The Omen of Stones

by Casey L. Bond

  I paused and watched as Edward entered the room. “They better disintegrate the way you say they will.”

  “We just need to get the fire hot enough. Only chips of bone will remain after that,” Judith assured him. I wondered how she knew such a thing. “Everything will be okay.”

  “Everything is starting to unravel. For seventeen years, we’ve had complete control, and now it’s all falling apart!” he raged. He looked frazzled. His hair was mussed, like he’d been raking his hands through it and forgot the airs he usually put on.

  “We don’t need them anymore,” Judith gritted, standing up to face her husband. “We’ve built something stronger, Edward. We have something much more powerful.”

  He stormed out of the room without a backward glance.

  I couldn’t sense Lindey anywhere, but checked the house just in case, praying none of the bones were hers.

  Sebastian was upstairs in his room, scratching a quill across paper. He stilled when I walked peered in, standing at his doorway, but there was no way he could sense me. He must have heard something downstairs.

  Lindey wasn’t in the Smith’s house, though I wasn’t sure where else to look. I spirited back to the forest, back to Omen, who I knew was still holding my hand. It was warmer than the other plane, and I felt the butterfly-soft touch of her thumb brushing against my skin.

  “River!” she shouted, her voice far away, as if trapped in a sea shell for all eternity.

  Someone patted me. I blinked to find Omen plucking a small, splintered, charred bone from the pocket of my shirt. Dad patted my chest where the fabric had charred and was still smoking.

  Mom and Mira hovered behind them.

  “I’m fine,” I told everyone, a little startled when the living plane’s color took its time returning.

  “You’re disoriented,” Arron warned. “You should recover before pushing yourself any further.”

  Now that we were so close to discovering the truth, I couldn’t stop. The bone, now near, screamed for me to hold it. To take it in my palm and let it unfurl its story slowly, violently. Omen was still holding it.

  “Did you see Lindey?” she asked, desperate for news.

  I pressed my eyes closed, fighting the bone’s pull. “Lindey isn’t at the Smith’s, but Judith and Edward were burning bones…and not just your mother’s.”

  Lyric’s eyes bulged.

  Sky gave words to her question, “Who else’s?”

  “I’m not sure,” I told her honestly. “But Illana pointed this single bone out. I think it will reveal everything we need to know.”

  I looked to Mom and Mira. “Can the witches find Lindey?”

  Mira nodded. “We’ll need something personal of hers and a description of what she looks like.”

  “I can give you both,” Omen promised. She looked at Sky. “Would you take me to my house?”

  Mom was about to refuse to let them leave. I could see it and so could the sisters. “I’ll stay,” Lyric quietly volunteered. “As a show of good faith.”

  Sky grabbed Omen’s arm and they vanished, a soft, warm breeze sliding over the earth in their wake, rattling the dried leaves and sending them tumbling over the ground.

  Dad looked at Arron and Mira. “We need Knox.”

  “I’ll go,” Arron offered. He looked everywhere but at Mira. Hurt shone on her face as he announced to everyone and no one in particular, “Be right back.”

  As soon as he was gone, Omen and Sky reappeared. Omen held out a swath of white fabric embroidered with small bluebells. “This is her favorite dress.”

  Mira accepted it. “I’ll take it to The Gallows and have the witches attempt to locate her.” A look passed between her and Mom, who noticed me watching them. “They tried to reach you day and night and couldn’t find you,” Mira explained.

  “Who tried?”

  “Every witch in The Gallows.” Mom looked at Omen. “The power of every witch marching around the Center chanting the most powerful location spell in memoriam at the same time could not break her ward strength. Her magic shielded you completely.”

  “Well, thankfully Omen and her magic kept River safe, too,” Dad added, wrapping an arm around Mom’s shoulders. “Knox will be here soon, and the witches should be able to find Lindey if you leave your wards down, Omen.”

  “What if she’s in North or West Village?” she croaked.

