“Theretheyare,”Bransaid.
Iwaswoodeninside.Feelinglessandhollow.ThehollowHallow.Thatwas me.Brokenfromthetruthofmylife—atruththatI should haveknown.Should havelongsincesuspected.
Iturnedmyhead,becauseBranwouldn’tletmeleaveifIdidn’t.Butthis timeonewaslookingtowardsme.Shewassmall—petitewithshorttwinbraids ofblackhair.Theyendedjustabovehershoulderoneithersideofherface.Her darkeyes—mirrorsofmyown—werealittlemoretiltedthanmyown.Andshe wassoverysad.Sadinsideandwhenhergazemetmine,Iknewit.AndIknew sherecognizedjustwhoandwhatIwas.
Withoutconsciousthought,myfingerswereatthewindow—almost waving,almosttouchingthoughshewasfeetaway.Shemighthavebeenseven.
Shemighthavebeenmanythings,butshewasmybabysisterandalioness wokeinsideofme.Alionessthatlovedherinstantly.Thatwantedtoprotecther andsharestorieswithherandwatchasherabilitiesawoke.Andrightbehindher wasanotherone.
Anotherbabysister.Anothergaze—thisonewasanotherlionesslooking backatme.Asisterwhowouldprotectthelittlest.MotheroftheGods,Iloved thisonetoo.
“Gods,”Ibreathed,lovingthem.Wantingthem.HatingthatIhadn’tknown thembefore.“GodsourMotherisamonster.”
“Yes,”Bransaid.
“Whodidyoufind?”
Shedidn’tanswer.Hergazelookedpastmeatthelittleones,andIsaw somethinginhergazeIwouldn’thavethought.Jealousy.
“They’relikeus,”Bransaid.“They’retightlikeweare.”
Theolderofmytwolittlesisterstookthelittleone’shand,pullingher away.Butsheshookherheadandwalkedrightuptoourancientstationwagon andknockedonthewindow.MyfingerswereshakingasIrolleditdown.
“Hello,”Isaid.Myvoicecracked,andIwasproudthatwasallitdid.
“Hello,”thelittleonereplied.
“Saki!”Theolderofmytwolittlesistersdartedforwardandgrabbedthe littleone—Saki’s—handandpulled.“Whatareyou doing! Come on!”
ButSakiyankedawayandsaid,“Tane,sheisoursister.”
IwouldhavethoughtthatTanewouldhavemockedSaki,butTanedidn’t.
Shestoppedandturnedandlooked,andasshedid,herheadcocked.Justlike mineoftendid.Aslighttilttotheside,awideningofeyes,arecognition.And thensadness.
“Mamawillbesosad,”Tanesaid,channelingthatsorrowforhermother.
“Whatisyourname?”
“Shedoesn’tneedtoknow,”Ioffered—notsurewhatIwantedasIsaidit.
ButassoonasIrealizedthatitwouldmeanthatIcouldnotbeanopenpartof theirlives,myentirebeingrejectedit.ThatlionessinsideofmescreamedandI prayedtheywouldnotagree.
“No,”Sakisaid.“No.Mamahastoknow.Thisisour sister.”
“I’mRueHallow,”Isaid.“I…now…I…Ijustfoundout.”
“It’sok,”Sakisaid,reachingouttotakemyhand.
Thatsmallhand—sosweetandsoftandlittle.Gods.Therewasabitofa zing.Abitofrecognition.Abitofmysoulandhersoultouchingandsomething thathadbeenmissingforagessettledintoplace.Itookashakybreathand whispered,“Ican’tdothisyet.I’msorry.”
Saki’sheadtiltedassheexaminedme.Ihopedshedidn’tfindmewanting, butHolyHestia,motherofthegods,Ididn'tbelonghere.Itdidn’tmatterthat thesewere my sisters.IstilldidNOTbelonginthathouseandthesegirlsmight be mine butIwasn'tsureIwantedtoclaimanyoneelse.
