When Wishes Bleed

by Casey Bond

  He watched the surface as the leaves swirled, sank, and rose. His eyes flicked to me, but quickly darted away. “What now?”

  “Think about the question you need answers to as you blow the steam away.”

  “All of it?” he asked.

  “All of it.”

  “I’ve been called a windbag, but even I couldn’t blow all the steam away. It’s piping hot.”

  I leveled him with a glare until he gripped the counter’s edge, puckered his lips, and blew. The steam disappeared, and with it, so did the water. The pattern of leaves left along the bottom and sides began to morph into shapes.

  “How…?” he asked.

  “Watch. Don’t turn away.”

  He followed my instruction, watching until the leaves settled. They formed a straight line that ran east to west, from him to me.

  “How do I know you?” I asked.

  He opened his mouth. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  “What are you hiding? I know the robes you wear are stolen. I can’t sense an affinity, yet I feel something powerful inside you. Something dark.” Something that could be beautiful or deadly, I didn’t tell him.

  “What do you see in the leaves?” he demanded firmly.

  “Your entire world is about to be upended, and somehow, it has to do with me. You will need me for something. And this is not just your fate. Something… dire will occur.”

  He muttered something unintelligible.

  “What was that?” I asked, quirking a brow.

  “Just… never mind.”

  This was getting tedious. “The choices you are about to make are the most important of your life. Choose well.”

  The boy stormed out through the back door just as the girl had, the stolen red cape swirling behind him.

  2

  Prickles of pain flitted through every muscle as I climbed the three hundred-year-old, stone steps of the House of Earth. At the landing, I steeled my rib cage and stared at the door. My frigid blue fingertips lifted the iron knocker and struck the plate. Once. Twice. Three times.

  I turned around as I waited for an answer, hiding my hands in the pockets of my skirt, but there was no way to conceal the matching hue of my lips. It felt like there was a noose cinched around my middle, tugging me toward the House of Fate just across the Center’s cropped lawn. I didn’t have long to study the structure, because squeals came from inside the freshly-painted moss-green house, heralding the answer to my summons.

  Twin girls with fawn-brown hair wrenched the door open, although their giggles and smiles faded when they saw me. Beyond them, bundles of drying herbs hung from wooden frames suspended from the ceiling. The walls beyond were as green as their robes.

  Their eyes raked over my clothing, so different from theirs. Despite its age, my dress was black as tar, and a pinch too tight now. Awkwardness oozed between us and it became apparent that neither of the young witches was going to greet me.

  I took a step forward and lifted my chin. “I would like a word with your Priestess, please.”

  I wasn’t invited in and the door slammed closed, stopping an inch from my face. I took a step back and waited patiently for it to open again, turning to look out over the heart of The Gallows.

  The hearty hue of summer leached from the grass of the Center more and more each day. It crunched under the feet of the witches walking across it. To the south were the gallows. A graying noose swayed in the wind as if it were dancing, as if hopeful that it would soon be useful again.

  It wouldn’t. I preferred my own rope. The graying one was my mother’s. It was the one with which she’d been hanged.

  I refused to touch it.

  The door opened behind me and the High Priestess of the House of Earth stood across the threshold. Ela was older than the house itself, old enough to have seen three of them erected and demolished.

  She was my maternal grandmother, though she disowned my mother before I was born and by extension, had disowned me before I drew my first breath.

  “Daughter of Fate,” she woodenly greeted, bowing shallowly at the waist. Her sage green robes were gathered at her ample waist by a simple belt threaded with clay beads, each inscribed with a different protective rune. The ivy pattern in the fabric of her robes writhed, stretched, and receded, settling down again as she spoke.

  I returned her bow. “Priestess, Fate requires a quorum. And while we’re gathered, I have a personal matter to discuss with the Circle.”

  Her wizened brow furrowed and her eyes sharpened. “Surely both matters can wait until the Equinox has passed.”

