Scryer

by West, Sinden

  I gave him a furious look. “Why are you here then?”

  He turned to look at me, his forehead creasing. “For you. I’m here for you, and don’t act like you’re fine, Ivy. You forget that I know you. I think that I’m the only one who you’ve ever really let in.” His hand moved slightly so it was not even an inch from mine, yet he did not touch me. I didn’t move my hand either; instead just letting it lay there on the pew as the sermon began.

  It was a long-winded and boring speech by a man who knew nothing about Danilo. As he finished, he asked if anyone wanted to say anything. I knew that it would be the right thing to do, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. There was nothing that I wanted to say in front of these people. With, perhaps, the exception of Ellen, I doubted that anyone in the depressing room really cared that his life was lost and that they would never speak to him again.

  To my surprise, as the awkward silence stretched on, Danilo’s father got to his feet and shuffled toward the microphone. He wore a dark suit that may have once fitted him, but now it sagged on his frame and made him all the more a sad figure.

  He cleared his throat and his voice came out as a gruff rasp. “Danilo was my son,” he began. “He had some…troubles in life, but all around, he was a pretty good kid.” His voice was stilted and awkward, as if speaking of someone that he didn’t really know. “When he was a little boy, he was crazy about basketball. Absolutely nuts about it.” The man’s face managed a smile as he thought of better times. “He would spend all day on the court and I’d have to drag him off of it to get him to eat his dinner.” He gave a laugh that quickly turned into a sob, and then he seemed to remember that he had an audience and squared his shoulders. “That’s all I’ve got to say,” he muttered as he walked back to his seat.

  To my horror, I felt something prick at my eyes and a lump form in my throat. Oh, no, I wasn’t going to cry, not here, not in front of people. But my body wouldn’t obey. I quickly got to my feet and rushed out the doors and into the corridor, searching for the bathroom. When the door with the faded stenciled word of “ladies” came into view, I pushed my way through it and began to take deep, rasping breaths to get myself under control.

  I heard the door swing open and turned quickly to see who the intruder was. Lake stepped just inside the door and let it bang closed behind him. He came no closer. “You okay?”

  I brought my arms around me. “No. This isn’t right. None of this is right. There’s no one here. There should be hundreds of people mourning here, but there’s nearly no one. All the other scryers should be here, but no one bothered to turn up.” My voice was hoarse but not yet breaking, and for that I was glad.

  “Scryers are like that. You never stick together.”

  “And it makes us easier to pick off, one by one,” I choked out.

  Lake stepped closer. “No one will hurt you Ivy. I’ll make sure of that.”

  I met his eyes. “You’re a liar. You can’t promise that. And when I die, who will be at my funeral? Who will mourn for me? Do you think there would be more people than there are for Danilo? Who would care? Who would care that I’m dead?” A sad laugh came from deep within me. “And it’s his funeral and all I can do is feel sorry for myself. When did I turn so pathetic and selfish?”

  When Lake reached out to touch me, I didn’t flinch away. Instead, I stood firm as his hands gently rubbed against my bare forearms. The familiar warmth rushed through me, and I forgot everything—about Danilo, about Caleb, about lies, and betrayal. “You’re not selfish, or pathetic, Ivy…” he trailed off in a low voice.

  I felt caught by his kiss. Yet not trapped like prey about to be devoured, more like there was no choice. That was where my lips were deigned to be. I kissed back hard, clawing my hands into his back as I gave into the desperation to touch him that I had tried to ignore for so long. Danilo’s last words about me being withered, bitter, and old before my time played over and over in my mind as I threw caution to the wind and gave in to what my body wanted and damn the consequences. As I bit at his lips, he propelled me back against the bathroom vanity, his hands sliding under my dour funeral skirt to lift me up to sit on it.

  My legs lifted to trap him and draw him into me, hands going for his belt almost feverishly. But his hands grasped mine, and he broke his kiss, instead panting heavily and resting his forehead against mine.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse. His eyes were shut as if he couldn’t bear to look at me.

