Destiny

by Amanda Lynn Petrin

“I have,” he agreed with that smile. I was pretty sure he had every girl at Louisiana State drooling over him. Charlie either didn’t let him out when he was here, or he came to get away from it, because it did not make sense that he was spending all of this time with me.

  “What’s the one thing I absolutely have to see?” I asked, making a mental list in case I made it out of this alive.

  “Cafe du Monde,” he said without hesitation.

  “Out of all the history and culture in New Orleans, your recommendation is that I have a donut?” I verified.

  “Beignets,” he argued. “And I was mostly teasing, but they are delicious, and it’s not that hard to get in and out of,” he defended. “What would you want to see, since you seem to know all about it?”

  “Someday, if I come back, I would love to see Bourbon Street and Jackson Square and do some ghost walks…but if you gave me an hour to explore right now, I would choose the library.”

  “You’re one of those?” he asked, shaking his head like he knew it, and couldn’t believe I fooled him.

  “I am,” I agreed. “But that’s not why.”

  “The architecture?” he asked, not buying it.

  “For starters, we don’t have internet here.”

  “I can easily fix that,” he offered.

  “By choice,” I stopped him. “But they also have the perfect combination of real books, and ones on fairytales.”

  “Are you saying fairytales aren’t real? Or just the books that contain them?”

  “They’re real books, just not the published kind of book you would find on amazon.” As I said it, I realized that was probably the exact kind of book you would find online, but I wanted a more reputable source than someone dabbling in witchcraft from their basement. I wanted the really old, authentic volumes with only a couple of copies buried in private libraries.

  “How do you know what’s in our library?” Eric asked.

  “Ingrid. She owns the store we went to in the Quarter.” I asked her about it during my last visit. It apparently also housed a paranormal cookbook with killer muffins, and histories of witch trials, like the ones in Salem.

  “There’s a little library less than a mile from here.”

  “She mentioned one in an old church…”

  “At the fork in the road, under the oak trees,” he finished for me.

  “Have you been?” I asked.

  “Not by choice,” he smiled at my look of disappointment. “But I wouldn’t mind bringing you to see it.”

  “Oh, you wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not one bit,” he agreed.

  “I doubt they’d let me go,” I turned him down.

  “What if we got lost horseback riding?”

  “Are you being a bad influence, Mr. Finch?”

  “I’m trying to be the knight in shining armor who gets you to your library,” he feigned innocence.

  “Where exactly is it?” I asked.

  “Across from the old well. If we cut through the woods, it’s literally across the street.”

  “Literally?” I pressed. Most people these days used that word interchangeably with almost. Or figuratively.

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “Let’s not go that far.” I bit my bottom lip, considering it. Now that I knew the Big Bad could track us with technology, I was less on board with googling anything even remotely connected to Crescent Moon Bearers, but books could be interesting. Embry and Gabriel hadn’t communicated their plans with me, but both of them were gone when Eric came by this morning. “I guess an hour couldn’t hurt.”

  “It’s really small. And boring. I would give it thirty minutes, tops.”

  I rolled my eyes then shook my head at him. He had no idea how long I could spend in a library.

  We left a note in case the guys came back, and took the horses so we could pretend we stumbled on it and couldn’t resist, rather than admit that we planned on defying the rules they put in place to keep me safe. We left the horses tied to the well and walked less than five minutes through the woods before we got to a road made of gravel, which told me people didn’t often come this way.

  I hesitated before stepping past the point that clearly represented the end of the property, then quickly crossed the road to get to the library. Eric was right about it being tiny. I was surprised it was even open, with an actual employee sitting behind the desk to welcome us.

  “Oh, hi,” she said, looking up from her screen four times before acknowledging us.

  “Hi.” I looked for a computer or some other kind of index system we could use to find what we were looking for.

  “I’m so sorry, you’re the first...how can I help you? What are you looking for?” she sprung to her feet, knocking over the plate of samosas she’d been enjoying while playing what sounded like pinball.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. Is there an index?”

  “We replaced all the shelves last summer, so I can tell you where absolutely everything is,” she assured me.

  “Two things, completely unrelated, but umm...We have a school project on witchcraft and prophecies, then I also want to look into Elizabeth Owens. She lived next to his grandfather’s place, a long time ago, so if you had some kind of records…”

  “Say no more,” she assured us, beaming with excitement. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Witchcraft and prophecies?” Eric asked while the librarian ran off through the shelves.

  “I have many interests,” I said dismissively.

  “For what it’s worth, I didn’t believe grandpa until you made the balls of fire float,” he let me know he wasn’t oblivious.

  “It was a ball of paper that was set on fire.”

  “But you’re not denying it?” he cocked his head.

  “Would you believe me if I did?”

  “No,” he admitted. “But I could pretend if it makes you feel better.”

  “I would pretend too if I could convince myself.”

  “Not a fan?” he furrowed his brow.

  “It’s very new,” I tried to explain my reluctance without eliciting the pity I had mostly avoided thus far. “There have been a lot of new things in my life lately, and none of them are good.”

