The Omen of Stones (When Wishes Bleed Book 2) Page 4

  “It’s going to be a strong one.” Lindey hated storms. They unnerved her. If the house rattled, she jumped. If lightning struck too close, it completely undid her. She waited out the thunder under the protective cover of blankets.

  I loved storms. Loved the feel of the stones and how clear they became when the earth above and below them raged. Lindey hated that I went out into them just to feel their power, so the storm could amplify mine. The stones loved storms. The more intense, the better.

  And so did I.

  It was during the hardest of rains, when the elements raged around me, that Fate spoke loudest.

  I loved hearing his voice. His encouraging words. Even his occasional warning. Those I had always heeded, and he’d never let anything harm me.

  “If the storm hits during dinner, you’ll have to wait until they leave to run to the river, Omen. No matter how strong it becomes,” she warned, mixing the soft batter that would sit above the denser dough. “And knowing the Smiths, they’ll stay late.”

  Talking about themselves and how grand they are, I’m sure.

  “Why did you have to invite them?” I groaned. It was my birthday. The last thing I wanted was to spend it with the Smiths.

  They founded the tri-villages, claiming to have ‘tamed The Wilds’ in the process. The Wilds were how the King of Nautilus referred to our region. A place where no one ruled, a land no one wanted; a frontier full of renegades, criminals, and cast-offs. The only exception was the tri-village region, which was ruled by the Smith family.

  He claimed that they left the kingdom to be free to believe and live how they wanted, but to be honest, I wasn’t sure Edward Smith wasn’t one of the criminal cast-outs. He was oily and slick, and he thought himself both funny and handsome, when he was, in fact, neither.

  His son Sebastian, however, who visually favored his mother, was handsome. The few other girls in the village thought so. But he wore his conceit like a badge of honor. To me, he was completely unappealing and borderline appalling. Which was why I dreaded them being here, in our home, in our space.

  Lindey snorted, scraping the bowl to get every ounce of batter into the square pan. She blew a strand of hair out of her face. “You think I invited them? I would never. Edward Smith informed me they would be attending dinner to celebrate the day Mrs. Smith found you next to the river.”

  Wonderful. I’d spend my birthday being reminded of how my own mother didn’t want me, and how she left me to die next to the river I loved so much with a prophetic note wrapped within the blanket she’d at least taken the time to wrap me in.

  The Smiths took me in, but Sebastian was born soon after they took me home. Life with two infants proved difficult, so Edward asked Lindey if she would care for me. He even had a house built for the two of us.

  Lindey raised me, and though I had never called her Mom, she was exactly that to me.

  I wasn’t sure what held me back from letting the word slip off my tongue. Maybe it was fear that she wouldn’t like it. Or maybe I was afraid she would and somehow it was a betrayal to my birth mother. Not that she deserved an ounce of my guilt or respect.

  She left me. She didn’t want me. I shouldn’t give her another thought.

  Except, sometimes I did.

  I wondered who she was and why she’d done it, and why she wrote the note. I still had it. When I was thirteen, I snooped through Lindey’s room and found the note in her dresser. She wasn’t even angry that I’d gone through her things.

  Lindey told me that Judith Smith saved it along with the swaddling blanket. She gave Lindey both when our house was finished being built.

  Lindey said both were mine and gave me the threadbare blanket and sliver of parchment. I read the note a thousand times the year I found it. I rubbed the linen paper until it smoothed under my thumbs, until I was afraid the ink my mother had written it with would fade away and disappear just as she had.

  Lindey finally suggested that we tack it to one of the wall slats in our small sitting room. That way, I could see it and wouldn’t ruin it from how frequently I touched it. I could still read it from afar, though the words were firmly etched into my heart and mind.

  All these years later, it still hung on the wall. I glanced at it as the scrap of paper lifted and waved in the gentle breeze blowing in from the open windows, to the extent the nail would allow. The yellowed, curled edges lifted with the occasional draft, then fell back against the worn wood.

