Born Wicked

I’m full-out roaring, so I’m not surprised when Marianne’s brown eyes go wide. Only—she’s not looking at me. She’s looking—past me.

I gulp. I have the uncomfortable feeling there’s someone behind me, in the labyrinthine rows of bookshelves. And if it’s not a customer—

I turn around slowly.

It’s Finn, his face pale as a sheet. “You—Cate. What are you saying?”

My stomach claws its way into my throat.

He was not supposed to be here. Not supposed to find out like this.

The moment stretches out between us, interminable.

I can’t lie to him anymore. “I’m a witch.”

Chapter 18

HE LOOKS—HOW? DISAPPOINTED? His eyes are inscrutable behind his spectacles. The only clue is the rumpling of his forehead, that crease between his eyebrows.

“You didn’t tell me,” he says.

“No.”

“Why?”

How can I explain it? He thinks I’m brave and strong, and I’m not. Not half as much as I’d like. Sometimes I’m scared and uncertain. Right now,

I’m a whole host of emotions—desperate and angry and so, so resentful of being the one who’s got to fix all this. If I admitted that—how would he feel about me then?

I don’t want to give him up. But telling him how I feel, how much he’s come to matter to me in just a few short weeks—

I’m not sure if I’m brave enough.

“I thought perhaps you’d guessed,” I say weakly. “When I came to see the register.”

He shakes his head. “I thought one of your sisters, perhaps—”

“All three of us. And we’re not just any garden-variety witches. We’re the subject of a prophecy. You—I assume you heard that.”

He shrugs. “You were shouting.”

I look at Marianne, glancing between the two of us with curiosity written plainly on her face. I wonder how much she’s deduced.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” My voice comes out small and defeated. “They’re going to force me to go to New London. The prophecy says one of us will be the key to either a second Terror or the witches coming back to power. They think it’s me, and the Sisterhood—they’re all witches really and—I’ll have to leave Chatham forever and—”

My voice breaks. I gulp back tears, burying my face in my hands. I breathe evenly—in, out, in, out—struggling for control.

There’s a hand on my shoulder, turning me. I peek between my fingers, and Finn is staring down at me, eyes full of compassion. Compassion and—something else, something that makes me feel as though it would be all right with him if I did cry, or wail and throw things even. That he might not think any less of me. He pulls me into his arms, right there in front of his mother.

He’s braver than I am.

I sniff into the rough gray cotton of his shirt. “I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t want to lose my sisters, either.”

“I know.” He rubs my back. I curl into his chest and close my eyes, feeling fortified against the world.

His mother coughs. “Finn? May I speak to Cate for a moment?”

Finn’s hands slip down over my back. I wonder if he’s as reluctant to let go as I am.

“Of course.” He pulls away, barely glancing at Marianne. “I’ll just be upstairs.”

We both wait until he’s closed the door to their living quarters. Marianne eyes me over her glasses, and I feel like a recalcitrant schoolgirl who hasn’t done her work. It must be obvious there’s something between Finn and me now. She’s been so kind, and now she’ll hate me.

“I’m sorry,” I say. I feel raw, all sharp edges.

Marianne puts her spectacles down on the counter and peers up at me. “For what?”

“You can’t want your son caught up in all of this.”

“Well, it does complicate things a bit, but we don’t choose who we love.”

“Oh—he—that is—he hasn’t—” I stumble.

“He may not have said the words, but I know my son. I saw the way he looked at you.”

“How?” I hate myself for wanting to quiz her on it.

“Like he’d do murder for you.”

I think of the pistol strapped to Finn’s calf. How he spoke of doing whatever was necessary to keep Clara and his mother safe. It intrigued me then, because it wasn’t the talk of a timid bookseller’s son. Now it terrifies me. Men are not punished as severely as women, but for rising up against the Brotherhood, or for serious offenses like murder, there are the prison ships.

“I can take care of myself. Of all three of us. I’ve made mistakes, I know, but my sisters are more important to me than anything in the world. I’d do anythingfor them.”

“You’re an impressive woman, Cate.” Marianne smiles at me. “You’re strong and capable and—”

“Capable?” I laugh, but there’s no mirth in it. “Hardly. I’ve gone about things all wrong. I’m so angry with Mother—I know it’s terrible because she’s dead and she can’t very well defend herself, but she kept too damn many secrets!” I slam my fist onto the counter. Pain splinters up my forearm. “She asked me to take care of them, and then she hobbled me!”

Marianne catches my fist before I can punch the counter again. “Anna was my friend, but she asked a great deal of you, Cate. Too much. Keeping it all a secret from your father—from your sisters—from everyone—it’s a wonder it hasn’t broken you.”

“No. I can do this. I have to.” I stalk away, staring out the front windows. At our neighbors passing on the street, going about their errands, oblivious to my heartache.

“But you don’t have to do it alone,” Marianne says, her voice mild. “Part of being strong is knowing when to ask for help. When to share things instead of keeping them in.”

I take a deep breath. Ink and parchment and dust. I let it out.

She’s right. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be the Sisters’ pawn. That’s why I came.

“Will you help me?” I ask quietly. “Please?”

Marianne smiles again. “Do you love my son, Cate? Do you want to marry him?”

I nod.

“Then let’s see if we can find a way.”

She pats the other stool, and I clamber onto it. “Maura wants to join the Sisterhood. Elena says they’d hurt her to get to me. If it’s my freedom for hers—what else can I do? They’ll keep her and Tess safe if I fall in line.”

Marianne frowns. “How do you know they would keep a bargain like that? They could renege on it the very next time you refuse something they ask of you. The Sisterhood doesn’t handle insubordination any better than the Brothers do, Cate. Why do you think they let the Brothers arrest Zara?”

I gasp. “They could have saved her?”

Pain flashes over Marianne’s face. “Yes. But she was a rather outspoken critic within the Sisterhood. She didn’t agree with some of their methods, and she made it very clear. That’s why she left the convent to be a governess. It gave her a bit of freedom and allowed her to live nearer to Anna. I don’t think the Sisters appreciated that two of their most powerful witches refused to further the cause.”