“Do you know anything about reading tea leaves?”
I took the toothbrush out of my mouth, curiosity spiked. “Not really," I admitted.
Silence on Lily's end. I finished brushing my teeth, making sure to clean the sink out after I was finished. I stepped back into the small hallway leading to the exit of the room. Lily was standing there, a small smile on her face. "Ready?" she said.
It seemed as if Lily wasn’t going to continue the conversation about tea leaves. ”Yes.”
We walked out of the room together. I wanted to be wary of Lily’s weird actions the past few days. I remembered that we had tea together just yesterday. I tried to pick my brain for anything about reading tea leaves. Maybe something like palm reading? Growing up in the foster world, it was hard to trust anyone, and even though I wanted to fit in and didn’t want to cause any trouble, it wasn't my first rodeo, and being in Gardenside meant it wasn't Lily's either. Something had to be up.
"One sec, we're waiting for Cyrus."
Oh, we're waiting. But still, I obediently stood by. A few minutes later, Lily apparently got tired of waiting and she raised her fist to bang on the door across from ours. I scoffed. Loud Music Kid? Great. I had some words for him. He didn't turn off his annoying loud music until almost eleven last night. I thought I was going to go crazy.
All my anger dissipated when the door opened and the boy stepped out of the room. Because holy crap, this boy could play music whenever the heck he wanted in my world. The boy in front of me was breathtaking. Dark brown hair cascading across his head like the waves of the ocean. Piercing gray eyes. Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks. A strong jawline. A knowing smile. Also, he was shirtless. And I could see that he was pretty in shape. Decently sized biceps, abs that were not quite a six-pack but almost there.
I could feel my cheeks warm rapidly, dashing across my nose. I wanted to hide my face but didn’t want to bring any attention to the emotion so brazenly displayed on my cheeks. I cursed whatever terrible genes my family had given me to get rosacea, however minor of a case my dermatologist kept assuring me it was.
"Could you hurry it up?" Lily scolded. "We're gonna be late."
Cyrus smiled wide, putting a white tee on in a way only boys could and placed an earbud in his ear. "I'm ready, Lily Bear." His eyes fell onto me. "Who's this?"
"My roommate," Lily spoke pointedly as if it was obvious that I was her roommate—as if they'd spoken of me before. I raised my brows. Paranoia was a trait every kid who grew up in the system experienced. I was no exception. I didn't like this exchange at all.
Nevertheless, I pointed my chin up at Cyrus in greeting. "I'm Noa."
"Like the boy name?" Cyrus teased.
"Without an H. If it doesn't have an H, it's feminine."
"Says who?"
"Says Israel and the Bible."
"Well, unlucky for you, those sources don't matter to me."
"The Bible doesn't matter to you?"
Cyrus smirked as if he knew the whole conversation was just to piss me off. I clenched my fists, then released. I wasn't going to let some cocky boy piss me off, no matter how cute he was.
"Okay, we should get going." Lily took a few steps down the hall, then turned back towards me and Cyrus. She waved us along. "We're going to be late.”
The kitchen was packed. Lily, Cyrus, and I each grabbed a plate and waited respectfully in line by the island for Elsa to serve breakfast. I had yet to eat in the kitchen, save for the occasional snack. I simply had no appetite, but then again, I hardly ever did whenever I moved to a new place. It would subside when I settled in.
The food looked decent, and once I saw the bacon, my mouth watered, and my nervous nausea dissipated. When was the last time I had had bacon? At least three families ago. I piled my plate high with eggs, bacon, potatoes O'Brien... I saw hashbrowns and didn't even care that I already had some form of potatoes on my plate, because I still reached and grabbed more. Potatoes just happened to be a girl’s favorite food.
"Slow down there," Cyrus said with a chuckle. "Did your last family feed you?"
I shot him a dirty look but chose to ignore him. I looked around for the fruit bowl I had seen the day before. I spotted it near the coffee machine and maneuvered my way over. I put my hand into the bowl to grab an apple.
