Sisters' Fate

“It went well, for the most part.” I purse my lips. “Zara’s dead. Shot by a guard.”

“Oh, Cate.” Gretchen’s lip wobbles, but she masters it. “I’m sorry to hear it. Zara was a good woman. She would have been a great help to you.” Gretchen squares her shoulders, her hazel eyes meeting mine. “If there’s anything you need, I’m on your side in this. What Inez did tonight to the Head Council—it wasn’t right. It’s certainly not what Cora would have wanted.”

“There is one thing.” I take a deep breath. “I’d like to get word to Brother Brennan. Arrange a meeting as soon as possible.” Brennan was Cora’s spy on the Head Council. His mind would have been erased tonight along with the others’, but Finn slipped herbs into his tea to make him sick and ensure he’d miss the meeting.

I hope that Brennan will be voted the new leader of the Brotherhood. By all accounts, he’s a progressive sort. If I can make him understand that not all of us supported Inez, perhaps he’ll guide the Brothers along a less vengeful path. It’s asking him to forgive a great deal, I know. The men on the Head Council were Brennan’s colleagues. Perhaps some were his friends. And unless we can figure out some way to render her powerless, Inez will be in charge of the Sisterhood until Tess comes of age in four years.

“There’s a stationery shop, O’Neill’s, down in the market district. We left messages for Brennan with the proprietor,” Gretchen explains. “You already know the code he and Cora used. I can transcribe a letter for you, if you like, though I daresay Tess could, too.” Tess is brilliant at cryptography, just as she is at nearly everything else.

Gretchen unclasps the ruby necklace around her throat. The gold chain pools in her hands, reminding me that Zara’s necklace—the locket with Mother’s picture inside—still rests in my cloak pocket. As I watch, the ruby transforms into a brass key. “The key will get you into the shop through the back door. We could use magic, of course, but the others have keys and they’ll be more likely to trust you if you’ve got Cora’s. In the storage room, there’s a staircase to the cellar. That’s where they hold the Resistance meetings.”

She hands me the key. It’s small and cold and slight in my palm, but this intelligence feels momentous. I sink into the chair next to hers. “Resistance meetings?” I echo.

Does she mean to say there are people working in secret against the Brothers, besides witches? Zara alluded to such a thing, and we gambled that they still exist, sending the Harwood refugees to several of their safe houses. I had no notion Cora was involved with them.

Gretchen brushes a hand over her plump cheek. “Brennan isn’t the only man in New England who disagrees with the Brothers’ methods. The Resistance leaders meet once a week. The next meeting is scheduled for Friday night. I’ll go with you, if you like. It won’t be an easy thing to win their trust; it took Cora years. They knew she was a witch, but they don’t know we all are. And even those who don’t mind a witch don’t believe a woman their equal. I won’t lie to you, Cate. Trying to win over Alistair Merriweather will be no picnic.”

I frown. “Who is he?”

Gretchen raises her eyebrows at me. “Good Lord, girl, don’t you read? He publishes the Gazette.”

Truth be told, I’ve never read the Gazette. The Sentinel is the official New London newspaper, the Brothers’ mouthpiece. It’s forbidden to be caught with a copy of any other paper, though I’ve often seen half-hidden copies of the Gazette when we’ve delivered rations to the poor.

“You should find a copy and educate yourself a bit before you meet him,” Gretchen suggests. “If you can get him on your side, it will be a great boon to us. One-fifth of New London reads his paper, as he’ll be only too happy to tell you.”

I lift my head, a spark of hope racing through me. “That’s quite a lot of people unhappy with the Brothers.”

“And those are only the ones bold enough to buy the paper. How many borrow it from a neighbor, or can’t read to start with?” A wry smile kicks up the corners of Gretchen’s mouth. “The poor are frustrated by the new restrictions. Look at the hundreds who protested last month in Richmond Square.”

“Half of them were thrown on a prison ship for their trouble,” I point out, remembering Mei’s sisters. “Don’t you think that put a damper on any ideas of rebelling?”

Gretchen shakes her head. “I suspect it only fanned the flames. They protested peacefully enough. That shouldn’t be an offense that warrants getting sent away for years, should it? How do you think those unfortunate souls are managing now? Barely, that’s how, with the help of family if they’ve got it, or our charity. The people are angry, especially the working poor. They’re looking for leaders.”

“Like Tess,” I suggest. She’s the oracle meant to win the people’s hearts back to the witches.

“And you,” Gretchen says. “You and Merriweather working together could be a formidable team.”

I glance over my shoulder at the half-open door to Cora’s bedroom, confidence wavering. If it took Cora years to win over the Resistance leaders, how will I manage it? I’m not half as clever as she was.

“Cora had faith in you, Cate,” Gretchen says. “Don’t let her down.”

I use my magic to transform the brass key back into a ruby, then hang it around my neck. I welcome the weight of it. Like a talisman.

“I won’t.”

Chapter 2

“ATTENTION, GIRLS.” INEZ’S VOICE CUTS through my exhaustion at breakfast the following morning. “I have a few announcements to make.”

I have been studiously avoiding her and the look of triumph she must surely wear. Her plan is falling into place. She’s destroyed the Head Council. Sister Cora is dead. Maura proved her loyalty beyond any shadow of a doubt, and Inez likely thinks it’s broken me.

Let her think it. Her triumph won’t last. She will rule the Sisterhood and New England over my dead body.

I’m sandwiched between Rilla and Mei at one of the five long tables that fill the dining room, pushing eggs and ham around my plate. I take a bite of buttered toast. Tess is sitting at the table behind us with the younger girls, but I suspect she’s keeping a watchful eye on me to make sure I eat.

Inez stands. She’s dressed in unrelenting black bombazine, with no ornament save the ivory brooch at her collar. She doesn’t look like one of Brenna’s crows—more like a predatory hawk with her beak of a nose. I could slice cold butter on her cheekbones.

At the sight of her, my exhaustion fades. Maura erased Finn’s memory, but it was at her request. Maura’s always so blasted desperate for someone to choose her, love her most, and Inez played on that. I don’t absolve Maura of responsibility—but Inez asked it of her.

“To those of you who joined us from Harwood last night, welcome,” Inez says, without so much as a smile. “I am sorry for the harm you suffered at the Brothers’ hands. I assure you, you will have your chance at vengeance.”

I glance down the table, where Parvati’s hands are trembling as she holds her fork poised over her eggs. Maud’s cousin Caroline is a bit green around the gills. The other new girls—Grace Wheeler, Livvy Price, and Sister Edith’s niece Angela—all look shaky and sick. At Harwood, their tea was drugged with laudanum. Now they’re reacting to the lack of it. Mei and I dosed them with herbs, but that only keeps the worst of the nausea at bay. These girls don’t need vengeance; they need someone to look after them, and the time and space to heal.