Page 5 of When Wishes Bleed

“Daughter of Fate,” she woodenly greeted, bowing shallowly at the waist. Her sage green robes were gathered at her ample waist by a simple belt threaded with clay beads, each inscribed with a different protective rune. The ivy pattern in the fabric of her robes writhed, stretched, and receded, settling down again as she spoke.

I returned her bow. “Priestess, Fate requires a quorum. And while we’re gathered, I have a personal matter to discuss with the Circle.”

Her wizened brow furrowed and her eyes sharpened. “Surely both matters can wait until the Equinox has passed.”

I flexed my fingers in my pocket. It would’ve been less painful if someone had stuck a thousand pins into them. “I’m afraid they can’t.” The words were more choked than I expected them to be, full of the pain lancing through me, coupled with the feeling of defeat. I couldn’t hold Fate off any longer.

She straightened her hunched back as much as she could, her vertebrae popping in succession. Her bony toes curled against the lacquered wooden floor slats. “Very well. I’ll call the Circle together.”

“I’ll await you in the Center.”

As she pressed the door closed, less rudely than the girls of her House had, the fragrant smell of herbs and soil was carried away by the crisp, warm breeze. I turned on my heel, feeling eyes on me. When I glanced over my shoulder, the curtain in the front window swayed.

The Center of The Gallows was criss-crossed by well-worn, converging pathways that formed the shape of a pentagram. Situated at the tip of each point in the star sat one of the Houses. Earth and Air to the left, and Fire and Water to the right. The pointed tips of my worn leather boots pointed toward what I wanted most, as if they were a compass pointing northward.

At the star’s tip, the House of Fate sat empty and dilapidated. It withered away every day it went unoccupied and unwanted. The past seventeen years hadn’t been kind to it. Chunks of scalloped shingles were missing. The siding had faded from black to ghostly-white, occasionally interrupted by splotches of bright green algae. Every salvageable plank needed to be scraped and repainted. And that was just the outside.

I stepped into the grassy Center and turned my face toward the warm sun. Its rays seeped into my skin. I was doing what he asked, but Fate wasn’t eager to release me from the ever-present reminders of his power… including the fact that he always got what he wanted, one way or another. The bones of my fingers felt like they might snap at any moment. They felt brittle, as weathered as the decrepit House of Fate.

The sound of crunching grass came from the four directions behind me as the Circle members drew near. I turned in a circle and greeted each of them with a slight bow.

“You called for a quorum?” said Wayra, High Priestess of the House of Wind, the youngest of the four Circle members. She was never one to beat around the bush. The breeze that accompanied her everywhere stirred her blue robes and long, white hair. Flanking her were my grandmother Ela and Ethne, High Priestess of the House of Fire. Her robes were made from a living flame. Blue at the bottom and deep orange at her middle, licking yellow at her neckline. Popping and sizzling sounds accompanied her wherever she stepped.

The only High Priest stared at me from a respectable distance, a few feet behind his female counterparts to honor them. Bay was Priest of the House of Water, and his eyes and robes were the deep blue color of the ocean where it fell off the sandbar and stretched deep into the earth. The fabric of his robe ebbed and flowed around his feet, pulling and pushing the blades of dried grass. His wavy gray hair was tucked behind his ears, and his arms were folded across his chest.

The Circle never hid their disdain of my presence, but were too afraid of upsetting Fate to deny me, or him, when I requested a quorum. I abided by their rule of law, and so far, Fate had allowed me to live within their constraints. It was a precarious balance of power, the scales of which were always teetering back and forth ever so slightly.

Today they would tip violently, and I didn’t know if the scales would right themselves.

“Fate has called for the life of someone who will cross the border today.”

Most of the witches believed Fate was Death and that I was his hands, but Fate was exactly what his name implied. Sometimes he demanded that a person forfeit their life. Sometimes he urged a person onto a better or more prosperous path. I often wondered why he chose the people he favored, but rarely questioned him about the lives he called me to take or felt guilty for being his hands. Perhaps he was merciful enough to take that feeling away. Or maybe their actions warranted the swift hand of justice.

Bay’s lips pursed. “Will Fate allow you to stay the execution until tomorrow? Today is a sacred day. Within hours, the Center will be filled with people from every sector.”

“He will not be kept waiting.” Truthfully, I was no longer strong enough to hold Fate’s wishes at bay. And apparently, he wanted the crowd to witness the person’s death. Bay’s eyes fell on my blue lips, then my icy hands. He gave me a knowing look and inclined his head ever so slightly.

He was the only one of the four who seemed to at least attempt to understand my position and duties. The others couldn’t care less what it meant to be the ‘daughter’ of Fate, let alone to hold him inside.

Ela, my grandmother, spoke next. “There will be many who cross the border today. Perhaps you won’t find the person you seek.” She hoped I wouldn’t find my mark, but I would. Fate would not budge on this execution.

“Fate will reveal his mark to me,” I told them, my fingers curling in. He always led me to the ones he craved. In my mind, a vibrant orange sky sliced through the densest part of the forest near the border separating Sector Thirteen from Twelve... “I must carry out his sentence at sunset.”

Wayra gasped and a gust of wind blew through the center. Pale ribbons of her hair thrashed back and forth, flapping wildly. Her robes faded from sky blue to cloud white in an instant. I flashed a warning glare at her, and she schooled herself quickly. I wasn’t afraid of any of them, despite the clout and powers they held, because ultimately, Fate was more powerful than all of them combined, and he’d made me his equal.

“Can’t it wait until after midnight?” Ethne blazed, her skin becoming ruddy to match the flaming hues of her hair.

“It cannot,” I bit back at her. Do they think I enjoy this?

I didn’t ask for this curse; I had no choice but to fulfill his will. Even when it conflicted with theirs, even when it conflicted with mine. “The citizens of the lower sectors know what happens in The Gallows. That’s why the King sends their criminals through Thirteen into the banished lands.” He hoped we would deal with them before they made it to any semblance of freedom they might carve out for themselves.

“That arcane practice will end soon enough,” Ela promised sharply, taking a threatening step toward me.

Bay held his hand out as if to block her from reaching me, and with a warm, cautious expression, offered me a gentler reply. “Knowing a thing is different from witnessing it. The citizens in the Lower Sectors have never seen anyone hanged.”

Grandmother Ela pushed Bay’s hand away and bared her teeth. “Do as you must, Daughter of Fate. You clearly aren’t seeking our permission to carry out your task.”

Ethne and Wayra nodded their assent, each staring at me with equal parts fear and anger. Bay remained neutral, as always. They turned to leave, each facing their respective Houses. I stopped them before they fled. “There is another matter I wish to discuss.”

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