“Wade—please,” I plead, refusing to look away from him. “This isn’t you. You don’t want to do this.”
“That’s not Wade, Autumn.” Mom steps closer to me, grabbing onto my right arm as she winces through the pain.
I look over my shoulder into her terrified eyes. It’s clear that everything she fears about this magickal world is coming to fruition right before her and there’s nothing she can do about it but watch it unfold. It must be her worst nightmare as much as it’s becoming mine.
I straighten my shoulders, shaking my head at her words. “You’re wrong. He’s still in there…somewhere. I know he is. I can feel him,” I say, stepping forward and pulling out of my mother’s reach. My heart thumps loudly in my chest, but I can’t bring myself to cower in fear anymore.
If this is going to be the end, I’m going out the way I want to—believing in the power of love. Our love. “Wade, if you can hear me. You can fight this. Don’t be controlled by the Moirai. Don’t give in to this,” I say, again raising my hands out between us. “I love you.”
The Horseman continues forward, making his way directly for me with determination painted across his blackened face.
“Autumn,” Mom warns, her voice shaking.
It must be hard for her, being as powerful as she is and having that power weakened right when you need it most. Despite her warning, I stand my ground, refusing to back away.
“Wade, please,” I beg, hoping somehow his connection to me will bring him back around.
As the Horseman reaches me, there’s no sense of recognition at all. Instead, he reaches out, grabbing hold of my neck and lifting me straight off the ground.
The box drops to the floor as my hands fly to his outstretched arm out of reflex. I press my toes down, trying to touch the floor, but I barely graze it with the tip of my shoe.
Behind me, my mother scrambles to kick the box away from the Horseman’s immediate reach. Then she races toward him with her hands clenched into skeletal fists. There’s a strange summoning of static electricity as she nears. However, whatever power she summons has no effect on him. Without blinking or even glancing in her direction, the Horseman uses his free arm to knock her back. She sails through the air, slamming into the wall and dropping to the floor. Bits of drywall and dust crumble with her.
Instantly, the magic she had begun to call forth is extinguished. From the corner of my eye, I can see her shake her head, then slumps to the floor. I can’t tell if she’s okay, or if she’ll try again.
It doesn’t really matter, though. This is the moment I was waiting for.
My vision blurs as my throat closes under the Horseman’s tight grip. Releasing my grasp on his wrist, I extend my right hand, placing it over his heart. His bare chest is cold to the touch and feels more like that of a snake than the warm place I have rested my head.
I force myself to stare deeply into the black pools of the Horseman’s eyes. When I can sense a connection is made, I summon as much energy as possible to speak.
“What about our baby?” I say breathlessly, doing everything I can to fight against the pressure that’s making the edges of my vision darken.
For the briefest of moments, the Horseman’s expression shifts and a spark of recognition lights in his black eyes. It’s not much, but it’s enough.
“Please, remember…” I squeak.
He lowers his arm just enough for me to make contact with the ground and I take a labored inhalation. It doesn’t provide the best relief, but it manages to keep the darkness at back for a moment longer.
“We’re not your enemy,” I say, each word more difficult than the word before it. My hand remains on his heart and I leave it there as a reminder of our connection.
He tilts his head ever so slightly, as if pondering the meaning of my words. His grip loosens a little as he looks down at my hand, like it’s the first time he noticed it was even there.
All of a sudden, he releases his hold on my neck entirely. I drop to the ground like a rag doll, unable to hold my own weight as the oxygen comes rushing back at me. Reaching up, I rub my throat, trying to get the muscles to work again.
“Enemy,” the Horseman whispers.
“No,” Aisa breathes, her eyes wide with shock and anger. “What are you doing?”
With unearthly speed—speed I didn’t even realize he could wield, or I would have been absolutely immobilized by it—the Horseman turns to Aisa. Before any of the Moirai can react, he severs Aisa’s head from her body and tears her dreaded shears from her hand.
As her body slumps sideways to the floor, he lunges forward, flinging the shears through the air like an expert dart player. They hit their mark, puncturing straight through the center of Clotho’s chest. Blood splatters from her mouth as she turns a confused eye toward her final sister.
Lachesis reaches out, trying to catch Clotho before she falls. She barely manages to clip her sister’s arm before the Horseman is behind her. She freezes, her terrified eyes searching for something...
The Horseman wraps his large black hand across the front of her face. It contrasts boldly with her pale skin as he twists her head backward with a loud snap.
Lachesis drops to the floor in slow motion, like time somehow stood still, staring in the same shock as the rest of us before time kicked back in and resumed as it should. The Horseman stands back, a sentinel for the destruction he just created.
As all three Moirai lie on the floor, the wooden box pulsates beside me and my awareness is called back to it. I pick up the box and suddenly, bright-blue light bursts from my chest, emitting a sort of force field that knocks both my mother and the Horseman back. My body rises from the floor on its own accord, hovering a few feet in the air. All I can see—all I can focus on—is the Moirai and what I now need from them. What was never meant to be theirs.
The rest of the world falls away and the only thing that exists is me…and the sins of fate.
