Chapter Seventeen
Hop To It
Miles
My eyes blink open this morning, and I feel a sense of determination that I haven’t felt since I finally followed the pull to find what was calling me to this side of the country.
With my plan in place, I hustle out of bed, quickly dressing, and head to the kitchen for a hot coffee as I plan out what I’m doing today.
Elora’s card is still sitting in the middle of my dining room table where I left it last night after finding it.
It’s staring at me, calling to me in a way that an inanimate object shouldn’t be.
I can’t even enjoy my coffee because I have this sense that the only place I should be right now is there.
Shaking my head, I attempt to focus on my plan and determine where I should start. But I can’t seem to stop thinking about seeing Elora and learning everything I can from her.
Is this crossing the line though? If Bellamy wanted me to know anything about her, wouldn’t she tell me herself? On a level one to nuclear, how mad is she going to be if I talk to her sister?
I mean, what’s the worst that she can do? She’s already hexed me a handful of times and I thought they were cute, not dangerous.
“Did we forget that she performed blood magic in front of you as if it’s a normal occurrence?” Milo pipes in.
“Well…no, I didn’t forget that. But surely she wouldn’t use that kind of magic all because I talked with her sister?”
“It’s going to be your funeral. At least I might get a chance to be given to a smarter human next time,” he grumbles.
I really need to study some kind of Magic 101 book so I understand what is so intimidating about her magic.
“Yeah, definitely search for that in the bookstore.”
I glare at him, even if he isn’t a physical person. He knows. Besides, I’m going to classify this as research. If I plan to live here, then clearly I need to brush up on my Samhain knowledge.
“Well at least I know this hell won’t last much longer,” Milo says with a little too much excitement.
Grabbing my phone and the card, I straighten my spine and stand tall. I’m not going to let my fear of what she might do hold me back from what could be the moment.
With a little pep in my step, I head down the cobblestone path towards The Binding Thread. Itisn’t hard to find with its pastel pink exterior, white trim, and a beautiful flower gAdren lining the sidewalk.
It’s a physical representation of the stark difference between the twins. Bellamy’s shop is dark and Victorian, while Elora’s is a bright cottage. Elora’s front door has a large glass pane in the center framed by thin, white curtains.
The door opens with ease and the smell of her shop wraps me in comfort. My tension eases with one large inhale. Whatever that smell is, can I have six bottles of it? The walls are lined with shelves full of every color crystal I can even imagine, and then some.
Stopping dead in my tracks I watch as a glowing spindle pulls this glittering material into a perfect spool.
But what stopped me is that nobody is working the spindle.
It’s moving as if there is, but no matter how many times I turn, there isn’t anyone there.
Shaking my head, I realize I might never get used to magic or maybe one day it will be so normal that I won’t be shocked by it.
I haven’t even walked three steps into her shop before I hear the faintest voice from somewhere in the back.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Miles. Come on back.”
Following where I heard the voice come from, I find Elora surrounded by burning incense, pillows, and one of those crystal balls I’ve seen in all the witch movies.
She smirks when she sees me staring at it with wide eyes.
I don’t hesitate to sit down in front of her, cross-legged, and terrified of what she will say.
“I’ve waited my whole life to say that.” Elora softly chuckles.
“I bet,” I say as my smile widens. “So it’s true that you have to use a crystal ball? I always thought the movies…” I squeal, very unmanly, as she chucks the ball at me. I grasp it quickly and hold it as if it’s the most precious thing in the world to me.
She bursts out laughing. “Your face. I’m dying. I knew I would love having you around. I swear you don’t have to hold it like it’s the golden egg. I only pulled it out to pull one over on you. I have to say it worked out better than the vision did.”
My mouth hangs open as she practically rolls around on her pillows, laughing hysterically. She’s such a stark contrast to Bellamy’s brooding, snarky, and sometimes cold aloofness.
After a while she finally sits up, wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes. “Okay. Okay. I’ll behave now. Put the crystal ball down before you drop it, wolf boy.”
I place the crystal ball back on the stand, praying to the Moon Goddess that it doesn’t move when I let go. “That’s not comforting at all,” I say as I hold my breath when my hands release the ball.