Bran’shandreachedpastmyfaceandhandedthegirlsasmallpieceof paper.“I’mBran.ThisisRue.We’restilllearningaboutwhathappened.But…
yougotprettyluckyingettingRueforasister.”
TherewasabitofacrackinBran’svoice.BeforeIcouldturntotheonly personwhogotme,Saki’sgazemetBran’s.Saki’sexpressionturnedfromsadto terrifiedassheskippedbackafewsteps.
“You’rehaunted,”SakisqueakedasshegrabbedTane’shandandtwirled, runningheadlongintotraffic.
Chapter7
“You’rehaunted,”ItoldBranasifthekid—gods,asifmylittlesisterhad toldBranshewereuglyorstupid.Ihadn’tbeenabletospeakuntilshewas acrossthestreetwithTaneandrunningupthesteps,butthatdidn’tmeanI wasn’tgoingtomockBrannow.
Theyhadn’tlookedbackastheydartedthroughthedoorsandIwasn’tsure Iwasableto.
“Shutit,”Bransaididlyandstartedtheoldwagon.Thecoolnessintheair hadintensifiedtoanuncomfortableextent.Iprobablyshouldhaverolledupthe window,butIlikedhowithurtalittlebit.Ilikedhowitmademyfingersas numbasthewholeofmyinsides.
“Whatabouthim,”IaskedasBranwoveinandoutoftrafficlikea possessedclown.ThenIrememberedshewassomeweirdvariationofpossessed anditwasn’tfunnyanymore.Mandi—thewomanwhohadkilledgenerationsof myfamily—hadbeenpossessed.Iftherehadbeenanythingleftofthe necromancerwhohadbecomesotwisted,shehadbeenunrecognizable.What wasgoingtohappentoBranandhowcouldIhelpher?
“Who?”
“Don’tplaygameswithme,”Itoldher.
Sheglancedmywayandgavemeasmirk.
“Ihadassumed,”Isaidwhenshedidn’tanswer,“thatweweregoingfora drivelikeweusedtodoontheisland.”
“Thatwasstupid,”Bransaidasshepassedyetanothercar.
“Youdrivelikeamadwoman,”Itoldher,watchingtheroadsignsgoby.
St.Angeluswastoolittletobeonanyofthemyet.Wehadstatelinestocross andthingstodo.“Tellmeaboutthishaunting.”
Sheglancedoveratmeandbacktotheroad,startingtopassanothercar.
Thisonewasayellowsedanwithkidsintheback.Everyonebuttheparents werelookingdownattheirlaps.Probablytheywerewatchingtabletswhiletheir stay-at-homemomandwell-employedfatherdiscussedpoliticsorasummer garden.Probablytheywereanormalfamilywholovedeachotheranddidn’tsee
theneedtousespellsandpotionsinanendlessgameofpowerandone-upmanship.
Ididn’tdenytherushofenvythatflowedoverme.IknewBranwouldhave beenfeelingthesameifshehadnoticedthem.ItusedtobethatIwouldgetpast thosemomentsofenvybythinkingofmyperfectdaddy.Excepthewasn’tmine anymore.
Hehadbeenstolen.Manipulated.Takenfromwhathewantedandforcedto loveus.
“Ihateher,”Bransaid,weavingbetweenaminivanandasportscar,“butI don’t.Idon’twanttothinkwhatitwouldhavebeenlikewithoutDaddy.”
“Thatmakesuslike her,”Isaid.“Itmakesus justlikeher.”
“We arelikeher,”Bransaid.“We’repowerfulwitches,withanarsenalof spells,andwedowhateverwewant.Justlikeyouandthetruthserum.Andme and…”Hervoicetrailedoffandthencuttoaquickstop.
Thoughshedidn’tfillinthestatement,shemeantwhateverhadhappened whenshegothaunted.Myphonehadbeenbuzzingforawhile.Ihadn’tbothered topickitupfromthefloorofthecar,butthistime…thistimeitwasDaddy.