The same moment Cyrus also reached in to grab fruit. We locked eyes, but I was already annoyed with him enough today, so I grabbed my fruit and went to follow Lily.
We sat down in a corner off to ourselves. I picked the side where my back was to the wall and I could see the whole kitchen from my viewpoint, just the way I liked it. I started picking at my food slowly. A whole lot of potatoes had made it to my plate, with little room for much else. But I at least had eggs. That counted as breakfast, right?
"Good morning, Noa!”
I looked up from my plate and over the table to the two pairs of brown eyes staring up at me next to Cyrus. "Hey Josie, hey Harry," I responded with a small smile.
“Potatoes are my favorite, too!” Harry said, looking hungrily at my plate.
Josie pulled on her brother’s sleeve and together they carried their plates over to their own table, with a couple other kids their age and older. Lily and Cyrus paid no mind to them, only stopping themselves from staring at me to eat their food. I grew frustrated. Why are they staring?
"What's y'all's stories?" I asked, hoping to turn the attention off of myself. I could continue to feel the flustering of my cheeks, and I wondered if the Rudolph nose was what had their attention.
"Nothing unusual," Lily began. "My parents died in a fire when I was ten. Cyrus's too."
"Lily," Cyrus warned.
"Y'all both lost your parents in the same fire?" My interest was peaked. And they both ended up in Gardenside? I tried to rack my brain for any big fires that occurred recently. Lily and I were the same age so... six years ago?
"Yes, we did," Lily said at the same time Cyrus said, "No, we didn't."
They looked at each other, then over at me. Silence. Weirdos.
"What about you?" Lily asked, a few minutes later. "What's yours?"
"I'm the Rembrandt baby," I said with a shrug. Most people knew what I meant; it was huge news in most of South Carolina.
Lily looked at me expectantly, her expression blank.
"You've never heard of the Rembrandt baby?"
"No."
I couldn't remember the last time I had to tell the story. Everyone has always just known. "I was found in a dumpster in Charleston. Ever been there? On Rembrandt Circle Dr, behind the old Blockbuster building. I mean, it was a Blockbuster at the time, but it was closed down years ago. You know where that is?"
Lily shook her head. Cyrus was looking at me intently, seemingly engrossed in the story. I continued. "They think I was there for days before anyone found me. I should've died because it was considered one of the worst winters in South Carolina. But for some reason, I was fine. They gave me the last name Rembrandt. My first family named me Noa because they thought it matched."
Lily and Cyrus glanced at each other. "That's so... interesting," Lily said. "I mean, it's sad. And I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I wouldn't want to be with a family who even thought shoving their baby into a dumpster was a good idea."
"Maybe they did for a reason," Cyrus spoke up finally. “Like they wanted a boy or something.”
"That's not an excuse to put a baby in a dumpster." I was dumbfounded by his percieved ignorance. A lot of people in the world were rude, but never once did anyone tell me I deserved to be in a trashcan as a newborn.
"I'm just saying, people don't come to Gardenside as a first choice. Usually, there's a reason behind it."
"And what was your reason?" I shot back angrily.
Cyrus picked up his glass of water, a small smirk on his lips as he lifted it to his face. "My family’s been involved with Gardenside for years. You just kept getting rejected by every family in the state."
My rage heightened.
My eyes locked onto the glass in Cyrus' hand as my face grew red with fury and my hands made fists that shook the windows. The glass in Cyrus' hand shattered, the windows shattered with it, sending shards of glass flying around the room. Chaos erupted in the kitchen.
CHAPTER 4
I walked out of the kitchen that morning with scratches on my face, and a deep gash on the back of my right hand carefully wrapped up in coband by one of the EMTs that were called after the incident.
It suddenly occurred to me that Cyrus and Lily disappeared after the incident. Were they engulfed in the chaos? Cyrus's hand was pretty cut up. I hoped he got it looked at.
Guilt churned my gut as I sat on a low stone wall watching several ambulances fill with my foster family needing emergency treatment. This was my fault. I watched as a four-year-old boy named Myles was carried into an ambulance by an EMT. He wailed so loud it made my ears hurt.
