“Why do you care?” I whispered. I’d never let a man get inside my head or my heart, like he’d done so effortlessly. But I’d never met a man whose touch didn’t drain me. Usually that’s all they wanted me for, that feel good feeling without drugs. This didn’t happen with Griffith’s touch. It made me uneasy. “Besides, danger is my middle name.” It was Joy, but it sounded too lame for the situation.
“Did you see a book when you were at my house?” He asked the question as if he already knew the answer.
I froze and my heart rate accelerated. “I saw lots of books.” Looking at the advertisements lining the wall, the people waiting in line, and everywhere but at him, I said, “You had me wait in your library, remember?”
The automatic doors swung open, and I carried my bag out onto the sidewalk and started across the parking lot before he asked any more questions.
“Mine is Scott.”
“What?” I turned and almost stumbled into Griffith. I didn’t know how he’d gotten so close without me hearing him approach.
“My middle name.” His cart sat abandoned on the sidewalk in front of the store. “I’m getting tired of waiting. Maybe this will help you decide.” He cupped my face and pulled me toward him so his lips met mine. Any resistance, and common sense, I had evaporated as I melted against him. Our breath mingled and my tongue brushed against his, tingling as if I’d touched a live wire. My grocery bag hit the pavement with a thump.
A blaring horn shattered our embrace. “Get a room already.” A yellow-haired man hung out over his car window, waiting to let his beaten car pass. Yanking his tie from side to side, to loosen his irritation.
“Sorry.” Griffith bent to pick up my scattered items, the ice cream lid cracked and mixed with greens from the open salad container. “I think you’ve lost your ice cream.”
I looked at the mess, trying to regain my composure. “Maybe I’ve invented something by combining ice cream with salad. I could call it only half-bad.” I stepped out of the way of the passing cars, and Griffith handed me the bag with what remained.
“Kind of like me.”
“What is? Ice cream?” With the taste of his lips fresh in my mind, I thought he was right.
“No, half-bad.” He winked.
I lowered my head. Me too.
“It’s not what’s in you, it’s what you do with it,” Griffith said, as if he knew my thoughts.
“Why not you, then?”
“I’m not good at taking my own advice.” He walked away, leaving me longing for him more than the ice cream.
****
I stood in front of the house. Shaking my head in disbelief that I’d returned. I’m taking advice from a ghost. If that’s what Tessa was. If Ruthie hadn’t seen her, too, I wouldn’t have believed my own eyes.
Reaching into my pocket, I found the familiar paper. I ran it through my fingers, the edges ragged from being roughly torn from the magazine. Pulling the picture out, I smoothed the image with my thumb. I’d gotten this one from the waiting room at the garage.
That’s all it would ever be, a random picture from a magazine. I placed my hand on the door in front of me. The wood was solid, real and keeping my legs steady. I closed my eyes, and swallowed the lump in my throat. It’s only paper.
With one hand braced on the door, I held the picture up above my head. When the breeze caught it and fought me for the photo, I opened my fingers and sucked in a breath to swallow the pain of letting go. The magazine photo dipped and sailed in the wind, falling briefly to skip across the grass then back up to the trees of the woods. I turned once it was out of sight.
The door opened before I could knock. Chance grinned from ear to ear. I’d always thought that was just an expression, until I’d met him.
“I…um…” How do I tell him a ghost sent me?
“I knew you’d come back.” He enveloped me in a crushing hug.
My arms flopped uselessly at my sides until he released me and the air whooshed back into my lungs. After a lifetime trying not to touch anyone, it was going to be hard to get used to all this hugging. It was somewhat nice.
“Come in, please.” Chance grabbed my hand.
I looked down at our clasped hands. How foreign it appeared to have someone’s fingers laced with my own. But I let him lead me inside.
The house was cozy, more like a cottage nestled in the woods. Once Chance released my hand, I shoved my hands in my pockets. Noting the absence of the picture, I pushed the thought aside, not wanting to dwell on its loss. The orange and cream-colored tile creaked as I stepped into the kitchen. “Nice house.” I hadn’t noticed much before, except the underside of the couch.
