The Deck of Omens (The Devouring Gray #2) - Christine Lynn Herman Page 0,18

the piano brought her automatic comfort. She’d been working on a composition, a piece that was turning from experimental scales and chord progressions into the first clumsy movement of a piano sonata. She didn’t know if it was any good, but she was enjoying working at it anyway. Composing meant flexing her pianist’s muscles in a way she’d never used them before, and it was incredibly reaffirming to create something that belonged entirely to her.

It was good to have a distraction. Because she didn’t want to think about the plan Isaac had proposed to her?—or how quickly she had shot it down. Violet played a C-sharp minor chord, enjoying the satisfying way it rang out through the music room, then absently added a harmony with her left hand.

“Are you still working on that new piece?” Her mother’s voice was hesitant. “It sounds… interesting.”

Violet snorted and turned. Juniper Saunders stood behind her, wearing her reading glasses and an expression of gentle bewilderment.

“It sounds bad, you mean,” she said.

“It absolutely does not!”

“You’re protesting too much,” said Violet, raising an eyebrow. Orpheus slunk out from behind her mother, his ears twitching. She could have sworn the gray tabby cat looked relieved that she had stopped playing. “It’s okay. You don’t have to cheer me on when I suck?—I know you don’t like the hair, either.”

“First of all, I’m your mother, and therefore I support you in all hair-dyeing and musical endeavors, because at least they’re not you running around in the woods in mortal danger,” Juniper said dryly. “And I would like to remind you that being seventeen and teaching yourself to compose is no small feat, nor were you ever going to master it overnight.”

Violet was slowly but surely getting used to this new version of her mother, one who sought out her daughter’s company instead of avoiding it, one who seemed determined to make them a two-person family. They weren’t going to master all that stuff overnight, either, but at least they were both trying.

“I guess you’re right,” she said. “I just… hate this. I wish I could be good at it right away.”

Juniper sighed and reached down to scoop up Orpheus, stroking his head between his twitching ears. “Life doesn’t work like that.” Her brow furrowed, and she gestured to the couch. “Sit? We need to talk about something.”

Violet sat, staring out the window at the forest sloping down the hill behind the house. Four Paths wore October well. The leaves hanging from the chestnut oaks had turned into rich reds and golds that her sister, Rosie, would have loved to paint, and the air had grown crisp with the promise of frost.

“Let me guess,” she said quietly. “Harper?”

Her mother hesitated. “Have you heard what happened?”

“You mean besides the tree?”

Juniper sighed. “Yes. I received an interesting call from Augusta Hawthorne this afternoon.”

She detailed what had happened behind the school?—the display of power Harper had shown. The fact that she still hadn’t come back, even though the sun was setting.

“I thought you might know where she is,” she finished.

But Violet shook her head, suddenly concerned. “She’s not answering my texts.”

“Well. She might answer your texts if you tell her that Augusta Hawthorne wants to meet with her to discuss a deal.”

Violet gaped at her. “A deal? What kind of deal?”

“Harper needs training,” Juniper said calmly. “She’s powerful, but unpredictable, and the Hawthornes wish to rectify their earlier mistakes by formally inviting her to join them and hone her talents.”

“They just want her to fix their problems the same way Isaac does,” Violet muttered.

“But the thing is, the Hawthornes aren’t the only people who could train Harper.”

Suddenly Violet understood.

“You want me to convince her not to take Augusta’s deal. You want her to stay with us.”

Juniper nodded. “Our family has a chance to take this town back, Violet. The Hawthornes have done nothing but lie and put this town in danger. If we play this right, we can change things.”

Violet hesitated, unease pooling in her stomach. Her mother was right that the Hawthornes could not be trusted with the fate of Four Paths. They’d taken half the town’s memories away, including hers and her mother’s. People had died under their watch. The Gray had grown stronger. But something about this still felt wrong.

“I’m not going to force Harper into anything,” she said, knotting her hands together in her lap. “She deserves the chance to make her own decision about what’s best for her.”

“Do you really think this choice is hers?” Juniper shot