I didn't want to remember, but I did. I pictured so vividly in my head all the times I had things like this happen to me, happen to all the families I was placed with. When I turned eight, I thought it had just been a normal birthday. I didn't know that just a few months later, my whole life would change drastically.
I felt tears form in my eyes, and I willed them to stop. I didn't want to cry. If I cried, it would only cement the guilt that sat in my heart. No. I wasn't going to cry. It would only make things worse.
"That cut looks gnarly."
I looked up to cropped brown hair and kind eyes. His skin was tan and smooth, his eyebrows perfectly shaped as was his jawline. He was muscular but not in a bodybuilder type of way, just the perfect amount for a high schooler. He wore a short-sleeved gray shirt and black Nike sweatpants with sandals. I sucked in through my teeth and took him in entirely, not registering in my head that he had spoken to me.
"Are you alright?" he asked now, taking in my puffy red eyes, red cheeks, and broken demeanor.
"I'm fine." My words were slow and deliberate, willing my voice not to crack.
"I'm Tomás, are you new here?"
He had an accent I couldn't place. American, definitely, but not Southern like everyone else around here.
"I am," I mumbled, willing him to talk more just so I could place his words. "I got here two days ago."
"What a wicked first Sunday breakfast then, huh?”
A mix of Spanish and Midwestern American, as if he was born and raised into a heavily Hispanic family and never quite fell out of the habit.
"It's been eventful." I stood up, the burning in my eyes disappearing as my attention focused elsewhere—Tomás’s dark brown eyes. "I'm Noa."
"It's nice to meet you, Noa."
"Nice to meet you too." I wondered briefly why Tomás was talking to me in the first place—most cute boys ignored me for prettier, less broken girls. Maybe the pickings were slim in a place where all the rejects of the foster system went.
Tomás sat next to me and together we watched the ambulances leave, one by one until all four were gone and it was quiet and dreary again on Gardenside land. We were quiet in our thoughts for a moment, until I turned to Tomás. "What's got you here?" I asked.
"Nothing special," Tomás spoke with a small knowing smile.
That was code not to pry, and usually I wouldn't. But there was something about Tomás, something so alluring. There was an undeniable sense of attraction between us, something I'd never felt before. I wanted to know his story.
But I wanted him to tell me on his own terms.
I stood up, turning slowly to Tomás with a small smile on my face. "Do you want to show me around?" I asked simply.
Tomás looked as if he wanted to say no at first. He looked me up and down, biting his lip. I couldn't read the thoughts in his head, but for once I would've begged to. “Of course,” he said finally.
He showed me the reflection pool first. He told me the story of Gardenside and the neighboring town of Seamont; something more in-depth than an old Civil War story.
"Gardenside was a family home run by a very rich family," Tomás started. He watched me deeply, must've seen how engrossed I was in the history he told me. "Right before World War I, the plantation fell into the hands of Percy and Elizabeth Thornton.
"Elizabeth couldn't have children, and Percy was drafted into the Great War. He died. Instead of giving up the plantation to her younger siblings, she turned it into a sanctuary for single mothers."
Tomás sat down at the edge of the pool, picking up a decently sized rock that lay at his foot. He tossed the rock across the water, and we both watched it skip four times before sinking, the ripples of the movement dissipating across the edges of the pool.
"In the sixties, the negative connotation behind single women was less, so Gardenside became obsolete," Tomás continued. "By then, the house was run by Elizabeth's niece; I can't remember her name right now if I'm gonna be honest."
I smiled, looking to Tomás. The midmorning light fell through the tree line and enhanced his already strong jawline. The way light danced on his skin made him look as if he was glowing, like a Greek god of some sort.
Tomás continued his story. "Thus, the niece wanted to continue Elizabeth's legacy of helping people, especially children. She took in orphans, most of them were abandoned. Kept them here. Cared for them."
