Cursing Fate

by Brenda Drake

  “Good idea,” she said. “And remember, no telling your father or Wade about fate changing. Aster is done with it, and we must protect her. Besides, they wouldn’t believe you if you did.”

  “Got it,” Iris said. But she was pretty sure she could get Wade to believe it. He knew her. She wasn’t some psychotic girl who believed in hocus pocus stuff. It might take her some time to convince him, but he’d come around if she stood her ground. She’d think of a way later. Right now, she had something else to deal with. Violet.

  With each step up the back stairs, anxiety twitched inside Iris. She’d seen Violet several times on weekend visits to Baltimore and holidays at Gram’s, but Violet barely spoke to her at first. As time passed and therapist bills multiplied, Violet and Iris had become close again. But would being home bring back memories of the incident? And would Violet blame Iris for being part of the group that bullied her?

  Iris stood at the open door to the room she used to share with Violet. Her twin wrestled a shirt onto a hanger. The floorboard squeaked under Iris’s foot as she adjusted, and Violet’s gaze went to the door. They stared at each other for several seconds before Violet’s face lit up in a smile and she rushed over. They hugged, and Iris wanted to cry with relief.

  “I missed you tons,” Violet said, releasing her.

  Iris exhaled and glanced around the room at the empty boxes. “I’m so happy you’re home. I was going to help you out, but it looks like you’re done unpacking already.”

  “I am,” she said. “Let me hang this up and I’ll help you unpack yours.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Iris waited just inside the door, not knowing if she should go in or leave. It was strange that she didn’t feel like she belonged in the room Violet and she had shared for years. It was as if she were an intruder. “I’ll be in Aster’s…um, my room.”

  The hall seemed tighter with all her problems crowding her as she walked to her new room. Anger was just under the surface of the façade she presented to the world. She was mad that none of her troubles was because of something she’d done. It was Aster’s fault. Iris and Wade would be living their happily-ever-after if it weren’t for Aster and that damn fate-changing thing. Seriously. Why did she have to continue to pay the price for her sister’s mistakes?

  When she opened the door, a strange moan sounded as the air escaped. Iris shuddered. The room looked different without Aster’s things in it.

  It was smaller than the one she had shared with her twin. A neat pile of sheets and blankets sat on the bed next to the comforter and pillows. The closet door was left open and someone had already hung up all of Iris’s clothes. Boxes holding her books and knickknacks were neatly stacked near the window seat.

  Her sisters were growing up and separating. Iris missed all the fun they’d had hiding in Grams’ large house and playing on its private beach. Like Aster’s posters and pictures that used to hang on the walls, those days were gone now.

  “Where should we start?” Violet said from behind her.

  Iris moved into the room. “I guess the boxes.”

  “Okay,” Violet said and knelt beside them. She opened the top box and looked inside. “Books. I’ll do these. How do you want them arranged on the shelf?”

  Though Violet was being kind, there was an uneasiness passing between them. Unspoken words the other one wanted to say again, no matter how many times they were said before.

  I’m sorry, Violet. Iris had told her so many times, it probably irritated Violet.

  It wasn’t your fault. She selfishly wanted to hear Violet say it again to ease her mind.

  Instead, Iris answered her. “I prefer my books lined tallest to shortest. Shelves organized by genre.”

  “That’s right,” Violet said with a laugh, picking up the box and carrying it to the bookcase. “How could I forget?”

  Iris just shrugged. For years, they’d fought over how to arrange the books in their room. Violet wanted all the colors together, but Iris refused, preferring the spines lined by height.

  The flaps of the box scratched together as Iris opened the next one. It held her collection of papier-mâché statues. She removed the first one of an elephant she had made last year. The box teetered and Iris caught it before it fell, her foot kicking against the bottom paneling in the window seat. The panel fell forward and clattered against the wooden floor.

  Violet shot her a look. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” Iris answered, dropping to her knees and picking up the panel. “But I think I broke the window seat.” Peering inside the space, she spotted something white hidden in the back. She reached in and dragged it out.