She leans forward, suddenly serious, the smile dropping from her face. “Now, let’s talk about why The Weaver has her threads so entangled around you and my sister.”
Even though it’s exactly what I want to know, I can’t help my heart rate from increasing or the sweat building along my skin.
It’s more than just the last few weeks of final preparations before I came her, this has been years in the making, and yet it feels too real.
I still can’t believe this week has been real, that I’m really here in the town I’ve been searching for.
“Okay,” I say hesitantly.
“That is why you came here, isn’t it?”
My fingers plunge through my hair, the hair that still glitters in its soft pink color. “Yeah, but this hasn’t been only a week for me. This has been years of being drawn here. And now…it feels like the plunge of a roller coaster.”
She nods her head. “I understand. I, of all people, know what you mean. Not only have I seen it,” she winks, “but I’ve spoken with The Weaver many times.”
“I’m not going to lie and say that I purely came here for a reading. I am hoping for some insight on your sister. You know,” I scratch the back of my neck, “I’m scrambling here and I’m pretty sure I’m one more bad decision away from being turned into a rainbow unicorn that farts glitter.”
She snorts as she covers her mouth. “That is honestly pretty accurate. I don’t know if she has the magic to pull that off, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
I watch in fascination as she picks up a stack of thick, beautifully designed cards. They’ve clearly been used many times over the years. She taps them on the table while she smirks at me.
She spreads the cards in a fan across the red, sheer scarf laying on her table. They are all different handpainted designs. Wait? Does that guy have a sword sticking out of him! I hope I don’t get that guy, it seems like a bad omen.
With a snap of her fingers, the candles surrounding her come to life and the air surrounding us feels charged.
“Alright, so the way this works…”
There’s a shimmer of light next to her left hand. Is that part of the process? With a loud pop, a fluffy white bunny plops onto the table. Its ears are tipped in silver, the fur twinkling like stardust, with eyes far too sharp for something as cute as it.
“Good morning Astraea,” Elora says without looking up from her cards.
The bunny twitches its nose, its eyes squinting at me.
“The Weaver said this one runs towards trouble like it’s an all you can eat buffet,” Astraea says as she scratches her ear.
“Did…did the rabbit just…” I lean forward, examining the rabbit as if it might talk again if I poke it.
Elora snorts. “Miles, meet Astraea, my familiar. She isn’t usually the type to talk in front of strangers. Apparently, you aren’t one to her.”
Astraea, who is still squinting at me as if I committed bunny crimes, says, “If The Weaver is paying attention to you, wolf, this is bigger than the ties that bind you.”
“Oh, now that is a juicy piece that we should look into,” Elora says with a soft clap of her hands.
“Don’t screw this up,” Astraea says before she cleans her paws as if she didn’t drop some huge revelation in my lap.
Elora leans closer, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “I know you don’t know how rare it is for The Weaver to send a message to a witch, let alone a wolf, but it’s no small thing.”
I nod my head slowly, not really sure who exactly The Weaver is, but if I had to guess, it would be the equivalent of our Moon Goddess? Maybe.
“Uh…” I point towards Astraea. “Is it common for familiars to talk?”
Her shoulders droop as she looks between me and her rabbit, who isn’t paying any attention to me. Her eyebrow hooks up and I can almost see the question forming before she even says it.
“Did you not know that they could talk?”
“Well, Nyx never talks, but Bellamy is always talking to someone. Although anytime I’ve directly asked, she’s avoided answering me.”
“Oh, this is hilarious. Uh, well, Nyx might talk, but you would have to ask him. I wouldn’t know since he’s not my familiar.” She winks at me before picking up another incense stick and lighting it with one of the many candles.
She waves the smoke around between us and the air is thick with rosemary. I’m trying not to cough as it fills my lungs, worried that I’ll mess up the spell or incantation or whatever it is she’s doing.
“Now that you’ve had an unsolicited prophecy from the bunny, that could be good or bad, let’s see what the cards hold for you.”
