Bones of Faerie - Janni Lee Simner [3]
A streak of amber fur leaped across the living room. I dropped the bucket as Tallow, my old yellow barn cat, landed in my arms. In spite of myself I smiled and scratched her behind the ears.
“Where were you?” I whispered. Tallow had lived in our town since I was small. When she was a kitten she'd sneak beneath the covers with me at night, until Father found out. “She's no use as a mouser if she spends her days lazing on feather mattresses,” he'd said. Tallow kept sneaking in despite my best efforts, though. Until last night, when she'd gone missing and I went out calling for her, afraid she'd left this world at last. I called until my throat grew itchy and tight, but Tallow didn't come.
Yet now she purred as if she'd never been gone. I held her close a moment, then gently carried her outside and set her down on the stairs. Tallow looked up at me, green eyes large, as if hurt that I'd even consider setting her out. “You have to earn your keep,” I told her. “Just like the rest of us.”
Tallow yawned, telling me what she thought of that notion, and curled up on the top step to sleep.
I went back inside and carried the water past our couch—its cushions torn and patched and torn again— past a fireplace filled with cold ash, and into the kitchen. Plastic bins of corn and dried meat lined the kitchen walls. Their labels were faded beyond reading, but like old nylon, old plastic endured. It was one of the things that had best survived the War. I set the bucket down beside the sink.
Light flashed off the sink's metal surface, even though the kitchen windows were shuttered. The light turned bright and clear, reflecting back my own face. Ice-pale hair tumbled over my shoulders, flowing like water into my outstretched hands—
“No!” I wrenched my gaze away and tore at my hair. The strands that came free were as black as they'd ever been, dark as rich soil, dark as a moonless night. Yet there was a hint of something paler at their roots. I sank to my knees and pressed my face to the cool, crumbling kitchen tiles. Had some of Rebecca's magic lingered on the hillside? Had that magic found me, even as I ran? Was I the one faerie-cursed now?
My hands shook. Whether I spoke of this or not, sooner or later someone would find out and destroy me and the magic both. Or worse, I would destroy them, just as Matthew's little brother had done. Magic always did harm sooner or later. I drew a shuddering breath and stumbled to my feet.
When I turned, Father stood in the doorway, watching me.
Chapter 3
Words froze in my throat as I stared at my father. Had he seen the light in the sink, the paleness in my hair? Cast out the magic born among you. Yet I was no babe to set out in the night. Father had told me often enough how he'd have dealt with Cam had the boy lived: “With a single stroke across the throat, swift and deep.” Father killed deer that way after the hunt, his knife cutting so fast there was never any pain.
“You're late, Liza.” Father stared at me through hard gray eyes.
I let out a breath. I'd forgotten he might have ordinary reasons for anger, too.
“Why are you late?” His voice was a growl at the back of his throat. He crossed the room with a few quick strides. I wished I were like Tallow, who could disappear when she didn't wish to be found. “Where were you?” Father demanded.
“Ou-out,” I stammered. “Out getting water …” My words trailed to silence. We both knew getting water ought not to have taken so long.
“There's work to be done.” Father's eyes flashed like iron in Jayce's forge, but his voice remained low. “People who don't work don't eat.”
“I know. I'm sorry. I—”
He slapped me so hard and fast, tears came to my eyes. I blinked them back even as he grabbed my arm. “People who don't work starve. Don't you understand that?”
I said nothing. I feared any wrong word might betray the magic that had delayed me.
“Five lashes, girl.”
I knew better than to run. Running would only make him angrier. Instead I turned my back, lifted my sweater, and bowed my head against