  “What is it?” Violet came over to her side.

  “It looks like an old hatbox.” Iris untied the satin taupe ribbon securing the lacey box and removed it. A tarot deck sat on top of a bunch of papers and notebooks. She picked it up and inspected it. A red braid was tied around it.

  “Is that Aster’s hair?”

  “I think so.”

  Violet scooted away. “Put it back.”

  Iris gave her a questioning look. “Are you afraid? These can’t hurt us. We’re not fate changers like Aster.”

  “I know, but still.” Violet stood. “That bookcase is dusty. I’m going to grab a rag and some polish. Put those away. They give me the creeps.”

  When she’d left the room, Iris untied the braid and opened the box. A hissing sound filled the quiet of the room, and she twisted around, looking for the origin of the noise.

  Stop freaking out. It’s just the radiator.

  Iris slipped the cards out of the package. The black vines on the back almost seemed like they were pulsating. She touched the top card, and something pulled at her fingertips. The blue veins just under her pale skin slowly turned black like a dark, ominous creature slithering up her arm. Ice cut through her blood vessels.

  She gasped and dropped the cards, dashing to the mirror. The black invader rippled beneath her skin, traveling up the cords of her neck, across her left cheek, and over her forehead, disappearing under her hairline. Fear strangled her throat and she couldn’t scream.

  Shuddering, she wrapped her arms around herself. She was so cold, but the room was warm.

  That’s it. Relax. I am here for you, a woman’s craggy voice said.

  Iris spun around, but she was alone in the room. “Who are you? Where are you?”

  I am you, the voice answered.

  “What?” She stared back in the mirror. The black veins were gone. “Shit. I’m seeing and hearing things.” Rubbing her temples, she crossed the room and curled up on the bare mattress. She shivered and tugged the comforter over her. She must be getting sick with something.

  A headache throbbed, so she closed her eyes.

  Yes. Sleep while I get to know you better. Your desires will be mine.

  The girl’s wooden stool rocked a little with each of her movements, the legs unsteady on the bumpy brick floor. Her clothes were colorful and a line of metal coins dangled from the hem of the scarf wrapped around her head. Beautiful dark curls fell around her pale shoulders. She shuffled the worn, dirt-smudged tarot cards.

  The dream was scary real. It was as if Iris were someone else.

  “You have reading before?” the girl said in a seductive tone that Iris could barely hear over the loud voices, clanking, and footsteps coming from somewhere outside the room.

  “This shall be the first.” The young man sitting across from the girl was dressed in expensive-looking eighteenth- or nineteenth-century clothes.

  Eighteenth. Definitely that century. Of course she’d know that. It was her dream after all.

  Iris felt like an intruder, standing off to the side watching the girl and the guy. The glances passing between them made Iris want to tell them to get a room. The one they were in was just a small alcove with a colorful curtain separating it from the rest of the bar, or tavern, or whatever they called it back then.

  The world was familiar to Iris. Like she’d bee
n there before. She even knew the extremely good-looking guy sitting across from the girl, though it was the girl’s first encounter with him.

  Armand Van Buren.

  A royal. The second son of a count. She’d seen him riding his horse through the streets and being mischievous with his friends in the market. All the girls, and some older women, were giddy when he visited the village.

  Armand leaned over the table, looking at her with such longing in his blue eyes that it pleased the girl. “You aren’t like the other readers,” he said, taking a lock of her curly dark hair in his hand and studying it. “You’re lovely. What is your age?”

  “Nearly sixteen,” she said.

  He smiled, letting the strand of hair slip from his hand. “Marrying age.”

  Her cheeks flushed.

  An older woman, closely resembling the girl, pulled aside the curtain. In the woman’s other hand she carried a tray with several mugs on it. “Why does it take you so long, Crina? Give him the reading and come help me. He’d better pay you well for keeping you so long.” She released the curtain and it swung shut.

