Bones of Faerie - Janni Lee Simner [54]
“What about your other daughter?” Kate demanded. “Will you leave her here to wonder where you've gone?”
Mom shut her eyes. “You know I can't tell Liza. If she let anything slip to Ian—no. He'd kill them all. I just give thanks she doesn't have any magic of her own. We could never keep that from Ian. I'm protecting her, too.”
Kate's mouth twisted into an angry frown. “If you want to protect her, take her with you. Take her away from him.”
Mom shook her head and turned away. Instead I saw—
Father walking down the stairs, a bundle in his arms. I watched from my room, silent as a shadow, knowing there was nothing I could do—
Water rose around me. The weight of the sling dug into my neck. An icy hand touched my cheek. I had to do something—
I ran after Father, into the hall, down the stairs. But even as I ran I knew I was too late—
“You're late, Liza.” Father turned to me, belt in hand. I wanted to make him go away, like I'd made the trees go away, but words stuck in my throat. I was weak, just like he said. Too weak to fight him, too weak to run. The belt came down on my back. I fell to my knees, fighting not to cry out. If I cried out I would drown, and if I drowned I would never find—
Find what? Father's belt broke skin as I struggled to think. The sling grew heavier, filling with water. They were all depending on me, trusting me—
I stood, forcing my head above water.
Father froze with his belt in midair. I walked past him, away from him: across the room and out the door. My back ached, but I wasn't so weak that I couldn't do what needed to be done. I walked through the town, slow as if moving through water, but I walked. I opened Kate's door, crossed her living room, and drew her wall hangings aside. The mirror stood there. I kept walking, toward the silvered glass—
Dizziness overtook me. There was a sound like water crashing to shore, and a moment's darkness—
And then I stepped out of Kate's mirror, coughing up water, my hair and clothes dripping, Rebecca wailing in her sling. Kate looked up from her loom, her eyes wide with astonishment. My hand, still half in the mirror, clutched Mom's. I tried to pull her after me, but Mom pulled back, away. For an instant I saw dark waters, and I knew Mom sought their depths. “Not this time,” I said again. Then, louder, “Mom. Tara. Come here.” Mom stumbled through the glass, shivering violently. Matthew stepped after her, then Allie and Tallow.
Mom's smile was bitter. “You're not going to let me go, are you?”
“No.”
She sighed and crumpled to the floor, even as Kate rushed to her side. Rebecca's cries slowed to gulping sobs.
“Tara,” Kate said.
Mom looked up. “You told me I was a fool,” she whispered to Kate, and shut her eyes.
Kate knelt by Mom's side. If she felt any pain in her knees, she ignored it. She checked Mom's pulse and breathing, examined the burn marks, and laid a hand on her forehead. “Matthew,” she said, her face tight, “a bucket of cold water and some towels.”
Matthew dropped the pack and ran from the room. I clutched Mom's hand. Her skin was so hot.
“I'm a healer,” Allie said. “I can help.”
Kate nodded. “Tell me all her symptoms. Except for the fever. I've figured that out.”
Allie told Kate everything. Kate blinked once when Allie described her magical probing, but she kept listening. The way she looked at Mom made my stomach twist.
Matthew returned with the water. Kate dipped a towel into the bucket and pressed it against Mom's forehead. “This is important,” she said. “I need to know exactly where you've been.”
Allie looked up. “It was the air, wasn't it? I knew there was something in the air. I could feel it.”
“Where?” Kate asked, tension clear in her voice.
“Faerie,” I said.
“How long?”
“We don't know how long for Mom.”
“And for the rest of you?”
“An hour,” I said. “Maybe two.”
Kate