  “We will release our ward magic, too, sister, if it will help bring Lindey home faster,” Lyric said, compassion roiling in her green-gray eyes.

  Sky wasn’t happy, but she reluctantly agreed. “For a time.”

  “Thank you,” Omen rasped.

  A hollow sound filled my ears as Omen held the bone in her palm, uncurling her fingers so that it lay flat along her life line. I exhaled upon seeing it. I still felt fuzzy, like I wasn’t sure if I’d dreamed the whole episode. But with the bone in front of me, I knew it was real. Everything was real, and the bone was the proof.

  The charred smell brought the entire scene back and I cringed as I replayed the scene of Judith reassuring Edward that their deeds would go undiscovered, her callous words echoing through my mind.

  I took the bone, squeezing it between my thumb and forefinger. “I need to read it now.” My breaths were shallow and thin, my feet clumsy as they pushed me toward the hollow sound. Toward the rush of water. Toward the river.

  Go to the river, Fate whispered.

  23

  River

  Omen kept up, her sisters and my parents trailing behind us. “Where are you going?” Dad asked, jogging down the hill.

  “Fate wants me to go to the river.”

  Omen stumbled after I revealed his will. I looked at her, a cold sweat breaking out over my brow. I’d never felt this way reading a bone. Never. Then I realized why I felt the way I did. Illana was near and she was projecting her emotions into the bone, and the bone was transferring them to me. She felt hungry to show me her truth, to share her story with me, to share it with her daughters. She felt so desperate, she was sick.

  “It’ll be okay,” I assured Omen, knowing her fear stemmed from the fate tacked to her wall. I would wager the yellowed paper was all she could see as we rushed to the riverbank. But my words of reassurance weren’t just for Omen. I wanted Illana to hear them and calm down.

  “Why wouldn’t going to the river be okay?” Mom asked.

  “That’s where Omen is going to die,” Sky answered callously. “She’s hoping it won’t be today. Because if he goes under, she’ll die trying to save him.”

  Omen would not die in the river. I’d seen her raise the entire riverbed of stones and never place a toe in the water. The stones could carry her out of the stream. The note her mother left was wrong. It had to be.

  I looked at her from the corner of my eye. She looked determined and just as fierce as she did the night she saved me. From her steely glare I knew Omen was determined to enter the water and stand beside me.

  Despite her fate.

  I clenched the splintered bone fragment and had just walked out of the tree line to the edge of the water, when everything faded. The sky that was a pale shade of blue turned black and angry. Thunder roared, shaking the ground underfoot. Across the river, three pale spirits hovered over the land like wraiths.

  Not spirits or wraiths, I decided as they drew closer, but women. Three women. Two carried a third between them, supporting her weight. They raced toward the water almost as quickly as the storm cloud pushing toward me overhead, causing the wind to tear over the land. It rippled the water around my waist and the air became charged, electric and wild.

  The woman in the middle was heavily pregnant. She panted and let out a scream, stopping to brace against the pain. Her sisters on either side consoled her, whispering incantations to ease her discomfort. They called her Illana.

  “Ill
ana, stay with us!” one begged.

  I realized Illana was about to give birth to triplets, a trait she was passing down; her sisters were both identical to her.

  They dragged Illana into the water and I cringed when she let out a blood-curdling scream, as thick as the crimson staining her dress.

  One sister settled behind her in the river and one knelt in front of her, prepared to deliver her daughters. Lightning split the sky, painting them with bright white light when the shadows threatened to overtake them. Thunderous booms shook the stones in the riverbed. They rumbled and shifted with each heavenly crash.

  A bolt, more defined than all the other flashes, forked through the clouds. A cry tore from Illana’s throat. “It seeks her,” the sister cradling her said. A trance-like state fell over the sister poised to deliver the infants.

  Illana fought not to push, desperate to do just that. Time slowed and the urgency intensified. Illana’s face contorted in agony, but she waited until her sister began to speak…

  “She was born in the river, and in the river will she die.”