  Sometimes a strong current would fold the paper in half so the words were hidden. Lindey warned that one day, the wind would tear it off the wall. I wondered if she wished it would happen so the words would finally be out of sight and fade from our lives.

  Only they wouldn’t. We couldn’t forget them if we tried.

  Besides, Lindey said that my mother’s parting words were a blessing, a warning. And the wise heeded warnings.

  Sometimes I wondered if my birth mother wished I had wormed my way into the water and drowned in it. I pondered if the words scrawled on the paper were just an evil woman’s wish. My very name was a warning, one Mrs. Smith swore she gave me because of my mother’s portent. Mrs. Smith was docile. Obedient. Meek. If my mother hadn’t left such a note, she would have named me Grace, Elizabeth, or Rebecca. She said so once.

  Lindey wanted to change my name when I was little, but the Smiths took great offense and forbade it. And Lindey, afraid to upset the Founder, dropped the notion.

  She wiped her hands on her apron and glanced outside. “They’ll be here soon. You should go clean up and center yourself before you have to endure them,” Lindey said with a wink.

  “I thought you wanted me to wait until they were gone before heading to the water?”

  Lindey ticked her head toward the door. “The cake still has a while to bake. Just don’t be too long, or I’ll send Sebastian after you.”

  I faked a shudder at the thought, making her laugh. “Thank you,” I breathed, pushing up from my seat and crossing the room.

  Our home was simple and cozy. Lindey had always indulged me by allowing me to litter it with all manner of dried herbs and flowers, and strands of them hung on the walls from ceiling to floor, even encircling my mother’s letter. But the beautiful hues and lingering floral scents couldn’t beautify the ominous words she’d left me.

  “I should clean up. This place is a mess,” I sighed, deciding to stay and be productive instead.

  Lindey quirked a graying brow. “I said to go, missy, and I mean it. I’ll handle this, and if the Smiths are so particular, perhaps they’ll host the next dinner instead of inviting themselves over.”

  Fair enough. I smiled as she crossed the room and pulled me in for a hug.

  “Happy Birthday.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you feel any different?” she asked, carefully watching my reaction. “They say a witch comes into her power at this age.”

  Maybe some witches did, but I didn’t feel any different than I did yesterday. “I feel fine.”

  Lindey pressed her thin lips together and shooed me out of the house, telling me to take no longer than an hour. I wasted no time walking to the river. It took me five minutes on foot if I was walking, three if I ran.

  This evening, I sprinted, my feet pounding the soil and pushing me toward the stones I could already hear humming.

  I needed every second I could spare to prepare for the ordeal of dinner tonight.

  4

  Omen

  Sebastian Smith would not stop staring at me.

  Our four-chaired table now held five. Lindey had pulled in a weathered rocker from the porch to make do. Even though I could tell she didn’t like the Smiths, she still tried so hard to please them. I didn’t get it. Maybe she just wanted them to hurry and eat so they’d leave, or maybe she didn’t realize how much she wanted them to like her.

  I wished th
ey liked me a little less. Especially Sebastian.

  Sebastian wore a smirk as he and his father battled to see who could dominate the conversation more. Unable to participate in a true conversation, Lindey and I could only nod and shake our heads. Any time she tried to speak, she was cut off and the Smiths continued the conversation, feeding off one another. Even when Sebastian spoke directly to his parents or Lindey, he kept his steely eyes locked on me. It was like he was gauging my response to whatever he said, sometimes saying shocking things just to see if he could get a rise out of me. I tried not to react whatsoever, refusing to give in to his whims like everyone else in this village did. Sebastian was spoiled and I wouldn’t deign to spoil him further.

  With dark eyes and cheekbones as sharp as his chin, he was the finest looking boy in the village. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the least bit interested in him, or in him looking at me the way he was. He stared at me like something he wanted to possess. And Sebastian always got what he wanted.