Ilookedathisfaceasitflashedonthescreenofmyphone.ItwasapicI’d takenofthetwoofusatthefarmer’smarketontheisland.We’dgottenupearly eventhoughI’dgonerunningwithBranthenightbefore.Justthetwoofus, thosepreciousmomentsthatrarelyhappened.Wehadsatonabenchnearthe freshdonutsstand,eatingthemfreshandhotfromthestandbeforewewent home.MotherwouldneverhaveletDaddyhavesomethingsounhealthy,sothe twoofushadsnuckout.
Myheadhadbeenonhischest,andhisarmwasaroundmebecauseI hadn’tbotheredwithacoatandthewindoffthesoundwasfreezing.He’dkept mewarm.Hewasalwayswarm—Ihadjustthoughtheranhot,butthatwasa sideeffectofcelandinebasedpotions.Hiseyeswerewarminthepicture,
his smilewaswide.He’dalreadychokeddownhispotion,andtherushoflove potionwasinhisgazeonceyouknewwhattolookfor.
Icouldn’tanswerthatcall.IfIdidn’t,Icouldpretendthingshadn’t changed.
“It’seasierafterthefirsttime,”Bransaidquietly,jerkingthecaragainto weavepasssomeminivan.Ididn’tneedhertoexplain.Shemeanttalkingto Daddy.Nowthattherewasallofthis…madnessbetweenus.Icouldn’tjust answerandaskhimtosendmesomemorebeeswaxorsomeofthedried jasmineinthepotionlarder.
Icouldn’t.Notyet.
“Hemusthavetalkedtoherafteryoucalled,”BransaidasDaddy’sface
wasreplacedbyablackscreen.“Ihadhopedhewouldleave.”
ThewordsweremorethanIcouldprocess.Iopenedthecheesecakeand shovedabitein,tryingtofocusonthecreamygoodnessofit,but—likethe burger—ittastedlikeashes.
Iwantedtospititout,butthecarsmelledenoughalready,andIdidn’twant tohurtBran’sfeelings.Soinstead,Ichokeditdownwithmyfeelings.
IttookBranuntilwewereoutofBostontosay,“YourDadisa necromancer.FromwhatIcouldfindout,he’salongtimecheateronhiswife.
Whoprobablyloveshimoratleasthismoney.”
“Sheloves him, ”Isaid,thinkingofwhatmylittlesistershadsaid.Their motherwouldbesosad.“Gods.”
“Yeah,”Bransaid.“Theyhavefourkids.Thethreegirlsandtheheir apparent.Thesonistalentedlikeyouare.He’shonorableandgood.He’slike…
everyperson’sdreamsonever.He’sevennamed Hiro.”
Mysisterdrewthatnameoutlikeitwasatitleofpowerinsteadofaname.
Andmaybehewasahero.Maybehemadeupforthemesshisparentswere.I certainlydidn’tmakeupforthemessthatminewere.
Brankeptgoing,“He’spowerful.Likeyou.Expectedtobethenextkeeper.
Likeyou.YourDadisn’tthekeeper,buthisbrotheris.Intheirfamily,theroleof keepertendstogotothenephew.”
Ichokedatthat,addingtomyconvictionthatmotherhad bred me.Likea prizebulldog.
“Nowweknowwhyshefocusedonmemore,”Isaid,andIsoundedas tiredasIfelt.
Branlookedatmeandthenbacktotheroad.Therewassomuchunsaid historybetweenusaboutthatstatement.Somanymomentsofourchildhood whereMotherhaddisregardedBran—justalittlebit.WhereMotherhadpushed Branless.WhereMotherhadn’texpectedanythingbuttroublefromBran.
“What is yourDad?”
Brandidn’tanswer.Instead,shecarriedonherlittlefamilyreportasifit wereaschoolprojectandshewasbeinggraded.“Theonethat’saroundyourage issixmonthsyoungerthanyou.HernameisRuby.”
“Ruby?”Mysarcasmmusthaveshowngiventhatthisonedidn’thavean Asianname.
