Читать книгу Moonlight and Magick - Isobael Liu - Страница 4

Prologue

It was a scene repeated many times over in her young life. Lilian couldn’t remember a time when John wasn’t hitting Jane, the woman she called Mama, but it’d never been this bad. She watched as it went on and on, screaming as John kicked Mama, as he yelled and cursed.

It didn’t look like he would ever stop.

She couldn’t take any more. The world seemed like it turned upside down and sideways, making her tummy ache. There was a buzzing in her ears, like hovering bees. She dragged herself to her feet, gaping at her stepfather and the now unrecognizable form of her mama on the floor of their home. All Lilian could see was the blood, the bright red splatter decorating the floor and the wall. She could hear the squelching noises made with each blow.

The buzzing grew louder and louder until she covered her ears.

Lilian took in his reddened face, blood stained suit, and watched as the monstrous expression turned to confusion. He’d noticed the objects around the room, circling the two of them.

Vases, jewelry, pillows, her mother’s hairbrush, items no heavier than her parents’ bedside lamps, flew through the air, collided with one another, and smashed against the walls. She watched as they flew at John, striking him again and again.

He turned and gawked at her in horror.

“You freak. I knew something was wrong with you. Spawn of the devil!”

Lilian was taken by an inner calm, unafraid. Even though tears dripped from her cheeks and ragged, uneven breaths tore at her lungs, it was like she was watching from the outside. Not part of the chaos happening in the room.

Her stepfather grabbed his chest as his face twisted in a grimace. He gasped aloud, trying to breathe, but couldn’t. His skin went from red to white, and to a pale blue. Several moments later, he fell onto the floor, a horrified expression in his dulling eyes.

Lilian looked back at him as he took his last breath.

The moment he died, everything dropped to the floor and became still, silent. Her shaking hands fell to her sides and she bolted out of the room to her secret hiding place.

What had she done?

It took two days before anyone came to the house. Lilian, weak, exhausted, and hungry, heard the sirens approaching, which later became voices downstairs. There was the sound of mumbling in the distance, coming from below, but she remained hidden.

The voices grew louder, clearer, and called her name. Curling up into a tighter ball, she pulled the blankets around her until hidden away, safely concealed.

The voices went away, but returned some time later, accompanied by the sounds of moving objects.

The closer they came, the more still and tense she became, like a baby deer hiding from hunters in the tall grass. She heard boxes shuffled and old trunks scraped across the wooden floor. The dresser was next, and soon her blankets were carefully pulled aside.

“I found her!” a man called, and the sound of hurried movements followed.

A hand touched her cheek, warm against her cold skin. She jerked back and opened her eyes.

“She’s alive!”

A collective cheer came from the rescue workers and her body jolted. Her heart raced, and her breathing became rapid and shallow.

Everything went black.