He shrugged. “It was Aunt Essie’s. You must’ve lived in a lot of places.”
“Yeah.”
“Bet that was pretty cool.”
We stood, staring at each other awkwardly until I broke the silence, because I couldn’t take one more second of that sappy smile plastered on his face. “First you kidnap me then I try to get you arrested.” Chance continued to stare at me, unblinking. Hanging on my every word. It was weird. “Our family reunion is like a bad talk show.”
“Don’t forget all the other stuff.” He circled his finger around his ear, making the age-old gesture of crazy. “It’s a package deal.” When I didn’t share in the joke, he dropped his hands to his sides. “Come on, Hope. We just started on a bad foot. How about we try again?”
“Okay.” Shrugging, I kept my hands in my pockets, sensing he was getting ready to descend into another hug. “Is your sister home?” I might as well get over the family gathering.
His smile faltered. “Yes, but first I need to tell you about Destiny.” He paused. “To help you understand her.”
Following him into the living room, I eyed the familiar looking couch. Chance headed toward the chair flanking it, but I rushed in front. “I think I’ll take the chair.” I tilted my head, challenging him to try to make me sit on that couch.
He looked at me then the couch, and his mouth opened just a little when he made the connection. “Oh, sure. I’m sorry.”
My gaze touched upon the photos of Chance and Destiny on the wall and their progression from childhood until today. A bookshelf overflowed with books and memorabilia. Things…their memories, collected over the years, not purchased or made up.
Destiny sat on the stoop outside with her back toward us. A squirrel perched on her knee and a few rabbits cuddled up against her leg. There was even a fox curled up by her feet. “Are those pets?” I liked animals but didn’t have experience raising any, until now. I had Tercet, not that I’d been given any choice in the matter, but I hadn’t given the cat back, either.
“No, they’re from the woods. They aren’t pets.” Chance’s face blossomed with love for his sister. It must’ve been nice growing up with a brother who loved you like that.
“They don’t look too wild to me.” Destiny sat feeding a few out of her hand. “What’s the difference?”
“They’re free to come and go as they please. A pet can’t do that. Even our two cats can stay in or out as they choose. I envy them.”
I frowned, unsure if he envied them for their freedom or the attention they lavished on Destiny. He watched Destiny fuss over the animals. It seemed they’d put their natural instincts aside in their shared love of her.
I’d considered any stray cat my pet if I fed them and they came back, even if I couldn’t keep them in the apartment. One winter, I smuggled in a mangy cat I’d named Feather, because she was as light as one. The poor thing hadn’t eaten for days. I found a cardboard box and put an old blanket in it, then hid the box and the cat under my bed.
But while I was in school, the cat carried on so much the lady who had the apartment next door, Mrs. Jones, complained to the landlord. I grimaced, remembering the old biddy. Because that’s what she was like, a bitter, sour old lady. Lips constantly puckered as if she’d sucked a lemon—constantly bellowing out how children should be seen and not heard
, yet she was the loudest person I knew.
The landlord insisted we get rid of Feather. When Tessa saw how upset I was, she refused and we were evicted. I’d wanted to cuddle up and sleep with Feather in the car as we searched for our next apartment, but Tessa worried I might roll over and accidently kill the cat. So I packed her box with old shirts and towels to give her a warm place to sleep. But despite all my efforts, before we moved into our next place, Feather died. Tessa offered to let me get another cat, but I didn’t want one. It’s too hard when things you love die.
Chance continued to study the scene on the patio. “These animals do more for us than we do for them.” He turned toward me. “They can sense the Oppressors long before us. These deep woods right outside the city, they’re a breeding ground for Oppressors. We don’t want to be caught off guard.”
I absorbed this information. “Is that why you gave me Tercet?”
He smiled. “Well, you don’t need her for the same reason we do.” Plucking up the carbon copy of Tercet, he stroked the cat as it bumped its head against his hand. “But they are good for other things.”
