Shadowfever, стр. 113

“I remember the umbrella,” I said. “I think it must be where I got my love of pink.”

She nodded, eyes shining. “It was bright pink with green flowers.”

Tears stung my eyes. I stared at her a long moment, memorizing her face.

Isla opened her arms. “My daughter, my beautiful little girl!”

Bittersweet emotion flooded me as I moved into my mother’s arms. When they closed warm and comforting around me, I began to cry.

She stroked my hair and whispered, “Hush, darling, it’s all right. Your father and I are here now. You don’t need to worry about a thing. It’s all right. We’re together again.”

I cried harder. Because I could see the truth. Sometimes it’s there in the flaws.

And other times it’s there in too much perfection.

My mother’s arms were around my neck. She smelled good, like Alina, of peaches-and-cream candles and Beautiful perfume.

And I didn’t have a single memory of this woman.

There’d been no blue station wagon. No pink umbrella. No day in the rain.

I slid the spear from my holster and drove it up between our bodies.

Straight into Isla O’Connor’s heart.

47

Isla inhaled, sharp with pain, and went stiff in my arms, clutching at my neck.

“Darling?” Blue eyes stared into mine, blank and confused. She was Isla.

“You stupid little bitch!” Blue eyes stared into mine, fiercely intelligent, furious, hard with rage. She was Rowena.

“How could you do this to me?” Isla cried.

“If only I’d killed you that night in the pub!” Blood-tinged spittle sprayed from Rowena’s lips.

“MacKayla, my darling, darling daughter, what have you done?”

“Och, and ’tis because of you all this happened!” Rowena spat. “You bloody damned O’Connors, bringing naught but trouble and misfortune to us all!”

I felt her legs buckle, but she caught herself on my shoulders and didn’t go down. She was one tough old woman.

I shuddered. I’d never been talking to Isla. It was Rowena all along, carrying the Sinsar Dubh, possessed by it. But now she was dying, and the Book’s ability to maintain a convincing illusion was dying with her. She was flashing back and forth between the illusion of Isla and the reality of Rowena.

“Did you kill my sister?” I shook the old woman so hard her hair spilled loose from its tight bun.

“Dani killed your sister. And the two of you were always cozying up. Och, and I imagine you feel differently about her now!” She cackled.

I used Voice. “Did you order her to do it?”

She writhed, mouth contorting. She didn’t want to answer me. She wanted me to suffer. “Yesss!” the word exploded in an unwilling hiss. I hoped it hurt.

“Did you use your mental coercion to make her do it?”

Her jaw locked and her eyes narrowed to slits. I repeated the question, rattling the windows in the study with the multilayered thunder of compulsion.

“Yesss! ’Twas my right. ’Tis why I was given such gifts! And the cleverness to use them. It requires the layering of many subtle commands, knowing precisely where to nudge. No other could have done it.” She gave me a smug stare, proud of herself.

I grimaced and looked away, stilled by the horror of it.

Here it was at last—the truth of my sister’s murder. I finally knew what had happened to Alina.

The day she’d discovered Darroc was the Lord Master, the same day she’d called me, crying, and left a message, was the day she’d been killed—but not at all for the reasons I’d thought. If it hadn’t been for Rowena, Alina would have lived through that day.

I’d have gotten a new phone, called her in a few days, and she’d have answered. Life would have gone on for the two of us. She and Darroc would probably have gotten back together, and who knew how things might have turned out? Her message had been misleading from the beginning, but she’d had no idea this old woman was her enemy.

This bitch, this meddling tyrant who believed it was her right to use her “gifts” to force a child to kill, had ordered Dani to take Alina to a dark alley to be murdered.

My hands trembled. I wanted to kill her the same way.

Had Rowena specified the monsters Dani should find and leave Alina with? Had she insisted Dani stay and watch the deed be done? Had Alina begged? Had they both wept, knowing the wrongness of it? I’d been forced to want sex. Dani had been forced to murder. My sister. At thirteen. I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to watch yourself kill someone you didn’t want to kill. Had Dani known Alina? Liked her? And been compelled to kill her anyway?

“And I tried to kill you in your cell when you were a mindless whore, but you wouldn’t die! I slit your throat. I suffocated you. I gutted you, I poisoned you! Still you came back. Finally I painted over the wards to let them take you and destroy you!”

“You painted over the—you were going to give me back to the princes?” I was flabbergasted. She had tried to kill me. I hadn’t just dreamed it. I shoved both thoughts from my mind. I wanted answers and, from the look of her, she wasn’t going to last long. Voice echoed out of me, reverberating off the walls. “Why did you kill Alina?”

“Are you daft? She consorted with the enemy! My spies followed her to his house and saw him with Unseelie! ’Twas reason enough. Then there was the prophecy! I’d’ve killed her at birth if I could’ve. If I’d known she was still alive, I’d’ve hunted her!”

“Did you know who she was when you killed her? Did you know she was Isla’s daughter?”

“Och, of course,” she sneered. “I had Dani lure her to us when my girls told me they’d spotted an untrained sidhe-seer, same as I sent her to you! Alina Lane, she called herself, but I knew the instant I saw her who she was. Isla, all over again, plain as day! And my Kayleigh dead because of her mother!”

I wanted to strangle her with my bare hands, choke the breath out of her. Over and over.

“Did you know who I was when you saw me that first night?”

A troubled look creased her brow. “ ’Tis impossible. You can’t be. You weren’t born. I’d have known were Isla pregnant! Women talk. They never spoke of it!”

“How did the Book get out?” I demanded.

A crafty light entered her eyes. “You think I let it out. I did no such thing. I do the work of angels! An angel came to me and warned me that the spells holding it had weakened. It bid me enter the forbidden chamber and strengthen the runes. Only I could do it. I had to be brave! I had to be strong! I was both. I see, serve, and protect! I have always been there for my children!”

I caught my breath. The Book seduced. I was willing to bet there had been no angel. The old woman charged with protecting the world from the Sinsar Dubh hadn’t strengthened the runes. She’d erased them.

“I did as the angel instructed. ’Twas your mother who let it out!”

“What happened the night the Book escaped? Tell me everything!”

“You are an abomination. The doom of us all.” The light in her eyes was matched by a craftier smile. “I’ll die here, well I ken it, but I’ll not be giving the likes of you any peace. Isla was a traitor and a whore, and you’re more of the same.” She grabbed my hand and thrust her small frame forward on the spear, twisting it as she went. “Ahhhh!” she cried. Blood gushed from her mouth.

She died sudden, mouth open, eyes wide.

Disgusted, I dropped her and stepped back, watched her fall to the floor. The Sinsar Dubh whumped to the floor. I stepped back hastily.

Behind me, Barrons was roaring. I glanced over my shoulder. He was hammering at an invisible barrier, his eyes wild, shouting.

“It’s okay,” I told him. “I have it under control. I saw through it.” I was trembling, cold and hot and nauseated. It had all been so real. It felt as if I’d killed my mother, even though my brain knew I hadn’t. For a short time, I’d believed the lies. And my heart hurt as if I’d lost a family I’d never had.