Cursing Fate

by Brenda Drake

  “Would telling that someone change things?” he asked.

  “No.” She frowned. “They could never go back to the way it was before the thing that happened…happened.”

  He couldn’t image Carys hurting someone. She was always rescuing those in need. Because of her, his dad was alive. The accident that had paralyzed him had happened after an event for his mother’s first run for senate. Her car was following behind his when the drunk driver T-boned his Lexus. When Wade saw her at the hospital that night, her sleeves were stained with his father’s blood. She had used her sweater to stop the bleeding from a gash in his chest. Never leaving his side, she kept him awake until the paramedics arrived.

  Her hopeful eyes on him made him want to protect her.

  “Is that person sorry for what they did?” he asked.

  “Yes, so sorry. Wished it never happened.”

  “I wouldn’t say anything,” he said. “Just let it go.”

  “You sure?”

  Wade grabbed another nail. “Yeah. Don’t sweat it.”

  “Thanks. I’ll try.” She pushed herself up from the stool and walked off.

  He was tired of everyone fighting and holding grudges about stupid shit. Worse things were happening in the world. They could all live in a war zone or be paralyzed in a car accident. Wade was all too familiar with the latter. It had turned his life upside down.

  The nail wobbled a little when he slammed the hammer down on it. Across the way, Iris studied her work, the tip of her paintbrush handle against her lip. She nodded as if to approve of what she’d created so far.

  He could watch Iris paint for hours. Her shirt slipping with the stroke of the paintbrush in her hand, exposing just a bit of her shoulder. Concentrating, she’d pull her bottom lip between her teeth. When she straightened and arched her back during breaks, her butt rose slightly in those tight jeans. She’d worn them so many times a hole had formed just under her right back pocket. Her fingers brushed those loose strands of hair from her cheek as if she were playing a musical instrument.

  But there was something off about her. She seemed distracted lately. The dark circles under her eyes concerned him. Was she sick or just unable to sleep at night? And if she was restless, was it because of him or because her mom and Grams were gone?

  It was a warm Saturday, and the sun heated the back of his neck as he worked on his assignment. He glanced around at the others, anything to get his mind off Iris.

  Violet practiced the makeup she planned for the event, turning Dena, who sat on the porch steps with her, into a zombie. Carys knelt on a tarp in the middle of the driveway and continued working with some sort of goop. She formed it to look like intestines and brains. Lauren was struggling to make her own creepy body parts.

  The girls tried hard to keep Lauren’s mind off the cyberbullying she’d suffered. Violet’s empathy for others impressed Wade. He was like that—always defending the underdogs. He learned that from his mother. She fought hard for minorities, and he imagined Violet would make a great humanitarian after graduation.

  Wade removed the last nail he had in the empty sour cream container beside him and hammered it into the coffin he was constructing. He picked up the tub and headed for the garage where Violet had said all her grandfather’s tools were. He searched the worktable and shelves for nails.

  Someone came in, and he glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the noise. Iris walked like a gazelle over to him, opened the second drawer from the top on the side of the worktable, took out a box of nails, and handed it to him.

  She leaned against the worktable and gave him a sidelong glance. “Why are you mad at me?”

  He shook the box, rattling the contents to see how full it was. “You don’t remember?”

  “So you are mad at me.”

  “Yep.” He couldn’t believe she was going to play dumb. “I have a coffin that needs nailing.”

  She laughed. “That sounds so wrong.”

  Damn, her laugh was cute.

  He was not going to let her make him forget the other day. The drawer she left open squealed as he shut it before heading for the door.

  “That’s it?” she said, following him. “You’re not going to tell me?”

  He paused, his back still turned to her. “You handed something to Perry. I asked about it. You said I was jealous and a heathen. Remember now? And why were you talking like that?”

  It was quiet behind him, so he glanced over his shoulder at her. She bit the corner of her mouth, a worry on her face.

