Everyone agreed to this plan, and Lavender, Alice, Marilyn, and Genevieve set off to gather the party things. Eliza held Catherine’s hand as they watched the four girls go.
“You,” Catherine said. “I wish to stay with you, Eliza.”
Eliza glanced at Theresa, whose jaw was set with obvious anger. She felt a thump of trepidation, but she couldn’t deal with that at the moment. Catherine was back, and she needed Eliza.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she told her friend, taking her hand in both of hers. “We’ll all stay right here together. Isn’t that right, Theresa?”
Theresa clucked her tongue. “Of course. If I’m even wanted.”
Eliza glowered at her. How could Theresa possibly be selfish at a time like this?
“What was it like, Catherine?” Clarissa asked, approaching her tentatively. “Do you remember anything? Anything at all about what it was like to be . . . dead?”
Catherine tilted her head, another jerking action. “Cold. I remember cold.”
Clarissa slipped her arm around Catherine’s and led her to one of the chairs near the wall. “Come and sit. We can talk all about it.”
As soon as the two girls had walked away, Eliza hazarded a glance at Theresa. “What’s the matter with you? Aren’t you excited? The spell worked!”
“A spell we wouldn’t have had to do if it hadn’t been for you sneaking off into the woods to meet my future husband,” Theresa snapped, the color rising in her cheeks.
“Theresa!” Eliza reeled back. “I thought . . . I thought we were past this. I’ve told Harrison I can’t see him again. Now Catherine’s back . . . you have everything you want.”
“No thanks to you, Eliza Williams,” Theresa said, narrowing her eyes. “I think I’ll go see if the girls need any help with their supplies.”
Then she turned on her heels, whipped her wide skirt behind her, and stormed up the stairs. Eliza stared after her, feeling so livid she could have spit on the floor. Didn’t Theresa understand what she’d given up for their friendship?
“Eliza?” Catherine said, staring blankly across the room. Clarissa, Jane, Viola, and Bia, all of whom had gathered around the girl, turned to look at Eliza as well. “Eliza? Where is Eliza?”
Eliza took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Tonight was about Catherine, not Harrison. Catherine was here, and Catherine needed her.
“I’m coming, Catherine,” she said.
But just then, a cold hand closed around her wrist. Eliza’s heart hit her throat as she whirled around. Helen Jennings stood before her, her blue eyes shot through with fear. Eliza placed her hand on her chest and tried to catch her breath.
“Helen? What is it?” she asked.
“I must speak with you,” Helen said, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. She glanced past Eliza’s shoulder at Catherine and the other girls, and something about her expression made Eliza’s blood run cold.
“What is it?” Eliza asked impatiently. “Catherine’s asking for me.” “This is about Catherine,” Helen whispered, ducking her chin. “Eliza, she’s . . . she’s not right.”
A lump of foreboding formed just above Eliza’s heart, and she reached up to touch her locket. For the first time she felt the tenderness beneath the pendant, and she winced. “What do you mean, ‘not right’?”
“I don’t think the spell worked,” Helen said, taking Eliza’s hand and tugging her toward the doorway, away from the other girls. “I don’t know what exactly, but something is not right with that girl.”
“How do you know?” Eliza asked, the lump traveling slowly up her throat.
“Her eyes. The way they stare . . . ,” Helen whispered furtively. “It’s just like Caroline looked before she died. That’s not Catherine. At least, not the Catherine you knew.”
Eliza hesitated a moment, but then the words filtered through and she found them suddenly ridiculous.
“Not Catherine? What are you talking about? Look at her!” She gestured toward the far wall and was appeased to find that Catherine was, at that very moment, smiling. “She’s fine. She’s alive. Helen, s
he’s alive because of us,” Eliza said, holding both Helen’s hands in hers. “I know you don’t trust the books, and I know that some awful things happened, but look at what the books have wrought now. They may have killed before, but now . . . now they’ve given life.”
“But Eliza—”
“No,” Eliza said. She took a step back, dropping Helen’s hands. “There’s a difference between what Caroline did to herself and what’s happened to Catherine. Caroline used magic for her own vain and selfish reasons. What happened to Catherine was not her own doing. She has been sent back to us because it was not her time, and she is going to be fine.”