Gifts #2
The weather, at least, was a match for her mood.
The menacing gray clouds outside pressed against the dining room windows.
The rain intensified, and the winds picked up speed.
They rattled the windows and whistled strange tunes down through the chimneys.
In the woods nearby, sharp cracks rang out as powerful gusts snapped thick branches.
The electricity failed as they began to eat, but the four of them barely noticed.
Aunt Ivy lit a candle and the flames flickered as drafts danced around them.
“We forgot to tell you. We can smell storms now,” Phoebe informed Aunt Ivy.
“Is that right?” Ivy was pleased.
“Can’t everyone?” Brigid muttered.
“Most people can do lots of things they never bother to do,” Ivy said to humor her. “The trick is figuring out what your gifts are and how to make use of them. That’s what I’m here to help you both do.”
“Will we have lots of gifts?” Phoebe had discovered she could heal small creatures using energy that radiated from her hands. That gift brought her great pleasure. It was a shame that her sister hadn’t been quite so lucky when the Old One was passing out powers.
“Certainly. And the ones you have will get much stronger. When my mother was your age, she could smell storms, too. After she moved to Wild Hill, she learned how to conjure them.”
“Why would anyone want to conjure a storm?” Brigid grumbled.
Ivy set down her fork, which meant a lesson would follow.
“The women who came before us could all do marvelous things,” she said.
“We’ll soon find out what else they passed down to you.
There are many wonderful gifts in our bloodline.
My mother always claimed that one of our distant ancestors used to talk to the monster that lives in Loch Ness. ”
Phoebe giggled.
“I don’t want any more gifts,” Brigid announced.
Brigid was usually blunt, but the force of her sister’s words took Phoebe by surprise. “You don’t?” she asked.
“What good is the one I already have?” Brigid demanded.
“Sweetheart . . .” Flora sounded pained.
“She doesn’t need to be coddled,” Aunt Ivy chided Flora before she turned back to Brigid. “What good is your gift?” she repeated incredulously. “My dear, you have one of the most important gifts ever bestowed upon our family. And you can’t imagine how to make use of it?”
Brigid fought tears as she thought about Mrs. Lopez and the little boy at the beach. “I know when people are going to die, but I can’t do anything to save them,” she said. “It’s an awful gift, and I wish I didn’t have it.”
Ivy reached over and took her great-grandniece’s hand.
“There is no darkness without light. And no light without darkness. You can see when someone is going to die. That means you also see when someone will not. You’ll always know when your life or your sister’s is not at risk.
You will be able to do things that others won’t dare.
Do you understand the significance of this? ”
Brigid felt the gloom lift a little. It had never occurred to her that her dark gift might come with a silver lining. “It means I can do anything I want.”
“No. Not exactly,” Ivy cautioned her. “You must be careful or you’ll suffer injuries. To your body or your soul.”
“But I won’t die.”
“No,” Ivy confirmed. “Not unless you see your own death.”
A million possibilities flooded Brigid’s head all at once. She could rescue people from burning buildings or swim with sharks or jump out of airplanes or—
“Most of our kind don’t fully develop their gifts until much later in life,” Ivy said. “The Duncans’ gifts come early so we have time to master them. Yours is very powerful, and you will need more time than usual.”
“Which ancestor did I inherit it from?” Brigid asked.
“My sister, Rose, had visions,” Aunt Ivy said.
“But they weren’t like yours. As far as I’m aware, you’re the first in the family to possess this talent.
It’s a remarkable gift—one that gives you great power.
When you see someone die, Brigid, you’ll know what will kill them.
In certain circumstances, that information may prove very useful. ”
“How?” Brigid demanded. Then she heard Phoebe gasp, and she knew she’d found the catch. There was always a catch. She began to panic. “I don’t want to kill anyone.”
“Let’s continue this some other time,” Flora urged her aunt.
Ivy ignored her. “It isn’t a matter of want,” she told Brigid. “We all have a part to play. Given your gift, I’m convinced your part will be more important than most.”
The horror of it all was beginning to register. “What will I have to do?” Brigid asked.
Aunt Ivy’s eyes dropped to her meal and she picked up her fork. “I don’t know, my dear. Prophesy is not among my gifts. Only time will tell.”
Outraged, Brigid stood up, letting her chair topple over behind her. “So Phoebe gets to heal people and I’ll be a villain who kills them? That’s not fair!” The tears and snot were flowing freely. Brigid didn’t bother to wipe them away.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Brigid,” Ivy ordered.
“There are no villains in this family. And there’s nothing unfair about your calling.
Death and life are equally important. You can’t have one without the other.
Everything that lives must die. Death feeds life.
Plants and animals are eaten so that others will live.
When living things decay, fungi consume them and leave soil behind—soil that nourishes the next generation of living things.
The Old One maintains a delicate balance of life and death at all times. ”
“Then why does she need me?”
Flora heard the despair in the girl’s voice and her heart went out to her daughter. It was a lot to ask of a child.
“Because that balance has been upset,” Ivy said.
“Mankind has wreaked havoc on the earth. The Old One must use every tool she has to restore it. Storms, drought, fires, floods—they’re powerful, of course, but they’re not precise.
They kill indiscriminately. Sometimes nature must get right to the root of the problem, and so she turns to women like us. ”
“You mean our family?”
“We aren’t the only ones with gifts. Far from it. There are women like us all over the world.”
“Just women?” Phoebe spoke up.
“We were made in the Old One’s image,” Ivy told her. “Like her, women can create and destroy.”
Outside the dining room windows, a flash of lightning lit the sky, and thunder followed immediately. The rain fell faster and the wind howled.
Ivy turned back to Brigid and squeezed her hand. “I want you to use your gift right now and tell me if anyone in this family will die today.”
Brigid sniffled. “No,” she said. “We’re safe.”
“Then why are we sitting here?” Ivy took one last sip of tea and dropped her napkin down on the table. Then she stood up and unhooked her overalls. “Let’s go out and greet the storm.”