All Our Hidden Gifts by Caroline O’donoghue (books for 10th graders .TXT) 📗

He remembered me. Straight away, he knew me as the girl in the wedding dress, even though I had been at the back of the shop the whole time. Even though Fiona was the beauty, the fire, the one with her bare leg out, the one everyone was looking at as she shouted about atheism.

A terrifying thought crawls into my head on its belly. My conversation with him at Bridey’s. My boyfriend’s gig. My sister at college. Aaron has been circling me. He can’t get to me, so he’s going for the people who are closest. Slowly weakening my barriers until I give up or give in.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“Because I knew the more I told you, the more you knew, the more you’d get involved. So I just thought that maybe – oh, I don’t know – that if I kept a bubble around you, the phase would pass without you doing anything stupid. The balance would correct itself. It often does.”

“It hasn’t, though.”

“No,” she says, massaging her closed eyelids with the tips of her fingers. “And I have nothing left to give you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Magic isn’t endless. It’s like a crop. It has to have time to renew. And I’ve spent every last ounce on you, Maeve Chambers. So you don’t end up like Heaven.”

“Why do you call her—?”

“It’s time for you to leave, Maeve.”

“What?” I almost screech. “You can’t tell me all that and then expect me to go home.”

“Nevertheless, I am. Leave now. I don’t want to see you in here for at least a week. And for the love of God, don’t do anything before then. I don’t have what it takes to protect you.”

“OK,” I say slowly. “I’ll just buy these then.” I put the candles, the crystals and the herbs on the counter.

Fionnuala grits her teeth fiercely. “Maeve,” she says, her voice low and authoritative. “If you think I am selling you anything for a ritual, you obviously think I’m a much stupider woman than I am.”

“But Fionnuala…”

“Sweetheart. I’m too weak to stop you. I’m only just about strong enough to ask, so I’m asking you now: please, please do not try to end this in a ritual. Don’t overestimate your own power.”

“You don’t understand. The Housekeeper, she has my…”

Fionnuala puts up one finger to silence me. There must be a drop of magic still left in her, because somehow, it does. My mouth clamps shut.

“I cannot stop a ritual I do not approve of. But I can refuse to profit off it. I will not line my pockets with your mistakes, Maeve. Now go.”

And, empty-handed, I leave.

The nightmares start again the same night.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

TEXT MESSAGE FROM FIONA.

SPELL SUMMONING CHECKLIST:

SATIN: I got us a TON from the dress material shop. Also, I’ve been practising knots!

HERBS: Roe, lol that your mum actually does have a herb garden. Protestants!!! Lots of rosemary y/n?

CHANTS: MAEVE, I’m depending on you to give us some real Lizzo level chants. Rhythm! Energy! SASS!

Fiona went back to Divination herself on Friday afternoon and tried to buy the supplies. Fionnuala was not convinced. Apparently, she was basically monosyllabic with Fiona, despite Fiona’s pretence that this was once again for a school project.

Fiona, Roe and I have gone over Fionnuala’s warning again and again. Picking at it from all sides, biting it like a prospector checks for gold.

“Surely,” Fiona began, full of passion, “if her protection spells aren’t working any more, then that’s even more incentive for us to finish the Housekeeper? Right? Clearly, Aaron is working his way to you, Maeve. He knows you’re a special.”

“A sensitive.”

“Whatever. Same thing.”

Roe was quiet for a long time after I told him. Measured and logical, reluctant of Fiona’s over-confident bravado.

“Heaven died,” he says, simply. “We have to remember that, Fi. Heaven died.”

“Heaven died. Yes,” I reply, trying to mimic his mature delivery. “But Heaven was probably on her own, for one. And for two, Heaven actually wanted her father to die. He was beating the family. She wanted her mum to get a divorce, but the referendum didn’t pass, so she summoned the Housekeeper.”

“Did Fionnuala tell you that?”

“No.” To my own shame, I had barely even asked about Heaven/Harriet. I had squandered my remaining time in Divination asking only about myself. By the time I got around to asking about Heaven I was already being kicked out. “But it’s obvious. Sister A basically told me herself.”

“And,” Roe adds, “her dad died. He didn’t go missing. He didn’t disappear into the Beg river. It was life for a life. It’s not … nice, but it’s black magic. She knew what she was doing. As opposed to you, who accidentally summoned the Housekeeper, and now Lily is accidentally stuck in a sort of … in-between. She’s not dead. So there’s no swap to be made. We’re just balancing the books.”

The logic of this feels firm to me. It feels firm to Fiona, too. So we decide to go ahead with the ritual, crystals or no.

I think we need 3 chants: 1 for cutting the satin into ropes (I’ll bring a kitchen knife), 1 for throwing the knot and 1 for pulling it in. That OK, Maeve???

I text back, K.

Also – can we all wear blue or black?? Saturn’s colours.

And another.

I can’t believe it’s tomorrow?!

I put my phone on airplane mode. Sure, I’ll wear blue. Or black. I’ll wear whatever.

I haven’t mentioned the nightmares to Fiona and Roe. It feels like I’ve given them enough to worry about, and this whole “sensitive” thing is already more hassle than it’s worth. I’ve spent the last sixteen years of my life trying very hard not to be the kind of girl who needs a lot of looking after. The realization that I’ve been protected by a near-stranger for almost a month is like boasting about being really good at a video game then finding out everyone’s been letting you play on easy mode.

So, no. I don’t mention the nightmares. It’s only the