Chapter Five Emma Baldwin #2
Grandmère turns to me. “Allies and enemies can exploit weaknesses, like love and desire. And you have too many weaknesses as far as I can see—and honestly, so does Demetri.”
Upset bubbles inside me.
“Why do you trust Demetri to run private missions, if you worry about his weaknesses?”
“He’s better at following directions than you are. Besides, after losing Grace, we can’t afford to risk losing you too.”
My anger surges. “Are you saying he’s disposable?”
She scoffs. “I’m saying you’re valuable.”
I bite my tongue. Love should never be about the value of someone’s power or how you can use them.
I want to go to Philadelphia. I want to see what a scouting mission looks like.
I want to be there to help protect my brother …
especially since no one was there to protect Grace.
I turn to Grandmère. “Magic is stronger with the women in our family. That’s why you should trust me to go on this intel mission. I can do it. I swear I can.”
“Doesn’t matter, you won’t. Enough of this.” Grandmère grabs me by my shoulders and spins me to face the stairs. “I wish I could continue to spare you the burden of the truth. But there are things you must see to understand.”
She lifts her pointer finger. A glittery spiral of moonlight swoops and swirls from a window across the room, encircling her thin finger. She aims that finger between my eyes like the barrel of a gun.
A wave of dizziness hits me. The dance floor flickers, darkness slinking through the corners of my vision, turning the people around me into whirling silhouettes. Light claws into me.
The last thing I see is the blur of my grandmother’s beautiful blue dress.
In the vision Grandmère shows me, a young man and woman are sprinting through a dense forest, their feet pounding against the dirt and leaves.
They emerge from the trees and reach a beach of black sand, and then a gunshot rings out, followed by a piercing scream from the young woman.
Blood oozes from a wound in her stomach as she falls to the ground, a hiss sounding as a snake slithers toward her.
I stare in horror as a witch taunts her and the snake comes closer to the young woman’s vulnerable form. My heart races and my hands shake as I struggle to process the gruesome scene before me.
“Little bird.”
I blink. My vision clears, and my grandmother’s silhouette sharpens before me.
I jump, but I’m back in my own time. The dessert tables, the band, and the people dancing at the party come into focus around me.
“Was that real? Did you send me back in time?” I say, out of breath. I never want to go back that far again.
“What did you see?”
My heart races. “Everything. Titus and Venus. The witch. The bargain.”
Tears rush down my cheeks, and she quickly wipes them away.
“Just an illusion, Emma,” she whispers. “But you needed a vision of the past to understand what’s to come.”
It takes everything I have not to be disrespectful and knock the champagne flute from her hand. “You keep saying—‘what’s to come.’ Just tell me!”
She smiles and clicks her long red nails on the monogrammed CB etched on the flute. Clair Baldwin, her initials. “I already did, my birdie. Or rather, Sabine did.” Grandmère’s eyes pierce mine. “The Tether.”
“The Tether?” The words send a shiver through me. “What exactly is it? A fight? A game?”
“A competition, little bird,” Gran explains. “Between us and the Davenports. A contest of wills between one member of our family and one member of theirs. Three rounds of magical challenges. Each requires the competitors to showcase the full extent of their power and strength.”
My mind is whirling. “And who decides who wins?”
Her gaze hardens. “Let’s just say that Sabine is always watching.”
My stomach clenches. I didn’t want to think she was still alive, but after I witnessed the way she seemed to grow younger before my eyes, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. “So what do we win?”
Grandmère nods. “The winner gains the loser’s power.”
Our powers are everything—our identity. How would we make our livelihood without them? “How is anyone supposed to cope if their power is stripped away?”
My grandmother sighs, her eyes solemn. “Darling birdie. The loser doesn’t survive.”
My heart pounds now. Hatred needs an outlet. “Wait. You’re telling me the Tether … it’s some sort of death match?”
Grandmère strokes the stem of her champagne flute. “It always has been.”
My brain is going to explode. “Always? You mean there have been other Tethers?”
