Page 16 of The Blood Witch
It hits me that I’ve been an Osteomancer officially one week today, but I swear it feels like it’s been years. So much has happened in the last seven days, and I haven’t the foggiest clue how to process it all. I pull the city air deep into my lungs and start to follow the paved path that’s surrounded by green grass and benches. There’s the occasional tree here and there, and people scattered about in office wear, who look like they’re out to enjoy the decent weather and their lunch.
I try to calm the whir of frenzied thoughts churning in my mind and focus on the world around me. As though it’s something I’ve been doing my whole life, I reach out for the bones near me. I feel my guards and the skeletal structures of everything in the park. I sense the bone a dog’s playing with across the green space, and the chicken legs someone has in their lunch box. I feel the animals above the ground and below, and discern the osteo-matter in some of the wards around the Order’s strongholds.
My pouch of bones bounces against my leg as I stroll, a keen feeling of solace moving through me as though my ancestors are trying to tell me that everything is going to be okay. I make a plan to sit in the grass and see if I can commune with them, see if the ones who came before me can offer some guidance on what the hell I’m supposed to do with the hand I’ve been dealt. I pick out a spot in the sun that no one is sitting around, but just as I move in its direction, that telltale itch starts just under my skin.
A prickle of need tickles my consciousness, and I start searching for who the bones want me to help. My probing gaze lands on a woman walking toward me. Her bright red hair blows on the breeze, and her silver eyes are troubled and far away. I watch her as she moves obliviously closer, recognizing her from the strange vision I had earlier of the clock and the man.
I open myself up to the magic, welcoming it into my veins, and it merges seamlessly with my instincts. Peace crashes through me, and I close my eyes and revel in it for a moment. Everything else around me can be chaos and disaster, butthisis right. I’ve missed it. Relief moves in and out of my lungs as I breathe in this feeling, and then I open my eyes and focus back on the witch who’s just about to pass me and my surrounding protective barrier of Order guards.
She’s so buried in concern and worry that the unusual display of overprotection doesn’t even faze her. I reach for my bones, but they don’t warm up or give off that odd feeling of excitement like they did for the other reading I’ve done, and then it dawns on me what they want me to do.
“You should tell him,” I shout randomly after the distressed woman.
I felt earlier that the unusual vision was a message, and it seems the message is for her.
“What?” the woman asks, her stormy eyes glancing over her shoulder and landing on mine before looking around like she’s expecting me to be talking to someone else. I’m a little surprised that she even heard me, but I fix a kind smile on my face and repeat myself.
“You should tell him,” I offer again, a knowing glint in my eyes. I watch as she works through what the hell I’m on about, and a spark of surprise goes through her as she makes a connection.
“Wh-why do you say that?” she stammers, clearly taken aback by the out-of-nowhere exchange.
My smile grows wider, and I step closer to her. My babysitters step in my way and refuse to allow me to close the distance between myself and this stranger. I give a small huff of annoyance, and the woman’s brow dips in concern as she finally takes in the contingent protectively surrounding me. I toss her a look that saysjust ignore them, I do.
“My bones told me,” I explain, patting the purple pouch on my hip.
Her eyes widen with shock, and I’m reminded of something I figured out the other day. When it comes to magic, Osteomancers are few and far between. I’ve yet to figure out if there’s a reason for that, but I let that thought go and focus on the message I’ve been asked to deliver.
“He’ll be home at five,” I tell her. “And he’ll be happy when you tell him,” I add, smiling even wider when I see the emotion well in her eyes at my declaration. She blinks it away and swallows down the relief I feel coming off of her in waves now.
“Thank you,” she whispers to me, a beautiful smile overtaking her face as she cradles her abdomen protectively with her hands.
“He’s going to be so excited,” I reassure her, and she laughs sweetly and wipes a falling tear from her reddening cheek.
“We’ve only been dating a couple of months,” she tells me, chagrin in her eyes but joy in her face.
I nod in understanding, the vision of the man and woman hugging floating before my eyes. “I know, but it will all work out exactly as it’s supposed to.”
“Thank you…”
“Lennox,” I reply in answer to her searching pause.
“Thank you, Lennox,” she offers, and with that, she turns to continue her walk, a sense of excited urgency now in her steps.
I smile and turn my attention back to my own stroll. I pick out the perfect spot of grass again and head for it when a voice behind me catches me by surprise, and I pause.
“Is that how it works? You just randomly tell someone what they need to hear?” the big brute of a guard behind me asks. I think they call him Preach, but I’m not sure if it’s a nickname or an actual name—either first or last—that he has.
He looks a little flustered, shooting a look from me to Prek and then back again, like what he’s doing might get him in trouble. Prek doesn’t say anything, and I take that as a sign that this exchange is okay.
“Um, I’m honestly not sure,” I admit with a shrug. “I’ve only been doing this a little while. The sensation that I needed to help her was the same as the ones I’ve felt before,” I explain, thinking back to what I felt when I knew I needed to help Rogan or the time I was drawn to read for Paul.
Preach’s lips flatten in thought, and he nods in understanding.
“I caught a glimpse of her message earlier today. I didn’t know who it was for until I saw her just now though,” I go on, not wanting the interaction to be over so quickly. “Do you want me to do a reading for you?” I ask curiously, a zing of excitement moving through me.
Preach’s eyes widen, and he stammers a resounding, “No! I mean, no thank you. Wait. You would just do that? Read me just like that?” he asks, snapping his fingers and looking stunned. You’d think I just offered to drop to my knees and lick him like a lollipop with how flustered he suddenly got, and I recall Rogan being surprised when I casually offered to read for him too.
“Am I missing something?” I query, turning to Prek expectantly, like he’s the weird-dude-whisperer or something.
