Born Wicked
Page 66“We cannot take that risk. Not if you are the three sisters. And it seems increasingly likely you are. It’s not an easy thing, modifying more than one
memory at a time. That’s the work of a very powerful witch, Cate. If the Brothers were to find out about you—the three of you—they would relish
making an example of you. It might serve as an excuse for them to return to old ways. Uglier ways.”
My eyes fall to the hearth. To the orange flames dancing. The wood crackle-snapping in the fireplace. The glowing red ashes beneath. ’Twere up to me, I’d resurrect the burnings.
“What would you have me do?” I ask. I glance up at the family portrait above the hearth, at Mother, cradling Tess in her arms. “Maura and Teresa need to be taught to control their magic. They need to learn what they’re capable of without your interference. Elena has
offered to stay on and teach them.”
“What? No!” I jump to my feet, but Mrs. Corbett throws up a hand, and I’m flung backward into my chair, the wind knocked out of my lungs. “Sit and listen,” she snaps. “Elena will not compromise your sister in any way, if that’s what worries you.”
I take a deep, shaky breath, guilty at what I’m about to suggest. “The Sisters—Maura wants to join the Sisters. Let her go. I’ll stay here with Tess.” “What Maura wants is irrelevant. We think it best if the two of you are separated at present—for your own protection. If you are with the Sisters in
New London, she cannot be there. And there’s simply no other option for a witch like you.”
I choose my words carefully. “I’ve had an offer of marriage. I want to accept.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Mrs. Corbett’s voice is smooth as a looking glass. “Your gifts cannot be squandered in marriage. A witch of your
caliber belongs to the Sisterhood.”
I grip the wooden arms of my chair, fingertips going white. “What if I don’t agree to it? Will you compel me?”
Mrs. Corbett leans forward. “You don’t say who offered to marry you.”
I don’t hesitate. They can’t know about Finn. “Paul. Paul McLeod. You asked me about him at tea, didn’t you?”
“And you hardly reacted like a girl in love,” Mrs. Corbett scoffs.
Elena stands. Walks to the fire and holds out her hands to warm them. “I saw you with the gardener,” she says, her back to me. “Finn Belastra,
isn’t it? The two of you looked quite fond of each other, what with him holding your hand. And I suspect, given the way you lost control of the magic
yourself, that you’ve done a bit more than hold hands.”
“We won’t modify your mind, or your sisters’. You’re too valuable for that,” Mrs. Corbett says. “We would certainly prefer that you come to us
willingly. But if you don’t—we will do everything we can to convince you. How would Finn feel if his mother were arrested by the Brothers? Or that
little sister of his?”
“But they aren’t witches.” I want to stand up. To fight them with everything in me. But I know they’d only throw me back down. They’re intent on
“That won’t matter to the Brothers,” Mrs. Corbett cackles.
“And there’s alwayshismemory. It would be sad if he forgot you.” Elena turns to face me, a dark silhouette against the fire. Mrs. Corbett stands. “It’s your choice, Cate. What will it be?”
Chapter 21
I SIT SANDWICHED BETWEEN TESS and Elena on the hard wooden pew. Brother Ishida drones on behind the pulpit. Any moment now, he’ll call my name. I feel flushed and pale all at once, and ill with the anticipation of it. Next to me, Tess fidgets with her necklace, a little gold locket Mother gave her on her eighth birthday. Last year when the clasp broke, she lost it in the garden and was inconsolable for hours. I helped her scour the grass until we found it. I think she wears it when she needs a bit of extra comfort.
One seat down, Maura sits still as a statue. She hasn’t met my eyes all morning, though I can’t tell if it’s for shame or anger. She didn’t bother to dress her hair to hide the cut on her cheek, and she’s wearing one of her old unfashionable dresses instead of a bright new frock. She wanted to skip church entirely, but Elena wouldn’t allow it.
I kept my mouth shut when Elena gave her orders, though it galled me. Just as I did last night, when she told me to keep away from my sisters until I announced my decision. She said it was for their good, to keep them from doing anything foolish. I cried myself to sleep, drowning my tears in my pillow. Then I woke before the sun, dry eyed and resolute.
“Miss Catherine Cahill,” Brother Ishida booms. “Come forward to declare your intention before the Lord.” Surprised whispers spread throughout the room as my neighbors speculate. Faces swivel in my direction. In the pew in front of us, Sachi twists to stare at me. Rory’s absent from church today.
“Already? Is it McLeod after all?” Sachi whispers.
Tess catches at my sleeve. “What are you doing, Cate?”
I don’t answer her. I stand, smoothing my burgundy skirt, and make my way down the aisle to the front of the church. I stand with my back to the whispers, facing Brother Ishida. He seems fully recovered today, his face unlined and untroubled. It is strange to look into his eyes again, burning with their usual fervor but none of the bitter hate he evidenced last night, and know he remembers none of it.
Thank the Lord he remembers none of it. ThankTess.
“Yes, sir.”
He moves aside and I step up, looking out into the sea of faces. It’s the only time women are permitted up on the dais. From here, the congregation is enormous, hundreds of our neighbors packed together in their finery. All waiting with interest to hear what I’ve got to say. It’s a heady feeling.
“Catherine Cahill, what is your intention?”
I do not hesitate. My voice is loud and clear and perfectly confident.
“In the hearing of the Lord and all those who witness my words, I offer myself to the Sisterhood.”
The whispers explode. No one from Chatham has joined the Sisterhood in years, and I do not suppose I seemed a very likely candidate. Brother Ishida fumbles for a moment, and then he’s speaking about the noble, honorable calling of the Sisterhood.
But his words seem faint and far off, as though they’re coming at me from down a long dim hallway. It’s done.
The next part is hardest. I raise my eyes to the back of the church. Paul sits next to his mother, handsome even in his heartbreak. I can see the clench of his square jaw, the way he works to control his emotions. My choice must seem incomprehensible to him. But I’m not the unfettered, carefree girl who waded in the pond and walked that pigpen fence. I’ll never be that Cate again. It’s better he know it now.