  I couldn’t speak. My body wanted him, my heart wanted him…but my head…

  “This is wrong,” I rasped.

  His eyes flickered open. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, sadness evident. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like the fallibility that I sensed about him right at that moment, as if I could be his ruin. I wanted him strong and unfeeling. It would all be easier that way.

  “I just…”

  He stepped back, and I lowered my legs down as a weird ache went through me. Gone was the feverish lust of before, now there was only loneliness and my eyes welled up again with tears. He looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry that I upset you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry that I tried to have sex with you in a bathroom. I’m sorry that I stood by and let Michael just have you. I’m sorry that I took advantage.” He raised his eyes to me. “And most of all I’m sorry that we were both born as what we are. If I could change things…”

  A sob escaped me. It was a horrible sound and he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me while I cried, holding me tightly against his chest and stroking my hair while tears and inhuman sounds ran from me uncontrollably.

  Time seemed to stop. How long passed with me there in his arms? It seemed so right, yet was so wrong…

  “I have to go,” I managed to stumble out as I pushed against him. “I have plans.” It wasn’t a lie. I did have plans with Caleb. I had formulated a plan to have him distract me from any misery I might feel after the funeral with the warmth of his body and his tongue on me. But right then, it felt wrong to think of him touching me…

  Lake arched an eyebrow and slowly let me go. The moment his hands were gone, I missed them instantly because he was right there yet I couldn’t have him. Not really.

  “Ivy, please…”

  I didn’t speak or look at him as I fixed myself up. I kept smoothing my hair down as if it were possible, but of course, it was just as wild as always. Once I was as respectable as I could possibly be, I turned for the door.

  “Does he know what you are? Does he know what will follow you and probably ruin you for your entire life?” I froze. His voice wasn’t cruel, it was merely factual. When I didn’t respond, he continued, “You shouldn’t be with someone like him. You should be with someone who understands.”

  I gave a bitter laugh, twisting to face him. “Understands? Understands what? That any daughters we bear together will be your whores until you have everything that you want, regardless of who gets hurt? That those girls will probably commit suicide because they cannot bear the evil of humanity that they are forced to see each day? Will you take my daughter as your whore, Lake?”

  His hands came up quickly to grip my wrists, spinning me around to face him, the anger on his face clear. “I would never do that to you.” His fingers bit into my flesh as if he were pouring all of his anguish into my blood.

  And then, just as suddenly, he released me and looked away.

  I wanted him to say something, although I didn’t know what. The look on his face was unreadable now. I gave a sigh and headed for the door. “He’s safe,” I muttered. “You’re not safe. You’re dangerous.” I yanked the heavy door open and stepped through it, letting it bang behind me and create a physical division between us. Only then was I able to breathe properly again.

  Only Danilo’s father and his girlfriend were left. His father looked drunk and kept taking sips from a hip flask as he stared at nothing. He didn’t look sad now. Instead he just looked uninterested in anything aro
und him. He had probably just come for the sandwiches and cakes. Ellen, on the other hand, still had tears flowing down her face. She sat in a chair in the corner, hunched over with her arms around her thin figure. Her face was contorted with grief, and the way she shuddered with silent sobs made me think that she could break a rib if this continued.

  At first, I just walked past her and averted my eyes. I didn’t need her to make me feel guilty that I wasn’t howling with rage and injustice at Danilo’s cruel death. But then I stopped. This wasn’t about me. I turned to her, and she lifted her swollen eyes to see why I had come to a halt in front of her.

  I swallowed and took a breath before speaking. “I know it seems like the end of the world right now, but you’ll love again. You will meet a nice man, and you’ll have babies together. A boy and two girls, and they’ll be chubby and cute, and sweet, really sweet.”

  Her mouth dropped open in surprise, a thousand questions in her eyes, but I wouldn’t help to answer them. I spun on my heel and continued on my way, pushing through the doors until I was out in the sunshine that shone too brightly for such a miserable day.

