Read Online The Blood Keeper (The Blood Journals) by Tessa Gratton - Free Book Online
Authors: Tessa Gratton
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moment and she said, “And so Josephine has taken everything from me.”
The silence then was a hole in the world, deep enough todraw Nick and Donna out of the house to observe the final wound.
In that moment, I only thought about my mother’s pride and boldness, not any of the horrible things she’d done. I drew myself up, and wind from all around pushed hair exactly like hers back from my face and shoulders. I said, “Reese was not taken away from you. You lost him.”
Her eyes glared past me, flicking among all the crows, and as one they raised open their wings as if about to leap into the sky.
“Let’s go, Reese, come home with me,” Silla said, turning away and walking smoothly toward Nick’s SUV. “Nick,” she snapped, and I saw him grimace at Donna and dash around to the driver’s side. He only glanced at me, a look that was half apology, half irritation, as he turned the engine over and slammed shut his door.
Silla climbed up so that she stood halfway into the tall car, one hand gripping the silver bars on the roof for leverage. “Reese!” she called.
One crow called back, a single, echoing cry.
We all waited. I only watched, my heart racing so fast I thought the blood might pop out of my fingertips. The crows perched behind me, and I felt their strength tingle against my back.
“Reese.” Silla’s voice was quieter now, though firm.
I heard the wind in the leaves and the solemn sound of crows settling in. They were not jumping into flight. They remained. At my back.
And it broke Silla’s heart.
It was no wonder she hadn’t called to invite us to her graduation. And no wonder Nick wasn’t too happy with me.
And now the crows flew overhead in a sunwise circle, sharp black silhouettes against the sky. I felt my spirit lift in my chest as I watched them; despite my dark thoughts, I was lighter and wished to step off the edge and float with them, to fly joyous circles and laugh rough and raw.
As the world darkened into shades of gray and purple, I crouched and pulled out my sharp bone blood-letter. The crows landed in the redbud, shaking the bells and wind chimes into merry, discordant song.
It was as much the Deacon’s responsibility to tend the blood family as it was to protect the land. My charms, one for every person marked by our magic, were here to remind me of that. Arthur had been loved by everyone, and so easily gained trust and respect. I had to try much harder not to say the wrong thing, or to put people off by my wild nature. I forgot to wipe blood off my mouth before going to the library, or left squirrel bones tied in my hair for the farmers’ market. I allowed a doll of earth and roses to run rampant, and left muddy, bloody handprints on the chest of the boy who stopped it.
I forgot that most people value human life over a crow’s.
The hardest thing I had to do as Deacon was to remember I was part of a family.
As always, I turned to magic for help. Under the shadows of my redbud tree, I pricked my tattooed wrist: the shock of pain shuddered through me, and I welcomed the rush of powerthat tingled just behind it, filling my body and raising goose bumps on my arms.
With my blood, I marked my forehead, my heart, my palms, and the soles of my feet. I spread out on my back, making a five-point star with my head at the top. “I bind myself,” I said, blowing the words up to the first stars that glimmered through the curtain of purple sky.
“To the land I bind my heart,” I said. Above me all my charms dangled, dancing in the breeze. They were my family, tied to my tree, and my tree rooted deep in the land.
“To the land I bind my head.” I thought of Arthur, enveloped in a hundred purple flowers, part of the land forever. Of Granny buried under her linden tree.
“I bind my hands, that I may work for the magic and for the land.” I thought of Donna and Nick, wishing I could bind their hearts as a mother and son. And I thought of Silla, who was as much a part of this
The silence then was a hole in the world, deep enough todraw Nick and Donna out of the house to observe the final wound.
In that moment, I only thought about my mother’s pride and boldness, not any of the horrible things she’d done. I drew myself up, and wind from all around pushed hair exactly like hers back from my face and shoulders. I said, “Reese was not taken away from you. You lost him.”
Her eyes glared past me, flicking among all the crows, and as one they raised open their wings as if about to leap into the sky.
“Let’s go, Reese, come home with me,” Silla said, turning away and walking smoothly toward Nick’s SUV. “Nick,” she snapped, and I saw him grimace at Donna and dash around to the driver’s side. He only glanced at me, a look that was half apology, half irritation, as he turned the engine over and slammed shut his door.
Silla climbed up so that she stood halfway into the tall car, one hand gripping the silver bars on the roof for leverage. “Reese!” she called.
One crow called back, a single, echoing cry.
We all waited. I only watched, my heart racing so fast I thought the blood might pop out of my fingertips. The crows perched behind me, and I felt their strength tingle against my back.
“Reese.” Silla’s voice was quieter now, though firm.
I heard the wind in the leaves and the solemn sound of crows settling in. They were not jumping into flight. They remained. At my back.
And it broke Silla’s heart.
It was no wonder she hadn’t called to invite us to her graduation. And no wonder Nick wasn’t too happy with me.
And now the crows flew overhead in a sunwise circle, sharp black silhouettes against the sky. I felt my spirit lift in my chest as I watched them; despite my dark thoughts, I was lighter and wished to step off the edge and float with them, to fly joyous circles and laugh rough and raw.
As the world darkened into shades of gray and purple, I crouched and pulled out my sharp bone blood-letter. The crows landed in the redbud, shaking the bells and wind chimes into merry, discordant song.
It was as much the Deacon’s responsibility to tend the blood family as it was to protect the land. My charms, one for every person marked by our magic, were here to remind me of that. Arthur had been loved by everyone, and so easily gained trust and respect. I had to try much harder not to say the wrong thing, or to put people off by my wild nature. I forgot to wipe blood off my mouth before going to the library, or left squirrel bones tied in my hair for the farmers’ market. I allowed a doll of earth and roses to run rampant, and left muddy, bloody handprints on the chest of the boy who stopped it.
I forgot that most people value human life over a crow’s.
The hardest thing I had to do as Deacon was to remember I was part of a family.
As always, I turned to magic for help. Under the shadows of my redbud tree, I pricked my tattooed wrist: the shock of pain shuddered through me, and I welcomed the rush of powerthat tingled just behind it, filling my body and raising goose bumps on my arms.
With my blood, I marked my forehead, my heart, my palms, and the soles of my feet. I spread out on my back, making a five-point star with my head at the top. “I bind myself,” I said, blowing the words up to the first stars that glimmered through the curtain of purple sky.
“To the land I bind my heart,” I said. Above me all my charms dangled, dancing in the breeze. They were my family, tied to my tree, and my tree rooted deep in the land.
“To the land I bind my head.” I thought of Arthur, enveloped in a hundred purple flowers, part of the land forever. Of Granny buried under her linden tree.
“I bind my hands, that I may work for the magic and for the land.” I thought of Donna and Nick, wishing I could bind their hearts as a mother and son. And I thought of Silla, who was as much a part of this
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