  “Obviously I was joking around,” she said. “And I gave Perry something he dropped in class. That was all. I’m sorry. If I knew you didn’t get it, I would have added the aside.”

  He whirled around. “The aside?”

  “Yeah, you know, JK.”

  “It didn’t seem like a joke.”

  She heaved a sigh. “What are we doing?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. What are we doing?”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “Turn my question on me,” she said. “I thought we were trying to make it work.”

  Wade’s gut clenched at the hurt in her eyes. It just occurred to her what he already knew. There was no going back. His messed-up head would always wonder if she was into him or not. Handing something to Perry. Laughing at another guy’s joke. It would be there. An uneasiness.

  Yeah, he was jealous.

  No. Not that.

  Insecure. That’s what he was. He hated being that guy. She made him that guy.

  “Are you ending things?” She wringed her hands. “We’ve been friends for years.”

  He let out a heavy breath. Was he?

  Tears gathered on her bottom eyelids as she waited for him to answer, and he hated seeing her upset. His eyes locked on hers. “I don’t want to end things, but should it be this difficult?”

  “I just haven’t been myself. I want this to work.” She grabbed his shirt. “This can work. You’re my best friend. I love you. I mean…you know…I love you as more than a friend.”

  The words.

  The ones he longed to hear when she broke things off with him.

  Needed to hear.

  He wasn’t ready to say them to her now. His mind held him back. He’d said them before, and the next day she was with Josh.

  “Please, Wade.” Tears tumbled down her cheeks. “Please forgive me. I can’t tell you what happened, but I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She grasped his arms and gazed up at him, her hair sliding back and falling down her back, her shirt slipping off her shoulder again.

  He leaned forward, lowering his head, wanting desperately to kiss her, but he couldn’t. Instead, he rested his forehead against hers. “I want to. God, do I want to forgive you. But it’s so hard. I’m trying, Iris. Really, I am. You just have to be patient with me.”

  “I can wait,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere—”

  “I think Iris said there were more drop cloths in the garage,” Dena was saying, a little too loudly. Was Dena warning him that someone was coming?

  Wade and Iris pulled away from each other and stepped behind the garage door.

  “Why are you shouting?” Carys whispered. They were on the other side of the door.

  Iris glanced up at him with a questioning look.

  Wade shrugged.

  “So no one will suspect we’re doing something other than looking for drop clothes,” Dena whispered.

  “You’re acting strange,” Carys said. “There’s nothing we can do about it now. It’s over. Why don’t you just forget about it? “

  Iris made to step out from behind the door, but what Dena said next stopped her. “Because if anyone finds out about this, Violet will hate me.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Carys said. “Violet willingly took that selfie with you.”

  Wade peered through the crack between the door and the wall. Dena paced around Carys. “Maybe if she wasn’t drunk, she wouldn’t have taken
it with me. And if I hadn’t accidentally sent it to you instead of Violet, Marsha wouldn’t have found it on your phone.”

  Iris stomped out of their hiding place. Wade reached for her hand to stop her, but she snatched it away.

  Dena and Carys looked like they’d just been struck by paintballs.

  Iris’s wide eyes darted back and forth from Dena to Carys. “It was you? Hell no, you aren’t going to tell her. She’d break again. I can’t…” She shook her head, tears dropping on her cheeks. “I just…can’t.” She ran off for the steps leading to the beach.

  Before running after her, Wade gave them both a pointed look. “I can’t believe you two,” he said. “Iris!” he called and bounded down the deck steps after her. “Iris! Stop!”

  She did and looked out at the ocean.

  Wade struggled through the sand, came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his cheek to hers. “Hey, you know Dena and Carys. They didn’t mean for this shit to happen.”

  “Did you know about it?” she asked, and he could barely hear her over the waves crashing against the shore.

  “No,” he said. “But I know Dena, and she loves Violet. She would never willingly hurt her. And you know that, too.”