  “That was a nice thing you did,” Lake said from behind me. I hadn’t realized that he had followed me.

  I shrugged. “Well, sometimes I’m nice.”

  He gave a nod. “Let me give you a ride home, or to your ‘date’.”

  “I don’t think so.” I scanned up and down the street, looking for any sign of a taxi, but there was nothing.

  “Ivy.” He took hold of my wrist lightly and that touch alone made me lose my breath, as much as I hated to admit it. “Let me do this. It would make me feel better.”

  If he hadn’t touched me, I would have easily refused again, but I felt weak under his light caress, and it wasn’t long before I was sitting beside him in his car, silent as he drove me home. He made no further attempt to talk. When we pulled to a stop outside my apartment building, I shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I finally managed.

  “Ivy,” he said sharply, and I stopped before I swung my legs out of the car. “Michael wants you to have bodyguards until we find out who killed the others.”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “Is it Michael or yourself who’s worried?”

  In a sharp, swift motion his hand gripped my face, forcing me to look directly at him. “If it were up to me, I would lock you up so no one else had access to you.”

  I shook my head at him, pushing his hand from me while I gave him a withering glare. “There’s another reason for me to hate you.”

  I didn’t give him another look as I exited the car and broke into a run toward the door of my building. I sprinted up the stairs as if being chased and didn’t breathe again until I had the door opened and then safely locked behind me. I leaned my head against it and waited. Did I want him to follow me? I told myself no, but I still waited by that door as the minutes ticked past and my head swam with confusion.

  Caleb didn’t turn up at the time that we had arranged. I watched the clock and tried to ignore my disappointment. Had he found out about me nearly making love to Lake? No, of course he didn’t know, and if he had, would he even care? Why did I care? We weren’t dating; we were just…

  I had another glass of wine and ignored the hours that passed. At midnight, I was well and truly drunk. My eyes stayed dry though, and I kept my thoughts on the candles in front of me. They were arranged so that they formed a line, and one by one, a flame would appear on each wick before slowly going out as I willed it to. But instead of feeling triumphant, I just felt empty and even more depressed. What was the point of this? What good would it do me? It was just another thing that made me a freak. No one would ever understand, except Lake, perhaps. Could I overlook the betrayal, overlook what he was? Could I be like my mother and readily accept my love for one of them?

  I had never even met him—the love of her life. I was kept away in her house as she went to visit him. Perhaps that meant that she didn’t really trust him deep down, or maybe she just wanted me out of the way. I took another drink at the thought. She did, however, make me attend the funeral. We both dressed in black and my hair was elaborately braided and my lips painted a soft pink. We stood at the back, ignored by all. As the casket was lowered into the ground and we turned to leave, Michael stopped us. Tall and handsome, he embraced my mother and gave her his condolences. I thought she would have beamed with joy at being recognized as something other than his mistress, but instead she regarded him coldly, never moving a muscle except for when his attention turned to me, and he took my hand and kissed it.

  “Ivy,” Michael said, “I look forward to spending time with you in the future. You’re nearly of age I suppose.” His smile wasn’t slimy, it was warm and welcoming, and in spite of myself I didn’t shy away from him.

  “Come, Ivy,” my mother barked, and slowly Michael had released my hand, almost with reluctance. And then, after we got home, my mother ran a bath and slit her wrists while the bathroom flooded with red water.

  I heard the key in the lock turn and the door creak as it opened. As always, I sat in the dark, and waited for Penzance to illuminate the room. When she didn’t, I turned from where I sat. She stood by the door, unmoving in the dark.

  “Where have you been?” I asked, not even embarrassed that my speech was slurred.

  She didn’t answer, and just took a step closer to me. “How drunk are you, Ivy?”

  I turned back to my glass. “Why?”

  I heard her footsteps as she came closer and I half expected her to grab a glass and join me. “Because it makes everything easier.”

  I picked up my bottle and tipped it, but only a drop came out. “Makes what easier?” I asked listlessly, still staring at the empty bottle. What would I drink now? Maybe Penzance had something hidden in her room.

