndergroundPortland,and Isaw…shiz.Rue,Imetsomepeople.Iwasmad.Iwentonthisadventure.I knewifMothersensedme,she’dsenselike…motorcyclesanddrinkingand otherstupidstuff.She’dgetsoangry.She’dbebreathingfirefurious.Andthen, she’dfeelsomeofwhatIwasfeeling.Itwasn’tsupposedtoendlikethis—”
Itookabreathandsatup.Focusonthis.Focusonnow.Puttherestaway.
Tuckitawayinthesameplacewhereyoukeepwonderingjustwhathappenedto ChrysiewhenthedarkwitchhadherandthesightofProfessorLechner’s remainssprayedacrossherofficeand…shutitdown,Rue.Shutitdownand girl up.
“So,therewasthistreasure.Andthishunt.Andwitchstuff.Andspells.
Andwehavethatdamnarsenal.AndIwasgood.Imean…I’mnotyouor Mother,butI’mnotterribledespitewhatMothersays.”
Branwasn’t.Isniffed,nodded,andsaid,“You’reagoodwitch.”
Ifmystatementsoundedtired,itwas.Ihad,afterall,saiditahundred times.Athousand.
“Wefoundit.”
“Thetreasure?”
Shenoddedandshivered,“Itwascursed.Itwashaunted.I’mhaunted.They letmecomealongbecausetheyneededanidiotwitchtotripthecurseandthat wasme.Thentheyleftmehauntedandittookmeawhiletofindmyselfagain.
OnceIdid,IdecidedonwhattodoaboutDaddyandMother.ButwhileIdidit, Ikeptlosingtime.Andthingshappened.”
“Thingslikewhat?”
“Let’sjustsayit’sgoodMotherneverletushavepets.”
Wellthatmademewanttopuke.
“Yeah,”shesaid.“Itwassostupid.Thearsenaldidn’tdomeanygood.But Ididn’tcareatfirstbecauseIdidn’tcareaboutwhathappened.Only,what’s happeningisterrifying.AndIcan’tstopit.AndIneedhelp.”
“AndI’manecromancer,”Isaid,suddenlyunderstandingwhyshe’dcome.
Shecouldn’taskMother.Notnow.Notafterthis.
Brannodded.Shepausedandfoughthernextstatement,butIhad,afterall, truthserumedher.Ormaybethatreallywasgoneandshejustknewitwaspast timetotellthetruth.“Ithinkitmightbeghostsorsomethingtodowithghosts.
Your—whatshallwecallhim?Bio-dad?SpermDonor?Idon’tknow,butI knowhe’sanecromancertoo.”
Thatmademepauseandcalculate.Thepartofmethatwantedtobelike Daddywasdisgustedbythereasoningofmymother.Ibet…gods…Ibetshe bred me.Ibetshechosemybio-dadlikeaprimestud.
IknewthatBranhadfigureditouttoo.Itwaswhyshe’dtoldmeaboutthe spermdonor.Itwaswhythetoneofhervoicehadchangedwhenshe’dsaidit.
SheknewhowMotherthought.Afterall—wetwoweresnakes,justlikeour mother.
“Weshouldroad-triptoseehim,”Bransaid.
“Idon’twanttoo.”
“Girlup,whinywitch.”
Iscowledather,butshecouldn’tseemeinthedarkness.
“Ineedtopunchsomething,”Isaid.
Sobad.Sohard.Ineededtopunchsomething.Everything.Ineededtoset somethingonfire.Andscream.ScreamforsolonganddeepthatIforgothowto talk.Ineeded…Ineededthistobealie.Butitwasn’t—Ihadmadethatcertain withthetruthserum.Ihaddosedmysister.IknewtruthwhenIheardit,andit wasasifshe’dtoldmesomethingI’dalwaysknownbutforgotten.
Therewasthisopeningchasminmyhead—wherethebio-dadandgods…
gods…didIhaveothersiblings?DidIhavebrothersorsisters?Peoplewhohad beenraisedbyrealhumansinsteadofmonstersinhumanform?Whatwerethey like?Whatweretheirnames?WouldIlikethem?Would theylikeme?Would theyhatemeforwhatmymotherhaddone?
Ididn’tseehowtheycouldn’t.Ihatedmyselfandeverythingthatmybirth andfamilyrepresented.
“Let’srun,”Isaid.