“That’s always a good story to hear,” I murmured as I turned away from Tomás to stare instead into the pool, my reflection looking back at me, sad eyes piercing mine at the hard truth of my next words. "All the foster parents I've met, some of them went into the program wanting to help kids, but they grew out of it, you know?”
"The Thornton family was known for their hospitality. Proper Southern charm."
"What are you known for, Tomás?"
"Not my Southern charm," he smiled widely. "And I don't think Mexican charm is a thing."
"Definitely not," I grinned.
For me, it was easy to see that Tomás was a genuine person. And I felt comfortable with him, more comfortable than I'd ever felt with a person in a long while.
I was about to say something, to tell Tomás about my conclusion, when Lily broke through the brush.
"Noa, I've been looking for you."
Lily Caine. Ruiner of moments. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it. We stared at each other for a moment, neither of us budging for the next word. Finally, I opened my mouth to speak.
"Lily, how are you feeling?" I asked.
"I have a headache."
"It's been a long morning."
"Can I talk to you?" Lily asked, seeming panicked.
I waved my hand in a circle, in a "go on" movement. Lily shook her head. "In private," she insisted.
Fighting an eye roll, I stood and waved goodbye to my new acquaintance. I secretly hoped whatever Lily needed would be quick, and I could come back.
So I followed Lily back to the house, my curiosity dulled and my annoyance on high.
"What's this about?" I asked once we reached our bedroom. I headed over to my bed and sat down, pulling my pillow into my lap.
"I want to run something by you," Lily spoke cautiously as if about to spill a secret she'd kept her whole life. "I know we're not close, but I think it's important."
"Okay. I'm listening."
"I-” Lily paused, opening her mouth and closing it like a fish. She looked deep in thought like she was trying to pick and choose her words ever so carefully. “I’m going to tell you something, but I want you to keep an open mind,” she said finally with a tone that was the opposite of confidence.
“Why me?”
“Because I think you’re someone that might turn out to be really important.”
I furrowed my brows. I had never been an important person. A forgotten foster child, hardened by years of neglectful parents or people who simply just didn’t like her. But I, Noa Rembrandt, was not important in the grand scheme of things.
Lily paced around the room anxiously. “I’m really not supposed to be telling you this. And if I’m wrong,
and you’re not the person I think you are, we’re both gonna be in a lot of trouble.”
“Lily, just spit it out.”
“There’s witches.”
I stifled a laugh, slowly shaking my head up and down. “Witches?” My mind went briefly to Josie’s comment the day before. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Yes. A whole subspecies of human living right beneath your nose. Led by a High Priestess, and her council—the Order. And then it gets just smaller and smaller after that, the chain of command. Until you get to the individual members.”
I shrugged, moving to sit on the bed with my back against the wall as Lily sat down at her desk and opened a large book. There were miscellaneous drawings and scribbles and words inside, but I couldn't make out the details. “Okay,” I said, trying to keep this open mind that Lily had practically begged for.
Lily finally settled on a specific page. “This Order—every lifetime, they sacrifice a girl our age to Rhiannon to fulfill some prophecy…”
I shook my head and raised my hand. “Wait, who’s Rhiannon?”
“She’s the Original Witch, and there’s a whole legend about her, but that’s for later.” Lily flipped to the next page. “Anyway, there was a sacrifice years ago, and the Order thought they messed it up because the sacrifice didn’t come back with the power.”
I sat up straight, leaning forward slightly to listen more intently. "Did they?"
"No, the sacrifice was pregnant. With a little girl. And no one knew except for Rhiannon herself."
"So this chick was pregnant when she was 'sacrificed' so the power transfer didn't work? Why?"
"It did work. The power transferred to the baby."
"Why is that an issue?"
"Witches don't begin having access to their power until they turn eight, because theoretically, that's when witches will have the ability to choose between right and wrong, good and evil. I guess that's just the way our—I mean, their—bodies work."
I noticed the slip-up. I also noticed the correlation of the age of eight—did Lily know all of my problems began at that time? I briefly recalled the foster record under my mattress, tucked away with all its secrets and the story of my life. Had Lily snooped and found it?
The Power of Witches Page 2