Free Wake Unto Me by Lisa Cach Page A

Snowe. “What did Bianca do that made him think she was a witch?”
    Madame Snowe’s lips twisted wryly. “Bianca had become the mistress of Cardinal Rebiba, Grand Inquisitor of the Roman Inquisition.”
    Caitlyn’s eyes went round. “She was sleeping with a cardinal ?! I thought they were supposed to be celibate.”
    “They were, but even some popes were known to have mistresses and children. People looked the other way; at least, until Pope Pius came into power. He was a different breed, much more strict, and unfortunately for Bianca, Pius believed that only a witch could turn a man such as Cardinal Rebiba away from his vows to God. He was, after all, a Grand Inquisitor. He was supposed to be above tawdry scandals.” Madame Snowe paused thoughtfully, then asked, “Do you believe in witches, Caitlyn?”
    “If you mean pointy black hats and flying on broomsticks, and cursing the neighbor’s cow so it won’t give milk, no,” Caitlyn said, still lost in shock over the idea of cardinals and popes having mistresses. “If you mean women who might have intuitive abilities that go beyond the understanding of most men, then yes.”
    “Do you think that you have any such abilities?”
    Caitlyn frowned and shook her head, surprised by the question. “Not that I know of.”
    “Oh.” The single sound held a world of disappointment. “ Tant pis . Too bad. I’ve always thought it would be useful to have such gifts, haven’t you?”
    Caitlyn murmured a noncommittal sound, thinking of her mother. Being able to tell the future hadn’t seemed to do her very much good.
    Caitlyn turned back to the painting, admiring Bianca de’ Medici’s luminous skin and utter self-possession. She glanced at Madame Snowe. “You look a little like her.”
    Madame Snowe flashed a smile, the first genuine one Caitlyn had seen on her. “I do, don’t I?”
    “Is she an ancestor?”
    “Everyone in Europe is related to one another; we’re all just an extended family,” she said lightly. “I’ve heard that at least half of us can claim descent from Charlemagne! So Bianca could be as closely related to me as she is to you. But enough of this. Come, sit down.”
    Madame Snowe returned to her broad, ebonized desk with ornate gilt legs. Its surface held a flat-screen computer monitor, a sleek phone, and nothing else. It was as perfectly elegant as Madame Snowe herself. Today she wore a dark green tweed skirt suit and ivory blouse, with long strands of amber and coral beads falling in cascades around her neck. She gestured to an ebony chair in front of the desk.
    Caitlyn sat on the edge of the chair’s gold satin cushion, her back straight. She’d woken at six this morning to study the rules and general information of the Fortune School. She’d even memorized the offenses that would result in immediate expulsion from the school, certain that Madame Snowe would test her.
    “I trust you have settled in?” Madame Snowe asked.
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Good.” She pressed her fingertips together, almost as if praying, and tapped the points lightly against her chin as she studied Caitlyn for a long moment. “You are an exceptionally fortunate young woman, Caitlyn, in being chosen to be the first scholarship student this school has accepted.”
    Caitlyn’s lips parted in surprise. “The first?”
    Madame Snowe dropped her hands. “We—and by ‘we’ I mean the Sisterhood of Fortuna, who are the regents of the school—see a unique potential in you, a potential that seemed unlikely to emerge under the tutelage of your public high school teachers in Oregon. It will be your responsibility to prove us correct, and not to make us regret our choice. We have high expectations of you.”
    “Er, exactly what type of potential do you see in me?” Caitlyn asked, both confused and flattered. She’d never shown the least flash of brilliance at anything.
    “It is not easily quantifiable. It is a combination of character traits and aptitudes that we