“Then what’s your gut telling you?”
“That I’m really stressed.”
“And?”
“And that Tía is really smart. She stitched sentient threads into this jumpsuit.”
I could hear Alderose considering what I meant by sentient threads, and I felt it when she went from being skeptical to accepting. “I think all of my weapons are intact.”
“But…how?”
My sister’s silence spoke volumes. I knew she had a lifelong fascination with knives and I was proud she’d channeled it into studying aikido and other martial arts that revered and utilized swords in their practices. If Rosey’s studies had taken a magical turn, that was news she hadn’t shared.
“I—I can use glamour. My girlfriend’s fae.”
My jaw would have dropped open if it wasn’t bound shut. I wasn’t surprised my sister had a girlfriend—she was openly and gloriously bisexual. It was her admission that she was dating a fae. The fae were on a whole other level of magic. Fae had their own realms, like the Demons. Fae—at least as far as I’d gathered from secondhand encounters and hearsay—were not beings unschooled witches like myself should be tangling with.
“What does using glamour have to do with your daggers?”
“It allows me to hide them.”
“Why’d she do that for you?”
“I—I did something for her.”
“What’d you do?”
Silence blended with the rocking back and forth as our watercraft continued its journey to wherever it was we were being taken.
“I killed someone.”
15
That shut me up. For all of three seconds. “Alderose. What happened to Mom’s first rule of magic, do no harm?”
“Nothing. Except it was always followed by Dad telling me to keep my blades sharp, go for a throat punch if I wanted to stop an attacker, and aim for the femoral artery when the only outcome of a fight was death.”
I must have been too young for those lessons.
“Don’t say anything, Clementine. There are things I haven’t told you or Beryl. A lot of things.”
“Obviously.”
More silence.
“In a way, it was all a part of my job.”
“What job? What job could you possibly have accepted that involves killing people, Alderose?”
“Dad’s job.”
“Dad’s a hairdresser.”
“Dad is a hairdresser, and he’s really good with curly hair.”
“But…what about the part where you killed someone for your girlfriend?”
“Heriberto del Valle is very, very good with more than just scissors.”
“Are you saying— Wait, how do you know that?”
“I put two and two together, Clemmie. It’s all right there.”
My dad. Able to cut your hair and your throat. Not something every witch’s kid could claim. “Did you look in Mom’s scissor drawer? Because she’s got a ton of blades in there and—”
“Now you’re thinking like a Brodeur.”
“Please tell me you’re not saying Mom was an assassin, as well. Because that would fry my brain.”
“Clemmie, Dad’s not an assassin. He’s an Unbinder, like Serena. She took care of clients who wanted to be legally unbound from marriage or business contracts. After Mom opened the shop and the locals started to get to know her, and trust her, a witch in an abusive relationship asked for help leaving her partner. Serena found out the woman was being abused so she referred her to Mom.” Alderose blew out a quiet breath, then added, “Mom worked really hard to make sure that those she severed from abusive or unwanted relationships were never in harm’s way once they were freed.”
“How’d she do that?” I asked, adding, “And how do you even know that?”
“She used her ability to craft garments to create wholly new personas for those who wanted them. And I know that because I looked in the box.”
“What box?”
“The donation box Mom always kept on the counter. Didn’t you ever look inside it?”
“Never. I just liked to shake it and hear the money rattling.”
“One day when I was visiting her at the shop, I opened it. There was a petition for help.”
The dented metal donation box sitting on the counter near the cash register suddenly made much more sense. One innocuous little box, covered with a faded advertisement and a phone number, could be the trigger someone in trouble needed to get help. And Mom had a gift for making everyone feel comfortable in her shop. “Is that where all her income went? Could she have done that for Gosia?”
“Maybe? I mean, I only just started to uncover a lot of this through talking with Serena before she died.”
“Why didn’t Serena say anything to us? Jeez, Rosey, why didn’t Mom tell us? And why didn’t you say anything to me or Beryl when you started to find out?” My heart beat hard against my ribs then dropped deep into the hollow of my belly. “Why did you keep me out of the loop?”
“Because you don’t think, Clementine. You follow your heart and your instincts, but you never really take the time to think out the repercussions of your actions or take responsibility for them.”
“Fuck you, Alderose.”
“No, fuck you, Clementine. The women Mom protected had to disappear. Completely. The fewer people who knew, the better. Mom didn’t have to keep her magic tight, and right now I’m really wishing she shared everything with us before she died. But her work with those women—and their kids in some cases—had to stay locked down. And your mouth, dear sister, is not locked down.”
Our conversation was forced to stop. I was almost grateful for the position we were in, all tied up with nowhere to go. Because if I could free even one arm, I’d imbue the cloth and threads protecting my body with every ounce of anger and frustration coursing through my veins and use it to punch my way out of the trap Gosia and Jadzia had set.
I couldn’t picture what would come after. Only the punching part. I’d start with whacking my sister. Not too hard. But hard enough for her to know I was hurt and confused. Then she’d pull out her hidden knives and daggers and we’d—
“We’re here.”
Great. I held on to my emotions, infused my jumpsuit with them, and
