Cursed Legacy: The Windhaven Witches Series

by Carissa Andrews

I shake my head, holding back tears. Now that the danger has passed, the emotions swelling from the day’s events are ready to sweep me away. I don’t know how much more I can take.

  “Just a little episode. We should be good for a while now,” Dr. Lockstad says, catching the eye of the nurses. With a quick head tilt toward the door, they excuse themselves and walk out. “Looks like you have some dinner plans. I’ll let the two of you relax a bit.” She pats my mom on the shoulder as she walks by.

  “Thank you, Dr. Lockstad,” Mom says, but her eyes never leave me. When the door closes behind them, Mom asks, “Are you okay?”

  I exhale a jagged breath, my eyes straying over to Wade. “Yeah, it was just…intense. He’s really fighting against whatever this is. I don’t know what to do. Or how to help him.”

  “Was the situation with Dominic a bust?” Mom says, making her way to me.

  “I don’t know, to be honest,” I say, shaking my head. I don’t know how much to tell her without freaking her out. “It was weird.”

  Mom pulls a small fold-out table from a cubby in the wall and tips her chin. “Wanna help with this? Then tell me all about it.”

  Doing as she asks, I walk over to the small table, lifting the tabletop up and snapping it into place. She sets the tray down and starts divvying up the items. “Well, it’s not quite the Christmas Eve dinner I had in mind, that’s for sure,” she says, placing the tray on the floor.

  “That makes two of us.” I smile absently, shooting another glance at Wade.

  Whatever fight was left in him has gone and he’s sunk back into the bed. I walk up to him, running the back of my hand across his jawline. I pull up the fabric from his hospital gown, then walk to my chair and tug it closer to the table. Mom grabs a second chair from across the room and does the same.

  “Try the turkey. Hopefully it was worth the effort,” Mom says, clearly trying to keep things light.

  Despite her best efforts, I just can’t seem to muster much enthusiasm for food. I push my plastic fork around the plate as I stare at the gelatinous potatoes and gravy.

  “So, tell me, what happened with Dominic?” Mom asks, taking a bite of her turkey and making a face. She sets her fork down and opens a small plastic bag with cornbread inside.

  I lean back in my chair, still a little apprehensive to be talking openly about any of this. After all these years, it’s hard to get past her previous aversion to anything in this supernatural world.

  As if sensing my trepidation, she says, “I won’t bite. I promise.” She makes an x across her heart with her index finger.

  I smile feebly, but after a brief pause, I say, “Dominic believes I’m a sin-eater.”

  Her eyes widen and it’s clear instantly—the word means something to her.

  Rather than having her interject just yet, I continue, “The only problem is, if I act on this idea, Abigail thinks I would be putting the baby in danger.” I poke at the green beans on the divided plate.

  Mom’s eyebrows pucker in the middle and she leans forward. “And this is meant to help Wade somehow?”

  I shake my head and shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know. It was all mixed up in messages about the Moirai’s curse. He seemed to think it was the key to ending it all. But the curse isn’t even what I’m worried most about right now. Obviously.”

  “Hmmm,” she says, tapping at the table with her fingertips.

  “What is it?” I ask, narrowing my gaze.

  Her hazel eyes flash with intensity. “Maybe nothing.”

  “No, you can’t do that. Spill it,” I say, lowering my eyebrows.

  She stands up, walking over to Wade’s bedside. With her right hand, she pulls back the fabric of his hospital gown. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this. You said it was a mark of expulsion, right?”

  I nod. “That’s what the Angel of Death said.”

  Her lips press into a thin line and she shakes her head. “It’s just not sitting right with me.”

  “Why?” I ask, setting my fork down.

  She inhales slowly. “I don’t know of any parent who would actively put their child in harm’s way. Not any decent one, anyhow.”

  “I don’t think he had a choice,” I mutter. “He was pretty clear that necromancers and Angels of Death were unmixy things.”

