Birthday
Everything suddenly felt very, very clear.
“Tell me what you did to my sister,” I repeated, and Peter put his hands up in front of him like I was threatening to shoot.
“What did she tell you?” Prue asked, moving to my side, slipping her hand in mine. “What did he do?”
“He has to say it. I want to hear him say it.”
Peter looked terrified.
I remembered Peter as a child, playing tag with Mary and me in the backyard of the inn. I remembered Peter red-faced and mumbling at the beginning of the season, asking me if Mary had gotten the letter he’d written to her, the sharp flicker of anger on his face that he’d quickly gotten under control. I remembered Peter stacking wood for countless summer fires in the backyard of the inn. There was no appropriate place in my mind for the version ofPeter that was currently forming there.
Above us, a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky. Prue jumped and let go of my hand.
“Tell me, Peter,” I said.
“You better talk, asshole,” Vira chimed in. “It’s four against one.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Peter said. “Look, we went to the barn after the Fowl Fair. We fell asleep. When I woke up—she was standing over the bird, okay? She killed the bird; I saw her throw it against the beam. I’m the innocent one here. You should be interrogatingher.”
I took one tiny step toward Peter.
Above us, a low rumble of thunder.
“I don’t believe you,” I said.
“I’m telling you the truth,” Peter insisted. “And there’s more. I saw herfly. Everything they say about your family is true, and I’m going to tell everyone. Who do you think they’ll believe? Me? Or aFernweh.”
He said the word like it was a swear, like something dark and twisted. He said the word like it was a stone that fell out of his mouth and shattered into bloodred crystals on the floor. He said the word exactly like he was saying another word entirely. He said the word like he was actually saying the word—
Slut.
All of the pieces of that night were shifting and clickinginto place inside my brain. My sister’s torn shirt. The bruise in the bathtub. My sister’s broken necklace. My sister’s nightmares. My sister’s terror.
Peter saw it.
Peter saw everything that I knew about him, and he was suddenly scared of it.
Good.
Let him be scared.
“Georgina,” he whispered. “Youknowme.”
“I know my sister,” I countered.
“I would never do anything to...”
But the lie was too big for him to even say.
Because hehadhurt my sister.
I took another step toward him.
He held his hands up in front of him. Like he could stop me.
His face changed.
