Page 28 of SIN Bone Deep

Iwas greeted by the strong scent of basil and freshly picked tomato as I entered the kitchen. From the pots on the stove and the jars set ready on the benchtops, the aunts were preparing to cook and bottle tomato sauce.

Nova, Fennel, and Callista had already taken their places at the table and Fennel was serving pancakes and bacon on the pretty mismatched vintage plates. The syrup on my pancake seemed to form a laughing skull as I poured it. I stared at it, before stabbing it with my fork and dissecting it with my knife.

“How was the party?” Nova asked.

“It was fine,” I replied reluctantly. Just discussing the party renewed the sense of embarrassment, shame, and guilt. “Nothing much happened.”

“Oh, come on,” Nova rolled her eyes. “I have heard about what goes on at the Pinegrove parties.”

“What goes on at the Pinegrove parties?” Fennel asked.

“What does go on at Pinegrove parties, Nova?” Callista arched an eyebrow.

“It’s not a big deal,” I said through my teeth. “There was music and dancing, and people were… hooking up,” I hesitated over the description.

“Is that what the young people are calling it nowadays?” Fennel hid her smile behind her fingertips.

“It’s basically an orgy,” Nova’s lips twisted.

“And how is it that you know so much about what goes on at Pinegrove?” Callista asked her, and there was a tone in her voice that caused all action around the table to be still. Fennel and I looked between Callista and Nova.

Nova realized she’d given away too much, and her eyes dropped to her plate. “People talk,” she said.

“And yet, you didn’t think to share this knowledge with your sister, who is attending Pinegrove?” Callista said tightly. “To share this knowledge with Fennel and myself?”

“Its… I…” Nova stammered and then burst into tears. “You wouldn’t understand,” she said angrily shoving to her feet. “You just… You don’t understand.” She fled the room, the sounds of her flight echoing overloud due to the spell that the aunts had on her.

“Just what is going on with Nova?” I asked them as the front door slammed shut.

“Time will tell,” Callista replied grimly, her eyes on the door. “Won’t you be late for work, dear?”

“Oh shit!” I gulped down my juice and hurried to the door, grabbing my handbag as I went.

“Nyx,” Callista’s call stalled me halfway out the door, so I caught at the frame, and looked back over my shoulder at her. “Last night… Did nothing untoward happen?”

I blew out a breath. “It’s like Nova said. There was a party, lights, music, and alcohol. I didn’t drink. When people started having sex… I left. It was…” I shook my head. “It was weird and awkward and ugly.”

“And your sister should have warned you,” Callista said quietly. “Or us. I am sorry for that, Nyx.”

“It’s fine, Aunt Callista,” I told her. “I was fine, and it’s fine. I’d better run, or I’ll be late.”

The Corniche wasn’t parked in the garage, and I paused for a moment on my bike looking at the lonely Ford within the garage and measuring the trouble that was about to befall my sister when Callista discovered the theft, considering Nova officially didn’t have her license to drive nor permission to take the much-valued car out. However, Callista was right, I was going to be late, so I pushed off and pedalled to the main street.

The wind whipped back my hair as I coasted down the hill. Unlike the unfortunate little girl, I reserved time to brake before reaching level ground and the intersecting road. I checked both ways before crossing. As I cycled through town, I saw a family on a stroll, the mother’s attention on the pram that she pushed, but the father’s eyes tracking my passage. Kristine’s married lover.

Our eyes met for a brief moment as I passed. We both knew that I held a secret that could destroy his family. It was not something that empowered me, but rather put me in danger. I was, after all, a Vossen and our family history was clear how this sort of thing would play out. All I could do was pretend that I knew nothing and hope that nothing happened to direct his anger to me.

As I turned a corner, my bike startled a flock of ravens, the birds taking flight in a flurry of black feathers. I pulled to a stop whilst they flocked across the road, their wings stirring my hair. One foot braced on the tarmac; I watched them spiral in the sky.

Movement caught my eye and a filmy ghost passed beside me. Intrigued, I followed her with my eyes as she struggled to carry a lumpy sack across the road. In the wake of her passage, more ghosts appeared. They were mostly female and dressed in the style of the colonists, and I wondered if I had happened upon a significant anniversary of an event as I saw ghosts frequently, but I had never seen these ones.

As they moved, I caught glimpses of their surroundings, a time when the town of Mortensby did not exist as anything more than cleared fields and a partially erected church, before which the women queued. Beyond them, I could see a man at a table, recording their names into a ledger.

As the church in their time hadn’t been built, nor the many houses that existed now, the old colony was visible in the distance between the trees by the smoke rising from chimneys.

This was the first load of “brides” I realized.

The original colonists had been convicts and a few recklessly brave pioneers, and they had been in the majority male. Having established the colony, poor women had been lured over with the promise of a better life in the new country and a free fare on the ship. Once they had arrived, they had been auctioned off to the colonists who sought a wife.

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