  “None of them?” he teased, giving me an out.

  “Maybe one or two of them,” I conceded.

  “Much better,” he smiled as the girl came back with a pile of books.

  “This is the key to the micro-fiche rooms if you want to know about anything that happened in New Orleans in the past few centuries. We should have all the newspapers available,” she handed us a key and pointed to a room in the corner. “And these are the best books on the occult that we have. I mean, we have the standards, but these are more...obscure,” she told me, but I had no idea what the standards were. “I’m Jessica if you need anything.

  “Thank you.”

  Eric carried the books to a secluded table in the empty library and handed one to me.

  “What did she mean by the standards?” he asked, flipping through the pages. He clearly wasn’t enjoying whatever he saw on them.

  “I have no idea. It’s all new to me,” I reminded him.

  “What are we looking for?”

  “Anything that mentions the Bearer of the Crescent Moon.” I flipped to the index.

  “Sounds fancy.”

  “Believe me, it’s not.”

  The first book I opened was on magic through the ages. The ‘obscure’ part of it was a section on spells in the back, which included pictures of their effects, that turned my stomach more than anything. Eric’s book was really cool, on witchcraft in New Orleans. I made a mental note to ask Ingrid about it, because I could swear one of the pictures was her.

  “What was that?” I stopped Eric as he flipped through a volume on the Salem Witch Trials.

  “Inquisition Scandals,” he shrugged, flipping back and summarizing it for me. “There’s a judge who sent his cousin’s wife to burn at the stake, instead of a
simple hanging like all the other witches were sentenced to. His great-great-grandson also wrote a book they consider shameful.”

  I saw the picture and something clicked in my mind; Hathorne was the name of the judge at the Salem Witch Trials. He was the only one who never repented, but I had read the name in the Chronicles as well. I barely had time to grab the book before I was gone…

  I was Annabelle, walking through Henry’s property. She was familiar with it, practically showing him the way to a gazebo that overlooked a creek. She thought of it as her gazebo now. He’d told her that no one ever used it, but since she admitted how much she loved the view, he made it a staple of their walks. She pointed out the fresh coat of paint he added to the old wood, but every time they came, something was done to make the place more beautiful and inviting, be it clearing the dead leaves or putting out a vase of fresh flowers.

  “I have a surprise for you,” Henry said once we were seated. There was a small wicker table between us, upon which there was a candle, some paper, and an inkpot.

  “Are you writing me a letter?” Annabelle teased.

  “I am actually going to show you a part of me I keep hidden. A secret of sorts, that I believe it is time I trust you with.” He was still smiling, so she felt no fear, only curiosity.

  First, he dipped his quill in the inkpot, then used his right hand to shield his words from her gaze as he wrote on the paper. She straightened up, ready to read it, but he carefully folded the paper, then put the tip over the candle, until it caught flame. A trick I knew well.

  “Why did you do that? How can I read it now?” she playfully reproached, trying to reach for it to put out the flames, but he pulled it away and let go. At first, she was worried it would burn his trousers as it fell, but the paper did not fall. The flames spread so the entire paper was ablaze, then he waved his hands and it floated to her, landing on our side of the wicker table. She reached forward to put it out, but was amazed when she blinked and the paper was whole again, not a mark on it. As if there had never been a flame at all. Her introduction to magic was a lot less traumatizing than mine was.

  “How did you do it?” she asked, searching the paper and the candle, looking around to see what could have done the trick.

  “Magic,” he winked. “Read it.”

  She raised her eyebrows, hoping to discover his secrets, before doing as she was told.

  Will You Marry Me?

  “Henry, I…” I could feel her struggle as she wanted to turn him down, but didn’t want to hurt him. There really wasn’t an appropriate way to tell him she was still in love with someone else.

  “What are you afraid of?” he wasn’t upset, he was kind. I could tell that he loved her. “Let me love you. Let me take care of you. Be my wife,” he proposed.

  Annabelle knew Henry would be a great husband, a good father and he would make her happy. But then, part of the problem was that she wasn’t sure if she deserved happiness anymore. I wanted to hold her in my arms and tell her everyone deserves love and happiness, but I knew I struggled with the same concerns these days. Henry was waiting for her answer, so she took another piece of paper from the pile, wrote “Maybe someday?”, then folded it up and set it on fire as he had.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, shaking his head at her ignorance with affection.

  “That paper has my answer,” she said, putting her concentration into moving the paper, excited more than anything when it also floated instead of falling onto the table. I understood what Embry meant when he said you just had to will it to happen. “What’s wrong?” she asked, still enjoying the trick, but Henry’s eyes widened, and his brow was furrowed.

  “That isn’t supposed to happen,” he admitted, watching the flaming paper float between us.

  “Of course not. It’s magic,” Annabelle smiled, not understanding what was wrong. Eventually, she saw Henry was truly concerned, and reached for his hand. As she did, the paper landed in his lap, but he had to wave his hand so it wouldn’t burn him. He read her answer and looked up, but his smile did not reassure her.

