Page 17 of Wildfire Witch

“So, I told you I’m a Moortide. My dad is a contractor for supernatural cover-ups. There’s good money in it,” he said.

I raised a brow. “And?” Here he was as an EMT, while having the same “touch of the fae” that helped regular humans forget what they’d seen of supernatural blunders.

“My parents paid for an extra fancy augury reading when I was born. You know the ones?”

I shook my head no.

“Well, they got the works from a specialized agency, with a star chart and a peek at where life would take me. It led me here. To this point in my life.” He pointed his fork toward the floor.

I raised a brow, skeptical immediately. “While that is not outside of the realm of belief, magic based in augury is notably flawed. Often, results can only be produced a single time.” Terrible for proper testing and research. “Some say that such things become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Once they’re foretold, you’re doomed to live it because you’re aware of it and unconsciously steering your life that way. It’s like…” I searched my mind for the proper term and produced a modern one. “Like a placebo effect.”

He shrugged with a carefree smile. “Maybe, but it’s led me to Cer, and thus, both of us to you. Going well so far, I’d say.”

“The augury magic informed you of me in some way?” I asked. Well, future sight allows for some coincidences…and we had experienced a big one yesterday.

“Yeah. Don’t you want to know what I learned before you dismiss it as a placebo effect?” he offered in a teasing tone.

I eyed what was left on my plate before nudging it aside. “Show me,” I said.

He stood and gestured for me to follow him. “Before you freak out at what you’re about to see, please give me the benefit of the doubt. I can explain everything,” he said.

That wasn’t the most comforting preface, but now I had to know what it could possibly be that would cause a “freak out.” I’d seenso much in my lives that I doubted he could shock me. Yet, as we entered his room, I realized I was wrong.

I stopped dead a pace into the threshold. Seth’s room wasn’t exactly huge, but a full half of it, above and around his computer desk, was a maze of pegboards, old newspaper cutouts, and aged photographs and pictures.

Images of my face.

Dozens of my different incarnations stared back at me, from an ancient hand-drawn portrait to black and white photography. There was even one from the time where I’d had to hold quite still and maintain a neutral expression, otherwise the image would smudge.

My breath quickened as my gaze met each set of eyes. The same person, but different styles of hair and dress. I rarely smiled in any of them; my eyes haunted whether they were shaded gray in old photography or amber brown like they truly were.

Seth was trying to say something, but I could only hear flames roaring in my ears as my hands formed fists at my sides. What was this, a shrine? Was Seth truly as obsessed as Ceridor was? I burned with mounting internal heat. Aodhnait was quiet, a too-hot presence in my chest, expanding and crackling…

His hand landed on my shoulder. A sensation like the ripples of cool water lapping against my skin spread from the contact, reducing my dangerous internal heat. Aodhnait calmed, pulsing with softer warmth to the same beat as my heart. I looked up at him, surprised that a simple touch was so soothing during the onset of another episode.

Obviously, there was more to his shrine than I thought. He was someone I needed, so I also had to give him a chance to tell mewhat was really going on. “Start explaining,” I invited, clearing my throat of the phantom feeling of smoke.

He gestured to a blown-up image he’d printed to the side. An oddly intricate star chart, with several overlapping lines of different colors. “Like I was saying, the augur my parents worked with had a difficult time interpreting my star chart. She saw I was destined to meet and grow attached to someone with a pattern of constellations on top of one another.” He layered his hands to emphasize what I was looking at.

“It took her months, but she figured it out and told my parents that I was the anam cara to a witch of wildfire, cursed with rebirth. She told us your name was Verity Carmine, but that name got us literally nowhere.”

Anam cara,I repeated to myself. Witches sought their anam cara intensely if they could. Only an anam cara, or soul friend, could complete their lives. Despite the implication of asoul friend, an anam cara could be a close confidante or a perfect spouse and lover. Over time, if we were truly soul friends, Seth and I would form that kind of connection.

“That explains why I liked him immediately,”I commented to Aodhnait.

She hummed, but only in my head this time.“He does sense right. A good balance to your symmetry,”she agreed.

I gestured to his shrine. “You’ve clearly found me. Several versions of me,” I said aloud.

He scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. Um, sorry. I know it’s weird, but I got a big boost from the internet to make this. You’re an urban legend, did you know that? A woman born in every era with the exact same face.”

“Because I’m always reborn as the same person,” I said.

“Right. So, I followed what the augur said and partnered up with Cer a couple of years ago to set up the chain of events that led to us meeting. I’m so excited to finally meet you, by the way, I’ve just tried to keep it to myself so I didn’t freak you out like Cer has. This…this moment right here, it’s the end of her foretelling of my life. She told me we were soul friends, and that I would be one of the people who helped you break your curse. But from here, I don’t know how that will happen.” He spread his palms apologetically.

There was something earnest about him, a hint of the emotions he’d quashed for my sake. Someone who’d known he would meet me his whole life still had a right to be thrilled now that we were face-to-face. I appreciated his calm presence and self-control.

“That’s all right,” I murmured. I took a few moments to look more closely at what he’d pinned to the wall. Other than the pictures, which were really creeping me out, there were articles chronicling acts of arson and the mysterious appearances of a crying baby abandoned in the ashes of burned-out buildings.

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