Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(63)

Nan muttered something under her breath, reaching for one of the many jeweled necklaces she wore and waving it in the air toward me. Her accusations burned in my heart.

Betrayer! Power in ya heart!

“Meet me outside,” Jackie said, reaching for a squat little pot of tea that sat on a small table in the middle of the tent. “I need to calm her down.”

All too glad to escape the suffocating smell and odd darkness of the tent, I slipped between the flaps. Chatham City continued on outside, no one any wiser for Nan’s hysterical outburst.

My hands trembled as I waited. Nan had pulled the same cards as Jackie. Surely that meant something. I wasn’t sure how long I studied the soot-stained Chatham City skyline before Jackie ducked out of the tent. She looked at me with concerned, reserved eyes.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” I said, somewhat shakily. “I don’t know what—”

“Nan’s a bit sensitive lately,” Jackie said, fidgeting. “It’s the issues in the West. She can feel the building evil.”

“I didn’t know you were a gypsy,” I said in a desperate attempt to change the conversation. Building evil. Issues in the West. Did I have some part of that evil? Is that why Nan called me a betrayer? I hadn’t realized how strong the magic burned inside me until then. It ran through me in long currents, wanting free.

Jackie cast a rueful eye along the tents on the street and the half-dressed children running around in bright turquoise and pink pants.

“I’m not ashamed of being a gypsy,” she said. “But it has never helped me when people knew my heritage, so I don’t talk about it. Many witches judge us to be heretics stuck in the ways of our predecessors. Or they say we don’t want education and progress just because we stay close to the land and sleep under the stars. That’s not the truth. I want to help destroy that belief.”

“That’s why you enrolled at Miss Mabel’s,” I said. Nan started singing something in the background in throaty, melodic tones. Jackie nodded.

“I want to get us representation in the Network.”

All of our time together at school, what little we’d had, had been lighthearted and fun. But here in Chatham City, standing with her people, I saw a different side of Jackie. She was strong, authoritative. I felt a little awed by her.

“I’ve been keeping track of what’s happened with your father,” she said. “We hear the rallies all the time. Clive has a good deal of Chatham City angry over it.”

Yes, the rabid dogs.

“I’m sorry that everyone is reacting that way,” she continued when I said nothing. “It’s amazing the power tradition holds, isn’t it?”

“Or frightening,” I quipped with no small amount of bitterness. Jackie took that in with a long, solemn gaze.

“Listen, Bianca, I can’t speak for all my people, not yet anyway. But I can say that we don’t agree with Clive in removing your father. Not a single gypsy signed that petition, and not just because the gypsies don’t hold by the same traditions the rest of the Central Network clings to. While Clive went around garnering signatures, the Factios robbed most of the gypsy camps and killed two of our Elders.”

My eyebrows lifted.

“What?”

Jackie’s formidable expression spoke to a maturity far beyond our age.

“It’s true. We sent our last Elder to Clive with a plea for help against the criminals, but he ignored him and sent him away.” She gazed over the bright tents and down the alley. “If violence like this continues, if Clive doesn’t stop the Factios before they get out of control, Chatham City will soon be divided. The gypsies will side with whatever leader offers the most protection. That’s why Nan is so sensitive right now.”

“I’m sorry, Jackie,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s not your fault. It’s just part of life, isn’t it?” Her full lips split into her familiar pearly white grin, one that extinguished the sudden gloom upon the conversation. “You look terrible, Bianca.”

I couldn’t help but smile. It was a relief to move back toward the familiar side of our friendship, away from the darkness.

“I know.”

“Come visit again,” she said. “Just avoid Nan, okay?”

I managed a half-hearted smile. “Agreed,” I said and left, grateful to put the gypsies and their bright swatches of color at my back.





I’m Sorry.

I waited outside the High Priestess’s office the next morning with my heart in my throat.

My wrists hurt from an intentionally early lesson with Merrick. He started it before light, telling me that working off the anxiety over the High Priestess’s decision would help control the magic when I heard the outcome. A greenish bruise popped on my right forearm from a wayward whack with the stick. I’d been distracted through the whole lesson. Merrick finally made me run up and down the lower bailey stairs until I could barely move. The muscles in my legs still throbbed.

Tiberius stood next to me, staring at the floor. Neither of us spoke but I took comfort from his burly body anyway. Donald sat outside at his little desk, murmuring to himself. Feathers flew around him like independent little birds, scrawling notes on scrolls, books, and pieces of parchment alike.