  I flexed my fingers in my pocket. It would’ve been less painful if someone had stuck a thousand pins into them. “I’m afraid they can’t.” The words were more choked than I expected them to be, full of the pain lancing through me, coupled with the feeling of defeat. I couldn’t hold Fate off any longer.

  She straightened her hunched back as much as she could, her vertebrae popping in succession. Her bony toes curled against the lacquered wooden floor slats. “Very well. I’ll call the Circle together.”

  “I’ll await you in the Center.”

  As she pressed the door closed, less rudely than the girls of her House had, the fragrant smell of herbs and soil was carried away by the crisp, warm breeze. I turned on my heel, feeling eyes on me. When I glanced over my shoulder, the curtain in the front window swayed.

  The Center of The Gallows was criss-crossed by well-worn, converging pathways that formed the shape of a pentagram. Situated at the tip of each point in the star sat one of the Houses. Earth and Air to the left, and Fire and Water to the right. The pointed tips of my worn leather boots pointed toward what I wanted most, as if they were a compass pointing northward.

  At the star’s tip, the House of Fate sat empty and dilapidated. It withered away every day it went unoccupied and unwanted. The past seventeen years hadn’t been kind to it. Chunks of scalloped shingles were missing. The siding had faded from black to ghostly-white, occasionally interrupted by splotches of bright green algae. Every salvageable plank needed to be scraped and repainted. And that was just the outside.

  I stepped into the grassy Center and turned my face toward the warm sun. Its rays seeped into my skin. I was doing what he asked, but Fate wasn’t eager to release me from the ever-present reminders of his power… including the fact that he always got what he wanted, one way or another. The bones of my fingers felt like they might snap at any moment. They felt brittle, as weathered as the decrepit House of Fate.

  The sound of crunching grass came from the four directions behind me as the Circle members drew near. I turned in a circle and greeted each of them with a slight bow.

  “You called for a quorum?” said Wayra, High Priestess of the House of Wind, the youngest of the four Circle members. She was never one to beat around the bush. The breeze that accompanied her everywhere stirred her blue robes and long, white hair. Flanking her were my grandmother Ela and Ethne, High Priestess of the House of Fire. Her robes were made from a living flame. Blue at the bottom and deep orange at her middle, licking yellow at her neckline. Popping and sizzling sounds accompanied her wherever she stepped.

  The only High Priest stared at me from a respectable distance, a few feet behind his female counterparts to honor them. Bay was Priest of the House of Water, and his eyes and robes were the deep blue color of the ocean where it fell off the sandbar and stretched deep into the earth. The fabric of his robe ebbed and flowed around his feet, pulling and pushing the blades of dried grass. His wavy gray hair was tucked behind his ears, and his arms were folded across his chest.

  The Circle never hid their disdain of my presence, but were too afraid of upsetting Fate to deny me, or him, when I requested a quorum. I abided by their rule of law, and so far, Fate had allowed me to live within their constraints. It was a precarious balance of power, the scales of which w
ere always teetering back and forth ever so slightly.

  Today they would tip violently, and I didn’t know if the scales would right themselves.

  “Fate has called for the life of someone who will cross the border today.”

  Most of the witches believed Fate was Death and that I was his hands, but Fate was exactly what his name implied. Sometimes he demanded that a person forfeit their life. Sometimes he urged a person onto a better or more prosperous path. I often wondered why he chose the people he favored, but rarely questioned him about the lives he called me to take or felt guilty for being his hands. Perhaps he was merciful enough to take that feeling away. Or maybe their actions warranted the swift hand of justice.

  Bay’s lips pursed. “Will Fate allow you to stay the execution until tomorrow? Today is a sacred day. Within hours, the Center will be filled with people from every sector.”

  “He will not be kept waiting.” Truthfully, I was no longer strong enough to hold Fate’s wishes at bay. And apparently, he wanted the crowd to witness the person’s death. Bay’s eyes fell on my blue lips, then my icy hands. He gave me a knowing look and inclined his head ever so slightly.

