She could almost feel her grandma’s fingers tickling her under the chin. She’d never given Kestrel so much as a hug before, but in the memory, she seemed . . . almost kind.
And what did you do? said a nasty voice in Kestrel’s head. You let her grabber in.
A soft clattering sound came from the next room. Kestrel stood up quickly, but her mother didn’t appear. She left the old chair behind and walked toward the noise, breathing in air thick with shut-up secrets. Slowly, she passed through the doorway. There were three steps leading down, then a new space opened to the right.
The new room was full of boxes and bags piled against the walls. Her mother had her back to the steps, and she was rummaging in a large chest with another candle on the floor beside her. Kestrel had the urge to run and push her mother in, but she held herself back.
The red thread that trailed from her mother’s sleeve was piled on the floor next to her, and the other end snaked into the wooden chest. Kestrel knew at once that she was intruding on something very private.
Her mother was leaning over the chest, so preoccupied with examining whatever was inside that she didn’t seem to notice Kestrel behind her. Kestrel took another step forward, then another. She was so close she could almost touch her.
Kestrel held her breath, her spine aching.
The chest contained a large, dusty quilt with dozens of bumps in it. Before her mother could see her, and without knowing quite why, Kestrel reached forward and yanked the quilt aside.
Her mother jumped. She grabbed Kestrel by the wrist and slammed the lid shut, but it was too late. Kestrel had seen the bones, long and white, wrapped in the quilt.
“Why are there bones in there?” Kestrel asked, yanking her wrist out of her mother’s grasp. She backed toward the wall again until she could feel the stone pressed into her spine, desperate to put space between them.
Her mother’s face was white. There were two red blotches on her cheeks, as bright as poisoned apples, and she was frozen like a rabbit in lamplight. Kestrel looked at all the boxes around her, wondering what was in them. More bones? More teeth? Something worse?
“What was in the chest?” she demanded again. Her mother was staring at her as though she’d been caught chewing up a mouse. “Tell me what you’re hiding!”
“It’s nobody you know,” her mother said, finally finding her voice. She smoothed her skirt with shaking hands, and slowly regained her composure. “What are you doing in here?”
“The door was open,” Kestrel said. She didn’t have a plan other than dive into the cellar and look, which in retrospect was quite stupid. “The dog—”
Her mother looked up, hearing the whining of the dog above them, and her face darkened. She stamped on the candle and grabbed Kestrel by the hair, dragging her back to the trapdoor.
“Stop struggling, you brat. You’ll ruin your dress.”
“I’ll struggle as much as I want,” said Kestrel, trying to kick her mother’s feet from underneath her. “I’ll scream so hard everyone will think you’re killing me.”
“They’ll be glad someone’s finally doing it,” her mother snapped.
She hauled Kestrel up the steps, flung the trapdoor open, and pushed Kestrel out. The dog immediately ran circles around her mother’s legs, barking. Her mother put her hand on the dog’s head, quieting it. She listened for a moment.
“You broke your promise about the boy,” her mother hissed, baring her teeth at Kestrel. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Do you think the consequences are funny?”
“Don’t,” Kestrel said, forgetting all about the bones in the cellar. “Please, I’m sorry—”
Her mother pushed through the weave toward the door. Kestrel grabbed her arm and tried to pull her back, but she flung it open and shoved Kestrel outside.
“You’ve forced me to do this,” she said, stepping into the light.
She was holding Finn’s tooth. Kestrel tried to grab it from her, but her mother threw her to the ground with astonishing ease.
Kestrel reached for her spoon, but her mother snatched it and flung it away.
She could see Finn at the edge of the village, one hand planted on a tree for support. She willed him to run away, but he saw Kestrel and took a step toward her. Even though he had betrayed her, Kestrel felt a sudden rush of love for him. He was petrified of her mother, and of the open ground, but he was coming to help her.
“Run!” she yelled to Finn.
“This will teach you to be disobedient,” her mother said.
Her mother yanked a ball of black wool from her pocket and started tying it around Finn’s tooth, preparing the spell. Kestrel tried to grab her hands, but her mother shoved her aside. Then she reached behind her and plucked another piece of string from the weave, the one with Kestrel’s tooth in it, and gave it a single tug.
It felt like someone had punched Kestrel in the chest. She hit the ground with an umph, landing next to her spoon. She struggled to her feet, but her legs were numb and she fell over again.
Finn ran toward her. Her mother finished tying the black wool around Finn’s tooth. Then she smiled at Kestrel, so sweetly she wondered if she was letting Finn go.
“Don’t!” Kestrel shouted at him. “She’s got your tooth!”
Her mother dropped the bundle of wool and stamped on it. Finn screamed and fell down as though he’d been crushed from above. He was on the floor, writhing like a worm, sobbing and snotty. Kestrel used all her strength to pull herself to her feet, but her mother caught her with her free hand and pushed her down again. Finn’s screams grew louder.
“Stop it!” Kestrel shouted, horror bubbling in her throat. She tried to scramble away, but the dog threw itself at her back and pinned her to the ground.
Pippit launched from Kestrel’s pocket like a small tornado, throwing himself at Kestrel’s mother and landing spread-eagled on her face. Her mother cried out, releasing the tooth. Finn fell still as the dog snapped its jaws at Pippit. Kestrel scrambled up, snatched the bundle of wool from the ground and pried it open, rescuing the tooth inside.
Her mother hurled Pippit to the side and grabbed Kestrel. Kestrel wrenched away and, on a desperate impulse, shoved the tooth in her mouth and swallowed it.
Her mother paled. Kestrel met her mother’s eye triumphantly, even though she felt a little bit sick.
“Deal with the weasel,” her mother hissed at the dog, jerking her head toward Pippit on the ground. Kestrel dove for him, but the dog got there first. It snapped Pippit’s tail between its jaws and began to shake him. Pippit twisted around and sank his teeth into the dog’s muzzle.
The dog bit down, hard, then dropped him. Pippit skittered away, howling. Kestrel, sickened, saw that half of Pippit’s tail was still in the dog’s mouth.
Kestrel grabbed her spoon from the ground and faced the dog. She readied herself to fight, but the dog was staring at her mother. Kestrel turned. There was blood trickling from her mother’s nose. She took a step back into the house so she could hold on to the door frame. One of the threads from her sleeve had come loose in the struggle, and her clothes were tattered. She looked suddenly exhausted. She slowly put one hand over her face, as though nursing a terrible headache.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” Kestrel asked, feeling reckless. “Aren’t you even going to set the dog on me?”
“I should have gotten rid of you a long time ago,” her mother said, her voice strange and low. Her fingers were digging into her cheeks.
She stumbled back into the house, slamming the door on both her and the dog. It sat down on the doorstep, looking small and alone.