“Yes, little bird. Several in my lifetime alone, and more before that. They don’t happen on a regular schedule, but the one thing this family can count on is that they do happen.”
I study her face, trying to discern what’s going on behind it. “And you think the next Tether is going to happen soon?”
Grandmère glances toward the windows. “I’m certain of it. The fog you saw at the circus, the gathering of ravens—they’re omens. The next competitors will be chosen imminently.”
My throat tightens, my whole body shaking with rage. I knew my family hadn’t been honest with me.
“How exactly are the competitors chosen?” I ask.
There’s a proud light in Grandmère’s eyes when they meet mine. “The Tether chooses us. It will happen soon. That’s why I showed you the vision. To prepare you.” Her gaze is impatient, as if she’s waiting for me to catch up.
And then it hits me.
“Are you … are you suggesting that I’m going to be the one chosen to compete?”
She smiles, looking almost … delighted? “I’m sure of it. This is your moment, little bird. Out of everyone in the entire extended Baldwin clan, the Tether is choosing you.”
My head spins. I think back to Demetri’s stricken face when the fog rolled into the big top. Of Mom going pale at the sight of the raven. Demetri saw the fog too. We’ve all been seeing the ravens. Why would it be me?
Grandmère answers as if she’s read my mind. “It’s an honor to be chosen for the Tether. It means your abilities are strong.”
“Strong enough to fight to the death?” My voice rises.
I swallow the hysterical laughter that’s bubbling up inside me.
I don’t want this life, the running and the performing.
I certainly don’t want to be stuck in some kind of death match, especially when this whole time my family has been keeping me in the dark instead of explaining our overwhelming hatred of the Davenport family.
The threat of laughter dies away, replaced by a wave of betrayal so strong it almost chokes me.
“I hope you have a plan B in mind. Because there’s no way I’m getting into some mortal combat for a family that can’t even be honest with me. ”
With a wave of her fingers, she draws a bright beam of moonlight twisting and arcing from the window to us.
The space around us ripples and shifts. She reaches for my hand.
I look into her eyes, but it’s as if a switch has flipped.
They darken from brown to inky pools. Grandmère grabs my hand hard.
Her nails bite into me, making crescent moons of blood pool and spill on my dress as I gasp and struggle to break free.
“You don’t get to be eighty-two and Black without surviving several versions of hell. This family has clawed its way up from dirty cotton fields to the luxury you see now by being disciplined soldiers and making hard sacrifices.”
My mouth falls open. All around us, people talk and smile. They can’t see what’s happening. Grandmère probably has them seeing an image of us clinking champagne glasses as she speaks.
“So if you disrespect my orders or defy me again…” Grandmère exhales and releases me. “My perfect little bird, I’ll clip your wings.”
Shaking with rage and heartbreak, I swivel and dash toward the door.
Grandmère is mad. This whole family is mad if they think I’m gonna blindly obey their rules or risk my life on their behalf when all they do is constantly lie to me.
Tears blurring my vision, I dart across the room, just wanting to get away.
The Bentleys are still out front.
I can time-travel someplace far from all of them and leave their betrayal—and the Tether—far behind me.
Mom is waiting for me as I storm from the ballroom. She smooths the fabric of her elegant dress as she comes closer. I don’t know what she was going to say, but she changes her mind when she actually sees me. “Emma, you’re bleeding! What happened to your hand? Are you okay?”
“No!” I cry. “You’re all liars! You’ve been hiding the Tether from me—and God knows what else.”
She grabs my arm and pulls me into a corner. Her eyes urging, Keep your voice down.
“The game plays us.” Mom tightens her grip. “I’m sorry, baby girl.”
“Sorry?” I can’t believe that’s the best she’s got after all the secrets and lies. I try to pull away.
“Emma!” She yanks me to a stop. I turn to look at her and find her eyes wet with tears. “We had to.”
I can’t think of a justification for this.
