Bones of Faerie - Janni Lee Simner [58]
I listened, frozen by the quiet hate in his words, wondering who held whom.
“But you, Liza. You're not like her. You know what needs doing, and you're not afraid to do it.” He still couldn't move, but his gaze flicked to the blade. His voice took on a strange, hard pity. “Give me the knife, Liza. I swear to you there won't be any pain.”
That pity told me, more than any anger, that he'd never understand. Still I tried one more time. “Magic can heal. I've seen it.”
“Magic kills,” Father said.
“No,” Allie squeaked from behind him. “Liza's right. Look….” She dropped the branch and reached for his injured arm. I saw silver light and knew bones were knitting back together.
Father jerked away as if burned, my hold on him lost. He whirled and grabbed Allie by her shirt. I flung myself between them, even as Tallow yowled and leaped at Father's face. The cat's claws dug into his skin. Father cursed as he fought to pull Tallow away one-handed. He grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and hurled her across the room. She gave a single startled mew, then hit the wall with a thud and fell motionless to the ground. In her sling on the floor, Rebecca began to cry.
Father froze at the sound. We all did. For an endless moment Father stared at the sling, Rebecca's shadow face just visible within its folds. Then, rage in every step, he stalked to where she lay.
Something crossed his face—regret, sorrow, maybe love. It quickly faded, replaced by something fiercer. He looked toward where Mom lay, her eyes closed, her skin flushed with fever.
“You couldn't let her go, could you, Tara?”
Mom shuddered at his words but didn't open her eyes.
“We'll put an end to this right now.” Father reached for Rebecca's sling. She screamed, an animal sound I'd never heard from any human child. I dropped Father's knife and threw myself over my sister, not caring that she was only shadow, knowing only that I wouldn't let him touch her ever again.
“Liza,” he said, “this needs to be done.”
I looked up at him, clutching Rebecca in my arms. So cold—but I could handle the cold. I could handle lots of things.
“This is some witchery of your mother's, nothing more. Let her go.”
I shook my head. “Mom didn't call Rebecca back. I did.” I stood, still holding Rebecca, and faced him. He was taller than me, but not as tall as I'd remembered. “This is my magic,” I told him. “Only mine.”
Father's face twisted for a moment into something like grief. Then it was gone, and he lunged for the knife I'd left on the floor. I kicked it out of his reach. Allie grabbed the knife, even as Rebecca's screams quieted to gulping sobs.
“Father,” I said.
His face held no grief now, only rage. He stood, glaring all the while. My anger rose to meet his. So many years I'd tried to be good enough, to be strong enough. They meant nothing to him, nothing at all. Ashes and dust. That was all the War had left any of us.
“Go,” I told him, feeling power and command grow within me. If I could call things to me, I could also send them away. I could send Father away, as far away as I wanted. He stumbled back, his injured arm held to one side, his face growing pale.
“Go.” As far as the place I'd called Allie back from, that was how far I could send him. For the first time I saw fear cross Father's face. It felt good, having him be the one who was afraid. A few more words, a bit more magic, and he would never trouble me again. “Go.” Father's hand moved to his chest, as at some pain.
“Liza,” Matthew whispered. He still lay on the floor, wincing at pain of his own. He didn't try to stop me, but he looked afraid as well. Afraid of me.
You're not like him, Matthew had said, but what if I was? What if we all were? I thought of trees grinding flesh into dust. I thought of fire falling from a hot blue sky. People—faerie or human—had commanded the trees, and the fire as well.
I thought of Father's blade at