In a sudden burst of energy, the sins rise, radiating off of the bodies of the Moirai and making their way to me. I throw my head back, my arms splayed out wide in acceptance of what is.
The sins flow to me in the form of glowing bluish smoke and I open my mouth, allowing the smoke to become a part of me. At first, memories of their transgressions are slow to come forth. It’s almost as if they’re somehow being clung to by the fading souls of the Moirai. Yet, one by one, their horrors flicker to life, illuminating in my mind’s eye as they enter my body through any energetic means necessary. A life cut short here, a family cursed there… It was never meant to be like this.
Within this bubble of energy, their sins become one with me until I can no longer remember where I begin and they end. The effect is so intense, I close my eyes to shield myself from the magnitude of it.
Without context, some of their sins have no meaning—and perhaps they’re not meant for me to understand. They’re only to be consumed and locked away. Put back into the box where they can no longer harm others.
Different times and places flood past me—faster and faster until I can no longer keep up with it all. I can only hold on and hope that I’m not completely lost in it.
Once inside me, the Moirai’s sins are somehow transformed into pure white light, then expelled through my hands and funneled into the box. The faster the sins come in, the faster they are transmuted and trapped inside.
All of the pressure from the Moirai’s sins decreases, and my body begins to feel lighter than it has in…forever.
Suddenly, the box closes of its own volition as the final sin has been consumed.
The lightness doesn’t last long. I double over, groping at my stomach. The force of this final moment is incredible, like I’m somehow being pulled into the gravity of a black hole.
Then everything goes a brilliant bright white as my entire existence implodes.
Chapter 26
Memories
The energy bubble that surrounded the four of us bursts.
Nothing could have prepare
d me for this moment. Even if there was a way to prepare, I doubt there was ever a sin-eater who has done something like this, anyway.
As the white light pulls back, I’m left standing in the middle of an ever-shifting landscape. Days, nights, and people move all around me in rapid succession—as if the world has somehow managed to go into a super-speed rewind.
But it’s more than that. All around me, even the location shifts. I go from standing in the middle of the destruction of the hospital room to an open field full of snow. Then, the courtyard of the manor, the middle of a crowded mall, a beautiful restaurant…
Even the clothes I’m wearing changes from moment to moment, shifting with the various choices that may or may not come to pass. It all depends on where I land when this crazy train stops.
The effect is dizzying, as things continue to shift around me. I close my eyes, allowing the motion and swirling sensation to roll past me and pray that it comes to an end soon.
When I open my eyes again, the location seems more settled as I stand in the middle of the sitting room at Blackwood Manor. The decor of the room changes ever so slightly, a Christmas tree in the corner by the window, then on the opposite wall. Stockings hung by the fireplace, then thick fir tree garland decorated with red bows.
What stops my heart, though, is when I see my mom walk through the manor. In one frame, she’s stoking a fire, the next she’s placing ornaments on the Christmas tree. In another, she’s sitting on the couch and I find myself wishing for all I’m worth that whatever I did—whatever happens now—I was able to make things right with my parents, with my whole family.
The fact that I’m seeing my mom at the manor gives me hope I may have at least accomplished one good thing in all of this.
When the shift finally stops, I’m left standing beside the fireplace. My hand is outstretched, as if I was about to pick up a picture on the mantle. I continue the movement, reaching for the picture and pulling it from the shelf.
The image is of Abigail and Warren standing outside the manor. It actually reminds me of one I’ve seen before—but the memory is fading too quickly. There’s just one difference… Rather than being young, they are both easily in their seventies and surrounded by at least twenty other people. They range in age from their fifties down to small children and babies held in arms. All of them look so incredibly happy.
“Sweetie, do you think you can help me with the place settings? Our guests should be here any minute.”
I spin around, surprised and relieved to see Mom walking into the room with a tray of thick crystal glasses. She places the tray on the small drinks table beside a large punch bowl filled with what looks like egg nog.
I blink back my relief and smile. “Sure, absolutely,” I breathe, grinning at her like a crazy person.
When she faces me, her eyebrows tug in and her expression turns quizzical. “Are you okay? You look a little—” she scrunches her face, “odd.”
I return the picture to the mantle and rush over to her, suddenly consumed by the desire to know she’s real.
“I’m fine,” I murmur. Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her in tight, burying my face in the crook of her neck.
She chuckles softly, but her hands float around to my back as she embraces me in return. “What’s gotten into you tonight? Did you break into the egg nog already?”
A giggle bursts from my throat. Her hair tickles the side of my cheek as I shake my head. Taking another breath, inhaling her scent, I pull away and step back.
I fight back tears as the emotions of two very separate lifetimes collide. So many of the memories from before are fading, drifting from my mind like smoke in the wind. In their place, new memories begin to take root.
“No, nothing like that. I’m just really…” Movement catches my eye and I turn to the doorway as I quietly say, “happy.”
“Have you seen my blue tie, dear?” Dad says, walking to the middle of the room and fiddling with the cuff of his shirt. “I can’t seem to find it anywhere.”
My mouth drops open and I swear my heart stops beating.