  He was the only one of the four who seemed to at least attempt to understand my position and duties. The others couldn’t care less what it meant to be the ‘daughter’ of Fate, let alone to hold him inside.

  Ela, my grandmother, spoke next. “There will be many who cross the border today. Perhaps you won’t find the person you seek.” She hoped I wouldn’t find my mark, but I would. Fate would not budge on this execution.

  “Fate will reveal his mark to me,” I told them, my fingers curling in. He always led me to the ones he craved. In my mind, a vibrant orange sky sliced through the densest part of the forest near the border separating Sector Thirteen from Twelve... “I must carry out his sentence at sunset.”

  Wayra gasped and a gust of wind blew through the center. Pale ribbons of her hair thrashed back and forth, flapping wildly. Her robes faded from sky blue to cloud white in an instant. I flashed a warning glare at her, and she schooled herself quickly. I wasn’t afraid of any of them, despite the clout and powers they held, because ultimately, Fate was more powerful than all of them combined, and he’d made me his equal.

  “Can’t it wait until after midnight?” Ethne blazed, her skin becoming ruddy to match the flaming hues of her hair.

  “It cannot,” I bit back at her. Do they think I enjoy this?

  I didn’t ask for this curse; I had no choice but to fulfill his will. Even when it conflicted with theirs, even when it conflicted with mine. “The citizens of the lower sectors know what happens in The Gallows. That’s why the King sends their criminals through Thirteen into the banished lands.” He hoped we would deal with them before they made it to any semblance of freedom they might carve out for themselves.

  “That arcane practice will end soon enough,” Ela promised sharply, taking a threatening step toward me.

  Bay held his hand out as if to block her from reaching me, and with a warm, cautious expression, offered me a gentler reply. “Knowing a thing is different from witnessing it. The citizens in the Lower Sectors have never seen anyone hanged.”

  Grandmother Ela pushed Bay’s hand away and bared her teeth. “Do as you must, Daughter of Fate. You clearly aren’t seeking our permission to carry out your task.”

  Ethne and Wayra nodded their assent, each staring at me with equal parts fear and anger. Bay remained neutral, as always. They turned to leave, each facing their respective Houses. I stopped them before they fled. “There is another matter I wish to discuss.”

  The heads of the Houses stopped and turned to face me once again.

  “Today is my seventeenth birthday.”

  Ela’s jaw ticked. Grandmother knew what I wanted, and she didn’t want me to have it.

  I clenched the muscles around my stomach and ribs. “I claim the House of Fate.”

  Ethne started toward me, stopped only by Bay’s outstretched hand – again. “The House of Fate has not been occupied since your mother’s death. It’s practically uninhabitable,” she growled. Her flaming robe licked at Bay’s hand, but never burned him.

  “I am of age to claim it,” I asserted, “and as Fate’s chosen, now that I am of age, it is my right to do so.”

  Wayra cleared her throat, pushing her colorless hair behind her ears. “Claiming your inheritance will not entitle you to a seat in the Circle.”

  Yet, I wanted to add.

  I glared at her until the silent wind surrounding her roared. Even so, I refused to back down. She turned to her peers. “We can forbid it,” she suggested. “We can demolish the House.”

  Bay stepped forward, his dark robes thrashing in Wayra’s blustery fury. “Demolishing the House would weaken the Circle. We draw some power from the residue of spells worked inside its walls. For that reason, we cannot demolish it. And, as Sable is the rightful heir, she is within her rights to claim the House as her own.” Ethne boiled and opened her mouth to spew her hatred as a caldera did lava. Bay put a hand up to stop her and continued, “But, we do not have to recognize it as anything more than a structure, and continue to reap the benefits of having the House remain intact. The House of Fate was stripped when Cyril died, as was the House’s Circle seat. It is a building constructed of wood and stone, nothing more.”

  I expected Ela to continue the fight, but was surprised when she said, “Let her claim it, then. And let it be known that the accursed will no longer be welcome in any of our Houses.”