  Edward prattled incessantly, speaking for Judith as he recanted the story of my meager beginnings. The whole time, Judith looked down at her lap while her husband doted over her. It was like he wanted me to thank his wife for rescuing me. The attention he gave her felt ingenuine and fake. He didn’t seem inclined to stop talking, so I sat quietly, ignoring Sebastian’s stare and smoothing my thumb over the stone I kept in my pocket while he droned on and on…and on.

  Edward finally took a breath, leaned back in his chair, and patted his barely-there paunch, complimenting Lindey’s cooking. His hand was greasy from the chicken legs Lindey prepared; the residue left an oily, hand-shaped stain on his belly.

  His napkin hadn’t been touched.

  I almost heaved when he leaned forward and patted my hand, and suddenly I wished our table was larger so he couldn’t reach me. “How scared you must have been,” he simpered in a sad, theatrical voice. I discretely eased my hand away and tucked it into my lap, wiping off his greasy touch with my napkin.

  I was an infant – how was I supposed to remember any of it? It didn’t affect me the way they assumed it had…or should have.

  It wasn’t that I was ungrateful for Judith’s intervention; I just didn’t feel like I should have to thank them for saving me every time I set eyes on them. She did the right thing. I wasn’t saying she didn’t. But wouldn’t anyone have done the same thing if they found an infant by a river? It wasn’t like she rescued me from the rapids. She didn’t even have to wet the hem of her dress to help me. She simply picked me up and carried me home with her like a discarded picnic blanket.

  I kept my hand in my lap and out of Edward’s reach, instead focusing on the one good thing Fate had brought into my life.

  Lindey looked nice. When I escaped to the river to breathe and prepare for tonight’s dinner, she took time to change into a nicer dress and combed her auburn and gray hair, braiding it and wrapping it into a tighter bun. She’d even pinched her cheeks for color before they arrived.

  My eyes met her blue ones and I spoke sincerely. “I am so thankful you came across me and took me in,” I told everyone. “And I’m thankful for Lindey, as well.”

  Edward Smith almost choked on the gulp of water he had just taken. “Of course you are, dear. Of course. Lindey has done more for you than we. She certainly has.”

  Lindey waved off the praise, her cheeks turning red on their own. Turned out she didn’t need to pinch them after all.

  I chewed a bite of carrot, giving her a closed-lip, satisfied smile.

  She kicked my shin under the table. Not hard, but enough to get the message across. She wanted me to knock it off.

  But it was hard to be serious with Sebastian’s unblinking, molten gaze burning holes through me. Lindey’s eyes flicked to him and she bestowed the same smirk I’d used on her.

  The Smith men had tried to coordinate their looks. Sebastian had slicked his too-long, muddy brown hair back in the same style his father wore. The two were dressed identically in dark suits with starched white shirts tucked underneath. Honestly, it was a little creepy.

  Sebastian’s right hand brushed my left knee and I jumped, swatting his hand away with a sharp glare. It effectively wiped away the wicked gleam from his dark eyes.

  Only a Smith would dare touch one of the Fate-Kissed.

  It was almost like he was testing me, trying to see how I would react.

  Light rain began to splatter against the tin roof, drawing Judith’s eyes upward.

  I couldn’t focus on anything but how brazen Sebastian had been. If he touched me again, I would show him what a mistake it was to assume he had any right to do so. I fought to control my temper.

  The wind howled around the corner of the house, whipping the limbs of the willow out back, but only pebbles of rain fell. Judith cowered, covering her chest with her hand as the front door blew open and slammed closed again. The noise covered the rattling of the rock piles in the windowsills. The stones wanted to teach Sebastian a lesson and put him in his place.

  I took a restorative sip of water, then another and another, steadily draining my glass. The rocks settled down as calm slid over me.

  Sebastian leaned back in his chair and exchanged a look with his father. Something I couldn’t decipher passed between them, and then Sebastian cleared his throat. “Omen, I’d very much like it if you’d accompany me to the dance tomorrow night.”