As he stroked the cat, its almond eyes locked on me and let out a soundless hiss. She knew what I was.
“Would you like a drink? Some coffee or tea?” Chance stood, as if the perfect host, releasing the cat to the floor. The situation was ridiculous considering the other times we’d been together.
“Like you’ve never made a mistake.”
I looked around the room, but there was no one but Chance and me. Great, another voice in my head. I had hoped the voices were done once I saw Tessa in the mirror, although this wasn’t Tessa. Chance stood expectantly, waiting to get me a beverage. “No, I’m fine.”
He eased back into the chair. “About Destiny.” He glanced to ensure she remained outside. “Growing up wasn’t easy for her.”
“Like it was easy on me.” It was hard not to feel bitter. “You had each other. You had a family. You didn’t move from place to place and never know why.”
He ran his fingers through his hair in what I’d come to associate as an unconscious gesture. It also gave him the hairstyle of a rooster, which made him difficult to take seriously. “I’m not saying it was any easier on you, just trying to help you understand our sister. You’re stronger than her.”
“But I—”
“Please, Hope,” said the voice in my head.
I rolled my eyes, willing whoever currently took up residence in my head to vacate, then held my hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’ll listen, but I’m doing this for Tessa.” I tried to place the voice. “It would help if you people introduced yourselves before you invade my head and start chattering away.” I muttered, earning a concerned look from Chance.
“You want me to introduce myself, again?” Chance asked.
“No, I wasn’t talking to you.” I folded my arms across my chest.
Chance waited with an expression of expectation. “Then whom were you talking to?”
I waved him off. I wasn’t discussing the voices in my head. Despite all his oddities and claiming to be a blood relative, I wasn’t ready to share. “Nothing, go ahead.”
“Sorry, I forget you can’t see me. I’m Aunt Essie.”
I furrowed my brow. “Just how many aunts do I have?”
“Oh, we’re all like a family.”
Chance cocked his head to the side, watching me have this one-sided conversation. I placed my hands on my lap and focused on him. “Sorry, go ahead.”
“Okay…if you say so.” He dragged out the words, giving me the opportunity to explain my newest bizarre behavior. The silence continued until it became awkward.
Chance cleared his throat. “Unlike you, Destiny and I’ve always known about our gifts. Although, we didn’t know you existed until the unknowing spell broke when Aunt Essie died. But we knew about the Oppressors. How they can influence thoughts and thrive on despair.”
I held up my hand. “Wait. Who is Aunt Essie?”
“She was Mom’s twin sister. Multiples are very common for our kind.”
“Our kind?” I didn’t like being classified. “Ruthie talks about being a witch, like it’s a normal thing.” The house appeared ordinary, right down to the dirty dishes stacked by the sink, not what I’d expect of witches.
Chance’s laugh was deep and hearty, coming from the gut and filling his entire body. His love for life with his quick smile was the main reason I was willing to listen to him. I’d never come across someone so full of happiness. “Ruthie used the term witch because you might be able to relate to it. But us three are more like higher-level witches, Enchantlings.” He said the word as if he expected me to be impressed.
I threw my hands up. “For goodness’ sake, that means nothing to me.”
Chance smiled. “Did you ever wonder why you say that all the time?”
“Say what?”
“For goodness’ sake.”
“I don’t say that all the time.” At least I didn’t think so. Now I wasn’t sure.
He shrugged. “It’s an expression to unconsciously promote good over evil. It’s part of your nature. How do I explain what you don’t know?” He sighed. “It’s like trying to describe the color blue to someone who’s never seen a color.” He rubbed his chin. “Okay, one of the initial identifying factors is that we’re triplets, born on the third month of the year, on the third day at three-thirty-three a.m.”
“Have there been other Enchantlings? Shouldn’t there be information to guide us other than this on the job training, as Ruthie calls it?”
