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The next few days pass in much the same way. I’m holding my own professionally, but on a personal level, I’m about to break in two. The mad desire to speak to Gabriel is almost overwhelming.
On Thursday, Mum corners me in the lobby after court ends for the day. A rush of denials and explanations are on the tip of my tongue, before my conscious mind intervenes to remind me it’s very unlikely she knows what happened. Even so, I’m bracing myself for questions around why I’ve been hiding away.
“Can you pop round and see Leah?” Mum says instead. “See how she’s bearing up? Take her red dress and jewels for Saturday. Make sure she’s prepared.”
“What’s happening on Saturday?”
Mum shakes her head. “The Ritual, of course.”
I grimace at the thought of the family’s annual ceremony to preserve the Dome. It’s easy to focus on all the benefits it brings Mannith and forget about the less pleasant aspects. I’ve never taken part, as it’s strictly over eighteens only and I left home before I got the chance, so I’m not one hundred per cent clear on the details, but I know enough to be sure I don’t want to be involved. Though if Leah’s got one of the starring roles, that at least means I’m off the hook.
Mum hands me a package. She’s no doubt already started to think of Leah as a member of the family. Calling on her unexpectedly would be no big deal. She seems to have forgotten my future sister-in-law was basically a stranger to me until a few weeks ago, not to mention that London has leached out what little ability forad hocsocialising I’d ever had. Or maybe she’s all too aware of both those issues. Maybe this is all part of the re-education.
“I can’t just walk in there,” I protest.
“Don’t be silly, darling. It’s your big brother’s house. It’s family property.”
One of these days, I’ll hopefully learn to resist my family’s machinations. But today is not that day.
“Fine, I’ll go.”
“Great. And come over for dinner afterwards. Bring her, too. I’ve not seen enough of either of you this week.”
“Will do,” I say, heading to the car park.
“And for goodness’ sake, don’t knock or ring,” Mum insists. “It’s rude, really. It’s like saying you don’t think of her as family.”
Brendan’s house is only a mile or two away from my parents’ home, but unlike their crazy terrace, it’s a straightforward 1920s detached property. On arrival, my hand wavers between the bell and the handle as my mother’s orders echo in my ears. Dropping in unannounced is so utterly against my usual London way of doing things—social engagements agreed practically in blood weeks in advance—that I almost can’t do it.But when in Rome…
I grit my teeth and push the door open. Inevitably, it’s not locked.
“Hey, Leah. Are you there? It’s me. Sadie. I’ve brought you an outfit.”
No reply. No obvious signs of life. But Leah must be around somewhere. Surely even in this town, people don’t actually go out and leave their doors unlocked.
I quiet my mental running commentary and let my senses strengthen and do their thing. It’s somewhere between listening very intently to what’s actually in front of you, and scrying over a distance.
At first, there’s nothing. Then as my mind expands, it becomes clear there are two people upstairs. Two practitioners, if I’m not mistaken. Normal people rarely give off such an aura. My physical senses home in on the spot identified by my mental ones. There’s noise coming from the same direction. For a horrible moment, it sounds like someone’s in agony, then my mind snaps into focus. It’s the sound of pleasure, not of pain.
I ought to leave. Spare both myself and Leah the embarrassment. But she’s my brother’s fiancée. Some practitioners have an open relationship—another potential interpretation of the Old Ways—but I’m pretty sure Brendan and Leah don’t. Brendan’s never liked to share anything. If she’s cheating on him, he deserves to know. And so, with a nosiness and determination my mum would be proud of, I stride into the hallway and up the stairs.
The door to the bedroom is open, meaning there’s no need to swing it open dramatically. Leah’s got her back to me, but her pinned-up, milky-blonde hair, defined shoulder blades, and almost translucently white back are unmistakeable. And she’s emphatically not alone. She’s on top, bouncing up and down on whomever she’s cheating on my brother with in utter abandon, crying out with each movement.
I ought to sneak away. Either pretend this never happened or confront her afterwards. Anything but interrupt two people in the middle of sex. But my anger on my brother’s behalf is growing by the second. He’s in prison, for goodness’ sake! He doesn’t need this.
I cross my arms and stride into the room. “Leah, what the hell are you doing? You’re engaged.”
She screams, disembarks, and throws a blurring spell around the bed to hide her lover and her nakedness, like a normal person would throw the duvet over them.
“Oh God, Sadie. It’s just a stupid mistake. It won’t happen again. Don’t tell Brendan or the others, please.”
I can’t see her through the spell (since when was she a good enough practitioner to block me?) but she sounds seconds from tears.
I hesitate, some of the shock and the righteous fury draining away. Haven’t we all made mistakes? She loves Brendan, surely. If she’s been feeling lonely while he’s been away and gave in to some random guy’s advances, who am I to judge? I’m supposed to be loyal to the family, but is this really worth ruining an engagement over?
“This puts me in an insanely difficult position,” I say. “But get your side guy out of here, and I’m willing to sit and talk.”
There are a few rustles before there’s any reply. Presumably, she’s trying to get dressed before she lets the shield fall.