  “Hmmm,” she repeats, her eyes distant.

  Her questions and thought process spark a new hope inside of me. What if the Angel of Death saw this coming? Whatever this is. And if she’s right…maybe that means his father put in a safeguard. Something that might help me save Wade after all.

  “So, what are you thinking then?” I ask.

  She walks back to me, sitting down in her chair. “I’m not sure yet. But I’ll do some digging.”

  Exhaling slowly, I nod. As much as I hope his father wouldn’t do this to hurt Wade, I also know what it looks like. If appearances tell the whole story, it would look like his father’s mark is the cause of all of this. But if it is, something doesn’t add up… Why would he give me that box?

  “Mom, before all this happened…you mentioned the box looked like it had writing on it. Do you know how I could find out what it says?” I ask.

  “I know a few people who can still read the old languages. I could ask around,” she says, eyeing me carefully. “Do you know where it is?”

  I nod, standing up. “Yeah, it was in the backpack you brought me.” I walk over to it, reaching for the box and passing it to her.

  Mom takes it, turning it over slowly and examining it from a few angles. “I’d like to take a few pictures, if you don’t mind. I can email them off and see what they think. We probably won’t hear back until tomorrow, though,” she says, scrunching her face.

  “Tomorrow is good. I’m completely at a loss right now,” I say, inhaling deeply. “But I think there’s something important about the box. Maybe something that will help Wade.”

  “It’s quite puzzling, isn’t it?” she whispers, pulling her phone out of her pocket and holding the box up. She snaps a few pictures from all different angles. When she’s satisfied, she hands the box back to me.

  I clutch it to my chest, wishing I knew what the hell it was all about. What is so important that the Angel of Death wanted me to have it—but forget it existed at the same time?

  Mom stifles a yawn with the back of her hand.

  “Why don’t you head home, Mom? It’s been a long, horrible day. Get some rest,” I say. “No reason we both have to be here.”

  She shakes her head. “No, no. I can stay here with you, Autumn. You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “I’m not alone,” I say, reaching again for Wade’s hand.

  “What about supper?” she asks, pointing at our uneaten meals.

  “I’m not really all that hungry,” I mutter, making a face.

  “Figured as much. I suppose I should do something with our turkey at home. I turned it way down when I went back, but it should be done soon,” she says, obviously losing the internal battle to stay here. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do before I go?”

  I shake my head. “No. Just see if you can figure out what the box says.”

  “Okay, sweetie. I’ll bring back some real turkey tomorrow, too,” she says, sticking out her tongue at the small foldout table.

  “That sounds great,” I say, smiling weakly. “I should be more hungry then, too.”

  She takes a deep breath, shoving her phone in her pocket. Rounding the end of the bed, she walks up to me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “Please keep your strength up. Eat something—not the dinner, but a muffin or something. I’ll leave it all here.”

  “Okay,” I chuckle under my breath.

  She kisses the top of my head, her hand sliding inside my own. With a quick squeeze, she turns on her heel to leave. As she reaches the door, she turns back and says, “Hang in there, Wade. See you in the morning, Autumn.”

  “Okay, Mom,” I say, waving. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Chr
istmas, sweetheart,” she says, trying not to frown. With a quick tug, she opens the door and walks out.

  Suddenly alone, the weight of the day bears down on me. Its oppressive energy is almost more than I can handle. Tears brim at the edges of my eyes, tipping over and painting my cheeks. I drop to my knees beside Wade’s bed, clutching at his hand.

  I’ve never been the praying type, but I’d pray to every god, goddess, or celestial being if I thought just one of them might hear my plight and take notice. For the longest time, I stay there, letting my legs go numb from the cold tile floor. With every fiber of my being I wish I could do something—change it all. Take all this pain away and make everything right.

  All of a sudden, the door to Wade’s room opens. I tip my chin upward.

