Page 14 of When Wishes Bleed

Within minutes the mug was empty, the spell had worked, and my guest was sober. He sat the mug on the coffee table and scrubbed a hand down his face, letting out a pent-up breath. “Thank you again. I hope I didn’t do or say anything to offend you. I’m sorry to have intruded.”

“You didn’t intrude. I invited you in.”

I had no idea why I did it, but I did. And now that he was here, I had the strangest sensation humming through me. My fingers tingled with the need to touch him.

He was quiet, his gaze focused but gentle. Then he surprised me by blurting, “I had no idea until tonight that beautiful women hanged fully-grown men.”

I ticked my head back. “And who did you assume did it?”

He flashed a genuine smile. “I meant no offense. I just... my friends talked me into coming tonight to blow off some steam. My life is about to drastically change.” He ran a flustered hand through his hair.

“How so?”

His knee bounced at the question. “I appreciate your hospitality, but I really should be going.”

“Mom and Dad not know you snuck out?” I laughed as he stood.

“Something like that.” His eyes caught on my silver bowl. A few wishbones that I hadn’t carried outside remained on the bottom. “Why do you have those?”

“Wishbones are the best way for me to read someone.”

“That’s unusual. I expected cards or a crystal ball.”

“I can use those, but don’t prefer them.” The bones called to me when I was just a girl. Wishbones, in particular, and I’d garnered all of them I could ever since.

“Is it difficult to read a person’s fate?” He worried his hands.

“It depends on the person. Some fates are more complex than others.”

He stared at the delicate bones, then turned his attention to me. “Would you read mine?”

“For a price.”

“Name it, and it’s yours,” he promised.

I looked him over again, assessing his fine clothes and grooming. He had money.

“A bag of coin.”

“Done,” he chirped, rubbing his hands together.

That was easier than I expected. I thought he would haggle.

Where most people were easy for me to read, even from a distance, this young man was not. I couldn’t pin down anything about him solidly, which shook me more than I would admit. “Sit at that table,” I instructed, pointing at a small, square table in the corner of the room.

Perhaps it was me. Was I still rattled about the events of the evening?

He removed the sheet covering the chairs and table and sat in one, turning to watch as I gathered the iron bowl of wishbones. “Moving in?” he guessed.

“Just today, yes.” Thank goodness I’d moved my clothes into a nearby bedroom. I didn’t bother with the casting cloth. It wasn’t necessary for a reading, it just added flair to the atmosphere; flair that most Lowers needed to make the reading feel more fun than true.

Sitting across from him, I placed the bowl between us. He studied the inscriptions engraved around the bowl’s rim. “Choose a wishbone. Before you break it, wish for the knowledge of your future.”

He plucked a bone from the bottom of the pile and closed his eyes. With a quick snap, the bone was broken in two, but something was terribly wrong.

I gasped at the sight of it.

His golden eyes snapped open.

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