Wade’s father had been there—he’d been with me the day I died. He’d guided me to the other side, just as he was meant to. Only, when I got there, I couldn’t let go of the intense feeling I couldn’t stay. I had to return because I still had work to do.
It wasn’t meant to be this way…
We had sat on the edge of the pond, dangling our feet over the edge of the dock. For some reason, he had stayed with me. I remember talking with him as if he was an old friend I hadn’t seen for a long, long time.
When I told him I couldn’t stay, he wasn’t surprised. In fact, he seemed relieved. His expression softened as he extended his hand out between us.
In the small movement, the remaining forgotten moments blocked out in Death’s presence come rushing back. My confusion, my wiped memory—all of the forgotten time had nothing to do with my parents.
It was all Death’s fault.
Leaning over, the Angel of Death whispered to me, “When the time comes, this will be your most powerful weapon.”
In his outstretched hand, an intricately carved wooden box materialized. The same wooden box gifted to me in my dad’s will.
Before I have time to sit with the revelation, things shift again. This time, I’m standing beside my father in the middle of my bedroom. He sits on my bed, staring at a picture of me. His fingertips trace my face as tears drop onto the glass’s surface. My heart bursts open, and I reach for him, only to have my fingertips grasp at thin air.
Suddenly, the small resurrection room door bursts open, practically swinging off its hinges.
Dad’s head jerks up. He stares at the door with wild eyes, his body trembling and his mouth agape. I turn to look at the younger version of me and she smiles, vanishing before my eyes.
As I turn back to my dad, he’s on his feet, making his way to the small doorway. Fear and apprehension are splattered across his features, but he pushes through all of it, walking down the ancient wooden steps. I follow him, just as curious as he is because I have no idea what he’ll find, though I should have guessed.
At the bottom of the steps, he turns the corner slowly. His eyes float to the small altar table in the center of the space. Two large pillar candles are lit, glowing brightly. Confusion flashes across his face as he walks up to it, setting down the photo frame in between them. However, just beyond, stands the young version of me. Dripping wet and shivering, she looks up at my dad with his confusion mirrored in her eyes. In her hands is the wooden box.
Without hesitation, my father races forward, practically tripping over himself to get to me. He drops to his knees at my feet, wrapping his arms around my body. As I watch, the memory of his warm arms encompassing my cold, wet body had been the most beautiful feeling in the whole world. If love had a sensation, that was it.
However, the moment wasn’t meant to linger. At least, not for me.
Though my dad couldn’t see him, the Angel of Death placed his hand on the back of my head—wiping my memory. He left me behind with nothing but a wooden box and a bunch of questions that would haunt me for years.
Dominic was right…I had leveled up the last time I was here. But it didn’t happen alone.
It came in the form of a gift from Death himself.
Chapter 17
Clear the Sins Away
As soon as the revelation of the box comes to me, a force stronger than a hurricane whisks through the memory. It wipes it away like someone clearing a drawing board and it carries me right along with it.
I try to grasp on to something, anything, to keep my bearings, but it’s no use. The force sucks me into the vortex and I’m lost within in it. At first, I’m terrified, but a voice breaks the chaos telling me to let go…
I don’t know why I should trust it, but I do. The worry and terror fade into the background and I release. I release all that I am to surrender to what is.
Whatever it is I’m meant to be.
For a few blissful moments, there’s nothing but peace.
With a jerk, I bolt upright in the middle of the resurrection chamber, clutching at the dirt and coughing up the metallic taste of blood. Everything about the box and the Angel of Death lingers with me, holding me like a vise. I need to talk to him—demand some answers.
Beside me, Dominic rolls over, gasping for his own breath.
“It is about time,” Abigail hisses, clutching at her chest as if her heart could actually beat. “I was certain I would be mourning your loss—and believe me, the irony was not lost on me.”
Though her words are an admonishment, relief is clear across her face.
My mouth is dry, sucked of all moisture as I try to speak. The only word I seem able to croak out is, “Sorry.”
Looking to my left, Dominic rights himself and shoots me an apologetic shrug. “So, that happened.”
I narrow my gaze and ball my fist. “Ugh—” I groan, pushing him in the shoulder so he tips back over.
He clears his throat. “But it worked. Right?” His voice is just as hoarse as mine.
“Not the point,” I say, scrambling to get to my feet. My body feels like lead as I struggle to stand. Everything in the realm of the dead came easier. Moving, changing space and time—it was all so much lighter. But like a dream, the memory of it fades quickly, becoming nothing more than a distant memory.
“What took you?” Abigail asks, eyeing Dominic with disdain and suspicion.
He raises his hands in the air, but stays on his ass. “Hey, I was just doing what had to be done,” he protests.
Abigail’s forehead creases and she turns her hard stare to me.
“As much as I hate to admit it, I think Dominic’s right,” I say, inhaling deeply.
Dominic’s eyebrows shoot up and he points to me. “See?”
Abigail doesn’t look overly amused as she presses her lips tight. However, I’m acutely aware that something has shifted. I’m even surprised she hasn’t.
“Wait a minute. You can see her?” I say, turning my astonished stare on him.