  The shifts must have changed because a new nurse walks in, shooting me a reluctant smile. Her chocolate hair is pinned up in a loose bun at the back of her head, making the white of her uniform stand out in deep contrast. Even the other nurses had a little color to their garb.

  “Hello,” she says curtly as she closes the door quietly behind her. She walks over to the machines, looking over the readings that hold the details of Wade’s current condition.

  I swallow hard, wiping at my face as I try to regain some composure.

  “This must be hard for you,” the nurse says, not even turning to look at me.

  “You could say that,” I whisper.

  She continues to work, flitting between machines. Then, when she looks like she’s satisfied, she turns to Wade. Holding onto the rail of his bed, she tilts her head slightly to the side, watching him for the longest time.

  “Such a pity,” she finally says, breaking the silence.

  I glance over at her, fighting back the tears still threatening to emerge. “You have no idea.”

  She considers my words for a moment but silently nods.

  I close my eyes, hoping she leaves soon so I can be alone with Wade again.

  “Sweetie, is this yours?” the nurse asks.

  Opening my eyes, she extends her hand to me.

  Confused, I reach out to accept whatever it is she’s found. I don’t remember dropping anything, but who knows in all of the commotion from earlier.

  However, from her outstretched palm falls a single tattered red thread.

  Chapter 20

  Lachesis

  Panic races through me and for a moment, I’m frozen solid with my arm still extended above Wade’s torso. When I look up, the nurse’s golden eyes flash mischievously, and a hint of a smile paints the edges of her lips.

  “Who are you?” I demand, crumpling my hand around the string.

  “I think you already have a fairly decent hypothesis. So, with that in mind, I’d like to hear your theory first,” she says, dropping her gaze from me to Wade. Slowly, she runs her left index finger down his exposed arm.

  “Don’t touch him,” I spit.

  She shoots me a look of admonishment. “If I was here to hurt him, do you really think there’s anything you could do to stop me?”

  My heart thumps unevenly and my torso feels like it’s been hollowed out. “Then why are you here?”

  Her gaze drops to Wade’s shoulder, and she pulls his hospital gown down a couple more inches. Her forehead creases as she takes in the mark on his chest. “Not even Death can cheat Fate,” she mutters. “You’d think he’d know that by now.”

  “Wade didn’t do this—” I sputter.

  “Not him,” she says, clearly agitated as she glares back at me.

  “Then who—?” The question cuts off in the back of my throat and I look back down at Wade’s mark and it’s suddenly clear. “His father,” I whisper.

  “It’s no wonder we’ve been having problems with his thread,” she whispers, tipping her chin up and inspecting the mark a little more closely. “Nice handiwork, though, I have to admit. He knew what he was doing. The ouroboros is a nice touch.”

  “It’s a mark of expulsion. His father banished him,” I say, feeling like I need to somehow defend Wade from her discerning gaze.

  A soft chuckle escapes her lips and she looks over to me. “Is that what he told you?”

  I narrow my eyes, unsure if she’s trying to mislead me or if she’s genuinely this obnoxious. “No, I made it up myself,” I spit back, making a face.

  “Well, you were lied to. This mark here has one purpose only,” she says, her left eyebrow arching high as she presses her finger to Wade’s skin. “To hide his thread from us. I’ll admit, it did take a few more resources than ordinary to locate him.” She suddenly snaps her thumb and index finger together. Her clothes change from a standard nurse’s garb to a pristine white pantsuit.

  My mouth drops open and I blink back in disbelief.

  It’s not a mark of expulsion?

  I take a step back, reeling from the news. Clearly, my mother was right…

  But why would his father lie to us?

  “Which one are you?” I ask, swallowing hard.

  Again, she places her golden eyes on me, letting her gaze creep over me like a spider hunting for its prey. “Lachesis,” she says, lifting her chin almost defiantly.

  A shiver rolls through me to hear her name out loud. Wade and I had studied the Fates last semester, but to learn you’re staring into the face of Fate—or at least one of them—is a bit much.

