Free Prophecy of the Sisters by Michelle Zink Page B

like to say it is because I’m afraid he won’t believe me, or that it is because I want to keep
     him from becoming involved in something so dark. But the truth is I feel the mark as a scar. It brands me as damaged, unclean.
    And I cannot bear for James to know. Not yet.

    Going to bed is not as easy as it once was. I lie there, trying to force my mind to the blank page that will allow me to sleep.
    But the words of the prophecy, the shadow of my sister in the upstairs window, the mark naming me as a thing I scarcely understand
     — they all conspire to keep me from rest. I finally rise and cross the room to my writing table.
    How is it that the legend Sonia told me by the lake is the same as the one in Father’s ageless book? And how have I come to
     share virtually the same mark with someone like Sonia? A spiritualist, no less. I
feel
the questions trying to make sense of themselves, trying to fit together into something solid, something I can hold with
     both hands and begin to understand.
    Opening the book, I remove James’s translation and read the prophecy, trying to make sense of the senseless. A cold chill
     runs up the fine bone of my back as I read again about the sisters. But it is after the tale of the twins that the prophecy
     leaves me behind.
    If I am the Guardian and Alice the Gate, what part does Sonia play in this strange story? And what of the Angel? If I am unable
     to decipher the identity of so central a figure as the Angel, how am I to understand how to fulfill my role as Guardian? How
     might I foil Alice’s role as Gate?
    I bend my head back to the book, reading the prophecy again until I come to the mention of the keys.
    Let the Angel’s Gate swing without the Keys, followed by the Seven Plagues and No Return.
    I reread the line, willing my mind to find the answer. Even in my current state of ignorance, it is quite simple; without
     the keys, something terrible will happen. Something that cannot be undone.
    If Alice and I are on conflicting sides of the prophecy, the keys would almost certainly be dangerous in her hands, which
     means I have to find them.
    And I have to do it before my sister.

9
    Alice does not mention Sonia on our way to Wycliffe the next day. I have spent the time since Sonia’s visit avoiding my sister,
     hoping to put off her inquiry. I imagine my reprieve over and brace myself for Alice’s questions, but she remains silent.
     It is as if she already knows everything. And the knowledge she has she intends to hold dark and close.
    Our return to school is far from celebrated. Whether because Victoria blames Alice for the forbidden outing to Sonia’s or
     resents us for not having to submit to a more severe punishment, she and her closely guarded circle of friends greet us with
     icy stares. Only Luisa seems happy to see us, me in particular.
    She leans toward me during breakfast, having taken the seat next to me as if she has been sitting there all along. “Are you
     all right?”
    I nod. “Oh, but I
am sorry,
Luisa! Did you get in a lot of trouble?”
    She smiles. “Some, but it only made things more interesting. I don’t regret a thing!”
    After breakfast we are led through our paces in music, literature, and language. The day passes in a haze of whispered innuendo
     and mean-spirited laughter. By the time we file outdoors for the last lesson of the day, Landscape in Art, I cannot help noticing
     the stillness of Alice’s expression or the way she holds her head too high, her back too straight. She avoids my eyes. For
     Alice, isolation is preferable to pity.
    The easels are set up in the courtyard, facing the modest garden that is all but dead with the coming winter. Though the sun
     shines, the air is frigid with cold, and I realize this will likely be one of our last outdoor lessons of the year.
    “Lia! Over here!” Luisa calls, her breath a puff of smoke, waving to me from an easel near the brick wall.
    Making my way to Luisa, I am grateful and surprised