Chapter 24
“My mother told me to call upon the angel, but I am afraid of Her. She took my mother from me. She performed a miracle that sounded like witchcraft. If the Pale Man comes back, I will pray to Her for help. Only in that darkest hour of need will I allow Her to save us once more. But I fear I will not be able to pay the same price my mother did. She was far more selfless than I.”
The sun had barely risen over the horizon when Opal joined Alexys in the kitchen, a small pouch clutched in her hands.
“Morning, child,” she said, regarding Alexys with stoic skepticism. Alexys held a cup of coffee fiercely in her hands. Opal shuffled up to the table and upended the pouch, scattering its contents across the scuffed wooden surface. “Would you like a readin’ before you run off?”
Alexys looked at the table and asked, “A reading?”
Opal’s smile was far from comforting. “If you’re headed off to your death, you might as well ask what your journey will look like.” Her coffee cup was still half full, so Alexys didn’t have nearly enough energy to muster an argument. Plus, she had just allowed her to spend the night. Alexys sighed.
Let the witch believe what she wanted, imminent death or otherwise. Leaning forward to take a closer look at the items Opal had spread out, Alexys’s jaw dropped.
She went to a palm reader once at a Renaissance festival when she was young.
Smoggy tent drowned in patchouli, layers of mystic clothing, and all.
It was fascinating until Alexys realized how vague the information was, how easily it could be applied to anyone.
Cards and crystal balls held little appeal when you knew the truth behind the curtains.
But this was something else. These weren’t cards.
They were bones.
The hairs on the back of Alexys’s neck stood on end when she looked at them, pale slivers about an inch or two long, carved with strange symbols. She’d never seen anything like it before.
Her eyes slid to Opal.
The witch grinned wider, as if she took delight in Alexys’s horror. “Don’t worry,” she said, “they’re clean enough.”
“Cleanliness isn’t what I’m worried about.”
Opal picked up one of the bones and inspected it. “I didn’t kill nobody, if that’s your fear. I come by my finger bones honest.”
What a claim that was. Alexys didn’t even want to consider the implications of them being finger bones, and she certainly didn’t want to entertain the ways in which a person could come by them dishonestly.
But the way Opal regarded her gave Alexys the impression that she was more than capable of it.
Rather than dwell on such odious thoughts, she gestured toward the small pile of phalanges. “Can’t hurt, I guess. Go ahead and ask the bones how I’ll die.”
“Oh, you should never ask the bones questions like that. They’re terrible liars.
We’ll just ask what the future holds.” Opal gathered the bones between her wrinkled hands and brought them to her lips.
The words she whispered were too faint for Alexys to hear, but she was certain they weren’t spoken in English.
Opal placed the bones back in their bag, gave it a shake, drew out three, and placed them on the table.
Despite her disbelief, Alexys found herself leaning forward for a closer look.
“This first one here.” Opal pointed to a bone more bleached than the rest. The symbol scratched on the side was four parallel, slanted lines bisected by a single, longer line which ran the length of the bone.
“This is straif, an indicator of great change. It’s tied to the Blackthorn tree and the Dark Mother. ”
Alexys hadn’t heard of a Dark Mother before, but Opal said the name with great reverence. Alexys clutched her coffee mug a little tighter. Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she asked, “Is it bad change?”
Opal hummed and ran a fingernail along the straif marked bone.
“Not necessarily, but the Dark Mother isn’t one to frivolously meddle.
Not with us.” Her fingers caressed the next bone and traced the symbol there.
It was almost identical to the previous one, but there were five parallel lines rather than four.
“Ruis,” she murmured. “The Elder tree. Transition from one phase of life to another.” She looked up at Alexys with a contemplative expression. “You’re entering life’s winter. Best hope spring is around the next corner.”
Alexys’s knee began to bounce beneath the table. Change was nothing new. Everyone’s lives held change, and winter might not be such a bad thing. Christmas happened during winter. And snow. And hot chocolate.
The third bone was a yellowy white, an off-shade of ivory.
It appeared blank and much more worn than the others.
She was afraid it might snap in half or crumble to dust if one of them picked it up.
Opal used a fingertip to roll the bone over until the symbol beneath was displayed: another five lines bisected by a longer line, but these ran straight across the bone unlike the slanted lines of the other two.
Opal tsked, and Alexys’s heart dropped.
“Iodhadh,” the witch said with a furrowed brow.
“The Yew tree.” She set the three bones side by side on the table, and the silence nearly suffocated Alexys as she waited.
Opal pointed to each bone in turn as she said, “A great change, transition from one stage of life to the next.” She pointed to the third bone. “And death.”
Alexys’s gaze jerked up from the bones to Opal’s weathered face. “Death?”
“Similar to the tarot card, yes.”
She didn’t know nearly enough about tarot cards to understand the significance of such a thing. “I guess I’m going to die after all.” Alexys tried to make light of it, but it came out strained.
Opal swiped the bones off the table and back into their bag.
“Young people know nothing about the old ways anymore.” She set the bag down and folded her arms on the table.
“Not death in the literal sense, child, not for you at least. Although, someone else might pass on and lead to all that change the bones speak of.”
“That might be worse.” Alexys rubbed a hand against her forehead. “So let me get this straight. Someone is going to die, and that’s going to bring about a great change in my life?”
Opal shrugged. “Could be.”
“Helpful.” Of course, Alexys immediately thought of Elliot and the nightmare. Trouble was, it foretold of both Elliot’s death and Alexys’s. The lettering on the mirror was inescapable in her mind. She shuddered.
“It is what you make it, child.” Opal snatched her bag of bones and rose to her feet. “You best stay vigilant out there, you hear?” She disappeared into the back of the house and Alexys stared down at her now cold coffee.
The witch’s words distilled in Alexys’s mind.
She placed very little stock in divination but still felt apprehensive.
Was her life on the precipice of big change?
She wasn’t the biggest fan of change to begin with, and the odds of only getting symbols of change from that whole collection of bones was probably slim. Unless, of course, the witch had lied.
Alexys sat up straighter.
Of course Opal had lied. It was all for show!
Alexys was an idiot for allowing her to get the better of her.
Divination through chicken scratch on fake bones?
Opal even told Alexys herself that the bones lied.
The symbols on them could’ve meant anything, and Alexys wouldn’t have known better.
Opal could’ve conned her like a fortune teller at a festival.
Alexys specifically told the witch that she was looking for a lost employee in the woods, and then she’d magically predicted his death.
The coincidence was glaring and ridiculous.
Placing her cup in the sink, Alexys left the kitchen to gather her things. She refused to let Opal play her for a fool, and she couldn’t afford to lose any daylight.