The Sweetest Kind of Fate

by Crystal Cestari

  “What do you want?” Mom hisses.

  “Oh, I’m just doing a little last-minute shopping. I have a big night tomorrow, you know, and I realized I was out of candles. Silly me! You can’t turn a siren into a mermaid without candles; everyone knows that.”

  We’re all on high alert, waiting for her next move. She could just as easily pull a snake out of her hair as wave good-bye and saunter off. Why she’d show up here the night before the spell is a mystery to me, but she has to have her reasons.

  “Now, I can’t say for sure,” Victoria says, “but I have a feeling the three of you must be working together in some sort of effort to stop me.” She gives each of us a quick visual examination, waiting to see if someone will crack. Her eyes settle on our gargantuan friend. “Bob, I expected more from you.”

  To his credit, he stays still. I can’t imagine the scenes from their past that must be playing in his head. I wish I could slip him his lucky rabbit’s foot for comfort.

  “Don’t talk to him,” Mom commands, “and don’t pretend to know our plans.”

  Victoria laughs, deep and throaty, clutching a strand of pearls vaguely resembling teeth. “Of course I have no idea what you could be up to, darling, but when Amber here showed up the other day with Iris, well, you can understand my assumption.” She turns to me, and I grip the wall as a reflex. “How is Iris, anyway?”

  “As if you don’t know,” I spit with anger. “Since in addition to leaving her a mindless lump sitting around her house, worrying her sister sick, you have a crazy raven manipulating her like a remote control!”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Victoria says, waving me off. “Perhaps she’s recently taken up an interest in bird-watching.”

  “Right, because the perfect time to pick up new hobbies is when you’ve lost your free will,” I sneer.

  “Why are you doing this?” Mom asks. “She’s just a young girl. She didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

  “Lucille, she came to me. I’m providing her a service. How I complete that service is at my discretion.”

  “But taking someone’s free will? That’s low, even for you.”

  Victoria shakes her head with a puffy-lipped smile. “You’re just jealous.”

  “Jealous?” Mom scoffs.

  “Yes. Jealous. You know in your heart you could never pull off this spell, and you’re kicking yourself for abandoning your practice.”

  “Look around!” I blurt out. “She hasn’t abandoned anything. This whole shop is filled with Mom’s spells!”

  “Amber,” Mom warns.

  “Darling, I never said she stopped doing magic,” Victoria says. “But her practice is what disappeared. She let her heart fall in love and out of what mattered.”

  Mom glances at me, and Victoria, sensing Mom’s discomfort with the subject, continues with pleasure. “When I met your mother, she was a wild young thing, a force of nature, ready to take on the world.” Victoria takes a deep breath, reveling in the memory. “She was ready and willing to flex her magical muscles as she saw fit, doing whatever she wanted in pursuit of becoming a better witch. Right, wrong; dark, light; there were no distinctions. Only exploring, discovery.” A wicked grin starts to spread. “I once watched her debone a live fish in midair, just so she could see how it worked.”

  I shoot Mom a stare, but she doesn’t flinch. It’s not the most disturbing thing I’ve ever heard—witches use bones and animal body parts all the time in spells—but the visual of a fish exploding out of water is not pleasant. I’m sure the smell alone was very off-putting.

  “Well, so what?” I declare, chin held high. “So she played doctor on some guppy. I dissected a frog in biology; it’s just a gross part of life.”

  “Is it, now? Well, how about using those same powers on a human?”

  I shake my head. “No. No way.”

  Victoria smiles, lips curling viciously. “Oh yes. She held an innocent bystander in midair and—”

  “Stop it right now!” Mom yells.

  “—made his heart beat right out of his chest.”

  I try to keep my stomach calm because it’s definitely wrestling with keeping that coffee cake down. I know the reaction Victoria wants; she’s hoping I’ll freak, be appalled at Mom’s past behavior, and rescind my stronghold. And honestly? It’s working because I am more than a little surprised to hear she flexed her mystical prowess through the flesh of an actual person. I know I’ve been supersleuthing it to learn more about her secret past, but I never in a billion years thought the skeleton in her closet could be torturing someone.

