Page 9 of When Wishes Bleed

Now that I lived in the House, I wondered if anyone would risk stepping foot inside, or even on the lawn in front of it, and defying their Priestesses or Priest. The cabin was located a discrete distance from the Houses, but here, I was among them, and privacy could not be ensured.

It doesn’t matter, I told myself. Fate will not let me starve. He will provide all I need. My cabin’s garden had flourished. I could make one flourish here, too.

Men, women, and children milled about the Center, racing from House to House and spectacle to spectacle. Soon, they would fill it until they spilt over its pointed edges.

On previous Equinoxes and Solstices when we welcomed any and all who wanted to join us in our Sector, I would make a mint. No one knew I was the “Daughter of Fate,” or that I was different from every other witch in Thirteen. And if they did know the names by which the other witches called me, they assumed it was all for show. Merely another part of the thrilling, magical atmosphere we provided. It made them all the more willing to pay for a reading. They would smile at my crystal ball and sit down to hear what I might reveal, all the while wondering if it was real. In the end, they never truly cared. They just wanted to be enchanted for an evening.

Tonight, no smiles flashed in my direction. As the pit of my stomach began to roil and burn, I knew there would be no time. No readings beforehand.

It was time.

I stood from my table.

4

Fire writhed in my belly. The sun sank slowly to the west, inch by inch, until the hills swallowed it up.

He is here, Fate whispered. Find him. End him. Make him pay.

I held my stomach in a feeble attempt to extinguish Fate’s fire. All I could taste was smoke. It burned my nostrils, charring the back of my throat. Even jumping into the fountains in front of the House of Water wouldn’t quench Fate’s flame. The only way to put it out was to find the boy.

The fiery sky blinded me for a moment. I turned in a circle, asking Fate to direct me.

The Center was full of people.

“Help me,” I whispered.

Fate answered, He is here.

“Where?”

I searched every face for twin dimples, or for Fate’s sigil. I would find it stamped onto the boy’s forehead.

Musicians in the pentagram’s Center struck up a jovial tune. Children squealed as they linked arms and skipped in circles through the grass. Witches from every House gathered in clusters, mingling together when so often they were kept separate. Their jewel-toned gowns and suits were the finest they had. I stood out among them like the sore thumb I was, dripping with a black velvet dress the same hue as my hair.

The Priestesses and Priest had been watching and waiting anxiously for me to emerge. When they saw me in the Center, they knew the time had come.

Grandmother Ela took control of the situation, commanding the crowd’s attention. She explained that one of our own was found dead in the woods this morning, and that the culprit was among us and would be brought swiftly to justice. She warned them that this was no stunt, no skit. Those with children, she said, should take them behind the Houses so they would not witness the hanging that was about to occur.

Panicked murmurs bubbled through the crowd. Despite her warning, a few thought it was all part of the festivities, and waited with bated breath for something to occur. Others obeyed immediately. Mothers and fathers heeded her warning, guiding their children to the back porches of the Houses.

Slowly, the witches of every House began to chant, cleansing the atmosphere and casting a protective spell over the innocent.

They’d never assisted me in the least.

Although, to be fair, one of their own had never been so callously discarded.

My eyes found Brecan’s. He gave a nod and I knew he’d told Ethne I was searching for the one who killed Harmony, the Fire witch. Brecan had always been a buffer between me and all the others, and I was thankful for his comforting presence.

A circle of young men from the lower sectors stood at the bottom of the Center. One threw his red head back laughing, clapping his two dark-haired companions on the back. Their two friends tipped back bottles, and I’d bet those drinks weren’t their first, given their loose tongues and manners. “This is a joke, is all,” one said. “A prank – and a good one, at that. Beware… Hide your children’s eyes…” he joked, poking fun at Ela’s legitimate warning.

I wondered how much fun he would be having if she removed his tongue, or even the ability to wag it for the evening.

They were the right age and build. Even though none had hair the color of wet sand, changing the color of one’s hair was simple enough. I casually walked toward them just to be sure.

As I steadily approached, their laughter faded away.

The Lowers greeted one another, not by bows, but by shaking hands. I could learn much from a simple handshake. The only problem was that the residue of their touch would linger long past the initial contact…

---