“They don’t hate you,” Gordon corrected her. “They’re just scared of you.”
“How is that better, Gordon?” she asked, irritated, as she stomped back down the aisle. If the Bones were a family of witches, then just what kind of witches were they to spawn such terrible rumors? Cordelia remembered the photograph and shuddered.
“Obviously none of it’s true. You’re living proof of that,” he said, following her.
“Why wouldn’t we be able to leave our property?” she asked absently, wondering where such a thing even started. She grabbed an empty cart and began throwing things into it, piecemeal. They couldn’t have all been shut-ins before her mom, could they? No wonder Maggie left. Bone Hill was impressive, but Cordelia couldn’t imagine being stuck there day in and day out. And she couldn’t imagine facing the vitriol in this town if you dared to leave.
“Something about the earth being soaked in blood,” he answered.
Cordelia scowled. Did her family practice blood magic? “Right.Blood and soil.”
Gordon laughed nervously. “It’s the kind of stuff kids make up to scare each other after dark. It’s a small town. People get bored. Your family has been the most interesting thing around here for twenty decades.” He stepped in front of the cart. “Look, no offense, but the Bones aren’t exactly normal.”
Cordelia glowered at him.This.This had been the thing trailing her for her entire life.Not normal.And she knew it better than anyone. She didn’t need a glorified, inked-up gardener to tell her so. She remembered it well enough every time a shadow flitted by in an empty room and that chill crept over her like an unforgiving mistral and her skin prickled with otherworldly sensation. Every birthday she couldn’t sing over her cake. Every Christmas she couldn’t sing carols at the school party. And every time she thought about someone standing over her mother’s body, cutting part of her away like it was a sacred relic.
“Do I have to spell it out for you?” he asked. “You’re rich, you’re eccentric, and you’ve had more than your share of tragedy. I mean, you heard Gladys. Your grandmother died in childbirth. Before that, someone committed suicide. Earlier still, twin girls stumbled into a nest of bees in the woods and went into anaphylactic shock. Every family has its stories if you look hard enough. Yours are just more legendary.”
Cordelia kind of doubted that every family had a pair of twins who died on the same day from a bee allergy. “And all that stuff about Mr. Togers? Adark deal?”
Gordon ran a fist through his hair. “The Togers family have been the only people brave enough to set foot on your land in who knows how many years. Of course they’re mixed up in it.”
It sounded reasonable, but Cordelia couldn’t shake the eeriness of it. One story on its own might be explained away, but together they felt like more than coincidence. And then there werethe things he didn’t know. Morna’s ghostly face swam before her mind’s eye, the photo of her grandmother hanging like a corpse on a line. She didn’t think she could take much more.
At the same time, she wanted to drink the stories in like good wine, let them ferment inside her, build a history where she had none, fill up all those empty spaces. How ironic to come from a family who could never go anywhere and a mother who could never stand still.
Cordelia touched a hand to her head, where the beginning of a roaring migraine was making itself known. “Can we just get the groceries and get out of here?”
He moved away from the cart, and together they worked their way from frozen foods to produce, tossing things into the basket. Eustace had texted Cordelia a list, but it was nothing like she expected. There wasn’t even a mention of corn chips or ramen noodles. Instead, it was a rambling assortment of dry goods and herbs, something calledghee,a lot of eggs, odd things in jars, and nearly everything from the produce department.
“What is with her?” Cordelia wondered aloud.
“Who?” Gordon asked.
She stared at the cart cynically. “My sister is suddenly the love child of Wolfgang Puck and Ina Garten. You’d think she spent her whole life in a kitchen.”
“At least you won’t have to cook while you’re here,” he told her.
He was being uncharacteristically agreeable. While Cordelia appreciated the crack in his shell, she couldn’t help but read it as pity. She turned to him, an apple in her hand and a strange feeling creeping its way up her limbs, crawling over her back, wrapping itself around her head like spider legs. “You’re very levelheaded for a guy that hashell fireprinted across his knuckles,” she said before the pain seized her unexpectedly and the apple dropped to the ground.
She crumpled, but Gordon caught her against his broad chest. “Hey, hey! Cordelia,” he tried, patting her cheek.
She attempted to open her eyes, to tell him about the medicine she had back at the house, to explain that the headaches happened all the time, but it was no use. Her stomach roiled, her head swam, and everything went wonderfully, blissfully black.
CHAPTER TWELVETHELEGACY
SHE CAME TOin the seat of his truck as they were just pulling up in front of the house, the rain beginning to fall.
“I called the doctor,” Gordon told her. “He said he’d meet us here. I wanted to take you to the emergency room, but he was so insistent. Claimed I’d be risking your life, that it was too far. Dr. Mabee has an excellent reputation. Your aunt swore by him. I figured I’d better listen.”
Cordelia tried to sit up. The pain was easing by the second, but she still felt woozy. “The groceries.”
“Hey, take it easy,” Gordon told her, putting out a hand to steady her. “They’re in the back. Hugh had a sacker load them while we got you to the truck. He says we can pay later.” He gave her a worried look. “Does this happen often?”
She pressed her fingers into the flesh between her eyebrows. “I get headaches,” she told him. “But I’ve never passed out before.”
“Like your mom?” he asked, concern rimming his features.
“Hmmm?” She was still trying to put it all together—being at the store, turning to say something snarky, and then the way it hit her so hard and fast, like she’d slammed into a wall.
