When Wishes Bleed

by Casey Bond

  “Do you need a love potion? You’re handsome enough to find someone on your own, I’d warrant,” I said truthfully. He rewarded the compliment with a ridiculously wide smile that made my lips curl upward in response. “I didn’t expect anyone to be brave enough to approach my table tonight,” I told him. “And people rarely surprise me.”

  He grinned proudly and put his hand across his chest—the salute of the Kingdom’s militia. He must be a soldier. “Glad to be of service, Madame. Perhaps I should offer you a reading, instead.”

  He was ridiculous and…sweet.

  “Look, I can help you. Do you think you can climb steps? I have something that will help clear your mind, but you’ll have to sit down for a few minutes after drinking it.”

  He scrutinized the stairs leading to my front door, and with a determined look, squared his shoulders and nodded his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

  Um, good. They’re just steps.

  I blew out my candle and gathered everything into my casting cloth, deciding I’d sort it all out later. It was clear that Fate had damaged any opportunity I might have had to make money tonight, not that I minded, in all honesty. Killing Jenson Renk was worth it. I wondered if it would feel the same in a month’s time when I had no savings to provide what I couldn’t, and the other Houses wouldn’t.

  Still, this young man obviously came from money. Perhaps he would feel grateful after the tincture I was about to prepare worked its magic.

  I offered a hand in case he fell, but he made it up the staircase and stepped over the threshold and into my house. As far as I knew, he was the first outsider to ever step foot inside its walls.

  I laid my things on a chair and pointed him in the direction of the couch while I went to rummage through the kitchen for the ingredients I needed. Brecan had left most of my herbs in a sack on the counter. Quickly plucking leaves from those I needed, I folded them neatly into a tea bag and grabbed a mug. I muttered a spell for it to fill with water, and for the water to heat but not boil. I was in a hurry. Something told me to help him and get him out of there as quickly as I could.

  For this reason, I was thankful when the aromas of sage, rosemary, lavender, and mint filled the air.

  As I walked toward the couch with the mug, the young man sat up clumsily, removing his feet from the oblong table in front of him, sheepishly apologizing and putting them back on the floor. He scrubbed a hand down his face as I handed him the mug.

  “Drink. This should make you feel better.”

  He glanced from the steaming liquid to me and back. “How do I know it’s safe?”

  I smiled. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “You killed that young man tonight,” he answered quietly.

  My lungs expanded with a deep breath. Something about the way he said it made me wish I had somehow held Fate off until after the festivities, just so he wouldn’t see the type of magic in which I was adept.

  “That man was a murderer.” Steam from the cup wafted into his face and I saw his eyes begin to clear. Changing the subject, I asked, “You were with two others. Where are they?”

  “We got separated. I don’t know where they are.”

  “I have no intention of harming you,” I told him honestly. “The tea will do nothing more than sober you up. Then you can go find your friends.”

  His fingers tightened on the mug’s handle. “I hope I’m not making a mistake by trusting you.” He brought the mug to his lips and took a tentative sip. His dark brows shot up. “This... this is delicious.”

  I tried to smile. “Glad you like it.”

  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.

  My mouth gaped and I sucked in a shocked breath. Droplets of crimson blood dripped from the larger part of the bone, splattering onto the table. I felt a speck hit my cheek and wiped his blood away with my thumb. The smaller piece also bled, but to a lesser extent. I’d been reading fates for years, and had never seen a wishbone bleed. Three more large splatters fell before either of us spoke, and it was he who managed it.

  “Why is it bleeding?” he asked, looking at me expectantly.

  “Give me your hand.” He dropped both pieces of bone and wiped his hands on his pant legs before proffering both. I placed my right palm against his and closed my eyes.

  Scenes flashed through my mind. The first was a vision of him lying on his back, a foamy trail of blood bubbling from his mouth and his pupils dilated and still. Another scene swiftly appeared, of hands pushing him from a
balcony or window… someplace high… and the sickening crunch that came when he hit the earth below. Another vision of him collapsing to the ground, a fountain of blood pouring over his lips and his skin pale as ice. That vision was erased by another, heralded by a wave of sharp pain as he looked down to find the tip of a blade protruding from his chest...

