“What story, Sissy?” Beryl asked.
Fear constricted my vocal cords. “Mom. She was grabbed over there,” I said, pointing to the wall to the right of the doorway. “She was bleeding when she hit the wall over here and she was probably injured even more when she was dragged through the window.” I took in another deep breath and blew it out. A distinctive patterning in the threads at the periphery of my vision resembled the sweep of feathers across the wall. “Whatever took her had wings.”
“And you can see all that? You can see Mom?”
“I can’t actually see Mom,” I said, frustrated by the gaps in my magic and my inability to paint a clear picture for my sisters. “I see the places where fluids were being, I don’t know, fluid-y. I think Rémy’s right. The rain triggered this aspect of my magic. Blood’s a fluid. Bird shit’s a fluid.” I turned to my sisters and the others. Everyone was staring at the wall.
“This is the first breakthrough we’ve had, Clementine,” Kostya said. “But I hate that you’re seeing what might have happened to your mother.”
Alderose murmured, “I hate to think that Mom suffered.”
“Me too.”
“What kind of a creature has wings and is strong enough to lift a human?”
“Certain shifters.”
“Gryphons.”
“Dragons.”
“Demons.”
“Kostya?”
He shook his head, troubled. “I doubt any demon from the Reformed Realm would have attacked Moira Brodeur.” Years ago, Kostya had made an effort to explain the handful of demonic realms to me. Some of the realms didn’t bother at all with creating relationships with humans or other Magicals. Some, like the Reformed Realm, were populated with demons dedicated to maintaining their autonomy, confining their battles to those with equal strength and power.
Kostya had joked that humans broke too easily and presented very little challenge to the average demon. I had laughed. Kind of.
“I’ll explain to my mother what you’ve seen, Clementine. She’s very, very good at extracting information.” He chuckled softly. “She didn’t become Queen of the Reformed Realm by giving out lollipops.”
“I think we should move away from the wall and the bird droppings, given what might have caused the infection in Serena. Though these do appear to be quite old.” Alabastair drew our attention off of the splattered wall and guided us toward the center of the room. “Before Mr. Ruisseau finishes telling us about his meeting with Moira, I would like to hear from the sisters how they learned of their mother’s death.”
Beryl slipped her arm around my waist as I wavered on my feet. The most recent story threads had given me the strongest, most disturbing visions to date. A sensation of disassociation lingered in my body, making me feel woozy.
Alderose paced, keeping her gaze on her boots as she spoke. “Serena contacted me first, maybe because she knew I was living in Boston at the time and could get here quickly. I called Beryl. I couldn’t reach Clementine.
“Serena didn’t offer many details over the phone, only that Mom had died and that her body was in a local funeral home. She was borderline hysterical, now that I think about it. It could be that I filled in the missing details in my head, just to…to cope with the news.”
“Did she mention where Moira had been found,” Alabastair asked, probing gently, “or what was said about the manner of her death? And what about your father?”
“No.” Alderose stopped pacing and kicked at a table leg. “Mom and Dad hadn’t seen each other since mid-May, after Clemmie’s graduation. The only thing I know—and these are Mom’s words verbatim—is that she was working on a very complicated project and Dad was off gathering supplies for the shop. When she said complicated, I thought she was talking about one of her embroideries or lace pieces.”
Beryl affirmed what Alderose said. “I was traveling through Scotland. I was able to get to Glasgow and the main portal hub. I drove here from Boston and met Rosey and Dad downstairs, in the apartment.”
When the call came in I was relaxing on a remote beach in Yelapa, México. The owner of the rustic, open-air palapas had rousted me out of my folding lounger and hustled me into a fume-spewing water taxi. Forty-five minutes of bouncing off waves got me to Puerto Vallarta, cell phone reception, and the devastating news.
“It took me longer to get here.” I swallowed hard. Guilt was hurling balls of acid up my throat. “The portal in Puerto Vallarta was under repair, and I had to take a bus to México City. The days after my graduation ceremony were the last time I saw Mom alive.”
Alderose picked up the story again. “While Beryl and I waited with our father for Clementine, we handled arrangements with the funeral home. The owners are Magicals and they’re used to dealing with all manner of creatures. I don’t recall them saying they’d seen anything unusual about Mom’s—” Rosey had to compose herself before she added, “Mom’s remains.”
“Remains?” I asked, incredulous. It was good Beryl had a tight grip on me. Remains made it sound like Mom had arrived at the funeral home in pieces, and that visual was—
“Her body, Clemmie. Remains is the word they used. By the time you arrived in Northampton, she’d been embalmed and was in the viewing room. Remember?”
Memories of that day hit me like a rogue wave. What had rocked me the most about viewing my mother at the funeral home was how much her face and hands looked molded from wax.
I finally responded, “How could any of us forget?”
The room went silent, but for the rain hitting the windows. I was vaguely aware of the looming presence of three big, somewhat antagonistic male Magicals. Mostly, I felt the connection between me, Beryl, and Alderose, soft threads of sisterhood mingling with clashing strands of our individual temperaments.
“Maybe this is a good time