  A wicked grin sharpened the corners of Armand’s mouth. He removed some gold coins from his waistcoat pocket and placed them on the table. “It is said you change fates.”

  Crina shot up from her seat. “Who told you these lies?”

  He grabbed her hand. “Sit. You needn’t worry. No one would believe the old woman.”

  She yanked her hand from his grasp. “Woman?”

  “The one who sells dried lavender in the market.” His light hair framed his face like the sun. Iris thought he totally resembled Leonardo DiCaprio in Romeo and Juliet.

  “Bunică…”

  Her grandmother? Iris wasn’t sure how she knew that was who the girl meant.

  “You know of her?” he said.

  “I do.” Crina sat back down, picked up the tarot deck, and fanned the cards across the table. “Choose one.”

  With his gaze on her, not bothering to look at the cards, he let his finger land on one. He slowly slid it out from the other cards and left it in the middle of the table. His smoldering eyes on Crina made Iris feel uneasy.

  Crina flipped over the card. The picture was of a man with a crown and a long white beard sitting on a throne. “The Emperor reversed.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “The image is facing away from you,” Crina said. “Meaning you have lack of control. I see you as the second. Not the heir.”

  “That is true. My brother shall be count.” His hand covered Crina’s and she started. “Can you change that?”

  Crina swallowed hard. “I cannot be certain what will happen to your brother if I do.”

  That sharp, devious grin crept across his face again. “I shall be solely at fault for whatever does.”

  The noises in the tavern seemed to fade. “Two more coins,” she said.

  He placed them on the table.

  She picked up a red crystal and touched the Emperor with it. The card flew up in the air, hovering between Armand and Crina. The image on the card separated into two, and they spun in different directions until they slammed back together and the card dropped to the table.

  “It is done…” Crina’s voice faded and Iris fell into darkness.

  A cold hand shook her arm. “Iris? Are you okay?” She opened her eyes. Violet stared down at her with concern pinching her face. “Why are Aster’s cards spread across the floor?”

  Iris sat up, her head feeling as heavy as a bowling ball. “I…I’m not sure.” She scooted off the bed and picked up one of the cards. The vines against the purple background were now green. “I don’t understand. They changed color.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Iris held up the card for Violet to see. “The vines. They were black before, right?”

  “They’re definitely green. Must have been a shadow on them before,” Violet said, setting the polish and rag on top of the bookcase. “Oh, I forgot. Wade’s here for you.”

  “Oh no.” She combed her fingers through her ratty hair. “I have to fix this. Can you buy me some time? Tell him I’ll be right down.”

  Violet headed for the door. “Will do.”

  Iris hurried around picking up the scattered cards. “And keep him company until I’m ready?”

  “Sure thing.” Violet hurried out the door.

  Alone in the room, she had a sinking feeling as she gathered the last of the cards.

  It’s this room. Aster’s room. That’s it. I’m freaking out because of that damn fate-changing thing. But the dream felt real. The voice. The black thing under my skin.

  “I seriously need some sleep,” she said, tossing the tarot deck along with the braid of hair into the hatbox and putting it back in its hiding place under the window seat. Before going downstairs, she fixed her hair and cleaned away the mascara smudges under her eyes.

  Iris took a deep breath. Why was she so nervous? This was Wade. Skinny Wade with the wide smile and warm eyes who she’d met in middle school. They knew everything about each other. Shared sandwiches when the other one would forget a lunch. He defended her freshman year when a group of sophomore guys teased her. Wade. The one who set off a million dragonflies in her stomach at his kiss. Wade. Her best friend.

  And missing him was a sharp breath that cut through her chest.

  But he wasn’t skinny Wade anymore. He was smart. Had insanely perfect dark, wavy hair that he wore long, just below his chin. And she liked his hands. They were strong and showed signs of the work he did either on his bike or on the boat. Manly hands. Unlike Josh’s, which were soft and somewhat feminine.

