Reena tilted her head. “Of course, sugar. Everything okay?”
“I’ll explain tomorrow.” Cassandra grimaced. “And can you invite Tristan also? He should be a part of this conversation.”
“Color me intrigued,” Reena crooned as she began polishing pint glasses, then offered a saucy wink. “See you both then.”
Cassandra ignored Reena’s insinuations as she rejoined Borea and Hella on the street underneath the awning. “Borea…” she began, gathering her courage to ask the question she’d been pondering all day. Ever since Andrea’s mother’s had been revived. “Do you think…do you think my power would work on Mama?”
Borea’s chin fell to her chest, her eyes laced with pity, and Cassandra’s heart sank. “I fear she may be too far gone, my dear. Andrea’s mother was obliviated only yesterday. I doubt your mother’s condition is reversible after eight years.”
Cassandra choked back a cresting sob. “Will you please let me try?”
Borea cupped Cassandra’s face, stroking a finger across her cheek. “Are you sure you are prepared to weather the disappointment?”
Cassandra straightened her shoulders and sniffed back her tears. “I want to try.”
Borea’s features softened and her hand fell to Cassandra’s upper arm. “Alright. I will bring her with one of the groups this week. Perhaps in a few nights, after you’ve had some practice?” Cassandra gave her a grateful nod, then clasped the hand on her arm. “Thank you for doing this, Cassandra. Reena was right. You are a savior. Even if you’re not a Sister anymore.”
Cassandra smiled, a wicked grin filled with the purpose she’d been missing since she’d left the Temple.
“Those sparks of rebellion are catching fire.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Asound as piercing as a child’s scream stole Xenia’s attention from her book.
She perked her head up and peered out of the open window next to her cushioned seat.
Lucy, the family’s black retriever, was sniffing something in the grass. The dog reared back, then bent down for another inspection and the screaming increased in frequency and volume.
Xenia threw her book down and rushed through the front door of the farmhouse.
“Shoo, SHOO,” she hissed at Lucy. “What did you do?”
Lucy sat back on her haunches, her pink tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth, and cocked her head—a portrait of canine innocence.
Xenia pushed Lucy away, then crouched down to find a small puff of tawny fur nestled in the grass. A baby rabbit.
And the source of the screaming.
Why the neighborhood rabbits insisted on making their nests in a yard that clearly smelled of retriever was beyond Xenia.
“Oh, no,” she choked out, reaching out her hands to pluck up the tiny baby.
Lucy approached, nosing at the injured animal, and Xenia swatted her. “Away, beast! You’ve done enough.”
Xenia cradled the kit in her hands and though its high-pitched screaming had ceased, its furry body palpitated in her palms, breathing fast, its heart jumping frantically.
She tucked the rabbit against her chest and scurried back into the house.
“Mama. MAMA!”
She dashed into the kitchen to find her mother peeling potatoes in front of the hearth.
Mama dropped the peeler and crouched in front of her daughter, whose face was bathed in frustrated tears. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Xenia opened her palms. “Lucy got another one,” she sniffled.
“Stupid rabbits,” her mother grumbled, taking the ball of fluff from Xenia’s hands. Its breathing had slowed considerably and Xenia wondered if it now felt safe. Or, if it felt death approaching.
