A scream caused me to raise my eyes. Oh, good. That’s covered. The words went through my mind as my cousin Abigail stood before me hyperventilating. My legs collapsed out from under me, and I landed on my knees. My gaze returned to Teague’s face, which lay turned toward me, his dead eyes glazed over but still full of surprise. I heard the heavy tread of boots running up the stairs, down the hall. Sam found my room before Iris could join him. I hadn’t expected to see him here today. He must have had a change of heart about joining us. I bet he was rethinking that decision right now. He knelt beside me and lifted me, carrying me from the room. Oliver met us in the hall. He dodged into my room, then came back just as quickly, the color having faded from his face.
Iris appeared in the hall, and Oliver grabbed her before she could go into my room. “Don’t,” Oliver said to her. “You don’t need to see this.”
The words that followed blurred together into an indecipherable barrage of meaningless sound. The light around me dimmed, and I closed my eyes. I drew a breath and forced myself to return to the moment. “I’m okay, now. Thank you,” I said. “You can put me down.” Sam shifted me carefully until my feet touched the floor. The room began to spin.
“I don’t think so,” Sam said and bent down to slide his right arm back beneath my knees.
“She killed him. Without a qualm. Her face . . .” A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun. Yeats’s words surfaced in my mind. “No feeling. She just . . .” My voice failed me.
“I have a tarp and some duct tape in m
y truck,” Sam said in an even voice. Sweet, handsome, and willing to help hide the bodies without asking a single question. He really was a keeper. I began laughing again even though none of this should have hit me as funny. So this was what hysteria felt like.
Iris stood before us, looking like she wasn’t sure if she should hug Sam or slap him. “Hopefully we haven’t come to that,” she said to Sam.
Maisie reappeared with a dampened cloth. She had washed the blood from her hands, but there were still splatters on her shirt. The sight of her ended my laughter.
“I could see into him,” Maisie said, and I raised my eyes to meet hers. “He hated you, and he was never going to give up until he had taken everything from you.” Her eyes narrowed in disgust. “I saw that he dreamed, no, fantasized, about overpowering you, hurting you, killing you. It gave him pleasure.” The word came out sounding sick and dirty. “While I was gone, while I was wherever the line took me, I found myself in a place of such certainty, such clarity. I knew then if ever I laid eyes on you again, I had to do everything in my power to protect you. I’m sorry if my sense of conviction makes you uncomfortable, but I will gladly kill a thousand Teagues if it means keeping you safe.” I didn’t know whether to feel gratitude or horror as her words hung in the air between us. “Here.” Maisie offered me the washcloth.
“I’ll take it, darling,” Iris responded. “Abby, can you take Maisie back to her room?”
Abigail had followed us into the hall, but she was still pretty much frozen in the same stance. “Yes, I’ll do that, but then I’m packing my bags and going home. I thought I could help, but I’m afraid the girl’s too far gone.” She looked at me as tears brimmed her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t sign on for this.” Maybe it was uncharitable of me after all she had tried to do for us, but I felt disappointed in her. The sight of blood caused her to give up on Maisie, even after Maisie had flung herself into Gehenna to save her.
“Of course, dear,” Iris responded without taking her eyes off me. “We understand.” I didn’t, but I had enough to think about without picking a fight. Abby hesitated to take Maisie’s hand, but then she grabbed hold of my sister and escorted her down the hall.
“Take Mercy to my room, please,” Iris said to Sam.
Sam maneuvered me through the doorway to Iris’s room and sat me on the foot of the bed. He knelt beside me. Oliver sat next to me, putting his arm around my shoulder to prop me up.
“Who is this guy Maisie killed anyway?” Sam asked Iris. He used the present tense. Iris didn’t respond. Instead she used the washcloth to dab at the splatters on my face.
“Teague Ryan,” Oliver answered for her. “He was our cousin.”
I looked up at Iris. “He’s been working with Gudrun to . . . trap me.” Iris’s head tilted up and her lips pursed. “He said the only way to stop him was to kill him, and Maisie, well, Maisie . . .” I didn’t recognize my sister since the line had allowed me to bring her home. On the exterior she remained unchanged. On the inside, though, well, truth was I had probably never really known what was going on in her soul. I wanted to believe my sister was not the person who had offered me up as sacrifice. That she was not responsible for her acts, considering she had been driven mad as a consequence of Ginny’s crimes. And I had hoped that somehow we could reach down into her and find the grain of the girl she had been born to be and nurture it. Abigail had much more experience plumbing the depths of souls. Maybe she was right, maybe Maisie was too far gone, but I wasn’t ready to give up hope yet.
“He was conspiring against an anchor of the line.” Iris’s words broke into my thoughts.
“Yes,” I said, “but he said the other anchors know all about it. He implied he had their consent, if not their assistance.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Iris said. “Well, it matters, but not in regard to how we are going to handle this situation. Listen to me.” She freed her hand and placed both her hands on my shoulders. “Maisie did not kill Teague. You did. Do you hear me?”
“I don’t understand.” I shook my head.
“You are an anchor. It is an anchor’s right to remove anyone who threatens them.”
“My right?” I asked. “That’s horrible. I shouldn’t have the right to kill anyone.”
“It’s their law, not ours. You were doing your duty. You were protecting the line. That is the story we need to stick to.”
“I don’t know what you two are talking about,” Sam said, “but why do you need to give these people a cover story? It sounds like this was self-defense to me.” Was it only my imagination, or had Sam started shifting away? He seemed to be trying to avoid Iris’s touch. Even an accidental one. That didn’t bode well for their relationship. Had he seen too much? Just moments ago he was ready to act without judgment.
Iris reached out her hand, and he stepped back. A small twitch of her right eye told me that she, too, had noticed Sam’s sudden coolness. “Of course it was self-defense, but all the same, if the families learn Maisie killed Teague . . .”
She didn’t need to finish her sentence. I understood. They would use any excuse to take Maisie from us. This time once and for all.
Maisie’s lack of any hesitation to kill or remorse for the murder she had just committed made me wonder if maybe this callous killer was the true Maisie. Our very conception was linked to black magic; we had been born as an unintended result of our parents’ attempt to destroy the line through the sex and murder magic of Tillandsia. Had my sister and I been tainted, stained to our very souls by their acts? Had I made a mistake bringing Maisie home?
“Maybe we just can’t save Maisie.” Ellen stood in the doorway. She stumbled a bit as she stepped over the threshold, but managed to catch herself. “Maybe we can’t save Mama either.” Even from ten paces away, I could smell the alcohol on her. She took a few more weaving steps, then stopped right before us. “Sometimes people get too lost for the saving.”