Page 7 of When Wishes Bleed

When the last witch had exited and the front door creaked closed, I made my way to the cabin that had been my home for as long as I could remember and began to pack my things. I only needed to bring my essentials and supplies. The House still contained all of my mother’s belongings.

The cabin sat alone in the woods far behind my mother’s House – my House, I tried to correct in my mind. The only sounds along the trodden path came from the scampering squirrels, singing cicadas, and pairs of birds foraging for worms in the rich, dark earth. They flittered about as I began to pack.

I filled my cauldrons with my tapers and their holders, along with small burlap bags of tea leaves, tight bundles of white sage, and my collection of crystals. I’d smudge the House before I took my belongings inside. There was enough negative energy surrounding the House to smother a witch if she wasn’t careful. And who knew what had been trapped inside?

Wrapping my wishbones in the casting cloth, I laid them on top of the pile and grabbed my broom. Once I’d gathered everything I wished to take, I closed my eyes and spirited myself to the warped back porch of the House of Fate. Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself again, This is my House now.

“Hey,” a deep voice called out from behind me.

I jumped and whirled around, clutching my chest and dropping the substantial cauldron precariously close to my toes. “You scared me.”

Brecan chuckled, striding toward me in his easy gait. He took up the heavy cauldron and pulled the weathered, squealing back door open for me. “After you. This is your House, after all.”

I couldn’t help but smile.

“And anyway, I hardly snuck up on you.” His lavender eyes twinkled with mischief. “You should pay better attention to your surroundings.”

He pushed his sky blue cape back as he stepped into the house, instantly at ease. “What else do you need from the cabin?” he called over his shoulder as he spun in a circle.

“Not too much. What do you think of it?” I asked.

“Needs to be dusted,” he answered dryly, dragging his finger over the nearest table’s surface. “But it looks like it always has, I suppose.” It was a rite of passage to peek in the windows of the former House of Fate for little witchlings – though none would dare linger long. It was said that a curse might pass to them if they absorbed too much of the dark energy it possessed.

In reality, the House felt empty to me. Bay suggested that a residual magic abided here, but I couldn’t sense it. The House was bones. A cage of ribs. And the heart it once held had long since decayed.

“Anyway,” Brecan said, clapping his hands, “I’m at your disposal. Do with me what you will.” There was more than the offer of help in his tone.

I decided not to answer. Instead, I turned my attention to my cauldron. I’d planned on smudging the House before I brought my belongings inside, but that was when I thought negativity dwelled in every corner. Now that I was inside, the House felt like a void. I wasn’t sure it was necessary to smudge the rooms, but tradition called for it. It would be unlucky to start a life in a House that hadn’t been purged, just in case.

“Tell you what, I’ll be right back,” Brecan finally said, marching out the back door.

The only other things I needed were my clothes, sheets and blankets, and pots and pans. I would have to harvest from my garden at the cabin until winter, and plant a new one here in the backyard next spring. I pinched my bottom lip, looking out over the overgrown lawn. Somewhere beneath the tall grass, in the rich earth, were the weedy roots of my mother’s plantings. I leaned my broom into the kitchen’s bare corner and sighed. There was much work to be done.

Brecan reappeared, tossing his long, icy blond hair over his shoulders. His locks were arrow straight and shone like silk. Tonight, all the girls who ventured into Thirteen from the lower sectors would cast lingering, longing glances in his direction. To them, Brecan was exotic; a feast for the eyes, in the middle of what must be a great famine.

“How did you know I would be here?” I asked.

He grinned, grabbing the top of the door frame and leaning toward me. “Word travels fast.”

“Did Wayra send you to try to convince me to defy Fate?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t even seen her today. Besides, I’m not worried about what she thinks; I’m worried about you.”

I glanced at him in my periphery. “She would exile you for saying that.”

He crossed the room in two long strides. “Only if she heard me,” he leaned in to whisper in my ear, toying with a strand of my hair.

“Tonight, I’ll hang the one who took the Fire witch’s life.”

Brecan’s eyes sharpened. “Good. Not only will it exact justice for our fallen sister, it’ll ease some of the tension building among the Houses.”

The mounting tension... Perhaps I could help ease it, but would anything ever alter the other witches’ perception of me?

Brecan placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Take time to get settled. I’ll be back with the rest of your things, starting with your clothes.”

With his touch, my heart skipped the slightest beat. Brecan and I had a strange relationship, one that was slightly more than friendship, but a lot less than love. It was one that every witch in The Gallows neither understood, nor approved of. My face didn’t heat at the thought of him seeing my undergarments, but I knew him well enough to know there would be a spark in his eyes when he returned with them in hand.

He waltzed out the door with a smirk on his lips.

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