Chance hung his head. “There were others,” he avoided my gaze. “But there’s nothing left. Only information passed down from generation to generation. Besides, the abilities and gifts of the descendants vary.” He straightened and tapped his head. “It’s all kept up here.”
“Seriously? My memory is terrible, for goodness’...” I stopped when I caught Chance’s nod. Maybe I did say that a lot, but it was weird to think an expression was wired into me. I threw my hands up. “What’s wrong with keeping a record?”
“There was one, or so I’ve been told,” he paused. “The book was stolen over a century ago, and that gave the Oppressors an upper hand. They used the book to pick witches off like flies.” He studied his hands. “There are few of us left. That’s why they separated us when we were born.” He hurried to add, “I’m not saying separating us was the right thing to do.”
I looked away, not sure I would ever understand the reason for taking me away from my family. But perhaps doing so helped make me a stronger person today. I guess I’d never know.
Chance continued. “The Oppressors know to look for triplets born on that day. They’d be able to kill us before we came into our full abilities, as they have with many of the Enchantlings before, who never reached their twenty-first birthday.” He reached to take my hands to clasp in his. “You see, we’re here to help tip the balance between good and bad. Hope and hopeless.” He smiled at his pun. “It’s like we’re playing poker and we can see everyone else’s hand. It’s our chance to swing the human race in a better direction.”
“How many made it to their twenty-first birthday?”
Chance studied our clasped hands.
“How many?”
He opened his hand to press his fingers against mine. “Have you noticed how similar our hands are, I never thought about it before with Destiny.”
“How many lived that long?”
He sighed and met my eyes. “None. Just us.”
I sat back into the couch. “That’s why Ruthie’s been so evasive, isn’t it?”
Chance nodded. “She didn’t want to put too much pressure on you.”
Sure, no pressure and no guidance. I thought about the book I’d taken from Griffith and felt heat rising up my neck in a blush. I’d done the same thing, stolen their book. That word, Oppressors, was all through the book. What did that make Griffith? Was he hunting me, knowing the whole time what I was? I’d wished I�
�d had the time to take a better look at the book, but I hadn’t seemed to have a minute alone to do it.
Maybe this time, we’d have the advantage, and live to tell about it.
Chance clapped his hands together, startling me. “Have you noticed the significance of your name?” He looked at me like an excited puppy.
I averted my eyes to peer over his shoulder, unsure how much to reveal. It would be nice to have others like me, and then maybe I wouldn’t feel so alone. Destiny continued to hold court with a plethora of animals in the yard. “I thought you wanted to tell me about Destiny, first?”
Chance waved a hand in dismissal. “She knew you were coming and won’t be in until I let her know we’re ready.”
“How did she know I was coming? I didn’t even know if I would come until Tessa…” I hesitated. “Well, how did she know? Is she like Ruthie?”
“That’s her gift. Destiny gets images from the future. She can help to alter destiny. Her gift isn’t the same as Ruthie.”
My shoulders sagged. “Doesn’t she give courage or cheerfulness?” I intentionally avoided saying hope. “Don’t you?”
He shook his head.
I looked around their modest house. “Then why haven’t you played the lottery? Or do you have to use your gift for good and not for evil?”
“No. Destiny can’t control the information she gets. It’s random. Plus, depending on the information, she’s not always sure when the event will occur.”
“So your name is…Chance.” I self-consciously touched my hair that until recently, I thought didn’t look too bad. But what did two old biddies like Tessa and Ruthie know about hairstyles.
The corner of Chance’s lip pulled up in a smile, as he watched me touch my hair. “I can convince people to take a chance, or a road they may not have normally taken.”
“Ruthie told me about my hair, but I can’t believe that wasn’t my own doing.”
“It is your doing. I just encourage you to take a chance you might not have taken. Encouraging you to try something a little outside your comfort zone. I kept thinking about black hair. Ultimately, you made the decision.” He held up his palms as if it were that simple. “When you were traveling here, remember the road signs that changed names? The call on the payphone?”
Destiny Calling Page 13