  “You wanted me to say no?” she asked, confused by his reaction.

  “No,” he admitted, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I know I’ll have to ask a few times before you get there. But that wasn’t a trick.”

  “Of course it was, Henry. You can’t light a paper on fire then have it come back as good as new. You also can’t make things fly,” she used reason.

  “You’re right, normal people can’t.”

  “But we just did.”

  “My mother was a part of a long line of witches. When she had a son instead of a daughter, she decided to teach me some of her magic. That is why I could do that with the paper and the fire.”

  “You can’t be magic, Henry. I did the same thing. It’s the paper. Or you did something to the fire.”

  “Or you’re a witch.” He was worried about her reaction, she could tell, but she also couldn’t believe his story. She thought he was confused.

  They spent the rest of the afternoon with him giving her little exercises, small magical acts that she had more and more trouble convincing herself were parlor tricks. It reminded me of that first week we tried spells to see what I could do. Henry was throwing challenges at Annabelle to convince her, but he was also impressed by her.

  “So, I have magic?” Annabelle asked when she could no longer deny what he was showing her.

  “You’re very gifted,” he agreed.

  “And you would still wish to marry me?” she asked. Her mind went straight to Gabriel, and whether he and Embry would still love her, or be afraid of her now.

  “More than anything in the world,” Henry kissed her temple before leading her back to his house…

  “Are you okay?” Eric asked me. He and Jessica were both standing over me, looking terrified.

  “I’m fine,” I tried to stand, but they wouldn’t let me.

  “Lucy,” Eric argued, not believing me.

  “I can call an ambulance,” Jessica offered.

  “No!” I cut her off mid-sentence. “I think I got too hot and I skipped breakfast this morning…” I looked to Eric, pleading for him to get me out of it.

  “It’s okay, I’ll bring her to the clinic,” he gave me a look that said he was actually taking me there.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am. Thank you so much for your help. I’ll try to come back next week,” I smiled at her before getting up off the floor and letting Eric bring me outside.

  Ignoring my protests, he kept an arm around me to cross the street, into the woods.

  “I’m fine, Eric, I promise,” I told him.

  “You’re not fine,” he argued. “You were, but then you saw something in the book and before you got a chance to freak out you were on the floor. I am bringing you to a doctor or to Embry or something.”

  “You can’t,” I argued. A doctor would ask too many questions and I couldn’t have him telling the guys that I willingly went off the property. That something happened while I was there, vulnerable and exposed. “It was just a memory.”

  “What does that mean?” confusion replaced his concern.

  “I sometimes get memories from my ancestors. One of them knew the guy in the book, Henry, so when I saw him…”

  “You went into her memory of him?” he asked, looking at me like it made no sense, but also like he believed it.

  “Sometimes I pass out when it happens and other times I act it out, which led to me almost jumping off a barn,” I looked up to him and smiled, to show him I really was okay, but I didn’t look where I was going. I tripped on a tree root and instinctively shot my hands up to protect myself, but Eric’s instincts were quick, and he reached out to catch me. Before I knew what happened, a burst of light shot out of my hands, knocking Eric into the side of the well.

  “Eric!” I yelled in horror, rushing over to him. “Please don’t be dead,” I repeated to myself, shaking his limp and lifeless body.

>   Chapter Fifteen

  “Eric! Oh my God, please wake up, please!” I could hardly see through all the tears, but I felt his neck to make sure he had a pulse. He was still breathing, so CPR wouldn’t help, but I needed something to do other than wait for him to wake up.

  After what felt like hours, Eric stirred, garnering him all of my attention. I moved the golden curls off his forehead for what must have been the hundredth time in the past few minutes, not sure what else to do.

  He opened his eyes and looked around, disoriented and confused, but alive.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, keeping my hand on his shoulder so he wouldn’t stand up too quickly.

  “I’m fine,” he said, still trying to get his bearings.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to… I would never want to hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  “This is what I was talking about. I can’t control it and people get hurt and I am so sorry.” The tears were warm as they ran down my cheeks, softening Eric.

  “You have nothing to apologize for.” His eyes finally focused on me.

  “I thought you were dead.” The sobs shook me as the adrenaline lost its purpose.

  “I’m right here. I’m fine. It was my fault,” he took me into his arms.

  “I nearly killed you,” I moved back so I could see his face, but stayed close enough that his arms were still around me. “I’m a death magnet. Everyone I care about dies.” My breathing was back to normal, so I wasn’t sobbing anymore, but the tears kept falling.

  “I don’t even have a scratch on me,” he lied. There was no way landing on the wall of the well didn’t do any damage, but he looked more worried about me than himself.

  “I’ll bring you back to Charlie’s, then I’ll stay away,” I decided.

  “You don’t have to leave,” he took my hand in his. I looked to him, so grateful for what he was trying to do, but I couldn’t forgive myself if it happened again.

  “Let’s get you home,” I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile, then helped him stand.

  We each took our own horse, but it was like they knew something was up. They stayed close together, so I could convince myself that I could catch him if he fell.