  Illana panicked, crying out for the Goddess to not take her daughter’s life. “Don’t let her die. Not before she’s lived!”

  Lightning lit the sky again and the earth rattled violently as Illana’s first daughter was born. Her sister held the babe under the water. I lurched toward them, about to yell for her to bring her out of the river, when a thick, hot bolt of lightning struck the bank just behind them. The child was raised above the water, her hand clutching something tightly. Something round and smooth and familiar.

  Omen had been born, and she’d plucked a stone from the riverbed before she drew breath. Did she choose her power, or did Fate choose it for her?

  Several moments later, Illana’s second triplet was drawn up out of the water. A strong gust of wind blew over the land, leaving as abruptly as it came. The baby watched the storm, lightning flashing in her pupils. This must be Sky.

  The third was born crying in a voice so unusual, it sounded like she was singing. Lyric’s mother smiled as she cried, looking upon her daughters. She took the time to name the girls, but none of the women saw the slip of a shadow creeping forward from the tree line.

  The woman approaching held a large branch up for the three witches to see. “Do you need help to steady yourselves against the current? You should bring them out of the river. The water is too cold for the babes. You have to warm them before they take ill,” she entreated sweetly. Her own stomach was swollen with child. “Place them on the bank and I’ll wrap them in blankets.” From a small bag across her shoulder, she withdrew three swaths of fabric.

  The woman, whom I realized was Judith, crouched near the bank and outstretched her arms. Each of Illana’s sisters approached without using the assistance of the branch she offered, so she tossed it away. She swaddled Sky and laid her in a tuft of supple grass, swaddling Lyric and placing her next to her sister. Then she reached for Omen. She wrapped her up tightly and laid her beside her sisters before grabbing the branch, offering it to the women again. The current wasn’t exceptionally strong, but the water was deep.

  Illana flashed her sisters a look of warning, but it was too late.

  Judith reached for a small container hidden within the folds of her skirts, uncorking the bottle with a pop. She poured it in the river and watched the witches carefully. It eddied around Illana’s sisters before reaching her, but Illana was still weak from childbirth, still dazed. She struggled to get her feet under her. Her legs shook as she stood, grasping for her sisters as they shrieked and lost control of their limbs, sinking beneath the water.

  With a derisive laugh, Judith tossed the emptied bottle into the river. Illana trudged toward her daughters, but Judith stood between her and them. The substance swirled around her, making the water glow a deep purple shade. Illana did not succumb as Judith seemed to expect.

  Judith took up the branch again, cracking Illana’s skull with the thickest, hardest part. Judith caught hold of Illana’s arm as she fell, and then her hands crept and wove into her hair. She held Illana beneath the water until no more bubbles rose.

  “You disgusting, wretched witch! You should’ve known your place was never with a human man. You’re supposed to stay with your kind,” Judith spat, finally letting go of Illana’s hair.

  Her lifeless body floated downstream, though her mind still worked, trying to coax her body into fighting again, trying to coax her soul to return. I felt her terror and worry for her daughters. She’d wondered if Judith would drown them, too. Her sister’s prophecy was the last thing to flit through her mind…

  She was born in the river, and in the river will she die.

  Footsteps jogged down the hill. “What have you done?” Edward asked, tearing at his hair. His eyes tracked Illana’s floating body as it bobbed farther down the river, illuminated by the lightning raging above. “Judith, what have you done?”

  “I did what I had to, Edward. Illana and her sisters were planning to kill you and take control of the Tri-villages. They said they were powerful and it was their right to rule, not to be ruled,” she lied.

  He scrubbed a hand down his stubbled lip and chin. “They’ll get caught in the dam farther downstream,” he noted absently, as if struggling to figure out what to do now that the witches were dead.

  “We can use her daughters now,” Judith suggested.

  “How?” he asked, still flabbergasted.

