Beneath the Black Moon (Root Sisters) by Clara Fine Read Free Book Online Page A

age.”
    “I
don’t have anything in common with most people my own age. What’s wrong with
her?”
    “No
one knows that,” Caro said, “not even the Doctor. She’s just wasting away. Or
so I’ve heard. Maybe some kind of fever.”
    “But
we have nothing to do with that,” Grandma said, and then she glanced at Cam.
“You don’t, do you?”
    Cam
made a face, “why would I curse a woman I don’t even know? No, whatever is
wrong with her, it’s nothing to do with us.”
    “Yet
that Mr. Anderson is looking for something. Are we sure that he’s not kin to—”
    “No,”
Cam said quickly. “As far as I know he never knew Kat Varennes. And I don’t
think—”
    “Ssh!”
The hiss was Mary’s, and the girl suddenly twisted in her seat to stare at the kitchen
windows.
    Cam
stood immediately, prepared to hide. “Someone’s coming? Is it Aunt Beth? It’s
not father is it?”
    “No
one’s coming,” Mary said solemnly, “but someone’s watching the kitchen.”
    “Watching
us?” Grandma also stood. “Who?”
    “Are
you sure, Mary?” Caro was already filling a shallow bowl with water. “Hand me
an egg, Daphne,” she said to Cam’s grandmother, in a moment of informality that
came naturally between the two of them but would have shocked and horrified
Aunt Beth or Cam’s father.
    “I
felt it for a minute before I said anything,” Mary whispered, and with the
candlelight playing upon her face, there was something haunting about her face,
something almost ageless. She didn’t look like a young woman. She looked like
an oracle, a prophet of old, seeing things in the flames that mere mortals
could only guess at. “You won’t be able to see him now,” she said as Grandma
cracked an egg into the bowl that Caro had filled with water. It was an old
divining trick that was used to allow people to see that which was unseen. “I
think he’s leaving.”
    “Who
is it?” Cam asked. Mary closed her eyes to concentrate, several fine lines
appearing on her brow while Caro and Grandma studied the contents of the bowl
carefully.
    “I
don’t know,” Mary said finally, her eyes opening again. “I’m sorry.”
    ***
    Every
time Brent began to feel guilty for his prying, the same conscience that was
torturing him reminded him what was at stake: his sister-in-law’s life and his
brother’s happiness. Still, he couldn’t help but feel disgusted with himself as
he stood in one of the many shadows on Cam’s beautiful, moon-flooded lawn, and
watched the kitchen into which she had vanished. There was a strange scent in
the air, sharp and spicy, and smoke billowed from the chimney. What were they
burning? What was Cam doing in the kitchen at this hour? Why had she said that
she was indisposed?
    He
remembered some of the rumors he had heard, whispers about some odd religion, a
sort of superstition or witchcraft. It had all sounded quite ridiculous at the
time. Now, standing there watching the candlelight flicker behind those tightly
closed curtains, catching the faintest of murmurs from inside of the kitchen,
and smelling those strange herbs, he wondered.
    There
was another scent in the air, too, he realized, one that could only be scented
softly beneath the odor of the herbs, but was there nonetheless, thick in his
mouth and his throat. Ash. Old ash. Not from whatever they were burning inside
of the kitchen, but from a greater, more powerful fire. The kind of ash that
remained on a landscape long after the flames had claimed their victims. He
hadn’t smelled it when he’d first walked across the yard, but now, now it was
inescapable. The wind must have changed, he thought, because suddenly all he
could smell was the harsh scent of a fire long quenched.
    Where
is it coming from? He wondered and glanced down. The
ground glowed silver beneath his feet. He shifted, and when his feet moved they
raised a cloud of white ash that dusted his boots and trousers in fine powder.
Now entirely uneasy, Brent glanced all around