Favor for Fate
Leona
50 years ago
My heart pounds along with my fist against the heavy oak door and I draw in a ragged breath, wincing at the stitch in my side. Running is disgusting. I’m not meant to run. I’m meant to frolic. A huff fills the air between my face and the door, and I scowl. I should have waited until morning. At that errant thought, there's a swooping sensation in my gut and the knot of anxiety residing in my chest increases tenfold. No—it can’t wait.Come on, Cian, wake up!I bounce on my aching feet and slam my fist against the door a few more times, relishing the sting. The icy fingers of my free hand rub over my chest as it dawns on me that I haven’t even considered what this will mean for Cian’s dad.Poor Tavish. Groaning, I rest my forehead against the cool door, and try to listen for any sounds coming from the other side.
This—ugh!This is why so many witches prefer not to use divination on their own life strings. I’m oddly adept at scrying for a run-of-the-mill garden witch, but I usually do my best to avoid seeing anything too close to home. It’s a rabbit hole, isn’tit? Open the door—just a crack—andbam!Life as you know it is thrown entirely off kilter. Changing fate isn’t easy. Damn near impossible, really. And what a fucking insidious torture it is to know something like this. To feel responsible for something likethis!What if I muck it up?Oh gods, please don’t let me muck it up!
It was an accident… seeing my best friend’s death. Cian and I got marvelously drunk after his girlfriend broke his heart (a complete ninny, by the way). At the time we had a brilliant idea. (At the time I was drunk enough to be pickled, and it was a fucking terrible idea). Note to self—spirits and divination should not be mixed. Anyway, all he wanted to know was whether or not he’d find someone. That’s it! For fucks sake, even those mostly bogus kitschy fortune tellers can read tarot well enough to answer something as simple as that. But of course, it’s never as simple as that, is it? I feel my eyes sting with fresh tears and gratefully press my face closer to the cool, damp wood of the door. With my lips flush against the surface I mutter, “Awaken, arise, a visitor awaits.”
The gentle tug of magic helps to ground me and I straighten to take a steadying breath. I should have won an Emmy for my performance after that vision. Gods know how it’s haunted me since then.I see a love that will transcend time.Ha! All I had really seen was a pool of blood and his cold, dead eyes. And now this. My jaw clenches with bittersweet disappointment. All this time—months!—that I’ve been chasing those fate strings for a better glimpse of Cian’s impending demise… obsessing over what I could possibly do to change it. A laugh, heavily weighted with rage, bubbles out of my chest and I quickly dash at the tears on my cheeks. The Fates are bitches and their sense of humor sucks. Noise from the other side of the door has me quickly hiding my distress behind a shaky smile as I wait to greet my friend.
“If you’re here to steal anything, I’m warning you I’m armed!” Cian’s lilting voice still sounds gravelly with sleep, and my smile becomes genuine as I hear the locks shift and watch as the door swings open. His barely there Irish accent is always noticeable when he’s tired or angry.
Some small fission of tension eases out of me at the sight before me and I laugh, “You’re going to fend off intruders with a… French bread?” I feel my eyebrow quirk as Cian does a double take at the unassuming loaf of bread he’s clutching like a baseball bat.
His bleary green eyes shoot back to me as a slight blush colors his collar and he grumbles, “Give me a break woman, I was dead to the world less than four minutes ago and I… Leona? What is it? What’s wrong?”
Shit!I feel my heart pounding in my ears as the color drains from my face at his unfortunately timed idiom.Get it together, Leona.You’re running out of time!“Nothing, I—err, it’s nothing. I-I have something for you. It’s important.”
Cian’s narrowed eyes roam over my face, clearly not believing that everything is alright. He clears his throat and opens the door wider, beckoning me into the cozy warmth of his home as he gently says, “Lee, I love gifts as much as anyone… but couldn’t this wait until the morning?” He glances quickly at the clock over the mantel in his sitting room which reads 3:15 am and amends, “you know, normal human morning with the sun and the birds and—”
“No. I-I’m sorry. It’s not a gift, not really. It’s… well, erm–it’s a favor. Probably the most important thing I’ll ever ask of you.” I feel my stomach lurch and twist itself into knots as he closes the door and follows me further into the sitting room. My insides have to look like a fancy pretzel by this point.