“YourDadandhiswifearehalf-Japanese.Rubywasnamedafteryour paternalgrandmother.Whowasakeeperofadifferentthinningaswellasaspy andgenerallyabadass.”
Thereitwasagain—thatrushoffearandenvy.Ilikedthesoundofthis woman,thisunexpectedgrandmother.Ilikedsomuchaboutherfromthosefew
sentences.Andwouldshelikemeinreturn?Wouldshedisregardme?Would sheacceptme?Whatwouldithavebeenliketohaveagrandmothergrowing up?Onewhowasbadass?
“Issheevenalive?”Therewasfearinmystatement,andBranheardit.Her expressionwasgentle—asideofherthatothersrarelysaw—whenshenodded.
“She’sstillbadassasfarasIcantell.Rubyistoo.Ilikeher.She’sgiving yourdadanepicrunforhismoney.”
Isaidnothing.Ididn’tknowwhattosay.Therewasthischasminsideofme thathadopenedwithalltheseplacesandholesforpeoplethatshouldbepartof mylifeandweren’t.ForthosethatIshouldloveanddidn’t.
“ThelittleonesareTaneandSakiko.Sincethey’relittlekids,peoplegot suspiciouswhenIaskedquestions.Ican’ttellyouanythingaboutthem.”
Icouldthough.IcouldtellBranthatSakiwasinsightful,thatshewassad aboutsomething,thatshewastalentedmagically.IcouldtellBranthatTanewas thecaregiver,thatshefelttheweightofprotectingSaki,thattheremustbea reasonforthatprotectiveness.Thatbothofthemalreadyunderstoodthe consequencesofhavinganothersister,andmypresencewasnotanexcitingone forthem.
ButIcouldalsotellBranthesamethinghadhappenedtothemhad happenedtome.Mypresence,myface—ithadcarvedaholeintheirheartswith aplaceforme,andthatspot ached. Achedwithallthathadbeenlost,thatcould neverberecovered.Therewasnogettinganyofitback.
SweetHecate,Iwasmelodramatic.Iwasn’ttheonlypersonwithhalf-siblings.Orpeopletheydidn’tknowbut‘should’love.Whatever,Rue,Ithought.
Whatever.Shakeitoff.Acceptthings.
Myphonebuzzedagainwithmydaddy’sface,andIflippeditoverwithmy toeandsaid,“Let’sstopsomewhere.”
“Idon’tcarewhere,”Isaid,feelingacrawlinginmyfleshthatdemanded thatIrun.Branpulledoffthehighwayanddroveuntilwefoundaschoolwitha track.
Runningincirclesaroundadeadgreenfieldwasnotfun.ButIwasn’t runningforfun,Iwasrunningfortheburninmylegs,mylungs,andmyhead.It waslateafterthedrivefromSt.AngelustoBostontowhereverwewere.The skywasmostlydarkandthemoonwashigh.ThetownwassmallenoughthatI couldseethelightofthestars.Therewassomethingaboutrunninginthedark withnothingbutthesoundofmyfeetandthethud-thudofmyheartcombined withtherushofwindinmyears.
Acrosstheschoolfield,therewerepeoplestillmovingaround,soitwasn’t solate.Icouldseeaminivanafewcarsdownfrommyancientstationwagon.
Therewasaguythrowingaballforhisdogandafewpeople,notthatmuch youngerthanBranandIwhowereskateboardingaroundtheparkinglot.
Iwasn’tpayingmuchattentiontoanythingotherthanthesoundsIwas seeking,soittookmetoolongtonoticethatBranhadstopped.Shewasstaring downsomepoorcat,andthecatwashissing—backarched,haironend,classic horrormoviepose.
“Welllll….”IsaidasIcametoastop,staringatmysisterwhowasfixated onthecat.“ByHecate’sfieryeyes.”