He glances between me and Abigail, then nods. “Yeah, I guess I can. Before, my strongest ability was clairaudience. Looks like I have a few new tricks up my sleeve.”
“Then it looks like you got what you were looking for,” I say.
“Let’s hope.” He nods.
Abigail scrunches her face as if the idea is distasteful. “What kept you?” she repeats.
I take another deep breath, letting the memories settle. “Dominic felt I needed to join him. That there were things I needed to deal with… Abigail, what do you know about sin-eaters?” I ask, shooting a sideways glance at Dominic.
Her expression is full of confusion as she considers my words. Clasping her hands in front of her body, she paces for a few seconds before she finally says, “Rumors only. I am not even certain they exist.”
“Oh, they do. And you’re looking at one,” Dominic says, then pointing my direction.
“Is this true?” Abigail says in a hushed whisper.
I shrug. “I don’t know. That’s what Dominic thinks.”
“But you are not so certain?” she says, stopping her back-and-forth motion.
“I don’t know anything right now. I have some questions of my own. Things are far less clear than they should be,” I say, glancing quickly at Dom.
“Didn’t she show you what you needed to know about it?” Dominic asks, clearly concerned.
As much as I trust both Dominic and Abigail, it doesn’t feel right to talk about my time with the Angel of Death just yet. And truthfully, there was nothing about the whole sin-eating thing said at all.
Dominic must sense my apprehension, because he narrows his gaze.
“No, she didn’t,” I say. It’s not a lie, but it’s certainly not the whole truth, either. Turning back to Abigail, I say, “What can you tell me about sin-eaters?”
Abigail’s eyes go distant for a few seconds, but something in her demeanor changes. It’s almost hopeful. “Sin-eaters are said to do just that, co
nsume the sins of another.”
I never was one for religious context, and I feel myself already recoiling from the idea of what the subtext suggests. “What does that mean?”
Abigail shakes her head solemnly.
“What?” I say, spitting out the word more forcefully than I intended.
She looks to Dominic, as if somehow he might be able to help her put into words whatever a sin-eater actually is. Despite his normal bravado, he remains relatively stoic as his gaze drops casually to the sandy floor. Rather than participate in what is evidently a family discussion, he backs up slowly, resting his shoulders along the stone wall.
I roll my eyes at his helpfulness.
“I don’t know the exact methodology,” Abigail says, her voice grave. “But from what I have gathered, it would mean you take on the sins of another. They become your own.”
“Well, so what? That doesn’t sound so bad,” I say.
Abigail’s eyebrows tug in and she nods. “Perhaps.”
“There’s a downside. That’s what Abigail’s trying to say,” Dominic offers.
“Of course there is,” I say, exhaling loudly.
“Everything is about balance. Good and evil. Light and dark. Should you take on the sins of another, it would be a mark against your soul. It becomes a part of you as if you did the sinning yourself,” Abigail begins. “And as you can see, some sins have consequences. Painful, long-lasting consequences, even.”
“Hmmm,” I mutter.
“This is not the sort of gift you would wish to take lightly,” Abigail says. “Should this be true, I implore you to deliberate long and hard on how to best perform these duties.”
I step away from her, trying to sort out the information I’ve been given.
If I were to embrace this idea—being a sin-eater—does this mean I can clear away the past transgressions of the family? Is this the curse-breaker we’ve been searching for? Could I clear away the sins of Abigail and Warren? And if so, does that mean she would finally be free to cross over?
But more than that, would it free the rest of us? What about Wade? Myself… The baby?
And if the answer is yes, then where do I sign up?
“Did you know about this?” I ask, turning to face Abigail again. “That I could become a sin-eater?”
Surprise flits through her face and she takes a step back. “I held some suspicions, but I could not be certain.”
“Why?” I say, holding my breath as I wait for her answer.
“Autumn, you have always been powerful. Very, very powerful. As a child, you were but one with forces our family has never been able to command before. You could see and speak to me. Something not many can do.” She raises an eyebrow at Dominic, who grins in return and crosses his arms over his chest. “It wasn’t until I realized your mother was hiding aspects of who she was…” her voice peters out and she looks at me from under her eyebrows.
“You mean the fact that she has powers, too?” I say.
For once, it’s nice to know something when others are tiptoeing around it.
Her face brightens. “Yes. Precisely.”
“Wait. Your mom has powers?” Dominic says, surprise etched into the lines of his face as he drops his arms and stands up straight.
I nod.
“Huh, that explains a lot,” he mutters under his breath.
“At first I believed your mother to be of ordinary nature. Yet, there were times when I could swear she sensed me. It was, of course, after the accident that I learned of her origin,” Abigail whispers, dropping her chin to her chest. She eyes her fingertips for a moment as if they’re far more interesting than anything she’s saying.
“When I first moved back, do you remember the first thing you told me?” I ask her.
The place between her eyebrows creases as she thinks.
Rather than wait for her answer, I continue, “You told me I had to break the curse. That I’m the only one who can release you from this binding.” I pause, watching her reaction.
Her lips press tightly, but she nods.