  “I know.” She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “When will all this crazy stuff just go away? I want it to be like it was. Before Aster…” She wiped her cheeks with the heel of her palm.

  “Before Aster what?”

  She didn’t answer right off, sniffling as she slipped her hands over his arms around her. “Before she left.”

  “We’re getting older,” he said, realizing he had his arms around Iris and it felt good. “Soon we’ll all be off to college, and nothing will ever be the same again. That’s life. It’s always changing.”

  She leaned her head back against his shoulder. “I hate change.”

  He laughed. “So do I.”

  She stared straight ahead, focusing on the waves. “I wish we could be like the ocean; it seems like it never changes.”

  “But it does,” he said. “We just don’t notice it.”

  And they stood there, him holding her, her squeezing his arms, their breaths rolling in and out like the waves, calming at the same time they were crashing.

  When would he let go of his fear? He wanted to shout. Could they ever get back to normal?

  Chapter Eleven

  Iris

  Nearly an hour had passed as Iris rifled through the hatbox, examining every piece of paper and each page in the several notebooks. Some were in Romanian written by Dika Froggatt, a great, great aunt of hers or something like that. She was also a fate changer, whose notes helped Aster remove the curse from her boyfriend, Reese.

  Iris worried there was something in those foreign words that could help her. But luckily, she found a notebook in the stack that translated the pages to English. It would have been nice if she’d found it sooner and hadn’t wasted her time on the other stuff. She’d taken the drops and wasn’t sure how much longer she had until the haunting voice returned.

  She tossed the notebook aside. “This sucks.”

  On the floor across from her, Daisy glanced up from a book she was reading. “This one’s interesting. It’s from Miri’s family.” She turned the book for Iris to read and pointed out a paragraph. “Did you know fate changers are a certain kind of witch? It talks about the Van Buren curse. That’s Reese’s family. Our family is tied to theirs by it. Only we can reverse the curses for them, but when we do, the curse goes to our family. Usually, a fate changer can change a fate without consequences, but because we’re cursed, any fate we change, Van Buren or not, inflicts our family.”

  “So that’s why Aster was hitting us with bad fates,” Iris said, taking the book from her. “What else is in here?”

  “Read that last paragraph.” Daisy adjusted to sit pretzel-style. “It says that the curse’s spirit is from that girl who made the curse in the first place. She was a witch. Her name is Crina. We’re descended from her. Only a fate changer can get rid of her.”

  “Does it say how to do that?” Iris turned the page to read the next paragraph.

  “Go down a little farther,” Daisy said.

  “A fate changer must capture the cursed spirit using her tarot deck,” Iris read. “Well, that’s vague. We need a fate changer. We need Aster.”

  Daisy started putting all the notebooks and scraps of paper back into the hatbox. “You keep the tarot cards so Crina doesn’t suspect anything.”

  “So we’re calling the spirit bitch by her name?” That sounded so wrong. Iris wasn’t sure why she said it. Maybe to make light of what was going on or because she was scared, but it fell flat on Daisy, her face holding no emotions.

  “I’m going to take this to my room and study everything. Maybe I can find a way to get rid of the spirit bitch.” A smile hinted on Daisy’s lips.

  Iris laughed, but it wasn’t a fun kind of laugh. It was part grateful at Daisy’s response and part frustrated at the situation. “Sounds good,” she said.

  “I’d better go before she returns and finds out what we’re up to,” Daisy said, putting the top on the hatbox. “I’m going to take them to Amber’s house. I’ll bring it to Miri. Maybe she can help me decipher this stuff. Good thing drinking those drops keeps whatever you do from Crina. This entire thing is scary.”

  Iris stood with Daisy. “Wait. Did you tell Amber about all this?”

  “Yeah, but she thinks it’s just a game or something.” Daisy crossed the room. “She won’t tell anyone, and even if she does, no one would believe her.”

  “It’s happening to me, and I hardly believe it myself.” Another nervous laugh slipped from Iris.