  “How dare you?” Mom growls in a violent whisper, close to shooting actual lasers out her eyes. “What gives you the right to share that with my daughter?”

  “Well, as your daughter, don’t you think she has a right to know who she’s fighting for?” Victoria asks, words dripping with innocence.

  Enraged, Mom starts to advance in attack, mumbling some Latin under her breath. But before she lets the spell fly, she catches herself, closing her eyes and burying whatever she was about to unleash.

  And there she is—the mother I know and love. She’s capable of destruction—I’ve seen her attack Victoria before. Even if she turned her back on the dark arts, those shadows still live within. But she fights them every day, taking the higher path 99 percent of the time. That’s the witch I’ll always stand beside; I won’t give Victoria the satisfaction of a meltdown.

  “I do know who I’m fighting for,” I say, using all my focus to control any shaking in my voice. Mom turns my way, doing her best to remain expressionless, but I can feel her heart breaking.

  “Mmm-hmm, sure.” Victoria rolls her eyes. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. Once she met your dad, she walked away, abandoning her true self in pursuit of love. And we all know how that turned out.”

  “ENOUGH!” Mom yells, charging toward Victoria again. “This is my business, my story to tell should I choose. If you came here in an effort to shake my confidence, you’ve only made it stronger.” For a second, I think she’s going to grab a chunk of Victoria’s fried blond hair, but she hovers just within the boundaries of personal space. “I have taken you down before, and I will do it again.”

  I look at the two of them—a hair’s distance apart and ready to brawl—and think, They were best friends. Confidants. Two peas in a twisted pod. But when Mom found Dad, it all fell apart, and their bond transformed into a rivalry. How quickly the lines between love and hatred can blur, that raw emotion easily swayed to live on either side.

  “You know, on second thought, I’m sure I have plenty of candles at home,” Victoria says, taking a step back. “I’ll see you all soon, I’m sure.”

  And as quickly as she rolled in, Victoria exits, leaving a wake of misery in her path. We take a beat to let our nerves settle back to a natural state, while Bob, who remained frozen during the entire exchange, takes his first breath in several minutes.

  “Amber, come with me,” Mom instructs wearily. She leads me to the back room, pulling the red velvet curtain shut. I take a seat on a star-printed floor pillow and stare blankly into the crystal ball before me. Thanks for nothing, buddy, I think. You couldn’t have given me a heads-up on all this? Mom lights some lavender incense and sits down next to me, taking my hand.

  “I want you to know,” she starts, avoiding my eye, “I appreciate you standing up for me, even after hearing what I did.” She squeezes my fingers. “I’m sorry Victoria shared that with you, but I’m even more sorry you had to hear it from someone other than me.”

  “Mom, it’s—”

  “No. I’m ashamed, for many reasons. I was a different person back then; thinking about that time, I don’t even recognize myself. It’d be easy to blame it all on Victoria, but she didn’t make me hurt that man. I let myself get to that point.”

  “Did he…survive?” I ask, metaphorical fingers crossed.

  “Yes, thankfully. It happened so quick, we were able to put him back together ag
ain.” She’s bent over, shaking her head in regret. “I think the scars stayed with me longer than they did with him. If I didn’t have good people in my life, like John and your dad, to help me get back on track, I don’t know what I would’ve become.”

  I think about John’s words, how Dad tried to put a stop to Mom’s magic. “Dad doesn’t really seem like a hero to me.”

  Mom looks up, eyes glistening. She never talks about him, so I know she’s struggling to find the words now. “He was, and he wasn’t. I was so scared of where I was heading, I threw myself into him, hoping he was the answer. I was willing to sacrifice everything just to ensure I didn’t end up a lost cause.” She’s so small, all curled in a ball, I squeeze her hand back in support, encouraging her to go on. “But he didn’t understand me either, tried pushing me into a mold that didn’t fit, just like Victoria did.”

  “People should know by now: Sand women break molds,” I say, hoping for a laugh.

  Mom smiles weakly, sniffling a bit. “I should have obliterated Victoria the second she came to town, but I didn’t want to submit to those old urges. And I should have helped Iris instead of turning her away. I refused to work with her for my own selfish reasons, and it’s caused nothing but trouble.”