She hovers her hand over the top of the cards, gliding from side to side. Her eyes are closed as she hums a soft tune. I don’t say a word, barely breathe as I watch in fascination.
Slowly, three cards slide out from the deck, not by her hands or mine, but as if a string from me is pulling them. I swear if I focus hard enough I can almost see the silvery thread from my soul, I think, to the edge of the card.
Her eyes spring open as she looks down at the cards. “Ah, I see why The Weaver has been nagging me all week about talking to you.”
My eyes widen. “What does any of this even mean?” I say as I lean forward,trying and failing to understand what any of these cards mean.
“Alright, Wolf Boy, these cards represent the past, present, and future of your life. Let’s see what all the hagabaloo is about.”
She picks up a card with a man hanging upside down. Flipping the card around, she shows the card to me.
“That’s interesting. This is about suspension. Waiting. Seeing the world from a different angle. You see, you both have been in limbo. While you’ve been chasing the pull you didn’t understand…Bellamy, has well…been pretending she doesn’t feel it.”
Astraea flicks her ear as she gives me the side-eye. “Translation: You both are stubborn idiots.”
She lays the card back down on the table before picking up the next one. Just as before, she holds the card up between us.
“The lovers, the bond. It’s here, clear as day. As you already know. Fate might have woven you two together, but you have to choose each other. And right now? She’s choosing to fight it.”
Astraea twitches her nose. “Bold of you to assume she’ll ever say yes,” she waves her paw in front of me, “to whatever this is.”
After Elora sets down the lovers, the next card makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. There on the card is Death itself.
“That can’t be good,” I say as I suck in a breath, not sure if I want to know what it means.
Elora shakes her head, a smile spreading across her face.
“Don’t worry, Miles. In this case, this isn’t death in the sense of yours or hers.
It’s symbolizing transformation—burning the old to make way for the new.
If you want to save her, you’re going to have to end something.
Maybe it’s the curse. Maybe it’s a fear. Or it’s both.”
“No pressure or anything,” Astraea says with the most deadpan look a bunny can make.
“Wait…what do you mean by if I want to save her and what curse?”
Standing with a sigh, she says, “It’s not my story to tell.” Her skirt whispers across the floor as she walks to a tall shelf tucked in the far corner. “But it is my responsibility to make sure you have the tools to figure it out.”
She runs her finger over a row of leather-bound books before pulling one free. The cracked spine is etched with symbols I don’t recognize.
“I always wondered why I kept this. Some say it’s the mad ramblings of a scorned witch. Others call it precious. Something told me I was meant to hold onto it…and now I know why.”
She returns to the table and sets the book in front of me. The leather is so old it’s soft to the touch, edges frayed. My fingertips tingle when I trace the indent of the name pressed into the cover.
Flipping it open to the first page, in scrolling, beautiful handwriting are the words, Diary of Ivora Sinclair.
I know that name. I’ve heard Bellamy mutter it once, drenched in sarcasm—”Yeah, and I’m Ivora Sinclair”. But she’s also the name carved into the founder’s plaque in the Pumpkinridge town square.
“Ivora Sinclair…she’s the one who—”
“Founded Pumpkinridge. And cursed it. She was like Bellamy in more ways than my sister would like to admit. Strong. Stubborn. Convinced fate was a shackle. She turned her back on The Weaver’s design and thought she’d found a loophole—by sacrificing something she thought was worth more than love.”
She sits back down, eyes locking on mine, solemn.
“That choice cursed every dark twin in our family for seven generations.”
My throat tightens. “And Bellamy is number seven.”
Elora nods her head slowly.
“She’s also the one who’s fated to break it, if she would accept her fate instead of running from it. But curses don’t die on their own, Wolf Boy. They have to be undone. And for that…the sacrifice must be given back.”
“And what exactly is that sacrifice?”
Her lips curl into a small smile that’s far too calm for the weight in her words.
“That’s for you—and Bellamy—to discover. But you’d better hurry. Samhain waits for no one.”
The diary sits between us, heavy with the kind of truth that changes everything. And for the first time since I met Bellamy Grimsbane, I’m terrified of what fate might demand her.