  Daisy rested her hand on the doorknob. “If we need a fate changer, we’d better come up with a plan on how to get Aster to come home.”

  “I was thinking about that, too. We’ll have to call Aster the next break I get from Crina.”

  “Okay. Well, stay safe,” Daisy said, opening the door.

  “You, too.”

  Iris spread out on her stomach across her bed and tried to clear her mind of all thoughts. Having an intruder in her brain made her feel violated. Her intimate moments not her own.

  She rested her chin on her crossed arms. When she was alone like this, the voice quiet in her head, she thought about things. Things she wished she could forget. Like, why Dena and Violet had to take a selfie without their shirts on while they were kissing. Or how did Dena mix up the cell phone numbers and send that photo to Carys instead of Violet? And how had Marsha Simmons gotten it? Iris was determined to find out.

  Her phone vibrated beside her on the mattress. She glanced at the caller ID. It was Carys again. The girl wouldn’t give up, calling constantly since yesterday.

  Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Regardless of how silly their mistake, a mistake they did make.

  “If you’re so ancient, then how do you know Alice in Wonderland characters?”

  I watch. I learn. You believe you can fool me, but you fail. I know you drink Mugwort and Mullein to keep me out. It’s only a matter of time before I develop a resistance to it.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Iris sat up. “The drops are only vitamins.”

  Shall I show you what I have been working on during the dark hours?

  Iris slipped off the bed to her feet. And it wasn’t by her own will. Crina had made her do it.

  I am getting stronger, wouldn’t you say?

  “Please leave me alone,” Iris pleaded, struggling to move.

  Where are the cards?

  Iris glanced across the room. “On the window seat.”

  Crina released her, and Iris sat on the bed. Go get them.

  “What are you going to do this time?”

  Not telling. You cannot be trusted. Get the cards or I’ll have you do something horrible. Like slit your wrists.

  “What?” Iris’s stomach clenched. Was that her thought or Crina’s? The spi
rit’s voice sounded less craggy. Iris was confusing the voices in her head. Maybe Crina wasn’t a spirit and Iris was just going insane. No one really knows when they’re crazy. But she kept reminding herself it was the curse. That fate changing existed. Driving it home so that she wouldn’t lose herself to whatever––whoever—possessed her. To Crina.

  If Crina could make her stand, she could make Iris do any number of things to herself. Make her cut her wrists. She went over and picked up the tarot deck, feeling beaten.

  Let’s see what we have to work with. We’ll need two cards.

  The market was packed. It was like Iris was one of those ghosts in A Christmas Carol—a bystander to past events. Crina and her younger sister, Della, strolled down the narrow aisle lined with shabby stands on each side. Vendors squawked out their offerings. Everything from fruits, nuts, and dried dates to fine hair combs, tools, and linens were up for sale.

  The streets were dusty and a slight urine aroma hung in the air. No one seemed to notice the smell as Iris had. She wished she could make Crina plug her nose.

  Crina searched the crowd. Armand never missed a market day. Not many did. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a week. They went from meeting in the meadow every afternoon for a month to not seeing each other at all. She couldn’t help but worry. Surely he could find a few hours away from his visiting cousins.

  “The heat is unbearable this morning.” Della patted her chest with a hanky. “Who do you search for, sister?”

  Crina gave her a sidelong glance. “You know who I seek.”

  “No one has seen the Van Burens for nearly a week,” Della said. “I hear Phillip Van Buren will marry his visiting cousin. It is said her face resembles a horse. Poor Phillip. Such a sacrifice. The cost of being an heir. I suppose there will be a grand festival should that happen. The Van Burens are always so generous to us lowly villagers when they have something to celebrate.”

  Crina was now glaring at her sister, her chattering grinding on her nerves. Pride burned in Crina’s chest. She didn’t think of herself as lower than Armand. “Soon I will be in America and far away from this place. In America there are no counts or kings. Everyone is equal.”