Prophecy of the Sisters Read Online Free

eyes closed. The shadow of a smile toys with her lips, and they curve upward in an expression that might be
     either sly or peaceful.
    “Why do you stand there staring, Lia?”
    I am startled by her voice and the way her face doesn’t change at all. I have not made a sound, having stopped in the grass
     before stepping onto the stone that would announce my arrival. And still she knows I’m here.
    “I was not
staring,
Alice. I was only watching you. You look so happy.” The heels of my boots click on the patio as I walk toward her, and I
     try to hide the note of accusation that has crept into my voice.
    “And why wouldn’t I be happy?”
    “I wonder why you
would
be, Alice. How
could
you be happy at a time such as this?” My face burns with anger, and I’m suddenly glad her eyes remain closed.
    As if reading my mind, she opens her eyes, focusing on my face. “Father is no longer in the material world, Lia. He is in
     heaven with Mother. Isn’t that where he’d like to be?”
    Something in her face puzzles me, some shade of peacefulness and happiness that seems altogether
wrong
so soon after Father’s death.
    “I… I don’t know. We have already lost Mother. I should think Father would have liked to stay and watch over us.” It sounds
     childish now that I’ve said it aloud, and I once again think Alice the stronger twin.
    She tips her head at me. “I’m certain he watches over us still, Lia. And besides, what is there from which we need protection?”
    I feel the things she has left unsaid. I don’t know what they are, but they pluck at something dark, and all at once I am
     scared. All at once, I know I will not ask Alice what she was doing in the Dark Room, nor will I show her the mark, though
     I cannot put words to a singular reason.
    “I’m not afraid, Alice. I only miss him, that’s all.”
    She doesn’t answer, her eyes closed once again to the sun, the look of calm restored to her pale face. There is nothing more
     to say, nothing more to do but turn and leave.
    When I return to the house, I follow the sound of voices in the library. I cannot make out the words, but they are the voices
     of men, and I listen for a minute, enjoying their baritone vibration before opening the door. James looks up as I enter the
     room.
    “Good morning, Lia. We’ve not been too noisy, have we?” There is a thread of urgency under his greeting, and I know immediately
     there is something he wishes to tell me in private.
    I shake my head. “Not at all. It’s nice to hear noise coming from Father’s study again.” Mr. Douglas is peering with a magnifying
     glass at the cover of a thick brown volume. “Good morning, Mr. Douglas.”
    He looks up, blinking as if to clear his vision before nodding kindly. “Good morning, Amalia. How are you feeling today?”
    “I’m quite all right, Mr. Douglas. Thank you for asking, and thank you for continuing the catalogue of Father’s collection.
     He wanted so to see it done. It would make him happy to know that the work continues.”
    He nods again without smiling, and the room falls still with the shared grief of friends. I am relieved when Mr. Douglas becomes
     preoccupied, looking away and shuffling around for something he seems to have misplaced.
    “Now… where is that blasted ledger?” He pushes papers aside at an increasingly frenzied pace. “Ah! I think I’ve left it in
     the carriage. I’ll return in a moment, James. Carry on.” He turns and marches from the room.
    James and I stand in the sudden quiet left by his father’s departure. I have long suspected that the never-ending job of cataloging
     the library had as much to do with Father’s desire to see James and me together as it did his constant acquisitions to the
     collection. As with his views on women and intellect, my father was not a conformist with regards to class. Our bond with
     the Douglas men was based on true affection and a shared love of old books. Though there are undoubtedly those