  With the past finally out in the open, there’s a closeness between us I’ve never felt before. People make mistakes—Gods, I’m certainly not perfect—but owning up to them is half the battle. You can’t course-correct until you realize you’re on the wrong path in the first place. That’s what Mom did, and I hope I can too. “You’re a good witch, Mom, and a good person too.”

  She leans in for a hug, and I bury my face in her long hair. The incense stick burns out, and the last of the sweet-smelling smoke curls around us.

  I feel like we’re packing for the apocalypse, and maybe we are. The night is dark, the moon is full, and Mom is stuffing what seems like the entire contents of her supply cabinet into a satchel. But because she’s a witch, she’s enchanted the bag to go all Mary Poppins, allowing her to cram as many items as she wants without anything spilling out the top. It’s a pretty neat trick.

  “Amber, can you pass me that crucifix?” Her hair is tied up in a messy bun, but she’s moving so frantically around the room, gray strands keep waterfalling down her face.

  “I didn’t realize we’d be facing the undead tonight,” I say, passing her the wooden cross.

  “I just want to be prepared. We’re bringing backup; I don’t see why Victoria wouldn’t do the same.”

  Yes, backup. The moon is full, and the Fates are ready for a supernatural showdown. In the Sand corner, we have a witch, a matchmaker, a precog, an ex-siren, a mermaid, a vampire (thank you, Vincent), and our wild card, a werewolf, in the form of Marcus (well, I guess technically he’ll be in the form of a dog). Marcus was sweet enough to offer his services, although I really can’t picture how he’ll contribute, besides scaring the crap out of everyone, myself included. I’ve never seen a werewolf in person; something about the whole going-feral-in-the-moonlight thing is not exactly enticing. He reassured me he’d be able to control himself enough to know who’s a friend or foe, but I’m packing some wolfsbane just in case.

  When we get there, Iris and Ivy are already by the lakeshore. Iris is sprawled out on a large rock, still lacking free will. Brooke is clasping her hand in the frigid water. Our posse hangs back, letting the darkness conceal our location. But even from a distance, I can tell Brooke is comforting her girlfriend, running her fingers through her hair and whispering words of encouragement. Ivy keeps looking over her shoulder, either for us or the wicked witch, but also lets her eyes linger on her sister. Ivy’s never been the warm and snuggly type, but she too has a reassuring hand on Iris, stroking her upper arm.

  One of the provisions I smuggled in Mom’s bag o’ magic is a thermos of hot chocolate, which I pass around to the group. Mom and Amani take long pulls, while Vincent passes. I gulp down as much as I can, letting the warmth fill my throat and belly, hoping that if my core temperature rises, my fingers will stop feeling like icicles. The fact that this full moon had to land on one of the coldest nights of the year is a sick joke, one I’m sure the Fates are enjoying at our expense. No sign of Marcus, though; maybe he decided to wolf out in his parents’ basement after all.

  Just when it feels like all my nose hairs have frozen together in one solid clump, Victoria emerges from the darkness, wearing a long black velvet cape. I’ve never seen her adorned in anything but some sort of animal print, so the fact that she’s chosen to go with a stereotypical witch costume for this event seems highly comical. It’s almost like she’s expecting supernatural paparazzi to catch her in this epic spell, and she’d better look the part. She takes long, careful strides, like a deranged bride walking down the aisle to hell, chin raised in self-importance. This spell is definitely all about her, not the nearly lifeless girl who’s about to switch species. Victoria has crowned herself Queen of the Night, and is relishing every moment.

  “Where’s her entourage?” Amani asks the question we’re all wondering.

  We scan the area for possible associates. It’s so cold, there’s no way any Chicagoan would be outside without a pressing reason. Besides the Chamberlain sisters, I don’t even see anyone else, yet there’s no way she showed up for this alone. Then, without a word, Mom points to the sky, where countless black birds circle the scene.

  Ravens. OF COURSE.

  “Nothing like a literal sign of death,” I say under my breath.

