Prophecy (Soul of the Witch Book 2) by C. Marie Bowen (16)

Alyse James

The novelty of traveling by train proved a poor diversion for Alyse. Anxiety at leaving her grandmother behind kept her chest tight as the miles rolled past. Perhaps her uncles were wrong, and the demon wouldn’t go to the farm. She glared out the window.

Maybe there’s no demon at all.

She would meet her parents and sister in Boston, and then return home to the farm and her grandmother.

Bayard wiped his eyes. “We shouldn't have left her.” He ran a hand over his balding scalp and hung his head. “We should have made her come with us.”

Bernard gave a pat to Bay's knee. “It’s what she wanted, Bay. She’s planned for this day since the girls were born.”

“I know,” Bayard muttered. “We all have. I just can’t believe we’ll never see her—”

“Baked goods. Anything you’d like, dearies?” A woman with a straw basket stopped beside their seats. The basket held small loaves of bread and muffins, and what appeared to be berry tarts.

Bernard purchased two loaves of nut bread and set them beside Bay.

Alyse turned back to the window. The daylight outside the glass faded to twilight. They would sleep on the hard bench for two nights and arrive in Boston the day after tomorrow. Then they would return to the farm. Deep inside, she knew the truth her grandmother and uncles had lived with for twenty-five years.

It’s all true.

“How much do you think Maggie’s changed?” Bernard wondered aloud.

Alyse watched her uncles from their reflection in the window.

Bayard shook his head. “I don’t know. Her husband’s name—isn’t it—Prescott?”

“I think so.” Bern nodded. “Let’s hope they still live where the twins were born. We’ll start the search there.”

Alyse had never heard her father's name.

Her name.

She’d grown up a James. Alyse Prescott sounded foreign to her ears. She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. Despite the hard bench, the slow motion of the railcar and the monotonous clickety-clack of the train lulled her to sleep.

They arrived at the Boston station early the second day and collected their luggage from the porter.

Alyse rolled her eyes as her uncles debated the best way to travel to their sister’s home.

A hansom cabbie referred them to a nearby livery to rent a wagon. He explained to Bernard that their luggage would make it impossible for them to hire a cab or ride the omnibus.

They located the livery, rented a single-horse buckboard wagon and stacked their trunks in back. The late morning traffic proved light and easy to negotiate. They traveled north from the train station toward the Charles River and turned onto Beacon Street.

Alyse gazed at the city with wonder.

This is where Amy grew up.

How different would her life have been if she’d grown up here instead of the farm?

Bernard slowed the wagon to a walk. “We’re here. Up ahead on the left.” He halted the wagon several doors down from their sister's home.

“No. This doesn't look right.” Bay glanced around at the other houses and down the street.

“I’m positive. That’s Mag’s house,” Bern replied.

“What are we waiting for?” Alyse urged, trapped between her uncles on the seat.

Bernard set the wheel brake, wrapped the reins around the upright post next to the seat, and stepped down. He offered his hand to his niece.

Bay dropped from the wagon on the other side and attached a feedbag to the horse's head.

“You should stay behind us,” Bern warned Alyse as they crossed the street. “We don't know if your father’s home.”

“Why would it matter?” Alyse quickened her step to pass her uncles.

Bernard grabbed her arm. “We don't know what Mags told Prescott about you.” He directed Alyse behind the tall brothers. “For example, where you've been for the last twenty-five years.”

Bayard nodded. “Even if your mother’s the only one home, you’re going to be a shock to her.”

The brothers stepped up to the front door, shoulder to shoulder, and knocked.

Alyse put her back to her uncles and crossed her arms, but she couldn't stand still. She spun around and tried to spy around Bernard, but he put his hand on her bowler hat and pushed her back.

Bay knocked again.

From inside the house, they heard a woman call, “Coming ... coming.” Then the door opened.

“Hello, Maggie.” Bay pulled the bowler from his head.

“Don't faint, Mags.” Bernard reached out to steady his sister. “Are you alone?”

“Is Mum all right? Is she with you? Is Alyse...” Margaret’s voice trailed off as Alyse peered around Bayard’s side.

Margaret gasped and covered her mouth. Tears filled her eyes.

“Can we come in, Mags?” Bern asked. “Let's not do this out here. We're looking for Amylia.”

