A Fate Found In Clues (Mage Hollow Magic #2)

Prologue

Beth

They say there’s only one surefire way to hide your true identity—do it in plain sight.

“Watch it!” a man with a round belly and rosy cheeks bellows at me as I brush past him.

Nodding my apology as water sloshes over the bucket I’m carrying, I offer him a soft smile. It’s been a long night, one of many in the endless stream that have poured in since we opened, since our sister went away.

A pang of guilt worms its way through me as I think of her, of what she did for me. The look on her face haunts me. Her gift and her sacrifice are weights that grow ever heavier on my shoulders. I remember it all as if it had happened yesterday.

“Papers, get your papers.”

“Fresh fruits and vegetables . . .”

“Candy, try our new candy.”

A woman with a grim expression and cheeks flushed from carrying a basket full of vegetables, stomps on my toes as she makes her way around me. Instead of yelping in pain like I want to, I grunt quietly and smile, tucking myself closer to Irina’s side.

The market is bustling more than usual, every member of the town desperate to get a glimpse of the famous Mrs. Peabody. Every person, including me.

I’m curious about her story, about how she survived such a treacherous journey. Josephine wouldn’t allow me to come alone. She insisted Irina escort me, as if that would quell my curiosity. Her job is to make sure we grab what we need and get home unscathed.

My sisters claim our quiet way of life is necessary, that we mustn’t let anyone know what we are.

They try their best to appease my need for something more.

And while maybe that is safest, I long for the time when I didn't need to hide or be placated.

The memories made when it was only us and magic.

“Excuse me. Are you in line?” a soft-spoken voice rings out.

To my left, I notice a handsome individual wearing a frock coat paired with trousers. There’s a woman with beautiful blonde hair and cerulean eyes hanging on his arm, awaiting our answer.

“No, we don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Irina says. It’s practiced, poised, exactly what she should say. But hypocritical at best, a bald-faced lie in reality.

Irina thinks I’m not onto her, that I haven’t noticed her sneaking out, or the way couples somehow keep finding true love in unexpected places. She’s as guilty as I am of wanting more, just better at hiding it.

“Can you tell me why she’s here, more about her stor—”

“Move aside,” the man commands.

Instead of answering my question, the couple does what people always do. They dismiss our existence, stepping around us with their noses in the air.

“Stop it, Beth. You’re drawing attention by asking trivial questions.” Irina grabs my arm, pulling me away from the crowd as the woman from before snickers at us.

“You stop it. You’re the one who’s lying about who you are.”

Irina is matchmaking, forcing people together that likely wouldn’t have found each other without her help into the kind of love she believes she missed out on. It’s her entertainment, while the dismissal I was just dealt is my nightmare.

My sisters never listen. They care for me only because it’s what’s expected of them.

And that couple isn’t actually curious about how Mrs. Peabody survived, or what she learned from her ordeal.

Fate and what the future holds are meaningless notions to them, with their predetermined and seemingly insignificant lives.

The lives that will be lucky to last over thirty years.

We are not the same. They haven’t seen what I’ve seen.

They don’t know what it was like when we first arrived here, and they can’t imagine what it’ll be like a hundred years from now.

I shouldn’t fault them, but I do anyway.

The luxury they have in their contentment seizes hold of me, turning me green with envy.

I don’t have a choice. I have to know what’s next because it’s the only thing I have to hold on to.

My future, my understanding of the world around me, and what my role is are the only things that ensure my survival.

“You’re finding fault where there is none.

You’re going to be the one to seal our fate, to get us strung up on the cliff’s edge like our family.

” Irina stomps her foot as her face reddens in anger.

She’s not wrong to call back to our history.

But the witch hunt in Salem has been over for a century…

is it wrong to hope people have moved on?

“It’s cruel—the way they treat us, the way they look beyond us as if we don’t exist. I want more. No, I need more… I need to know my future isn’t simply more of this.” I swing my arms out wide, symbolizing the vast nothingness that has become our existence.

“Hey, I know you. What have you done to my daughter?” A brutish man yells from behind me, charging toward my sister.

Irina’s eyes widen, but in the blink of an eye she grasps my hand and sweeps me into the air with her. Guilt is etched on her features.

“Stop! Put her down, witch!” The man yells at her as we rise higher. My heart races wildly, and my limbs flail with the lack of stability. It’s been a long time since I’ve practiced magic—and doing it in public is forbidden. We soar through the air, descending only once we’ve cleared the trees.

“I know what you need, Bethy.” My sister pulls me close once our feet are settled on the ground. She’s jubilant, high on adrenaline, like we didn’t almost just get caught.

I hesitate. This is the exact thing Josephine was afraid of—the one thing we promised we’d never do after escaping in the middle of the night.

Exposure equals certain death.

“Take this, Bethy.” She shoves a series of parchment papers into my hand. They’re scribbled with words and empty boxes.“Find your fate, sister.”

Irina steps away, releasing me as she heads deeper into the trees.

“Wait! What is this?”

“Everything you’ve been seeking—trust me.”

“Why are you leaving? When will I see you again?” Tears trace paths down my cheeks. I was so angry with her, but now that she’s walking away, I’m gutted.

“You know I must go now… your future depends on it. I’ll return when it’s safe… when there’s no soul left to bear witness.” A single tear and a halfhearted smile appear on her face, and then she’s gone.

“I see that look. She’s fine, Beth. This is what you were meant to do… it’s what you wanted. Don’t waste the effort she went to,” Jo grits out between clenched teeth. “Take this ale to the table over there and smile.”

I set down the bucket, exchanging it for the metal pitcher my sister placed on the bar top. While I know the puzzle Irina gave me six moons ago led me here, I can’t help feeling that Jo holds resentment in her heart, and why wouldn’t she? My fate was found in clues, but it came at a cost—Irina.

I carry that guilt, the knowledge that while Jo and I get to hide in plain sight, our sister is forced to live in the shadows.

Sometimes the grief feels like walking carefully across coals, never knowing which step will bring a mild tinge and which will feel like a thousand hornet stings that ache so deep you can feel them in your soul.

Approaching the table, the group of gentlemen continue in their deep conversation. “More ale?” I ask, awaiting any form of response.

One of them raises his cup, and I carefully top it off. Another follows suit, and so on it goes, a never-ending cycle.

This is what I wanted—to live amongst the locals, to see them, to know them, to be them. I hope one day it pays off, that one day I’m able to help someone else play my sister’s game.