  My brows kissed. I glanced at Lindey, who gave me a wide-eyed look. She wasn’t privy to this ambush.

  “I’ll get the cake,” she interjected suddenly, taking up everyone’s plates even though Mrs. Smith was still sawing at her venison.

  “There’s a dance? For what occasion?” I asked.

  Wind rattled the windows. I wanted so badly to run to the river, but somehow stayed planted in my chair, hands gripping the table’s worn edge.

  Sebastian answered, flashing a wide smile. “It’s the first day of summer and the spring crops are emerging from the soil. Father thought we could all use a little fun before the long days of work begin.”

  Edward smiled proudly and puffed out his chest, clinging to the lapels of his finely-made jacket. “You’ve attended these dances before,” Edward chided.

  “I have in the past,” I agreed. It was true, I had attended a few of the village dances, but quickly decided they were pointless for me to attend. At every potluck, each home cook wanted me to taste what they’d made, hoping I blessed them for making it.

  I was a witch, not a good luck charm.

  And dancing was out of the question. When the few boys who were remotely around my age left the even fewer girls to ask me to be their partner, it led to derision. The village girls hated me for taking their attention away.

  Not that I wanted it to begin with.

  As far as everyone else in the village was concerned…well, they knew my story. They were aware of my power. Most appreciated the protection spells I warded the village with and showed it – relentlessly. It was another reason I was glad to live near the river, away from the jumble of houses clustered together around the Founder’s large estate. With massive white columns that jutted from the ground in front of an equally gleaming clapboard house, it heralded his prominence in the community, along with the iron balconies that graced each of its three stories.

  “If you’re worried about too much attention,” Edward whispered loudly, “showing up as Sebastian’s guest would send a strong message.”

  “What kind of message?” I asked. Lindey dropped the knife she was using to slice the cake and it clattered into the sink.

  “The kind that says you are spoken for, my dear.”

  “But I’m not spoken for.” I looked to Lindey for help, my eyes wide and pleading.

  She swooped in with cake, forks, and a pleasant excuse. “She’s just turned seventeen. Omen is far too young to think about forever,” Lindey laughed. I joined her, nod
ding my head to make sure they knew I agreed.

  The Smiths did not laugh with us.

  Edward leaned toward me and gave an oily grin. “We just want to celebrate your birthdays. Sebastian’s is in just a few weeks, but we will be working crops by then. The shoots are already raising from the soil.” He took a drink of water and sat his glass down. “Perhaps we will just say you are Sebastian’s close friend and our family’s special guest.”

  Ugh. There was no way I was getting out of attending this spectacle, was there?

  Lindey gave me an apologetic smile, pressing her lips together. While Judith worried the napkin in her lap, the Smith men seemed far too pleased with themselves.

  It looked like I was going to this dance with Sebastian, and they would continue to use my plight to pat themselves on the back as they’d done all my life.

  The shifting wind rattled something on the porch, then came the sound of a heavy thud. It was our bucket, by the sound of it rolling over the wood planks. “It’s getting bad out there. We should head home before the rain drowns us,” Edward announced, effectively ending dinner.

  I hadn’t even eaten a bite of cake.

  Lindey and I helped them with their coats and escorted them to the porch, waving as they jogged toward their home. I hoped the heavens unleashed their fury and poured on them before the Smiths reached the safety of their manse.

  “I hate them, and I will hate every second of this dance tomorrow. We are leaving at the first opportunity,” I vowed to Lindey as soon as we closed the door against the wind that pushed against us. She latched it and released a long breath.

  “Agreed. We’ll look for an opportunity as soon as we step foot in the door.”

  When thunder rattled the foundations, Lindey flinched, but I stayed with her. As she had stayed with me.

  I wondered if she would continue to live with me now that I was seventeen, or if she planned to seek builders for her own home and space. We hadn’t discussed what would happen, so maybe nothing would change. I hoped so.