  Every single fate pointed to one thing.

  I called on Fate to confirm it and felt his warning warmth flow through my veins. The bone did not lie. There was no mistake. “Very soon, someone will try to kill you.”

  He gave a laugh of disbelief. “What? That can’t be. You said yourself that some fates are more complex than others.”

  “You have no other fate than that.”

  I searched for any sign of hope and found none. His palm warmed mine, and through the connection, more scenes, each more disturbing and gruesome than the next, filled my mind. I couldn’t see anything but his death as a product of murder. I grabbed his other hand and more scenes filled my mind, each more ghastly than the one before it. My lashes fluttered from the turmoil of seeing his body torn and empty.

  He stared at our connected palms. “Could you be wrong?”

  Our eyes met, and he knew the answer before I spoke. “No. I’ve never been wrong.”

  He was quiet for a long moment, clinging to my hands. When he cleared his throat, he croaked, “Does the blood mean they will succeed?”

  I pursed my lips. The most difficult part of reading the fate of another was telling them they would die soon. “If you don’t figure out who it is and stop them before they take action against you, then yes. I’m afraid they will succeed.”

  I pulled my hand away.

  His mouth parted as he focused on the droplets of blood now speckling my table. “Can you tell me who it is?”

  “No, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Okay, you said ‘very soon’. How soon, exactly?”

  I pulled the iron bowl toward me and ran my hands over the bones inside. “I wish I could tell you more, but I don’t think it will be very long before they make an attempt. I take it no one has tried to kill you before?”

  He glanced from my hands to my eyes. “No, they haven’t.”

  “It’s not pleasant.” I knew that from experience; a rather unpleasant one I’d rather forget than have dredged up. Especially tonight, given the events of the evening.

  “Given the bleeding bone, I’d say it won’t be.” He scrubbed his face again and let out a frustrated groan.

  The young man was handsome. It was a pity he wouldn’t live long, and even more of a shame he wasn’t a witch. I’d never actually considered hand-fasting before, but if circumstances were different, he could make me reconsider.

  He stood abruptly and extended his hand.

  I looked at his palm. “Your fate won’t change with another physical connection.”

  “No, I know. I was just going to shake your hand so I could thank you properly.”

  I quirked a brow. “You’re thanking me, despite the news I’ve delivered?” My fingers itched to touch him one more time, knowing it may be the last time I would have the opportunity.

  “I’m thanking you,” he said, taking my hand in his. It had somehow floated up toward his without my knowing... “for your hospitality, for the information you provided, and I’d like to beg for your discretion.”

  “I don’t know you, so I couldn’t blab to anyone else.”

  He chuckled. “Right,” he scoffed disbelievingly.

  I pulled my hand away, stung. “I’m a witch, not a liar.”

  His smile fell away with his laughter. “You really don’t know who I am?”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I scooted my chair away from him and farther into the corner. “Should I? Are you some sort of celebrity? Look around. You’ll see no telecaster here.”

  “You must be the only person in Nautilus without one,” he said beneath his breath.

  “What was that?” I pretended not to have heard him. He must be famous. With a face and build like that, the women in the Lower sectors would fawn over him. Any other witch would cast a love spell on him to make him hers for a time.

  Furtively, I looked at my herbal supply. I was tragically out of rosehips.

  He hooked a thumb over his shoulder and shoved his hands into the pockets of his cloak. “I should go. I’m sure you’re exhausted from the evening’s events.” His Adam’s apple bobbed with his swallow.

  “Do you need help finding your friends?”

  He snorted. “Knowing them, they won’t be leaving Thirteen until morning.”

  “I think you’ll find that witches are nothing like the girls you’ve come to know in the lower sectors.”

  “How so?” he asked genuinely, his tongue wetting his full bottom lip.

  “We’re particular. And we particularly only pair with male witches – to whom we are hand-fasted.”

  “Hand-fasted?”

  “It’s what you would consider a marriage, except it only lasts for one year. Winter Solstice to Winter Solstice.” There was no judgment in his eyes, just surprise. “You really didn’t know that?”