“After Grace … After the accident … you didn’t remember things. The healers said it would cause more trauma if we revealed the truth before your mind was ready. If we hid anything, it was to protect you.” Her voice cracks. “We had no choice.”
The pain in her face pierces my heart. But it doesn’t quell how much I want to scream at her.
“Let me get this straight. I was hurt, so you decided to listen to some fraudulent physician and deceive me?”
Mom takes a breath. “You knew about the Tether, Emma. Before Grace died. You knew as much about it as the rest of us did. But you forgot. There’s no right way, no right time to talk about something that awful.”
My mind races so fast, I’m dizzy. But Mom’s guilty face says a lot. She’s lying. This isn’t the entire story. But no matter how much I try I can’t recall the week my sister died. I can’t recall a lot. “Mom, I…”
Suddenly, there isn’t enough air. I clutch my chest. It hurts to breathe.
They’ve been lying to me about everything.
How do I know if they have been truthful about how my sister died?
Maybe the Tether killed her! I know something’s wrong, even if I can’t prove it and I can’t recall what really happened.
I didn’t think my heart could break any more tonight. Apparently, I was wrong.
I should press for more details—about the Tether, about Grace. Demand the information that is my right as a member of this family. But I only want to escape.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Demetri and Papa hovering, waiting for a moment to cut in. They look just as guilty as Mom. The pain in my chest hardens, rage stirring inside me. They all knew.
Demetri must think I’m upset I’ll be chosen, because he says, “We aren’t positive that it will be you, sis. It could be me.” His smile is more sad than reassuring.
“Send me a postcard and let me know who gets picked,” I tell them, my eyes on the door. “Because there’s no way in hell I’m sticking around to find out.”
Suddenly, a darkness appears at the other end of the foyer.
The same black haze from the big top. It rolls toward us across the marble floor, the bitter smell of sulfur filling the hallway.
This time, the fog doesn’t dissipate. It grows thicker, coming at us in a black wave.
“No, it’s too soon.” Mom places her body in front of ours.
“I got this. Emma, Demetri, get outta here!”
Papa steps in front of her. “You heard her! Run, children,” he orders.
Demetri grabs my arm and pulls, but I’m frozen. The fog rolls closer, puffing out and snaking in as it grows. It parts around Mom and Papa.
It’s seeking me. I can feel the tug, the pull like a rough current on a windy day at the beach.
Demetri tries to jump in front of me, but fog tendrils bend and encircle me.
My heart jumps. Two smoky coils grip my legs, slamming me to the ground and knocking the wind from my body.
Other tendrils grip my arms. I thrash hard, but my limbs are drawn apart and held still.
The world blinks into a midnight sky. I’m looking up at my brother’s blurry face.
The fog tightens around my limbs like rope.
My mouth opens, but no words come out. Instead, a wave of smoke rushes in, choking me.
My eyes water. Darkness pools in the corners of my vision like inky tears.
The ceiling’s constellations loom. But I no longer hear the distant partygoers.
Mom sits by Papa on the floor next to me, chanting words I can’t make out. My family surrounds me, clings to me. Fear surges through me. I wish I could tell them I don’t hate them. I don’t want to die with them thinking I do.
I have to get free.
I open my mouth again, choking and gasping. Glittery golden threads slither from my mouth and race over my chest and down my body. They flow over my right leg, slink around my ankle, and weave themselves into my flesh with a stinging burn that leaves me screaming.
Then, almost as suddenly as it came, the fog disappears.
Mom puts her hand on my ankle and my injury changes, like a film played in reverse.
The swelling lessens, the red angry color of my wound lightens, and the leaking holes around the thread start to close.
The wound heals, inside and out, until my flesh is no longer marred.
But the thread remains. It’s woven into my skin, like an exquisite, glittering ankle bracelet.
Grandmère’s voice is strangely reverent. “I knew it would be her.”
“My baby,” Mom whispers, a tear sliding down her nose. “She’s been Tethered.”
“It’s time to prepare her.” Grandmère sighs.