  “We will raise them up and keep them separate,” she reasoned, cold and unapologetic after taking the lives of three women. “Witches are evil. Think of Sector Thirteen. In the Kingdom, the witches are becoming more powerful than King Lucius himself because they band together. If these three do the same, they’ll take over, but if we separate them and encourage them to protect their homes…they can provide exactly what we need to make our plans a reality.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “A screen no witch can penetrate. I’ve already seen the girl babes’ powers, and they’re so much stronger than Illana expected. With their help, we could hide anything…even an…” Judith’s words faded as Illana approached. Judith shook violently from the sudden burst of cold, her teeth chattering as Illana’s angry spirit emerged from the water and circled the woman, trying to block and then tear her away as Judith and Edward walked toward the three calm newborns, unaware of the angry spirit. She screamed and raged in time with the storm, but she couldn’t manifest. There was nothing she could do. Nothing except vow that Judith would one day pay for what she’d done.

  The scene diminished and I once again stood under a pale blue sky, the earlier storm long since gone. I opened my palm to see the bone, brittle and small. I was standing in the middle of the river, shaking from the experience, unable to stop the tear that fell, or the next one.

  They had a mother who loved her daughters more than her own life. She would have shredded Judith if it weren’t for the spelled tranquilizing oil. How had she come across that? It was forbidden in The Gallows.

  But we weren’t in The Gallows. This was The Wilds.

  Omen cupped my face and brought it down to look into my eyes. “Was it that bad?” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears and I hung my head. “I’m so sorry.”

  Her sisters and my parents watched from the safety of the bank. “Could you give us a minute?” I asked them, needing a moment to be alone with Omen. I wanted to tell her first. I owed her that much. And I needed to be holding her when she learned the truth.

  In a blink, they were gone. I wasn’t sure where they went, but I was glad they were all gone for the moment. It sounded harsh, but was true, nonetheless.

  Omen’s lips wobbled. I pulled her in to my chest. “What I’m about to tell you will be hard for you to hear.”

  “Was Lindey involved?” she cried.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “I told you,” she said d
efeatedly.

  Slowly, I peeled away the lies and spoke the truth of her mother’s and aunts’ deaths.

  “Judith,” she breathed. It wasn’t a question, it was like she finally realized she had been fooled and now anger filled the hole Judith left by taking her mother’s life. “That’s why she can’t look at me and won’t even talk to me, even when I compliment her. She feels guilty. Or maybe it’s not guilt at all, but fear. Maybe she thinks I’ll be able to sense that she’s a liar and a murderer,” she seethed.

  The rocky bed beneath us began to vibrate and writhe, then it began to roil around us. Omen held us steady as the still-swollen river frothed.

  “Omen, why would Edward and Judith need your protection? Is it just from the castaways from Nautilus?” There was more. More that Judith didn’t vocalize. What were the Smiths hiding?

  She wiped an angry tear away. “That’s all they’ve ever said; that the wards are to keep the undesirables and criminals away from the villages. But what you said sounds far worse than that. We have to learn what they’re doing and stop them.”

  Her eyes turned from silver to the color of a wet stone, dark and slick. “They rehashed the story of them saving me from my horrible mother, who’d carelessly abandoned me by the river, so many times. Year after year, at every celebration. I can’t recall how many times I had to endure the retelling, even thanking Judith for saving me. Perhaps I should draw an apology out of her as slowly as she’s manipulated me all these years.”

  The water dragged at our chests, but she was most comfortable in the water. Only the water can soothe her. The water and you, River, Fate roared. His voice was loud and strong. Was this how Omen always heard him? He sounded so close I felt he might be beside or behind us.

  The river’s water slid more smoothly around us. As Omen calmed, so did it, like the serpentine stream was part of her.

  How could her aunt have prophesied her death in a river that obeyed her? I knew her gift was derived from the stones underfoot, but the water was as much a part of the equation as Omen.