Bones of Faerie

flicked to Tallow, but she didn't cry. She simply found a piece of old cloth by Kate's loom and silently handed it to me.

I wrapped Tallow up and set her down in Kate's battered old armchair. “It's not a feather bed,” I whispered, my own eyes stinging, “but it'll have to do.” Later I would bury her.

In a thin voice Allie said, “I think I'd better rest. I think I pushed too hard.”

Kate tried to lead Allie to the stairs, but the girl shook her head. “Too far.” She curled up on the couch instead, looking over at me wearily. “Liza, was that …” She yawned, tried again. “Was that your father?”

I nodded. Allie scrunched up her face. “I don't understand,” she said. “So many things I don't…” But then she yawned again, and shut her eyes, and fell asleep. She seemed suddenly young, curled up there.

Kate brushed a lock of tangled red hair from her face. “That girl's a wonder,” she said.

Allie drew her arms around herself, called for Tallow, and began sobbing in her sleep. I swallowed hard, returned to Kate's mirror, and tried to call Caleb again.

The mirror filled with visions: of Caleb, of Mom, of myself on the road with Matthew and Allie. But those were all in the past. I couldn't find the present. Maybe Caleb also needed to be near glass or metal or water. Or maybe the failure was entirely my own. There was no way to know. In the end I returned to Mom's side and took her hand once more. I could see that her breathing had slowed, and I knew that cooling her fever hadn't been enough.

Kate, Matthew, and I stayed with Mom through the night, barely speaking. After a time, Matthew put his hand in mine. I held on as tightly as when he'd pulled me from the river, the night I'd left Franklin Falls. The townspeople came to visit us, alone and in pairs. At first they came to ask about Father's leaving, but once they knew Mom was there, they came to visit her as well. The adults murmured quiet, awkward words. The children were mostly silent, keeping their magic hidden still, just as Mom had taught them.

Jayce the blacksmith surprised me by laying a hand on my shoulder and saying in his husky voice, “We should have sent Ian packing years ago. Thank you, Liza, for finding the courage we lacked.”

No one seemed to regret Father's going. I tried, but I didn't regret it, either. Yet still I felt strange and empty inside. Like Father had left some cold, numb space behind, and I wasn't sure what to fill it with, or whether it could be filled.

When Allie woke the next morning she scrounged dried meat from Kate's kitchen and insisted we eat. I tried, but my stomach clenched after only a few bites, and I set the food aside.

Allie reached for Mom. I grabbed her hands in my own, stopping her, not wanting to stop her. Allie swallowed, nodded, and let her hands fall to her lap. Mom's chest continued to rise and fall. Nothing mattered but the next breath, and the next. “You shouldn't have gone,” I whispered, knowing Mom couldn't hear.

Kate said, “Grief is a complicated thing. She did what she thought needed to be done.”

“Alone,” I said. “Because she didn't trust me.” Even now, the words stung.

Kate stroked my hair. “She was scared, Liza. She wanted nothing more to do with magic, only I asked for her help. At first I only guessed she'd been to Faerie—a desperate guess, because I so badly needed someone who understood magic. Tara insisted she didn't really understand, but she knew more than she thought. She taught us about control and having watchers. She made sure the children never forgot they were human. But she was always terrified your father would find out. She thought she was protecting you by making sure you didn't know.”

I drew my arms around myself. In the end, she hadn't protected me from anything.

The door creaked open behind us. Kate stood and I waited, expecting more townsfolk.

“Daddy,” Allie squeaked. I turned then. Allie threw herself across the room so hard and fast she nearly knocked Samuel over. He held her as she burst into gulping sobs. There were circles under his eyes, and his hair stood on end, and he looked at Allie as if he didn't believe he really held her, as if he feared she'd disappear if he dared look away. I knew by that look that nothing mattered to him as much as the girl in his arms.

Had my father ever held me like that? I couldn't remember.

Beside him Caleb said slowly, “We thought you were dead. When we saw the rockslide and the light and the scraps that were all we could find of your backpacks.” Unlike Samuel, Caleb's face and voice held no expression. “We thought you were dead, and we thought your town should know.”

I stood and met his gaze, not caring what he saw. “My mother is dying.” My throat tightened around the words. “Can you save her?”

Caleb looked past me, and his face grew more impassive yet, like stone. He strode across the room to where Mom lay. I knelt by his side.

He ran his hands along her body, a series of short feather touches, none lingering too long.

“I couldn't heal her,” Allie said in a small voice. Samuel still held her. “I tried, but I couldn't—I mean not without…” Caleb turned to her. “You did well,” he said, and for an instant his expression softened. “I am glad you did not attempt more.”

“But you can heal her, can't you?” Allie asked. I didn't dare speak, for fear of his answer.

“By the powers that be I'm going to try.”

“Right, then.” Allie squared her shoulders, pulled away from her father, and moved to Caleb's side.

Caleb shook his head. “Not this time, Allison. This I have to do alone.”

“You'll go too far if I'm not here. You know you will.”

Caleb set his hands gently on Allie's shoulders. “You are as gifted a healer as any faerie-born I had the honor to teach Before,” he said. “But as your teacher I tell you that you are not ready for this.”

“At least let me be your watcher.”

Caleb cast an unreadable look my way. “Liza will watch.”

“But why—”

“Trust me, Allison.”

Allie drew a breath. “You'll make him be careful, won't you, Liza? You'll make sure he doesn't go too far?”

“I promise,” I said, but my thoughts were with Mom, hoping, not daring to hope, there was something Caleb could do.

“I'll stay, too,” Matthew said.

Caleb shook his head. “Only Liza.” There was something in his voice—I still didn't trust him, not completely. But whatever the risk, I would take it.

Matthew reached for my hand again. His grip felt cool in mine. “Call if you need me. I'll be right outside.” He squeezed my hand, then left. Kate and Samuel and Allie followed him, leaving me alone with Caleb and Mom.

Caleb brushed the hair back from Mom's forehead and gently traced the plated quia leaf she wore. Some thing slipped in his face, letting grief through. “You were right, Tara. I never should have forced you to leave. The mistake was mine. I know that now.”

Caleb turned to me, and his face hardened again, reminding me of the man who'd held me to a mirror. I didn't look away from him, though.

“Two things,” he said, his voice hard as his gaze. “First: an apology. I had no right to force visions on you, or to enter your thoughts to see where the visions led. There were other ways, and I should have remembered them. I ask that you forgive me.” I said nothing. What was done was done. Like the War—it remained there behind us, whatever words we spoke or didn't speak. After a long moment, Caleb went on. “Second: once I start this healing, you are not to stop me. No matter what happens. Do you understand?”

I understood far too well. I thought how I'd promised Allie, and shame burned my cheeks, but I remained silent.

Caleb nodded, taking my silence for the answer it was. “At least the fever's gone. That's a help.” He placed his hands on Mom's chest. For a moment, two moments, his expression remained calm. Then his face tightened as if in pain. Mom bolted upright, screaming.

My heart pounded so hard I thought it'd burst from my chest. Caleb forced Mom back to the pillows, light flowing like water from his hands. Light flowed over Mom's chest and abdomen, her arms and legs. Her screams gave way to whimpers as she fought Caleb. Her eyes opened wide, but whatever she saw, it wasn't us. She struggled on. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't look away. Caleb's fingers dug into Mom's shoulders. She lurched up again and heaved violently, spewing blood and vomit on her clothes and his. When she fell back to the pillows, I rolled her to her side, even as Caleb fell beside her. He pulled himself up with visible effort and put his hands to