Margaret backed into the house, her gaze on Alyse's face. When the door closed behind Bern, Margaret opened her arms and embraced Alyse. “Oh, my beautiful daughter.” Margaret wept as she hugged Alyse.

Alyse’s throat closed and she simply held on to her mother while she cried.

“Is your husband home, sissy? Are you alone?” Bernard circled his sister and niece as Margaret gained control of her emotions. “There are matters most urgent. We need to speak with you and Amylia.”

Margaret pushed Alyse to arms’ length and ran her gaze over her daughter. “You’re so like your sister.” She brushed strands of hair from Alyse’s damp face.

“Mags...” Bern cautioned again.

Margaret turned to Bayard and embraced him, ignoring Bernard. “Bay, you haven't aged a bit. How I've missed you.” Then she turned to Bernard and smiled. “You old stick in the mud. Always business with you. Give your sissy a hug.” They embraced, and Margaret kissed the side of his face.

“Come into the parlor, where we can sit.” Margaret led them through an arched opening into a seating area. Long windows faced the street and filled the room with light. Even as she sat, Margaret never took her gaze from her daughter’s face.

Alyse smiled through her tears and consigned everything about her mother to memory. An inch shorter than Alyse, Margaret carried more weight in her hips than either Alyse or Chantal. Her mother had dark eyes, like the rest of the family and wore her brown-gray hair up, just like Mémé, in a loose bun.

Why does my mother look older than my uncles?

Alyse cast a quick glance at her uncles as she took a seat beside her mother.

I’ll have to ask.

Margaret took Alyse’s hand. “Robert's not here. He's at the warehouse. I don't expect him back until late this evening, so we have time to talk.” Margaret tore her gaze from Alyse and looked from Bayard to Bernard. “Tell me, why are you here? Where’s Mum?”

“Mum stayed at the farm.” Bernard’s tone was low and cautious. “She said she couldn't travel so far or as fast as our need. It’s urgent. We believe she’s buying us time. We must speak with Amylia.”

“Amy?” Margaret’s voice rose as she spoke. “I thought the whole reason for separating my girls was to keep them safe from Mum's prophecy.”

“She tried to stop them from twyning—like Bay and I do—but it didn't work.” Bernard shook his head in frustration. “They twyned anyway, despite the distance.”

Bayard reached out and touched his sister’s arm. “Maggie, the Prophecy is happening. Now. It’s too late to keep your girls apart. They need to learn to work together.”

Bernard rose after his brother spoke and paced around the couch.

“How can this be?” Margaret turned to her daughter, her voice soft. “You twyned with Amy?”

Alyse felt her face heat as she nodded. “I didn't mean to, but she needed me. I didn't know I had a sister until I was with her and twyned. Can I see her?”

Margaret’s eyes filled with sadness, and she shook her head. “Amy isn't here, darling. She married a banker’s son two years ago, a young man named Jason Harris. They moved to Denver last year to help Jason’s uncle with his cattle ranch.” Margaret dropped her gaze to their clasped hands. “She writes, but I still miss her so.”

“Amy's not here?” Alyse questioned.

Margaret’s head came up. “No, she's not.” She looked at her brothers, then back to Alyse.

“Amy lives in Denver?” Bern asked as he paced behind the settee.

“Yes. I have her address.” Margaret turned from Bernard and looked again at Alyse.

“If you could give that to us, we’ll need to be on our way,” Bernard said.

“That’s what I thought.” Margaret pressed her lips and wiped at her face with one hand. She kept a firm hold on Alyse with the other.

“We can stay for a bit.” Alyse corrected her uncle.

Bernard stopped pacing and looked crossly at his niece, but held his tongue.

“Mémé sent you a present... Mother. It’s in my trunk. Uncle Bern, could you get the package, please? It’s addressed to Margaret.” Alyse cast a trembling smile of thanks at her uncle, then turned back to her mother.

Bayard sat forward and reached for Margaret's other hand. “It’s wonderful to see you Maggie. Are you doing well? Are you happy?” Bayard grinned and winked at Alyse. “Does your husband treat you as he should? We can take care of him if he doesn't. You know we can.”

Margaret laughed through her tears. “Of course, I'm happy. Robert is a good man and a good father.” She looked back to Alyse as more tears welled in her eyes. “I’m so sorry you never got to know him. Oh! I have a photograph.” She stood and crossed to the mantel. When she returned, she brought a photograph of herself, her husband, and a young Amy. She handed the frame to Alyse.