“Dad,” I breathe, racing from my mom over to the middle of the room. With the same ecstatic energy, I throw my arms around him and squeeze him tight.
“Whoa, someone’s been hitting the eggnog a bit early,” Dad laughs, patting me on the shoulder.
“That’s what I said,” Mom says, chuckling softly. “And have you tried looking in the closet?”
“The closet? Now, why would I look in there?” Dad says, his hand now resting on my shoulder as he turns to face Mom.
I exhale softly, trying to separate myself from my past memories and whatever this new present brings. Neither one of them seem aware of the momentous moment happening right now, anyway…and I’m not sure how long I’ll remember it either.
Mom’s here… Dad’s alive.
I can’t imagine a better outcome than that. Yet, something tugs at the back of my mind, and I can’t seem to put my finger on what it is. It’s on the edge of my memories, yet the more I try to focus on what it could be, the further away it slips.
The doorbell rings and Dad removes his hand from my shoulder, turning to the entryway. “Duty calls,” he says, exiting the room.
“Do not use that as an excuse to forget your tie,” Mom calls after him. “That man will do anything to get out of wearing a tie, I swear to god.” Her words say one thing, but there’s a twinkle in her eye as she walks past me and into the entryway.
Shaking away the overwhelming emotions fighting inside me, I take a deep breath and float my gaze around the room, trying to take every detail of this new reality in. The lavish Christmas decorations are something I’ve only seen in magazines, but they suit this room—and the manor as a whole. The white LED Christmas lights twinkle softly from just about every corner of the room, but it’s the painting above the fireplace that draws my attention, now that I’m standing back.
The memories of it clash together and merge with the now. As I parse it out, I realize it’s the same painting I had found in one of the abandoned rooms…
At the time, it was only of my mother—and only half done. But now, it’s a finished piece and a painting of the three of us—Mom, Dad, and me.
My heart swells as I stand there, staring at it.
“There you are,” Cat says in my ear as she wraps her arms around my shoulders from behind. “What are you doing in here? Ohhh, eggnog.” She drops my shoulders and makes her way over to the bowl. She’s dressed in a beautiful red and cream pantsuit, and it looks absolutely striking on her as she turns around with a full cup. Smiling at me, she raises the glass. “Cheers.”
“Did I hear someone say eggnog?” Dominic says, walking into the room. He tips his head my direction, but heads straight to Cat.
“Dominic,” I say, unable to stop myself from staring. His hair is a soft brown rather than the striking white-blond from my memories.
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” he laughs, accepting a glass from Cat.
“Behave yourself, Dominic,” a woman says sternly from the entryway. I turn around to see Dominic’s mother, narrowing her gaze at him. “Too much alcohol isn’t good for you.”
I shudder away the memory as it leaves my mind, replaced by this different version of her.
She jabs her index finger in his direction and he sets the drink back down on the table, grinning at her. Appeased, she stalks out of the room, following my mom in the direction of the kitchen.
As soon as she’s gone, Dominic picks up his glass, clinking it together with Cat’s.
Everyone is so different… I turn back to the doorway, craning to see who else might be in the entryway.
“Where’s Colton?” I ask.
“He’ll be here any minute. He wanted to stop at the store to pick up some pie as a thank-you gift. Very creative, right?” Cat says, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was probably going to be closed.”
I snicker to myself, but smile.
“Come on, everyone. It’s time to eat,” Mom says, popping her head into the room.
“I’m starving,” Dominic says, downing the rest of his glass and setting it on the drinks table. “Your mom makes the best turkey, Autumn.”
Together, the three of us make our way to the dining room. Mrs. Gilbert is already seated at the table and she’s leaning over, talking animatedly with Dominic’s mother. Beside Mrs. Gilbert, a man who looks like an older carbon copy of Colton sits with his arms crossed and an amused grin on his face. While I had never met him before, I know instantly this is the twins’ father.
“Sorry we’re late, guys,” Colton says, his voice carrying from the entryway.
“We?” I say, twisting around.
Beside him, Diana Hawthorn and the man named Blake are removing their coats, along with two other men. One is a little older than my friends and me, but only just. His shaggy brown hair covers part of his eyes as he flicks his head to see the rest of the room. When our eyes meet, he grins and waves.
Instinctively, I wave back, but I’m not certain if I know him or not.
The other man is flamboyantly dressed in a bright green and red suit. His hair is meticulously groomed, and I can tell instantly he’s going to be a character.
Colton notices me and steps out in front. “Oh, hey, Autumn. Have you met Renaldo and Aiden?”
I shake my head, unsure what to say.
“Aiden is Blake’s son, well, adopted son,” Colton says, pointing to the shaggy man. “And this is Renaldo.” He points to the man in the loud suit.
“Please, call me Ren,” Renaldo says, stepping past Colton with a flourish and extending his hand.
I walk into the room and shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Man, the snow’s really coming down,” Aiden says, stepping up to also shake my hand. He runs his hand through his hair, trying to dislodge it.
Cursed Legacy: The Windhaven Witches Series Page 18
