truly been loyal to? He may have been willing to make fools out of his family . . . out of both his families, but he would have gladly laid down his life to protect the line.”
“How do we handle this?” Oliver asked, having already tried and convicted Jessamine.
“Let me think about it for a bit.” Iris crossed to the counter and found her apron. She tied it around her waist. “In the meantime,” she said smiling at me, “you go upstairs and fetch Abby. Tell her she’s got some baking to do.” She held her head high, putting her hands on her hips and striking an intentionally humorous pose. “Thanksgiving has officially returned to the Taylor household.”
Fake it till you make it. One of the slogans Ellen had adopted from her meetings came to my mind. Iris appeared to be doing just that. Still, I felt glad she’d changed her mind. I pushed myself up from the table and exited through the flapping door and into the hall. I climbed the stairs to the upper floor and turned toward Maisie’s room. I’d only taken a step in that direction when from behind me I heard the screech of a hinge thirsty for oil. My heart stopped cold, then began beating wildly to make up for the lost contractions. I knew that sound better than that of my own voice. It was the noise made by the door to the old linen closet, the room that as children, Maisie and I had adopted as our place of secrets. The same room to which Jilo had linked her haint-blue chamber.
I stopped dead in my tracks. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt if I turned toward that creaking sound, toward the door I knew had just pried itself ajar, I would see the haint-blue aura of Jilo’s enchanted chamber spilling through the crack into the hall. I knew it would be so, even though I knew it to be impossible. At Jilo’s behest, I myself had destroyed her enchanted chamber, a room capable of straddling both space and time, or perhaps more correctly space-time. The physics of the place was well beyond my ken, and even though I felt I had the power to re-create such a space, I lacked Jilo’s insight into the intricacies of the necessary magic. She might not have been a born witch, but she proved herself a great magic worker many times over.
I turned to see the door open, and the hall was indeed scintillating like sun on a pool. Jilo had figured out how to straddle dimensions. Could she have found a way around death itself? No sooner had the question entered my mind than the impulse to dive into that haint-blue light became an absolute compulsion. I fled down the corridor toward the cerulean glow. I paused at the threshold of the now open door, my intuition suddenly registering a sense of fraud. This magic was counterfeit. I stepped back, away from the light, but it was too late. It reached out to envelop me; then everything around me dissolved in a bright pulse.
TEN
When the flash faded, I no longer stood in my home before the entrance of my childhood playroom. I found myself in Oglethorpe Square, but everything around me was in the wrong place. The familiar landmarks of the world I knew were all present, but they lay reversed. No, they were mirrored in aspect to their natural coordinates. North lay south, east lay west, and the noon sun hung high but shone down from the northern edge of the horizon.
The Owens-Thomas House sat at the park’s southwest corner. I blinked, and upon opening my eyes, the mansion had shifted to northwest, with President and Abercorn Streets having spun around like spokes on a bike wheel. The sun stood high over a Savannah that was not my home. I stopped and turned a full circle, searching the silent world around me for any sign of intelligent life, but there was none. Silent nature stood frozen, without even a breeze to flutter the Spanish moss.
Not knowing what else to do, I began walking toward where my intuition told me my house should be, all the while sensing a growing heaviness, a condensing of the atmosphere. The edges of the sky
“How do we handle this?” Oliver asked, having already tried and convicted Jessamine.
“Let me think about it for a bit.” Iris crossed to the counter and found her apron. She tied it around her waist. “In the meantime,” she said smiling at me, “you go upstairs and fetch Abby. Tell her she’s got some baking to do.” She held her head high, putting her hands on her hips and striking an intentionally humorous pose. “Thanksgiving has officially returned to the Taylor household.”
Fake it till you make it. One of the slogans Ellen had adopted from her meetings came to my mind. Iris appeared to be doing just that. Still, I felt glad she’d changed her mind. I pushed myself up from the table and exited through the flapping door and into the hall. I climbed the stairs to the upper floor and turned toward Maisie’s room. I’d only taken a step in that direction when from behind me I heard the screech of a hinge thirsty for oil. My heart stopped cold, then began beating wildly to make up for the lost contractions. I knew that sound better than that of my own voice. It was the noise made by the door to the old linen closet, the room that as children, Maisie and I had adopted as our place of secrets. The same room to which Jilo had linked her haint-blue chamber.
I stopped dead in my tracks. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt if I turned toward that creaking sound, toward the door I knew had just pried itself ajar, I would see the haint-blue aura of Jilo’s enchanted chamber spilling through the crack into the hall. I knew it would be so, even though I knew it to be impossible. At Jilo’s behest, I myself had destroyed her enchanted chamber, a room capable of straddling both space and time, or perhaps more correctly space-time. The physics of the place was well beyond my ken, and even though I felt I had the power to re-create such a space, I lacked Jilo’s insight into the intricacies of the necessary magic. She might not have been a born witch, but she proved herself a great magic worker many times over.
I turned to see the door open, and the hall was indeed scintillating like sun on a pool. Jilo had figured out how to straddle dimensions. Could she have found a way around death itself? No sooner had the question entered my mind than the impulse to dive into that haint-blue light became an absolute compulsion. I fled down the corridor toward the cerulean glow. I paused at the threshold of the now open door, my intuition suddenly registering a sense of fraud. This magic was counterfeit. I stepped back, away from the light, but it was too late. It reached out to envelop me; then everything around me dissolved in a bright pulse.
TEN
When the flash faded, I no longer stood in my home before the entrance of my childhood playroom. I found myself in Oglethorpe Square, but everything around me was in the wrong place. The familiar landmarks of the world I knew were all present, but they lay reversed. No, they were mirrored in aspect to their natural coordinates. North lay south, east lay west, and the noon sun hung high but shone down from the northern edge of the horizon.
The Owens-Thomas House sat at the park’s southwest corner. I blinked, and upon opening my eyes, the mansion had shifted to northwest, with President and Abercorn Streets having spun around like spokes on a bike wheel. The sun stood high over a Savannah that was not my home. I stopped and turned a full circle, searching the silent world around me for any sign of intelligent life, but there was none. Silent nature stood frozen, without even a breeze to flutter the Spanish moss.
Not knowing what else to do, I began walking toward where my intuition told me my house should be, all the while sensing a growing heaviness, a condensing of the atmosphere. The edges of the sky
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