Alyse looked at the photo of the family she should have been a part of. It was several years old. Amy wore calf-length skirts and braided hair—but the face? She saw it every morning when she glanced in her mirror.

“Does he ... does my father know about me?” Alyse looked from the picture to her mother.

Margaret shook her head. “No. Robert doesn't know both our daughters survived their birth. He knows nothing of The Prophecy, or of our family's—peculiar skills.”

Bern came in the front door with the brown paper package in time to hear Margaret’s last comment.

“You never trained Amy in her skills?” Bern handed his mother’s package to Margaret.

“I taught her to scry with water. She has only two elements, Water and Earth,” Margaret explained

“I have Fire and Air.” Alyse looked at all the faces around her.

Margaret raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “How curious. Do you have precognition as well?”

Alyse shook her head. “No, but I can truth-read people—when I try.”

“Amy has precognition? That’s unexpected.” Bayard looked from his sister to his brother.

Margaret nodded as she took her seat and began to untie the knotted string around the package. “As is the ability to truth-read. I have very talented children, it seems.” She smiled at Alyse as a knot came free. “Amy’s visions began at a young age. The poor girl didn't understand at first, and they frightened her.” She glanced at her brothers. “What was I to do? I worked with her to glean the important things from ordinary. Aside from scrying, I also taught her herb lore. She always had the earth-sight, but could never heal, though Lord knows she never stopped trying.”

Margaret released the string from the package and pulled back the paper. “I taught her what was safe for her to know.” Folded inside the paper package lay a finely knitted shawl, white across the top, the shawl grew progressively darker until at the very bottom of the 'V' the yarn was black.

Margaret gasped in delight as she picked it up. From inside the wrap fell another package and a letter. She retrieved them from the floor and unfolded the letter. She scanned it, then read it aloud.

Margaret swallowed and held the shawl under her nose for a moment and inhaled, then opened the smaller package. She withdrew a satchel on a long chain. The protection amulet looked similar to the one Chantal had given Alyse. Margaret hung the talisman around her neck and tucked the satchel inside her blouse. She looked at her brothers and her daughter.

“And so it begins.” Margaret’s voice shook with emotion.

“It began when your girls were born,” Bayard said.

“It began with The Prophecy,” Alyse corrected. “But now we have the chance to end it. And when it’s over, I want to come back and visit with you and my father. Would that be possible?”

Margaret took Alyse's hand and smiled. “Of course, my dear. We will find a way to explain this to Robert when you come back.”

Margaret hugged Alyse one more time then stood and walked to a writing desk. She handed Bernard several of Amy's letters.

Bernard wrote down the address on a slip of paper and placed the note in his vest pocket. He returned the letters to his sister. “Thank you, Mags.”

Alyse and Bayard rose and followed Bern and Margaret to the door.

Margaret reached for her daughter and hugged her tight.

Bayard wrapped an arm around Alyse. “We must go, Alyse.”

She nodded but couldn’t stop her tears. She paused inside the door and looked back.

Bernard spoke quietly with his sister. “Mum thinks the demon will go to the farm first. We all believed Amy still lived in Boston. Mags. The demon will know we came here. It will follow us.”

Margaret’s face paled. She looked from Bernard to her daughter and Bay, who stood inside the door. She closed her eyes and nodded. “Mum knew too, hence the gifts.”

Bernard wrapped his arms around his sister. “I know you don't practice the craft like we did growing up, but take what precautions you can. I don't want to see you hurt.” He kissed her head and followed Bay and Alyse out the door and down the street to the wagon.

At the train station, they reviewed the departure schedule, stops and lines they would need to use to get to Denver. The Central Pacific would take them all the way to Cheyenne, then they would change lines and head south to Denver on the Colorado Central Railroad.

Bernard purchased the tickets for the train and the transfers at the counter, and they turned their luggage over to the porter to be loaded into the baggage car. The train would depart at 6:45 that evening.

Alyse watched Bernard purchase hot pies from a vendor in the station and carry them back to their seats.

“Four days to Denver. I didn't get a Pullman car, just the standard seats.” He handed each a hot pie. “I want to save Mum's cash if we can. We may need it.”