Branrosewordlesslyandranbesideme.Ihadlearnedtorunfarandfast becauseofher—foronce,shewasrunningwithmeratherthantheotherway around.Foronce,Iwastheonewhowasescapingmylifeandshewastheone whowaslettingmeknowthatI’dnevergetawayfromher.
Iranuntilithurtmysides.Iranuntilmyfeetfeltnumb.Untiltherewas nothingbutthepound,pound,poundofmyfeetagainstthepavementandthe burningrushofbreathinmylungsandmouth.IranuntilIcouldn’thear anythingbutthesoundofmybloodandthewindinmyears.AndwhenIfinally
stopped,Ididn’tknowwhereIwas,butitwasn’tfarenoughaway.
Ihadn’tbroughtmyphone,Ididn’tknowwhattimeitwas,butIknewthat thesunwasrisingandschoolwouldstartsoonandIhadexamsinmyWorldLit andGuitarforBeginnersclasses.
*****
IhatedWorldLit.We’dreadsomestupidstoryaboutaguywhotookaboat intotheheartofAfricaandwentweirdontheway.Nativesstarvedinthatbook andnooneseemedtocare.Ididn'twantthatinmyhead.Wereadastoryabouta dudewhowasturnedintoacockroach.Iwasn’tsurewhatthepointwas,but we’dreadanabridgedversionanditwasstill fartoo long.
Guitar,however,Iloved,andmyfingerswerecaressingthestrings,Iwas focusingonthesoundstheymadeandignoringeverythingelsethathadbeen dumpedonmewhenafamiliarvoicesnappedmeoutofmyreverie.
Onmykindestdays,IrarelywantedtoseeFinn.Hewasthegoldenboyof myfamily’scouncilandgenuinelygoodwhilealso—somehow—beingajerkat thesametime.
HefollowedhisgreetingwithmynameandIdidmybesttopreventa scowlfromformingashesatinanemptychairnexttome.Hewasn’tinthis class,sohe’dtrackedmedown.Likethegoodlittleerrandboyhewas.Hewas movie-starhandsome,dedicatedtohelpingothers,andthecaptainoftheteamof do-gooderswhoweretryingtofillthesupernaturalroleoftheKeeperoftheSt.
AngelusThinning.Ihatedhim.Kindofpassionately.And,Ikindofrespected
himmorethanIcouldsay.Histeamwastrying—andfailing—tokeepghosts fromfeedingoffthelivingandnecromancersfromabusingghosts.Butthey were trying, anditwasathanklessjobthatendedinearlydeathasfarasIcould tell.
“HeyFinn,”Isaid,surprisingmyselfand—Ithought—himwhenmyvoice soundednice.
“So…haveyouheardfromyourmom?”
Myeyetwitchedandtheboilingragecameback.
“DoyoumeanhasmymotherreleasedherholdontheTalismanoftheSt.
AngelusThinningsoanotherkeepercanbecalledtoduty?I’mnottalkingto her,butgivenmysisterboundMother’smagicforseveralmonths,Idoubtit.”
Hisfaceshowedhisfrustration,andIdidn’tthinkhewaswrongtobe frustrated.Mymotherhadbeenevilwhenshe’ddecidedtotaketheroleof KeeperoftheThinningandthenrun.Itwasonethingtotrytobreakherholdon theTalisman—andIthinkshe probablytried.Maybe.Butshehadn’tbeen successful,andIdon’tthinkshewasunawarethatshefailed.Yetshe’dlet decadespasswithoutdoingathing.Itwasanastymoveandalotofpeoplehad
beenhurtbecauseofit.Shedidn’tseemtocare.
Shewasasnake.Ithadbeenthoroughlyestablishedtimeandagain.
“Why wouldyoursisterdothatwhenweneedyourmomtoreleasethe talisman.”
“Shehadgoodreason,”Isaidflatly.Obviously,Iwasn’ttellingFinnwhy.
“Idon’tknowhowyoucansaythat.Peopleare dying. ”
“Iknow,”Isaid.Icouldn’tcarerightthen.I should care,butwe’d establishedIwasasnake.IwasdoingwhatIcould.
Noteverypartoftheworldhadathinningbetweentheworldofthedead andtheliving.ButthePresidium—whoweresortoflikethepoliceof supernaturals—hadsetupkeepersoftheactivethinningsalongtimeago.
Beforethestatesweresettled,keepershadexisted.Itwasthissupernatural callingthatprotectedthelivingandthedead.
Mysister,Bran,was17.Shedidn’tknowwhatshehaddonebyblocking mymother.Shecouldn’thaveknownhowbadthingscouldbeinSt.Angelus.
