Janni Simner - Bones of Faerie

“What witchery is this, Liza?”

“Give me the knife,” I commanded, holding out my hand, calling the knife to me.

His arm trembled, but he reached forward and handed it to me. His eyes flicked to my hair as if seeing it—as if seeing me—for the first time. “Not you, Liza. This taint of magic cannot have touched you.”

I spoke slowly, holding my control, not trusting him. Had I ever trusted him? “Magic isn't what you think.” Treacherous hope rose in me. Maybe he truly didn't understand, like I hadn't understood. “Magic doesn't always kill.”

Father's eyes didn't leave me. “What can you possibly understand about magic? You weren't there during the War. You have no idea what magic can do.”

I'd seen as much of the War as he had, now. And I did understand, maybe for the first time. “Magic is a tool, like a knife or a bow. We can learn how to wield it.” I thought of Cam, and I knew no tool is ever fully safe, but we could learn to use this one. We had to learn, if we were going to survive.

Father spat, and I knew doing even that much while I held him took great effort. His knife felt heavy in my hand. “That's your mother talking, Liza, not you. I should have known your mother was magic-cursed the moment she came to this town, knowing no one, playing at innocence. But she had me fooled well enough, right until she bore that monster. Then I knew. She knew, too, or else why would she have gone? She should have done us a favor and gone sooner.”

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 Matthew's throat. I thought of bones on a hillside. If I killed him, he wouldn't be able to harm anyone ever again. Killing him only made sense.

The War had likely made sense, too, once, if it came down to that.

Rebecca felt so cold in my arms. I fought not to shiver. Father was a sensible man. If he had been in my place, I'd have already been dead.

“Go.” My voice shook, but there was power behind my words. “Walk away from this town. Go as far and as fast as you can, and never trouble those who live here again.”

The fear in Father's eyes gave way to anger once more. His whole body trembled as he struggled against my command. “I saved this town. Every person in it would have died if not for me.”

“You saved us,” I agreed. “But that was before. The War is over. Go. ”

Father met my steady gaze with his own. “This town will die without me. Wait and see.”

He stalked away without another word, across the room and out the door. I followed to the doorway. Townsfolk coming in from the fields stopped by their houses and watched him leave. Not one of them tried to stop him.

But they hadn't tried to stop any of the things he'd done, either.

I kept staring until Father disappeared from view, beyond the town and into the forest. “Go away,” I whispered, feeling very young. “Go away, go away, go away.”

The shadow in my arms sobbed on. I turned back to see Allie carefully setting Father's knife down by the woodpile. She looked around her, from Kate to Matthew to Tallow, as if not sure what to do next. She started toward Matthew, but he shook his head. “Gram first. Ribs heal, even without magic.” Allie nodded and moved to Kate's side.

“Rebecca.” Mom sat up slowly, painfully. She looked at me, her eyes suddenly clear. Rebecca fell silent. Mom held out her arms like a child waiting for a gift.

I brushed a finger along Rebecca's cold cheek. What magic would she have had, had she grown? I'd never know. I unwrapped the sling and held my sister close, not caring how deep the cold burned. “I'm sorry,” I told her. “I'd bring you back if I could.” But some things really were beyond magic's power to heal. I knelt by Mom's side and placed the shadow into her arms.