“At the time, I didn’t want to hear any of it. It was all still so new. You know?” I say, remembering back to that day. “It was a lot to take in.“
“I can imagine,” she says.
“Did you mean it? That you thought I could break the curse?”
She clasps her hands behind her back and straightens her shoulders. “I have grown very fond of you, child.”
“Is that a yes or a no?” I spit, suddenly frustrated by her cryptic manner.
A surprisingly pained expression takes over her features and she sighs. “I had hoped…I knew you were different and you are the remaining Blackwood. So, if anyone was to break the curse, it would be you. Otherwise, the Moirai win. Our family dies out with you and I’m trapped in this limbo forever.”
“Not exactly,” I say, swallowing hard.
Abigail’s expression changes to confusion, and I smile softly. It really is nice to be the one in the know. “I’m pregnant, Abigail.”
“No—” she breathes, anguish clear in her eyes.
“Yes,” I say, suddenly alarmed by her fervor.
Dominic nods. “It’s true. I’ve sensed it myself.”
“Should the Moirai learn of this, they will want to act quickly,” she says, suddenly standing directly in front of me. “This is far more dangerous than I feared.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Think about it, child. If you are to stop the curse, you must do so before the Moirai catch on to this turn of events. They will be called in soon to set the course for this child. His or her string will be woven and…” Her voice trails off as she walks away from me. “You must put an end to this curse as quickly as possible. Through which means, I am not certain. But should you decide to ascend to a sin-eater, you cannot perform these rites when there is a child growing inside of you.”
I shake my head, not following her logic. “Why not?”
“You could inadvertently beset the child with the burden of those sins. No innocent life should ever come into this world afflicted with such torment,” she says, reaching out to me. Her arms hover beside mine, clearly wanting to touch me but knowing she’s unable. “I will not allow it. There has to be another way.”
I stumble backward, shaking my head. “That can’t be right.”
If Dom is right, and this is what I’m meant to become, why would I only learn about it when I can’t do anything about it?
My phone springs to life, shocking adrenaline through my system and pulling me from the horrible revelation Abigail just shared. When I realize it’s my mom, my heart jumps into my throat as I fumble to answer.
“Hello?” I sputter, trying to stay calm.
“Sweetie, I think you better get back here,” she says.
“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” I ask, my words tumbling out in a cluster.
“Things have gotten worse.” She pauses for a moment “The doctors are concerned Wade may not make it through the night,” she says, her voice as gentle as silk as she tries to soften the blow. “I’m so sorry, Autumn. I wish there was something I could do.”
I pull the phone back, staring at it, unable to process fully what she just said. Without thinking, I hang up the phone, and the entire world feels like it falls away. It doesn’t matter who else needs me or what needs to be done.
Forget curses. Sin-eaters. The Moirai. Forget all of it.
“We’ll have to deal with this later,” I say, shooting Abigail and Dominic a significant look. Neither one of them raise an objection. “You’re gonna need to find your way home, Dominic. I gotta…go.”
With that, I race up the stairs, leaving the resurrection room behind. I don’t stop when I reach my bedroom, either. I keep running, grabbing my keys and heading straight out the door of the manor.
If I was speeding before, it’ll be nothing like this time.
Hang on, Wade. I’m coming. Please, please hang on.
C
hapter 18
Ripples
My mind circles all of the recent events—Wade, the mark, the pregnancy, Dominic, the realm of the dead, and the strange box given to me by the Angel of Death.
Intense anger rolls through me and I slam the palm of my hand against the steering wheel.
The Angel of Death…
How could he do this to Wade? Why would he allow this to happen to him? And why would he keep so much from me? We’ve met before? He gave me the mysterious box? Hell, he must have known things were going to go sideways at some point… What else does he know?
My lips press tight, but I can’t hold back the rage.
“Where are you, you bastard?” I call out. My ears ring as the words echo around the small cab space of the Ford Escape. “Wade is sick because of you. He could be dying. Why aren’t you doing anything to stop it?” I hold my breath, half-expecting him to materialize on the seat beside me. When he doesn’t, I continue. “This is absolute bullshit, you know. Wade doesn’t deserve this.”
Despite my anger, he doesn’t answer my admonishment. Instead, I’m left to stew in my anger, worry, and sorrow. But he’s not going to get away from this that easy. Oh hell no, we’re going to mix words.
How I manage to arrive at the hospital without getting pulled over is a complete mystery to me. The entire drive from Windhaven to Mistwood is a total blur as I skid into the hospital parking lot.
The beating in my chest has reached a fever pitch and I hope like hell that Wade’s hung on for me.
Slamming Blue into park, I rush from the vehicle and into the hospital. Mom is right where I left her in the waiting area, and as soon as she sees me, she stands up and rushes over.
“Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry,” she says, wrapping her arms around me.
“How is he?” I ask, scared to death to hear her answer.
She pulls back, tugging me into a chair beside her, as she takes a seat. “He’s stable, but not well. They can tell that whatever is happening is supernatural in nature, but they’ve never seen anything like it, so they’re not sure how to treat it.”
Cursed Legacy: The Windhaven Witches Series Page 12