  I stifled a smile. I had never been welcomed inside them and wasn’t welcome now, so literally nothing would change.

  Grandmother felt that it would have been better if I’d never been born. I’d always seen the truth of it in her eyes. She was waiting to witness the day Fate turned on me and called for my life instead of asking me to take or change someone else’s. After all, she’d told the story a hundred times with me in earshot, of the day Cyril crossed Fate and how he rose against her. The way she swung from a rope she’d somehow secured and hoisted herself.

  My grandmother’s hazel eyes, for all the warm tones they contained, were cool as she dismissed me, glancing among her peers for their opinions on the matter.

  In the end, the Circle decreed the House mine. I could repair it as needed, decorate it as I liked, and would reside in it – alone. And it would only ever serve as a residence. Never again would the House of Fate be represented in The Gallows’ Circle.

  Not that it made sense. What could my mother have done to anger Fate so much that he would kill her? And what did she do to the Circle, to her own mother, to make them so angry with her?

  Bay called my name as I turned to leave them in the Center. “See that you carry Fate’s plan out swiftly on this night. We should not mar the Equinox longer than necessary.”

  I’d never drawn out a hanging, and I wouldn’t do so tonight. I wanted it over as much as everyone else. Well, everyone except the one who would hang.

  Instead of telling him that, I inclined my head. Perhaps I could sweet-talk Fate into allowing me to hang the young man in the wood, away from the eyes of our visitors. Surely, he could make that concession.

  A young girl from the House of Earth emerged from the woods, robes hiked around her calves, her steps fueled by fear. My stomach sank. “Priestess Ela!” she shrieked, her voice jolting with her steps. “Priestess!”

  My grandmother turned to receive her with open arms, gifting the young witch with kindness she’d never bestowed upon me. She nearly knocked Ela down, but threw quivering arms around my grandmother, panting against her as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Priestess, a witch is dead. On the border,” she stuttered. “It’s Harmony, from the House of Fire.”

  Ethne gasped, racing just above the earth toward our border with Twelve.

  Nausea coiled in my stomach as Fate confirmed that th
e girl who’d visited me earlier had indeed ignored his warning and made the wrong choice. My marrow ached for her. I closed my eyes and whispered a wish for her soul to separate and move on to the Goddess.

  I turned my attention to the one I knew was responsible for her death. His hair was the color of wet sand, and he had twin dimples the murdered girl wanted nothing more than to see aimed at her.

  On this eve, the witches will be avenged, Fate whispered.

  Suddenly, the anxiousness I’d felt since he told me I would have to execute someone on this day faded away into a glorious, satisfying burn that I knew would soon be quenched. Justice would be meted out tonight. And not only would I make him pay, I’d send a strong message to anyone else in the sectors who even for a second considered harming one of our own.

  3

  Every House was somber as preparations began for the Equinox celebration. The Affinity Battle that was supposed to be resurrected today for the festivities was cancelled.

  The young witch’s body had been prepared by her House. As she was from the House of Fire, she would be laid on the altar of flame, and fire would guard her until Ethne instructed it otherwise. The witches of The Gallows would mourn her throughout the day, and then flames would consume her body at daybreak.

  I attempted to pay my respects to her, but Ethne, true to her word, referred to me as the accursed and refused to accept me into her House. So, I watched from the steps of the House of Fate as witches from House after House lined up and filed into Ethne’s home to honor their fallen sister.

  When the last witch had exited and the front door creaked closed, I made my way to the cabin that had been my home for as long as I could remember and began to pack my things. I only needed to bring my essentials and supplies. The House still contained all of my mother’s belongings.

  The cabin sat alone in the woods far behind my mother’s House – my House, I tried to correct in my mind. The only sounds along the trodden path came from the scampering squirrels, singing cicadas, and pairs of birds foraging for worms in the rich, dark earth. They flittered about as I began to pack.