  “You’re the middle sister, right?” I say, remembering my research.

  She shrugs nonchalantly. “We were all created at the same time.”

  We stare at each other from across the bed. For a moment, we’re at an impasse. I don’t know what she wants, but I’m scared to death to find out. On the other hand, I’m sure one way or another, ignoring her isn’t an option.

  “My sisters and I have our places. It really doesn’t matter which one is first, second, or third. Without all three, reality falls apart,” Lachesis says, patting the edge of Wade’s bed and stepping away. “Chaos ensues.”

  “So, if you’re not here to hurt us…why are you here?” I say, clutching on to Wade’s hand.

  “Come on, Autumn. You’re not this naive.” Deep grooves appear on her forehead as she frowns at me.

  I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not here for him, for starters. I’m here to talk to you,” Lachesis says.

  My heart skips a beat and I almost drop Wade’s hand to take a step back. “You’re here for me?” My words are breathless as my free hand drops to my abdomen.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not here to claim you, either,” she says. “I just want to talk.”

  I narrow my eyes, instantly suspicious.

  “Do you honestly think most people get the hints I’ve been dropping?” she asks, raising a hand in the air. “Your family is special. It always has been. Truth be told, I was rooting for your dad. Too bad he picked the wrong sister.” She makes a face and does a strange sort of jazz hands effect.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

  She tips her head back, staring at the false ceiling and fluorescent lighting for a few seconds. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but I’m so damned tired of having to keep score.”

  “Okay…”

  Lachesis walks over to the folding table and picks through the leftover food. She finds a small cookie and holds it up. “Do you mind?”

  I shake my head. “Uh, no. Help yourself.”

  Grinning, she rips open the bag and tears a bit off. She pops it in her mouth as she walks back over to the bed. “Everyone thinks when it comes to us, the one they need to appeal to is Aisa—she’s the ones with the shears, after all. I get it. They think that if they offer her something, beg her to reconsider, she can somehow alter the course of what has already been set into motion…”

  “But…?” I ask, hanging onto every word she says despite myself.

  “But,” she says, tearing off another chunk of the cookie, “of the three of us, Aisa is the only one who’s locked into her order
s. Why do you think she’s called the Unforgiving One? I mean, come on?”

  “But you’re different?” I ask.

  “Clotho and I, well…we’ve both grown restless in the predictability of our roles. We have a tendency to root for the underdogs every now and again,” she says, winking at me. “Once in a while, there’s a particular family who captures our attention. Yours happens to be one of them.”

  “I’m not following…” I say, trying to read the nuances in between what she’s saying, but I’m afraid if I do, I’ll read her wrong and screw everything up.

  “Look, I know what you’re going to try to do…and I have to admit, I’m impressed,” she says, walking around the end of the bed toward me.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, clamping my mouth shut.

  Her face goes deadpan and she blinks back at me slowly. “Don’t patronize me, dear. I’m the epitome of destiny. Who do you think finds these loopholes in the tapestry of life?”

  I inhale sharply. “You’re talking about me evolving.”

  A smile breaks out across her face. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

  I press my lips tight, waiting for her to continue.

  “So, here’s the thing,” she says, pressing her palms together. “Clotho and I… Well, we approve.”

  My heart practically stops. Dropping Wade’s hand, I walk around his bedside, pulling her away from where he rests. “You approve? Of me becoming a sin-eater?”

  Saying the word out loud still feels strange.

  “Yes,” she says matter-of-factly.

  My fingertips fly upward, and I press them hard against my forehead. The idea of evolving into a sin-eater was meant to be a surprise to the Moirai, not the other way around.

  “There’s just one thing,” she says, her golden gaze glued to me.

  “Of course there is,” I mutter, almost scared to find out.

  “If you’re to do this, you can’t wait. The threads have been measured for each of you already and they’re beginning to fray. Your friend’s father knew that.” She eyes me knowingly. “Once Aisa has her orders, there will be no stopping her.”