ThecathissedatBranandmysisterdartedatthecat.Asshedid,Idarted aftermysister.Ishouldhavebeentooslow,butIpushedmagicintomysteps andflewatheringreatboundingleaps.Shetackledthecat,snarling,Itackled hercursing.She growled atme.Igrowledback.Shesnarled,andIletgoto punchherashardandfastasIcould.AsIhither,thecatsquirmedfree,leaving usbothscratchedonitswayout.
“Bran!”MycallechoedintheparkandItriedtoholdherdown,tocallher backtoherself.Sheflungherselfbackward,knockingthebackofherheadinto myfaceandleavingmereeling.
Theonlyreplytomyyelledpleawasgruntingandsnarls.Ihadgottenmy wish—Icouldhearnothingbutmysister,thebloodinmyears,andthethud-thudofmyracing,terrifiedheart.Ihatedmyselfalittleforcravingthisfeeling sinceIwantednothingmorethanforittostopnow.
Innormalcircumstances,mysistercouldcleanthefloorwithme.Whatever washauntinghermadehermoreanimalisticthancalculating.Whichletmewrap myarmaroundherneckandchokeherwiththecrookofmyelbow.
“Mommy!Mommy!”Ilookeduptomeetthegazeofsomepoorgrade schooler.
Withthedistraction,mysistertwistedandIlostmygriplongenoughfor hertodigherteethintomyforearm.
“Ahhhh,fuu….”Imetthosegradeschoolereyesandcutmycurseoffto snarl,“Run!”
Thelittlegirlwithblondepigtailsranforhermom.Themothermetmy gaze,tookagoodlookatmysister,andwhatevershesawterrifiedher.She grabbedherkidbythearmand ran.
My
sistertwistedoffofmeandleapedtoherfeet.Shesortofbouncedon herknees,likearabidninja.
Imethergaze,butshewasn’tthere.Hereyeswereananimalistic,a combinationofred,yellow,andblackandtheywerefocusedonmyneck.
“Rueeeee,”Brancalled.“I’mhungry.”
“Yeahno,”Itoldher,knowingwithoutexplanationthatitwasbloodshe wanted.Perhapsthatwasbecausemysister’sgazehadshiftedtowherethe bloodfromthebiteshe’dgivenmedrippedontotheground.
“Hunggrrrryyyy,”Branmoaned,lickingherlips,eyesonmyblood.“So hunggrryyy.”
Sheflewatme,clawsout,andItookmymagic,pusheditthroughmy fingers,andgrabbedherbytheneckwithonehandandherhairwiththeother.I yankedherheadbackandshovedherawayagain.Ihadn’tbeenabletogeta goodholdonher,butatleastshewasn’tgnawingonmyflesh.
Shestumbledbackandcameatme,lowandmean.Shewrestledmedown bythelegsandIhitthegroundbeforeIcouldevenmoveaway.Brancrawledup mybodylikeapanther,andIpanted,freakedoutandsquirmingasIwonderedif mysisterwouldripoutmythroat.
“Hungrryyy,sohungrrrry.”Itwashermouthmoving,butitwasnother voice.Thepanicofseeingher—Bran—mysisterlikethis—itwas wrong. She wasthepersonIknewbestintheworld,itmovedbeyondhorrifyingintonear paralyzing.
“Listenfiend,”Isnarled,takingmysisterbyhermopofredcurlsand yankingherhair.Shealmostdidn’tnotice,butmygriponherhair,fueledby magicandadrenalinekeptherfrombeingabletodigthose,too-whiteteethinto myneck.“Youcan’thavemysister.”
Ahigh-pitchedlaughescapedmysister’smouth,butitwasn’thernormal sarcastic,huskychuckle.
“You.Can.Not.Have.My.Sister,”Igrowledagain.Thefuryinmewas changingmetotheanimalratherthanher.Myvoicewasallsnarls,myvision wasallfury,mybodywasfarstrongerthanitshouldhavebeen,butIopened myselftotheuniverseandletwhatevermagicIcouldholdflowintome.
“She’sminealready,”mysister’smouthlaughed.“There’snothingyoucan do,littlewitch.”