Andevenifshehadbeen,shehaddonewhatwasjustandrightinhersituation.
Thatwasimportant.But—thereitwasjusticeforourDaddy.Everyoneelsehere whoBrandidn’tknowanddidn’tcareaboutsuffered.Suchwaslife.
Finnshovedhisfingersthroughhishairandclearlybitbackhisanger beforehecarefullysaid,“TheHallowFamilyCouncilwantstomeetyoursister.”
TheguitarprofessorcameintotheroomandIdidn’tsucceedinhidingmy reliefasIsaid,“WelltheyknowwhereHallowHouseis.”
“Theythoughtyoucouldbringhertothecouncilmeetingthiseveningat eight.”
“Ihaveplans,”Iliedandturnedtofacethefrontoftheroom,dismissing Finnwithmymove.
“Youmakeithardtolikeyouverymuch,RueHallow,”hesaid.
“It’sHallow-Jones,”Ireplied,claimingmydaddy.“AndI’mwellawareof it.”
Chapter6
Myguitarclassletmeignorewhathadbeensaidexceptforinpowerful jabsthatroseupinmymind.Ipassedmytest—barely.I’dhaveaceditifIhad takenitbeforeIfoundoutwhathappened.AndmaybeifIhadsleptlastnight.
WhenIleftthemusicbuilding,mysisterwasoutfrontidlinginthestation wagon.Itwasa1952MercuryStationWagon.Giventhatitwasadeeppine greenwithwoodpaneling,therewasnoquestionthatitwasmineandnotsome lookalike.
Iwalkeddownthestairs.Mylegshurtfrommylong,longrunandthelack ofsleep.Myhearthurtwithahurtsodeep,itwashardformetobreatheifIlet myselfthink.
“Whatareyouupto?”
“Getin,”shesaid.Imethergazeandshestaredbackatmebeforeshe added,“Ihaveburgersandchocolatecheesecake.”
Iwasbribed.PlusIdidn’twanttogohomeandseeFelixandChrysie’s lovingeyes.Lovingandsorrowfulandsadforme.Icouldn’tkeepitallburied awayifIsawotherpeoplecaringaboutit forme.Carefullynotaskingquestions.
Silentlymourningforme.
Ifloppedintothepassengerseatandsaid,“TheHallowFamilyCouncil wantstomeetyou.”
“Iamsureyouknowwhichfour-letteredwordsIhaveinreplytothat.”
ShepulledawayfromthecurbasIignoredthefoodtotossmyphone betweenmyhands.
“Justdoit,”shesaid.
Ilookedatherandbackatmyphoneandatheragain.
“Girlup,”sheaddedcaustically.
“Hello,Veruca.”
Ididn’tspeak.Ifoundthereweren’twordsforwhatIhadtosay,forthe feelingsroilinginsideofme.
“Iseethatyoursisterhastoldyouherdiscovery.”
Bransentthecartowardsthefreeway.Iglancedoveratherandthenback tothedash.Islippedoffmyshoesandputmytoesupontheancientwood paneling.
“Doyouhavenothingtosay?”Motherasked.“Iamnotgoingto apologize.”
“Iwouldlike,”Isaidcarefully,tryingtokeepbackthefloodofmy emotions,“forittobeuntrue.”
“Lifeisnotafairytale,”shesaidinthatcool,snakevoice.“Ididwhatwas necessary.”
ThefloodofragehitmesohardandfastthatIdroppedthephone.Itwasin the50soutside,butIrolleddownthewindow,putmyfeetonthecornerofthe glass,andletthewindblowonme.AsIclosedmyeyes,Isaid,“Idon’tknow howthisisourlife.”
“Otherpeople,”Bransaidinacheerytonethatdidn’thideherrage,“have soccermoms.Thiscarsmellslikedeathandflowers.”
“Tootrue,”IsaidasIunwrappedmyburger.She’dgonetomyfavorite placeandboughtmeonewithdoublecheese,avocado,andbacon.The cheesecakewasfromadifferentshop.“Foodisn’tgoingtomakemefeelbetter.”
“Youwon’teat,”shesaidasshechangedlanesandpassedapackof motorcycles,“ifpeopledon’thandyouyourfavoritethings.Notondayslike today.”
