Page 18 of The Blood Witch
“Leni,” I offer in return, reaching out and clasping her forearm in a witch handshake.
She looks around me and then at the guards, who move to encircle the table, some of them facing us while others face out, tension and anticipation ripe in the surrounding air. She doesn’t say anything or ask what the hell this is all about as she sits down, but she does have a cautious look on her face.
I take my own seat across from her and drop my pouch of bones on the concrete table top. I debate offering her some kind of explanation for why I’m rolling twelve deep in Order guards, but I don’t know if the missing witches is common knowledge, so instead I say nothing, choosing to ignore my contingency of babysitters and focus on Colby.
Instinctually, I want to say something that will assuage her obvious discomfort for this awkward situation, but as I open my mouth to tell her thatI’m sorry for this random encounter, I stop myself. I’m not actually sorry that this is happening. I don’t know thewhyof it all yet—and maybe I never will, maybe that’s only for Colby to know—but I know the bones have their reasons, and I believe in them, regardless of whether or not those reasons are clear to me.
I shake off thenicetiesingrained in me by culture and remind myself that words have power. I shouldn’t speak nonsense out of politeness, no matter how much I want to smooth over an uncomfortable situation. I straighten my back a little more and give Colby a confident smile.
“Thank you for your faith in me, and in them,” I add, patting the velvet pouch in front of me. “I’ll do my best not to keep you too long, but you never know what the bones are going to say,” I warn as I untie the strings at the top of the bag.
Colby nods and settles into her seat a little more. I sense excited curiosity mixing with the waves of trepidation I feel coming off of her.
“It helps me if I can get three items from you, things that have some kind of meaning. Do you have anything on you that might work?” I ask, looking over her to see what might fit the bill.
Her brow dips in thought, and she pats at herself for a moment before unzipping her light jacket and detaching a pin from her black shirt underneath. I recognize the gold pentagram lying on top of what could be mistaken for a circle but what I know is actually anOthat represents the Order. I’ve seen other Order members with the same symbol embroidered on their collars or on patches attached to various parts of their uniform. I asked Prek once how they keep humans from storming the building with pitchforks, screamingcult, at seeing these pentagrams so proudly displayed on their uniforms. But all the cheeky fucker would tell me was, “Magic.”
Colby sets the pin on the table between us, and then she hesitantly reaches up and removes one of her earrings, setting it next to the pin. She pauses for a minute, and then her worried hazel eyes meet mine.
“I don’t have anything else,” she tells me with a clear apology in her voice.
“That’s okay,” I reassure her. “I can assign you a totem, that’s no biggie at all.” I turn my attention to my pouch and work to conjure something that Colby can use for this reading.
When I feel like a new item is in my bag, I reach in to pluck it out. I wrap my fingers around what feels like a bracelet. I pull it out of the bag, and sure enough, I’m holding a bone bangle with intricate carvings wrapped around the entire circumference of the exquisite piece. The carvings are delicate swirls and lines. They don’t hold a recognizable pattern to me, but it’s beautiful all the same. I hand Colby the bangle.
“Hold this for a moment,” I instruct. “Push some of your magic into it, your essence. Think of any questions that you might want answered by the bones today,” I tell her, and she nods and wraps both hands around the bracelet protectively.
She closes her eyes and then brings her hands and the bracelet up to her mouth, whispering something to it that I can’t quite hear. I know right then and there, without the aid of the bones, that she’s a Vox Witch, like Marx, and that she’s sharing her magic with the item the best way she can, by speaking it directly into the bangle of bone. Hazel eyes meet mine once again, and she hands me back her borrowed totem.
With a warm smile, I drop it into the pouch, adding her pin and her earring, before tying the top closed and shaking the bones. I shake them for longer than I did with my first reading, and I feel more than just Colby’s eyes on me as I do. I fight the strong desire to yell outYahtzeewhen I finally get the impression that the bones are ready, and I dump them on the table, eager to see what they have in store.
I feel a collective intake of breath as the bones scatter, group, and settle. It’s obvious that more people are watching this—watching me—than just the witch this reading is intended for. I try not to let that added pressure settle intomybones and become timidity. I breathe in and out evenly as I look down at the spread and see what the bones have to say.
The first thing I notice is that the bangle, the one she bestowed her power and intention on, is lying on top of symbols that represent family, roots, upbringing. Mixed in with those symbols are others that show me darkness, rejection, judgment. I look for that grouping to be severed from the others, to indicate that this toxic, painful showing has been cut out like the cancer it is, but I follow a tether of little bone chips back to the other collections that represent this witch and her life.
Indignation swells in my soul at what I’m seeing, but I know I can’t start there. I can’t start with the darkness, it’s better to ease into that. I need Colby to feel the light. Because everything about her spread is screamingI’m lost, and she needs someone to find her.
No.
Not someone.
Sheneeds to find herself.
I meet Colby’s curious gaze with one radiating warmth, acceptance, and belief. “You’re strong,” I start, offering her a genuine look of admiration and pride. “Tenacious. There isn’t a thing on this earth that could stop you when you put your mind to something,” I tell her, and a slight blush creeps into her cheeks as her eyes dart around to see who else might be listening to my declarations.
I shake my head and draw her attention back to me. “They don’t matter,” I whisper conspiratorially, dismissing the unwelcome audience of guards and other random passersby. “Fuck ’em,” I joke with a cheeky smile and a wink.
A grin slowly spreads across her face, and she exhales a deep breath, her body relaxing slightly. “Fuck ’em,” she repeats.
We both chuckle, and it works to strengthen her resolve. She leans in a little closer, and I give her an approving nod and continue.
“You’ve had to fight to get where you are in life. The road has not been easy, and as much as you might want me to tell you that it will get better, that things will become easier, the bones don’t want me to do that,” I tell her, cutting to the heart of things like a hot knife through butter.
I mean, who doesn’t want to be told, sorry your life’s been shit, but I see more shit in your future.Nice, Lennox, why don’t you freak the witch out even more than she probably already is.
My eyes bounce back and forth between Colby’s, looking for any sign that this information makes her want to bolt, but all I find is steadfast determination and oddly...hope.
Well, okay then, maybe I haven’t fucked this up as badly as I thought.