  I turned to ask her just as she said. “This.”

  I caught sight of her just as she swung something toward my head. My head exploded with pain, and the bottle I held shattered as it fell from my hand. At some point, I had landed on the floor and my eyes opened groggily to be faced with dark glass and red drops. Wine or blood, I couldn’t decide or think. More footsteps and pretty shoes trod over the glass. I saw my hand move, my fingers curve to scrape at the ground, to grab that shoe, to stop whatever was to happen next.

  But the hand was useless. It couldn’t even move to cover my head and another blow came down on me. I heard moaning, and realized that it came from me. I wanted to vomit, but instead everything faded away in blackness, fear and confusion falling into a blessed abyss.

  Chapter Eleven

  My eyes opened to a ceiling of cobweb-covered rafters leading down to exposed brick walls. One small window let in a slit of light that hurt my eyes. Actually, everything about me hurt, and I squeezed my eyes closed but the pain didn’t let up. I knew where I was. I felt the chill and the dread closing around my heart and stealing my breath. It was the warehouse that Magdalena had been asked to investigate. The one where bad things happened…

  My eyes flew open, and my whole body tried to recoil, but nothing would budge. Some kind of rough rope bit into the flesh of my wrists and ankles. My arms were above my head, leaving me as defenseless as when Penzance had hurt me.

  Wait. Penzance? Did I remember that wrong? I managed to shift my eyes downwards. I was nude and on a table. Was this the Circle’s ritual? I had never been treated like this before by them. Where was the red skirt? With panic rising in me, I began to struggle as a scream rose in my throat. Before I could let any sound escape, I heard footsteps and disturbed dust rose up to clog my throat. The intruder, captor, whoever it was, was out of my eyesight range. I struggled harder so that the rope rubbed against my skin painfully. But more painful than my skin rubbed raw, was this lack of control. It was unbearable. My vulnerability was agony in itself.

  “Ivy.”

  I froze, waiting for him to speak again so I could be sure of to whom that voice belonged. Wh
en Caleb stepped into my line of sight, my heart sunk. The look on his face was solemn and serious. There was none of his customary arrogance or playfulness.

  “I don’t suppose that this is some kind of kinky sex game,” I asked in a raw voice that spelt out my recognition of defeat.

  “No,” he said softly.

  “You, and Penzance…why?”

  I heard lighter footsteps this time, familiar footsteps. Penzance wore a white robe draped around her shoulders and fastened at her neck with a brooch. In her hand she held a black pouch that she placed on an adjacent table.

  “I’m sorry, Ivy. This is regrettable, but it always had to come to this,” she said simply as she opened that pouch. I struggled to see what was in it, and when I did, I wished that I hadn’t. An array of shiny knives were laid out one by one with great care, their blades catching the dull sunlight and sending flashes around the room. Not for the first time, I yearned to see my own future. What was the point of having the scrying gift if it could never benefit me? The injustice was enough to make me want to howl.

  “Why?” I croaked. And why didn’t I see anything about her?

  “You work for them, Ivy. You help them destroy our land with their greed. The knowledge that you give them makes them nearly invincible,” Penzance said, almost sadly. “I blocked you. I created a background and a future for myself that your talent would see and make you believe.”

  “How is that possible?” It took great effort to keep my voice calm.

  She gave me a small smile. “We’re witches. In a way, we’re just like you, except we don’t see the future, and our power is derived from nature. The destruction that the Circle causes affects us. We can’t attack them directly, your kind would warn them, but what we can do is kill you off. Your talents don’t extend to your own wellbeing.” She shook her head at me. “It was so easy to befriend you, Ivy. You’re so lonely and sad…” The pity on her face made me want to scream.

  “Why fucking bother to be my friend, then?” I snarled at her, before turning my eyes to the silent Caleb. “Why bother screwing me? You would have hunted me down anyway like you did the others. Was this just some kind of sick game to you?”