My hands struggled against the binding, but I couldn’t open it, try as I might. It had been magically locked. I brushed my hand across the cover, and even though it wouldn’t open, some information leaked through the seal. I could tell that the journal contained information far more valuable than all of the Witchcraft 101 manuals on the bookshelf combined. It was sealed because it contained the secrets of the line. Even in my ignorance I was aware that Ginny should never ever have shared these secrets with Maisie; they were only to be passed from one anchor to another.
“You know what’s in there, don’t you? You can sense it,” Connor asked, delight spreading across his face. “I knew the second I touched it.”
“It’s about the line. This journal is full of its secrets—things only an anchor should know.”
“The families would have bound Ginny if they’d known she was telling Maisie these things.”
“Look at the writing on the cover! Maisie was far too young to know what she was getting into.”
“Sure, that’s how we see it, and the families would most likely have agreed. But Ginny, though, that’s a different matter. They would’ve shown the old gal no mercy. She would have been bound and deposited far, far away from any place she could access the line.”
“Okay,” I said. “But she’s dead, and Maisie is going to be the anchor. What’s the point of showing me this?”
He righted the chair that I’d knocked over then sat in it himself. “The point is that this is our chance to learn how to tap into the mainline, yours and mine. You’ve tasted Oliver’s power. Are you telling me you wouldn’t like your own? And not just a touch of it either, but a connection to the source itself? ’Cause I sure do, Mercy. I’m tired of living in your family’s shadow, with just enough of my own magic for parlor tricks. I want more.”
“Then take it. Why share it with me?”
“For two reasons,” he said. “First, you are my beautiful daughter. I want you to have all the power you’ve ever wanted. I’ve watched you since you were little. You’ve always done your best not to be jealous of Maisie, but I know that deep down, a small part of you can’t help but covet her abilities.”
“And the second reason?” I asked, sensing that it would be the true reason he was taking me along on his joyride.
“The book. I can’t take it from the house, and…” he hesitated. “I can’t open it.”
I laughed out loud and fanned myself with the journal. “And you think I can?”
“No,” he said cautiously, sounding like he was worried that he’d moved too quickly and put me off. “Not normally, that is. But I am hoping that maybe, what with you being Maisie’s twin—”
“Fraternal,” I interjected, to remind him of that fact.
“Okay, but you’re still her twin. And you’re full of Oliver’s magic right now. Maybe the combination of those two things will be enough for you to convince the book to open for you. And you have to remember, Maisie wasn’t the one who was chosen as the anchor by the lots—you were.”
“You said it was a mistake.”
“I thought so at the time, but now I’m not so sure. Just try to open it while we still have the chance.” His hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. His eyes pinned me in place like a butterfly to cardboard. I could tell how badly he wanted this to work.
“And when it’s open?”
“We’ll copy all of its secrets. And when Oliver’s power leaves you in the morning, you’ll have a bottomless well of your own to draw from.”
“No, Connor. It is tempting. It is so tempting, but it’s too dangerous. I don’t care what Ginny’s reasons were for sharing this with Maisie. We aren’t anchors, and we should not be tampering with the line. God only knows what damage we might unintentionally do.”
“Then you’re willing to let the power go? Or do you think Jilo will honor the little pact you made with her today? Yeah, I know who hides out in that tunnel you snuck out of. The two of you made some kind of blood pact, but I can tell you from personal experience that Jilo does not live up to the promises she makes.”
“I made no pact with Jilo,” I said, trying to sound calm.
“Then take this chance with me! Help yourself! Help your father! Just try. Your mother believed in you. She wanted you to live up to your full potential. Don’t let her death have been in vain. Just try. I beg of you.”
The room fell silent for a moment, and Connor stunned me by falling to his knees in tears. I couldn’t say if I was moved by his display or simply embarrassed. But I had to try, if only to get him up off the floor. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was dangerous. Deep down, though, I never believed it would work. “Know me,” I commanded, and a jolt traveled from my fingers into the journal’s cover. It sprung open, and I stood there with my mouth gaping in amazement. I swiveled to look at Connor, who had rebounded to his feet and turned back to the book. But before I could even read the first sentence, Connor simultaneously ripped the book from my hands and the necklace from my neck. The power failed me the second the hemp cord snapped.
A serpent’s smile curved on his lips; he held my amulet up before my eyes and magically dissolved it into dust. “You always were the simple one,” he said, and with a wave of his now free hand, he sent me flying backward into the wall. My head hit the plaster, and for a while there was only darkness.
TWENTY-SIX
Light returned to me in painful bursts. I was still propped up against the wall like a doll, exactly where I’d fallen. I was unable to move, but I knew it wasn’t due to magic. The snap I’d heard upon hitting the wall had been one of my vertebrae.
Connor sensed that I’d returned to consciousness. “I really am your father,” he said, never taking his eyes off the book, copying it as quickly as his hand could move in a shorthand that no human eye would ever unravel. “But truth is, you have been a terrible, terrible disappointment. The thought that Emily gave her precious life in exchange for yours is one of the greatest tragedies this world has ever witnessed. Oh, and I am including all of the wars, pestilence, and famine in history. At least those served the purpose of thinning out the herd. Rest assured, if I had been at the house the day you pulled your worthless self into this world, your mother would still be alive, and you’d have long since rotted to nothingness in a shoebox in Bonaventure.”
“You were the one who killed Ginny.” I managed to gasp out the words.
“No, my dear. I most emphatically did not. I am merely profiting from the actions of another. Isn’t that right, Wren?”
After everything that had happened that day, I should have lost the capacity to be surprised, but I was still shocked when Connor said Wren’s name and the boy materialized directly in front of me. He had evidently been standing there all along.
“She was going to kill me,” Wren calmly explained. “I couldn’t let her hurt me.”
“But we’ve got a deal now, haven’t we, Wren?” Connor asked cheerfully as he carried on with his note taking.
“I’m sorry, Mercy, but Connor has promised me not to tell anyone about Ginny if I help him.”