Iwouldnormallyhavesaid,‘Thanksmom’sarcastically,butIwasn’tthat cruel.Andthatwasnolongerfunny.Beforethis,I’dbeenabletoconvince myselfthatshelovedusandwasjustbroken.Infact…Ithoughtthatmightstill betrue.Itdidn’tmatterwhatherreasoningwas—whatshehaddonewasso disgustinglywrongthatevenIdidn’thavetothinktwiceaboutit.Andshe’d keptdoingit.She’dkepthimthatway.Foryearsandyearsandyears.Iwas eighteen.Eighteenyearsofthis.Eighteenyearsstolen.ButIcouldn’tsayanyof that.Notrightthen,soinstead,Itookalargebiteofthefoodmythoughtless sisterhadthoughtfullyboughtforme.Andfailedatpretendingittastedlike anythingbutashes.
Afterafewminutes,mysistersaid,“NowimagineifI’dbroughtyouatuna saladsandwich.”
Isnortedahumorlesssoundandclosedmyeyes,lettingthelightplay acrossmylidswhileIrefusedtothink.
“Wakey,wakey,”Bransaidcheerily.“Considerthismyrevenge.”
Iopenedmyeyes,stretchingasImoved.Ihadfallenasleepfarharderthan Iwouldhavethought.
“Sorrrrryyy,”Bransangascheerily,“Idruggedyourdrink.Andtheburger.”
Ilookedatherandthenshrugged.Shedidowemeone.ThenIturnedto takeagoodlookoutthewindow.Itwasamassivebrownstone—thekindyou sawonTV,withivycreepingupthesideofthebuilding.Littledetailsinthe stonework,glass,andwroughtironpronounceditsextremeageandthewealth ofitsinhabitants.Youwouldthink,afterlivinginMartha,thattheluxuriousness ofthismansionwouldn’tintimidateme—butitdid.Marthawasfriendly.She mightbebig,clearlycraftedfromskill,andwealth.Butshewasmine,andher windowsglintedwhenIcamehome,andhergateopenedforme,andanything thatwasminewouldneverbeasopulentasthismonstrosity.
AsIwatched,aguyafew
yearsmyseniorjoggedupthesteps.Hishairwas longandpulledbackintoalowponytail.Itwasalsotheexactshadeofmine.He wasbiggerthanmeineveryway,buthehadthatsame,lean,yogaframe.
“Hiseyesarelikeyourstoo,”Bransaidquietly.“Igotapicofhimfrom Facebook.”
“Iwouldliketoleavenow,”Itoldher.
Branshookherhead,withoutanounceofgiveinher.“Girlup,besides,you havemoretosee.”
SherefusedtodriveawayandIrefusedtotalktoher,soIsilentlywatched outthewindowwhileanotherperson—part-asianandslimwalkedupthesteps.
“Shelookslikeyou,”Bransaid,alittlegently.Ididn’tlookatmysisterfor thesisteracrosstheway.TheonewhoIwouldn’trecognizeifwebumpedinto eachother.TheonewhosenameIdidnotknow.Theonewhoseveryexistence wasastabintomysoul.
“Exceptshehascurves,”Ireplied.Shehadmylipsandmyhair—though herswasinalonga-linethatwasedgyandcoolerthanIwouldeverbe.“And she’smyage.”
“Yup,”Bransaid.So,mybirthfatherhadcheatedonthemotherofthese kids—whilehiswifewaspregnant.Unlesstheyallhaddifferentdads.Lovely.It seemedlikeIcamefromyetanother‘wonderful’person.
“Iwouldliketoleavenow,”Isaidsoftly.Myfingerstouchedthewindow andIstaredoutatthehouse,thelife,thepeoplethatshouldhavebeenmine.But instead,I’dbeentakenawayfromhereandraisedbysomeonewhohadbeen stolenfromhislife.AndIdidn’tregretthatdifference.Iknew,withouthavingto experiencethedifference,thatIhadbeenluckybecauseIhadbeengivenmy daddy.Itdidn'tmatterthatIdidn'ttrulyknowmybirthfather.Iknewmydaddy andrecognizedalltoowellthatIwasluckytohavehim.
“Therearetwomoretosee,”Bransaidwithoutgive.“They’llbealong quickly.”
Iwaitedwithoutspeaking.WhatIhaddonetoherwiththetruthserumwas nearlyunforgivable.She’dgottenmebackgoodandhardandtheonlywaywe’d beleavingisifIwrestledheroutofthedriver’sseat.Buttherewasthat unfortunatefactthatshewasfarmorelikelytowinsuchaninteraction.