Sisters' Fate
pulled shut against the snowy night.
    I rather like the idea of Cora looking down on me, I discover. She demanded a great deal, but she made her own mistakes, like with Zara. She’d forgive mine.
    The notion gives me courage.
    “Thank you,” I add. “For believing in me.”
    I leave her with candles burning on the dressing table to chase away the darkness. In the sitting room, Gretchen is slumped in Cora’s green flowered armchair.
    “You’ll sit up with her?” I ask, and Gretchen nods. “Do you want me to take a turn?”
    She shakes her head, gray sausage curls bouncing. “You need your rest. How did things go at Harwood? I should’ve asked straight off.”
    “It went well, for the most part.” I purse my lips. “Zara’s dead. Shot by a guard.”
    “Oh, Cate.” Gretchen’s lip wobbles, but she masters it. “I’m sorry to hear it. Zara was a good woman. She would have been a great help to you.” Gretchen squares her shoulders, her hazel eyes meeting mine. “If there’s anything you need, I’m on your side in this. What Inez did tonight to the Head Council—it wasn’t right. It’s certainly not what Cora would have wanted.”
    “There is one thing.” I take a deep breath. “I’d like to get word to Brother Brennan. Arrange a meeting as soon as possible.” Brennan was Cora’s spy on the Head Council. His mind would have been erased tonight along with the others’, but Finn slipped herbs into his tea to make him sick and ensure he’d miss the meeting.
    I hope that Brennan will be voted the new leader of the Brotherhood. By all accounts, he’s a progressive sort. If I can make him understand that not all of us supported Inez, perhaps he’ll guide the Brothers along a less vengeful path. It’s asking him to forgive a great deal, I know. The men on the Head Council were Brennan’s colleagues. Perhaps some were his friends. And unless we can figure out some way to render her powerless, Inez will be in charge of the Sisterhood until Tess comes of age in four years.
    “There’s a stationery shop, O’Neill’s, down in the market district. We left messages for Brennan with the proprietor,” Gretchen explains. “You already know the code he and Cora used. I can transcribe a letter for you, if you like, though I daresay Tess could, too.” Tess is brilliant at cryptography, just as she is at nearly everything else.
    Gretchen unclasps the ruby necklace around her throat. The gold chain pools in her hands, reminding me that Zara’s necklace—the locket with Mother’s picture inside—still rests in my cloak pocket. As I watch, the ruby transforms into a brass key. “The key will get you into the shop through the back door. We could use magic, of course, but the others have keys and they’ll be more likely to trust you if you’ve got Cora’s. In the storage room, there’s a staircase to the cellar. That’s where they hold the Resistance meetings.”
    She hands me the key. It’s small and cold and slight in my palm, but this intelligence feels momentous. I sink into the chair next to hers. “Resistance meetings?” I echo.
    Does she mean to say there are people working in secret against the Brothers, besides witches? Zara alluded to such a thing, and we gambled that they still exist, sending the Harwood refugees to several of their safe houses. I had no notion Cora was involved with them.
    Gretchen brushes a hand over her plump cheek. “Brennan isn’t the only man in New England who disagrees with the Brothers’ methods. The Resistance leaders meet once a week. The next meeting is scheduled for Friday night. I’ll go with you, if you like. It won’t be an easy thing to win their trust; it took Cora years. They knew she was a witch, but they don’t know we all are. And even those who don’t mind a witch don’t believe a woman their equal. I won’t lie to you, Cate. Trying to win over Alistair Merriweather will be no picnic.”
    I frown. “Who is he?”
    Gretchen raises her

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