  When she walked into the kitchen carrying her backpack, Violet and Wade were laughing.

  She is flirting with him. The craggy voice was back. She wants him.

  “No she doesn’t,” Iris said.

  Violet and Wade turned their heads at hearing her.

  “What did you say?” Violet asked.

  Iris felt sick. What the hell is happening to me? “Nothing,” she said, crossing the kitchen. “Thanks for keeping him company, Violet. Sorry I’m late.”

  “No worries,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s your dime.”

  Your dime? He is only here because you pay him. The voice scraped across Iris’s ears, sending a shudder down her spine.

  Iris tightened her grasp around the strap of her backpack. Shut up and get out of my head!

  As you wish. But I could help you with that boy.

  “I don’t need your help,” Iris responded.

  Wade stood and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. “Hey, I’m here only because you’re paying me. If you don’t need my help, fine. I have better things to do.”

  “No, no, I didn’t mean you.” Iris placed her hand on his arm to stop him. Touching him sent a flurry of nerves through her stomach. “I do need your help.”

  “You meant me?” Violet sprang to her feet. “You’re acting so strange today. I was just keeping Wade company.” She stomped off and up the back stairs.

  “Well, that’s a good start to a first day back.” Wade draped his jacket over the chair before sitting back down.

  “Yeah,” Iris said, pulling out a seat beside him and plopping down. “This day blows so far.”

  I’ve seriously lost it.

  Wade picked up a cookie from the plate in the middle of the table. “So what do you want to tackle first?”

  His eyes were like probes into her soul. Adjusting uneasily in her chair, she removed her math book, notebook, and pencil from her bag. How was she going to survive this? Having him act as if they were only acquaintances was worse than not seeing him at all.

  “Thanks for agreeing to do math, too,” she said, flipping the page to her assignment and semiconsciously aware of putting the end of her pencil between her teeth.

  “You made an offer I couldn’t refuse,” he said with a wink. “What are we working on?”

  “This,” she said,
sliding the open book across the table so he could see.

  He leaned closer to view the page. She could smell the snickerdoodles on his breath and the light cologne he always wore. His knee rubbing against hers caused her to hold her breath. She was afraid to move, to break the connection, to feel the coldness rush back to her.

  “Precalculus,” he said. “Nice.”

  “There’s nothing nice about it in my opinion.” Iris released her breath and slumped back in her chair.

  He bumped her shoulder. “Come on. Cheer up. Once you catch on, it’ll be easy.”

  It was doubtful she’d catch on, but with him around, she’d at least have fun failing.

  Chapter Four

  Wade

  Watching Iris with the eraser of her pencil between her teeth as she tried to figure out the equation on the page drove Wade insane. The gloss on her bottom lip glistened against the light coming from the overhead lamp in the kitchen. It seemed like she was having a hard time concentrating.

  Wade cleared his throat. “Do you need more help?”

  “It makes no sense.” Iris sighed. “Why do we need this stuff?”

  Wade laughed and grabbed a cookie, which was probably his sixth one. Whenever he was nervous, he’d take one to keep her from noticing. “It comes in handy for many jobs.”

  She gave him her frustrated look, which only succeed at tugging Wade’s insides. “Not any I plan on doing.”

  “Let’s see what you have so far,” he said, reaching for her paper, their hands brushing against each other causing Iris to jump a little, and he chuckled under his breath. She was uneasy around him. He liked that. At least he wasn’t the only one.

  She pulled the paper out of his reach. “No. You’ll think I’m dumb.”

  Her flushed cheeks and the way she leaned in his direction was a sure sign she was into him. All she had to do now was twirl her hair around her finger and he’d be positive. He’d seen her do it many times when she liked a guy.

  Iris twirled a long strand of strawberry-blond hair around her finger.

  Wade smiled, flattered that she was trying her moves on him. “I won’t think that,” he said. “Why are you paying me? I’m your tutor. You have to show me your work. I don’t care if you’re dumb.”