“No.” I put my hands on her shoulders and look her right in the eye. “It is not your fault. It’s—it’s all dreadful, but it’s not down to you.”
Tess fiddles with the golden locket around her neck. “It’s so strange, Cate. Like a flash of memory, except I see something that hasn’t happened yet. It’s as clear as a photograph. On the stairs, just now, I saw Sister Evelyn slip on ice and break her arm. I don’t know when it will happen—today or tomorrow, or February or next year. But I know it will.”
Sister Evelyn teaches botany and history, and she’s the oldest person I’ve ever seen. Her skin is a wrinkled brown like a chestnut, and she has hair like wispy cotton and a pair of half-moon spectacles. She looks as though a strong wind could blow her away, but she still manages to care for her prizewinning orchids out in the conservatory.
I pull the pins from my hair, just for something to do with my hands. “Have you seen anything about us?” She hesitates, and I panic. “What did you see? If you don’t tell me, I’ll only imagine the worst.”
Tess flushes. “You and Finn Belastra. You were kissing. It was dark. You were in a pink dress with roses all over it. It’s the one Elena just brought for you; I helped her pick out the fabric, after I saw you in it. You looked pretty.”
“Oh.” I blush, too.
“You’ve been meeting him in secret, haven’t you?” Tess asks. There is no judgment in her voice, and it occurs to me how lucky we are it’s Tess having these visions. In the wrong person, this ability would be terrifying. If it were Maura—well. I’m glad it’s Tess. “Is he some sort of spy? He can’t really believe in the Brotherhood. He’s not that sort.”
“Did you see that, too?” I lean forward, eager.
Tess looks at me as though I’m very dim. She must be feeling better. “No. That’s common sense. I can’t see any other reason he would shut down the bookshop, unless it was to help you somehow. He loves books.” She gives me a tiny, owlish smile. “He must love you more.”
“Is that all you’ve seen about me, or you or Maura?”
“I saw us opening Sister Cora’s letter yesterday. That’s why I spilled my tea on it,” she confesses. She picks up one of the books she was carrying. “I’ve been reading about the oracles since I got here. I need to find out if their visions always come true, or if sometimes the details change. If I see bad things, can I prevent them from happening? I felt so awful when Adam Collier fell through the ice. His father found him in time, and he’s fine, but—it could have been terrible.”
“That wouldn’t be your fault.”
Tess skewers me with a glance. “It’s nice of you to say that, but you wouldn’t feel that way if it were you, would you?”
I lean back against the brass headboard, my hair loose over my shoulders now. She doesn’t need me to make false assurances. This isn’t the problem of a child; I can’t keep treating her like one. “No, likely not. I’m glad you told me. Thank you for trusting me with it.”
Tess nods, tracing circles on the red leather cover with her fingertip. “I think you’re the only person I should tell, for now. I feel dreadful keeping it from Maura.” She takes a deep, jagged breath. “I’m afraid she’d be angry with me if she found out. She wants to be the prophesied witch so much. But it feels too big to keep all to myself. I—I’m scared, Cate.”
So am I.
Chapter 10
SISTER INEZ KEEPS ME AFTER CLASS the next afternoon. I plod slowly to her desk, dreading the reprimand I’m about to receive. Today’s lesson was on glamouring ourselves to look like specific Brothers. Rilla was marvelous, spooking us all with her eerie impersonation of Covington. Maura transformed herself into Brother Ishida for most of class. But though I kept a very distinct image of O’Shea in my head, I couldn’t maintain the illusion for more than two minutes at a time. The result—my chocolate brocade dress with his long, thin face and bald head—was deserving of Alice and Maura’s snickering, and this lecture, too.
Truth be told, I can’t stop worrying about Tess. I never relished the notion of being the prophesied witch, but I hate that the burden has fallen on her small shoulders instead. It will be four years yet before she comes of age and leads the Sisterhood, but in the meantime, she will want to be involved in Inez’s governance—and I can’t help wondering how Inez will react to that. Tess is young, but she’s always had very strong opinions; she won’t be anyone’s puppet. Will Inez be willing to take her feelings under advisement, or will she—like Maura—wave off Tess’s opinions as those of an immature child?
I’m proud of Tess for keeping her head, despite her fear. She really is the smartest and best of the three of us.
“We have a problem, Miss Cahill,” Sister Inez says now. Her voice is hard, clipped, and I realize that this is more serious than my performance today.
“We do?” I ask.
“Brother Belastra has applied to be Denisof’s clerk, but it seems that someone is standing in his way. In our way.”
“Who?” Finn isn’t beholden to anyone except his mother. Has something happened in Chatham? I remember Hannah Maclay and shiver.
“Brother Ishida is reluctant to give up his new recruit,” Inez says. As she speaks, she casts illusions over the books on her shelves, transforming them from magical textbooks into respectable Spanish primers. The twelve hand mirrors that showed our Brotherly reflections become a dozen small easels displaying innocent watercolors. “He claims Belastra should serve the Chatham council for a full year before he begins elsewhere. Denisof is of much higher standing, but clerks are a dime a dozen; he won’t choose Belastra if it will make a fuss.”
Blast. Of all the people to stand in our way, it has to be Ishida. I hate that man. “What should we do?”
“How much do you want Brother Belastra to remain in New London?” Inez asks.
My eyes meet hers. “Very much.” Perhaps I ought to let him go, see this as a sign that he would be safer at home, but the thought of him going back to Chatham is devastating.
“You know Ishida. Call on him. Compel him to let Belastra go.” Inez leans over the desk toward me like a long black shadow. “Can you do that?”
My mouth curves into a smile. Truth be told, it would not trouble me to use mind-magic on Ishida. “I can.”
“Excellent. Time is of the essence, Miss Cahill.” There’s a sense of barely leashed impatience in her as she taps her skinny fingers against the desk. “Tell Belastra that his first order of business will be to discover the time and location of the next Head Council meeting.”
“I’ll take care of it today,” I promise.
This time I don’t ask any questions.
I can’t find Rory anywhere—not in the third-floor room she shares with Daisy or in the sitting room or in the kitchen. The library is an unlikely place for her, but I check there, too. Sister Gretchen sits behind her desk, reading a German novel and watching over a dozen studying girls.
“Have you seen Rory?” I whisper.
“Cora sent for her a few minutes ago,” Gretchen says.