Chapter 4: A Voice Not Hers

I got off the bed and walked to the door with the quilt around my shoulders.

Merrick did not stop me. He moved half a step aside, so his body still covered the gap.

Lorna's gold-ringed eyes found mine.

"Come home," said Garth's voice, from her mouth. "Your sister is overwhelmed. The gold is heavy, and she needs you by her."

I stared at her lips. They moved a little behind the words.

"Say that again," I said, "to my face."

"Briony."

"Not to hers. Come to the creek and say it yourself."

For a moment nothing happened.

Then Lorna's whole body shuddered, and her real voice broke through, small and fast.

"Bri, it's so loud in here. He's in my head. I can't make him stop."

Her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.

Her skin was freezing.

"He said it was a crown," she whispered. "He said it was only a crown."

Her face smoothed over again, and the gold in her eyes swelled.

"Enough," Garth said through her. "Briony. I will not ask a third time."

Merrick took Lorna's hand off my wrist with two fingers.

"You asked a third time already," he said. "She said no."

He shut the door in my sister's face.

I leaned on it with both hands. My heart was banging.

"She remembers," I said. "She remembers the fire. And she still took it."

"Maybe she didn't know what it costs." His voice was very even. "Or maybe she knew, and she thought she'd be the one holding the leash."

I turned and looked at him. "What leash?"

He didn't answer. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

"Merrick."

"Tonight," he said. "I'll tell you tonight. I need to be sure of one thing first."

He spent the day on the slope behind the cabin, cutting wood in a flat grey light with his back to the creek.

I sat on the porch in his flannel shirt and a pair of his wool socks and watched his shoulders move.

By dusk I could not look at anything else.

When he came in and shut the door, I was waiting by the stove.

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