Cian looks at me expectantly and I meet his curious stare, willing him to understand without words. His eyes widenslightly and he glances down at the bag I use for spell casting that I’m clutching to my stomach with a white-knuckled grip. He slowly nods his head full of ruffled shaggy blonde hair and takes a deep breath. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”
I hold his penetrating gaze until tears cloud my vision and I have to blink them away. I shake my head once. Cian has been my dearest friend since childhood, and he knows that sometimes telling someone the details of their future can risk the outcome. I can’t chance telling him too much. Not after having to hunt for the better part of a year to find thisonepath that would allow him to cheat death, sort of. Plus, it’s not just his life string that would be affected anymore.
The urgency from earlier surges through me like a whole body pulse once again. I sniff back tears and try to swallow around the knot in my throat as I croak out, “I need you to trust me, Cian. P-Please. You can’t ask me too many questions or this won’t work.”
Cian’s eyes get misty as I confirm the suspicions I’m sure have been plaguing him since he registered my mood and laid eyes on my spell bag. He sighs heavily and clenches his jaw as he walks forward and places his hand on my shoulder.
“Lee, you know I trust you.” He holds my gaze with pleading eyes, before his eyebrows draw together in a pained look. “What about my dad?”
My lip trembles as I shake my head again, “He’ll be fine.”
I watch as he steels himself before saying, “Just tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it.” His voice breaks off at the end and my heart goes along with it.Please let everything be fine!
I pull him in for a quick but fierce hug before drawing away with a watery smile. This has to be the answer… right?Please—if any gods are listening, please let this be the right choice.I take in a fortifying breath and reach into my spell bag, taking out an elaborate skeleton key on a plain chain. My eyes trace over theunique design of crossed skeletal arms locked in an embrace as I hold it out for Cian to take.
“Put this on.”
Chapter one
Shiny New Toy
Cian
Ilean in toward the window and concentrate my breathing so that I can fog up the pane enough to play tic-tac-toe against myself for the millionth time. I crossed the line from bored to slightly unhinged about two months ago. My house has been vacant for almost six months now. Six months of nothing—and no one to watch. I’m not a creep, I swear. I’m just dead. Dead, and very bored.
I drag my finger in a line across the grid, racing against the receding fog. The O’s win again. I’m so fucking sick of tic-tac-toe. I stare out the window, past my makeshift game board, past the gently dancing colors of leaves on the old oak tree out front. My vision blurs as I think back on my last person, Kathleen. She was a sweet older woman with five cats too many. Cats don’t like me, they can sense me and it makes them more finicky than normal. She wasn’t as exciting to watch as the couple before her—they had scheduled sex twice a month. He was into model cars, and she was into the FedEx guy… or he was into her, I guess. Anyway, Kathleen wasn't the most entertaining, but she was toowholesome not to like. Plus, her loneliness complimented mine and it was the closest I’d gotten to companionship since dying. I rub my chest and sigh. I need someone to move into my fucking house.
A car door slamming pulls me out of my thoughts and I sit forward too quickly, smacking my head against the window.Sonofabitch. The outside walls of my house are the only ones that I can’t phase through, which is why the windows are perfect for my stupid games. I shake my head and focus my attention out the window.
Gabbi Hernandez, the realtor, is walking up my driveway nervously jingling her keys in hand while she watches my window. There’s no way she can see me, but I swear she knows my house is haunted. A nervous sort of excitement settles in my stomach at the possibility that she’s finally found me a new person. I back away from the window and let myself float through the floor until I’m sitting on the light granite kitchen counters with my back against the side of the refrigerator and my legs stretched out in front of me, almost touching the sink.
I hear the keys in the lock and Gabbi’s muffled curses as she struggles with the doorknob and roll my eyes. She always forgets to turn it an extra half-turn to avoid jamming it. I wave my hand in her direction and lean my head back against the fridge as the door slowly swings open. Gabbi’s deep brown eyes go wide and she stands there for a moment staring at her hand, which is still held as if she was gripping the door knob. She clears her throat and takes her hand back quickly, eyes darting around the room as she leans in slightly and whispers a shaky, “ehrm… t-thank you”.