  “Could be shape-shifters,” Mom suggests. “Hard to tell.”

  “Or just the worst pets ever,” Amani adds. Vincent snickers.

  Mom shoots us a glare. “Quiet, please.” She fumbles through her bottomless bag, pulling out a flat, clear stone used for uncloaking hidden truths. She peers through it, examining the ravens as they hover over their master. Mom squints, turning the stone a few times, then drops it in frustration. “It’s too dark.”

  “I’m not sensing any supernatural traits,” Vincent says. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have them specially trained for vicious tasks.”

  “Oh yeah, she definitely has them targeted to prey on weaklings,” I confirm.

  “Good thing we’re not weak,” he says with a wink.

  Mom stares at us disapprovingly; we’re talking too much. From out of the bag, she pulls out what seems like nothing, clutching chunks of air. Except I know better: she enchanted a blanket to make its wearer temporarily invisible, which will hopefully let us get closer to the scene without being detected.

  “Now, it is imperative we remain hidden until Iris gets her free will back. We cannot intervene until she’s fully restored.” She wads the balled-up see-through blanket and passes it to me. Holding invisible objects is always such a mind bend. I can feel the soft chenille, but all I see are my gloves. Weird. “Are you ready?” Mom asks me.

  I nod, swinging the non-blanket around my shoulders, draping it over my head like a hood. My view stays the same, but Amani’s and Vincent’s eyes both widen at my disappearance.

  The plan is for me to sneak over to Iris and cover her with the blanket as soon as she’s re-will-ified. (Willed? Will-full? Hmm.) If Victoria can’t see the siren, she can’t change her into a mermaid. Because, in addition to Iris’s safety, what’s most at stake here is this wicked witch gaining access to a power none of us can even begin to comprehend; the consequences to that are…Well, let’s not think about that. I creep out from our hiding place, being careful not to step in snow and leave proof of my presence. I’m crazy nervous, and my accelerated breathing fills my blanketed space, sounding much louder to my ears than probably anyone else’s. I swerve far from Victoria, assuming she can smell blood or some other creepy dark witch trait, and take my place next to Ivy just as Victoria steps up to her victim. I texted Ivy about this earlier today, but she still jumps when an invisible finger pokes her back.

  Ivy rises, placing herself in between the witch and her sister.

 
; “You’re lucky I’m not a siren anymore,” Ivy sneers, “or I’d be having you light yourself on fire like your Salem sisters.”

  Victoria smiles. “How precious.”

  Brooke, clearly panicked about pissing off the creature who’s going to perform mystical surgery on her girlfriend, tries a different approach. “Will this hurt her? I don’t want her to be in pain.”

  “Of course you don’t,” Victoria says. “But surely you must know that love and suffering go hand in hand. Or in your case, hand in fin? I’m not really sure how that works, to be honest.”

  Ivy’s siren rage funnels down to her fists, and Brooke starts splashing around in fear, until finally, Victoria raises both her arms, letting her cape cascade behind her as a crackling bolt of light passes between her palms. Ivy and Brooke both jump back in surprise, but Iris, still unable to act on her own, continues to lie still. As the crackling continues, though, Iris’s body starts to move, beginning with a twitching at her feet. It moves upward, shaking her nervous system, almost as if Victoria is reanimating her. And maybe she is, because slowly, Iris comes to a stand. It’s awkward, her muscles undoubtedly struggling after so much lethargy, but she makes it, standing shoulder to shoulder with her sister. Ivy wraps her arms around Iris, who truly observes her surroundings for the first time. She clutches onto Ivy, clearly afraid, but when she sees Victoria, it dawns on her where she is.

  Brooke pulls herself up out of the water, splaying her tail on the shore. She reaches for Iris, who instantly notices her girlfriend’s out-of-water shivering. Iris unzips her coat and drapes it over Brooke, signaling to everyone one clear truth:

  Her free will has returned.

  Wasting no time, Mom springs into action, grabbing her bag as she crawls out from our hiding spot. She runs over and takes her place alongside Iris, whose confusion and fear is broadcast across her face. Until, that is, I whip off the blanket and drape it over her, making her disappear from the scene.