The Wailing Woman

16. Losing Myself

I patted down the dirt praying that something might grow. I have followed Refugio's instructions on how to plant new seeds and how much they should be watered. All the knowledge is ingrained in my head yet it shows to be useless as nothing shows or grows. My hand smacks the ground once, the brittleness sends tingles around my palm.

I need to control myself, control this anger.

"Hello, daughter of Nicolás De Luna and Catilin McGrath."

My head whipped around, she emerged from the corner revealing her gray hair braided and laid on her side, hanging to her hips, swinging as she moved with ease. The city's light pole brought her features, you could see the depths of her wrinkles, each one perfectly grown with age. Old, wise Fate stood in front of me.

I was in the mood for visits and seriously, why can't these Gods knock on my door? It's not that hard. Getting a grip, I stood up from the ground and pressed my palms to my face wiping away any sweat or tears. Well now, I was dirty with dirt.

"What do you want?" I said dryly, trying to cover my annoyance but not really.

Her lips curl bringing her wrinkles out, she almost looks like a caring grandmother.

"I see you made a new hole. I see nothing is new."

I scowled. "What do you want?"

She moves her hands behind her back and leans her head forward, I could see the amusement playing in her eyes.

Fate said, "You shouldn't have pushed out Dilara Arslan so soon, she had answers to your missing father. And witches are helpful, especially to their own kind." There it was again, she was calling me a witch.

"I'm not a witch," I repeated.

It happened so quickly, one moment her hands were behind her back and the next thing I felt was her hand on my shoulder. Stillness overtook my body. I couldn't move nor talk, my lips were pressed tightly together.

"Answers are appearing, Nora. This is one of them. You can't keep burying things as much as you would like, after all, all things resurface no matter how deep you bury them." She spoke to me as if I were a child.

If I had control over my body, I would have thrown dirt at her. Who the hell did she think she was telling me these things? I don't care if she was Fate, she had no right to talk about my life.

Her thin fingers crawl to my cheekbone digging her nails until she swiftly scratches my face. The stinging sensation burned across my cheek. My lips pressed more tightly igniting my rage.

Fate brought her bony finger to my view, the smallest spec of blood resting on the tip of her finger. The humor was gone from her eyes and she set her gaze on my blood, almost mesmerized by it.

A thick eerie feeling came and soon Fate spoke, "Nicolás De Luna, a practitioner of dark magic, the proclaimed dark warlock. Caitlin McGrath, a demoness, the twenty-six generational banshee. Nora De Luna, their child, takes the form of dark magic itself and the demonic blood in her veins only strengthens her power." She did not look at me once.

She turned her head to me, "Paths will appear, threads will become loose, and the impossibilities will become possible. Wake up, Crier of Souls, wake up and walk your path although you do not know your destination." She began to retreat backward. "Hear my warning, the Capturer of Souls will open his heart to you and your magic will bring back what he has once lost. But beware of your soul, of your heart. Do not let him capture it." Her voice was becoming small as drifted further from me.

And the further she withdrew, the more my body was starting to become my own again.

"My son will try to take more. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up."