  “No, I really didn’t. But... may I ask a question?”

  “You just did,” I replied sweetly.

  He smiled. “What if you love the person to whom you’re hand-fasted? What if a year isn’t enough time to spend with them?”

  I swallowed, trying to calm my thundering heart, and gave him the most honest answer I could, and the saddest. “I’m not sure witches are capable of loving someone for longer.”

  “Are you hand-fasted to someone? With someone?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Have you ever been?”

  “No.”

  He quietly studied my face, his gaze locking onto mine. “Thank you again.”

  I gave him a small bow. He began walking backward, opened my door, and was gone.

  6

  Wait!” I yelled. He paused on the step. “You promised payment.”

  “I’m afraid I’m out of money,” he replied sheepishly. “But let me find my brother and our friend. They might have some.”

  I felt like throttling him. He was drunk when he stumbled to my table, but sober when he asked for the reading and promised payment. If our positions were reversed, would he happily work in exchange for nothing? Then again, he was about to die. I decided to take the high road—just this once.

  “I will forgive your debt to me. You have more important things to worry about at this point.”

  “I’ll repay you. I swear it.”

  Someone shouted, but I couldn’t make out their drunken mumbling. His friends were in the Center, turning in circles and annoying all the witches trying to clean up.

  “I’m here!” he yelled in response, throwing up his hand. “Thank you again,” he said, locking eyes with me for a beat before jogging down the steps and crossing the yard to meet them.

  He urged his friends toward the border. The three young men took to the woods, their dark cloaks flapping behind them.

  All I could think was, I hope he survives the night.

  As I pushed the door closed, a clock on one of the upper floors began to chime. I ignored the fact that it hadn’t been wound in at least seventeen years and made my way into the house to wipe the blood from the table, and to cast that cursed bone out of my House.

  I’d have to smudge again just to be able to sleep tonight… if it was possible to get the golden eyed boy out of my mind.

  When I opened the back door and chucked the bone and shard out into the grass, I didn’t even notice Brecan approaching. He ducked in time to avoid being hit. “Do I want to know?” he asked.

  I opened my mouth, wondering if I should tell him about the reading and deciding against it. “Probably not.”


  “Wayra spoke to me,” he casually mentioned as he stepped inside, his shoulder brushing mine.

  “Do I want to know what about?”

  “My future is finally looking a little brighter,” he said, wagging his brows.

  “Will you be hand-fasted?”

  He pointed a finger at me. “You truly are a diviner of fate.”

  “And who is the lucky girl she’s picked out for you?”

  I followed him into the kitchen where he propped a hip against the counter. “You’re unpacking this late?” he asked, looking at the bundles of herbs I’d used to make the sobering spell.

  “I’m trying to. I can’t focus.”

  He nodded, glancing from the herbs to me. “She said I could choose,” he announced. “She said that as long as the young lady accepts, we will be fasted on the Winter Solstice.”

  “Who are you thinking of asking?”

  Brecan gave me a smoldering look. Oh, no. No, no, no. “I was hoping you would be my first,” he said boldly, crossing the room to stand in front of me.

  “They would never approve,” I told him. “I’m supposed to be isolated now that I’ve asked for my House back.” Not that I wasn’t isolated before.

  “It’s only for a year, Sable. It’s not a lifelong commitment. By their own rules, they must approve if you accept.”

  “I think you’d find that a year is a long time to be sidled to the Daughter of Fate. Besides, if you fasted to me, no other witch would touch you after our year ended.”

  His eyes flicked to my lips. “Perhaps you’re wrong, and our short-lived union would fuel their curiosity instead.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” I grumped, turning away from him and peering into the sitting room, at the spot on the purple couch where the golden-eyed boy had sat.

  Brecan’s hands found my waist. “I know you think I’m being ridiculous, but I’m not. And I know the consequences of my proposal as far as the Circle is concerned. You’ve always kept me at arm’s length, but I think you’d find it much more pleasurable to keep me closer.” He ran a hand down my upper arm. “Accept me, Sable.”