After their dinner-table battle, the two sisters didn’t speak. Ruth-Ann spent most of her time in her room. She also sneaked into her private attic, where she lost herself in the ancient books, delving into the spells and dark magic her family had practiced for nearly three hundred years.
She didn’t have a plan. She imagined all kinds of revenge in her mind. She plotted against Rebecca, keeping her mind open about which course of action she might take.
She knew only one thing for certain: Rebecca will never be married to Peter Goodman.
Both of her parents pleaded with her:
“She is your sister. You cannot cut her off forever.”
“You will get over your hurt. You will meet someone else. You are only seventeen.”
“Peter isn’t the man we would have chosen for Rebecca. But they are in love. You need to soften your heart, Ruth-Ann. Soften your heart and accept what will be.”
Soften her heart?
Were they living some kind of fairy tale?
Prince Charming has chosen his bride, and now the kingdom shall rejoice! Hardly.
Ruth-Ann’s heart only hardened at her parents’ words. “Of course they have taken her side,” she told herself. “Of course Rebecca can do no wrong. And I’m the one who has to accept it.”
She spent hours sitting on the floor in the attic room in the middle of the circle of black candles. She read again about the horrifying curse between her family and the family named Goode. The history of bizarre murders and unimaginable evil.
Of course, the rivalry with the Goode family was all in the past. But it reminded Ruth-Ann that she was a Fear, that in these old books, she had the power of evil that her ancestors used.
Sometimes the whole idea made her laugh. Bitter laughter.
This is 1924. We have cars and telephones and electric lights. We are all modern today. There is no place for this old sorcery.
The old stories seemed impossible. Crazy. Like something out of the dime adventure novels that boys liked to read.
Still, the old books comforted her.
I have powers no one knows I possess.
One afternoon, Ruth-Ann was passing the library when she heard a familiar voice. The door was open a few inches. She stepped behind it to peer inside. She clapped her hand to her mouth, surprised to see her father talking with Nelson Swift.
Nelson, the forgotten man.
Nelson had made the big mistake of going away. Mr. Fear had sent him on a two-week business trip to the West. Two weeks that changed everything for Nelson.
Big, blond, brawny Nelson had been Randolph Fear’s preferred candidate to marry Rebecca. And now the two men stood so tense, facing each other over the mahogany desk in the center of the room.
“I went to California for you. I settled your business there because promises were made to me, Mr. Fear,” Nelson was saying.
Ruth-Ann saw her father’s face darken, his mouth form a scowl. He fiddled with his necktie. “You have to understand—” he started. “I . . . made no such promises. I—”
But Nelson interrupted. “Have you conveniently forgotten? I was led to believe I would become a part of this family.”
Randolph Fear shook his head. “I’m sure I don’t understand the minds of young women any more than you do.”
“Have you no control over your own daughter?” Nelson slammed a fist on the desktop. “You are her father. Surely, she must obey you.”
A humorless laugh escaped Randolph Fear. “Obey? Where do you live, Mr. Swift? In the nineteenth century?”
Nelson reacted with a growl. “My father is an attorney-at-law, sir. He has told me I could have an alienation of affections lawsuit against your daughter.”
Ruth-Ann pressed her hand over her mouth to keep from making a sound. Nelson was threatening her father! She could see that Nelson was trembling, big drops of sweat rolling down his broad forehead. Did he know who he was trying to intimidate?
Mr. Fear remained silent for a long moment, fingering his necktie, his eyes locked on Nelson’s. “Please take this news to your father,” he said finally. “Tell him you may have another lawsuit because you have been dismissed from your job.”
Nelson made a choking sound. “I—what?”
“You are fired,” Mr. Fear said softly, barely above a whisper. “Please clean out your office by the end of the day.”
Another long silence. Nelson mopped the sweat off his forehead with the palm of one hand. Ruth-Ann could see that he had sweated through the stiff collar of his shirt.
Nelson flashed Mr. Fear a final angry look. Then he spun on his heel and stomped to the door.
Ruth-Ann didn’t have time to back away before he came storming out, shoving the door in her face. She cried out and stumbled back.
His eyes bulged in surprise when he saw her. “You haven’t seen the last of me,” he said, snarling the words. “I have ways of teaching your family a lesson.”
“Get in line,” Ruth-Ann said.
