The Magic Between Us (Faerie) by Falkner Tammy

Author:Falkner, Tammy [Falkner, Tammy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2014-01-06T23:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

Cecelia closed her eyes tightly and counted to ten.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

She could count to one hundred and when she opened her eyes, her father would still be there in all his drunken glory, and she would still hate him just as much.

The first time he’d raised his hand to her was just after her mother’s death. That had been a slap across the cheek when she’d chastised him for having another glass of wine.

The second time had been a little more direct and couldn’t be explained away as a rash on her face. She’d had a bruise across her cheekbone that required her to stay at home and out of sight for a sennight.

Mr. Pritchens stepped between her and her father. “Mr. Hewitt,” he began, his voice shaking with rage. “Miss Hewitt went to fetch something for one of the upstairs maids. She has a terrible megrim. It was at my request.”

“Are you daft, man?” her father bellowed. “We have servants for running errands.”

All the servants would be in bed at this time of the night, but her father didn’t know or didn’t care about anyone’s comfort but his own. “I volunteered,” Cecelia said. “Everyone else was in bed.”

“Why didn’t you go yourself, Pritchens?” her father snarled. “You sent my daughter out in the dead of night to run an errand?”

Mr. Pritchens gritted his teeth and said, “I was somewhat preoccupied.”

Her father kept Mr. Pritchens busy every night for what seemed like the whole night. But her father paid no heed to how much discomfort he caused everyone else.

Her father stepped forward and shoved Mr. Pritchens so hard that he thudded against the wall. Hitting her father back was like hitting a child who was having a tantrum. It did no good. It served no purpose. And no one felt good about it afterward. But when her father made a move to charge Mr. Pritchard, Cecelia felt obligated to step between them.

This time, her father’s shove sent her into the wall. She stood there stunned, unable to take a deep breath for a moment. But when she could, there was no apology. There was only her father snarling, “Look what you made me do,” in Mr. Pritchens’ face.

“He didn’t make you do anything, Father,” Cecelia said, putting a hand on her father’s shoulder to gently pull him back.

In the past six months, she’d done so more times than she could count. And he usually took it very well. But this time, he didn’t for some reason. “He did make me do it. I would never hurt you on purpose,” he bellowed, spittle flying from his lips to land on her face.

Cecelia closed her eyes and took another deep breath. She’d taken so many deep breaths lately that they should have called her Windy instead of Cecelia. Perhaps that would be the name she chose when she began a new life. One far away from her father.

“You hurt me every day, Father. Every time you do this.”

He huffed. “Do what?” He jammed the heels of his hands into his eyes and scrubbed them.

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