Strings of Fate (Mistresses of Fate) Read Free Page B

search dog, Dixie, sniffing around an underground basement.
    “Ahh . . .” She shook off the vision—more sleep was definitely in order; Tavey and Tyler hated each other. “I don’t know yet. I just have a name. Probably the cops don’t need to know exactly how I got it.”
    “Hmm . . .” Tavey’s lips pursed together. In an earlier time, Tavey would have been called “handsome.” She had strong, bold features, a high forehead, a straight nose, and a too-small mouth, but she dressed stylishly and carried herself like the captain of a ship. Her hair, smooth and chestnut-brown, was often pulled back in a braid or worn in an old-fashioned twist. She was wearing a pin on her apple-green sweater; it featured a poodle wearing a skirt; its eyes were real emeralds. It had belonged to Tavey’s grandmother and had been a longtime favorite, but more significantly, it was the pin she’d been wearing when Summer had gone missing.
    “Before I forget,” Raquel interrupted, before Tavey could grill Chris further about her information, “I wanted to tell you that I talked to Old Ninny—she says that our love lives are about to take a turn for the better.”
    “This is a business discussion . . . and she always says that,” Tavey pointed out—always practical. Old Ninny was the psychic who worked in the witch shop. She told fortunes and occasionally gave manicures, but only to people she liked. Raquel was one of her favorite clients.
    Raquel waved a jeweled hand—she loved dressing up on Sundays. “But this time she was more specific—she said that Chris would meet a handsome man first.”
    Tavey and Raquel fastened curious gazes on Chris, but she just grimaced doubtfully. “Oh, yeah, where? Yoga class? I have two choices: college kids or old men.”
    “Well, if you left your apartment occasionally, or bought a bigger bed, maybe your life would change for the better,” Tavey pointed out.
    Chris rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you have a hundred bedrooms and sleep with three beagles, Octavia.” Chris deliberately pronounced every syllable of Tavey’s much-loathed proper name.
    Tavey looked like she wanted to get huffy about that one, but then her sense of humor, which wasn’t as lacking as Chris sometimes intimated, got the better of her. “That’s true. At least your computers don’t snore, I suppose.”
    “They don’t fart, either,” Chris felt compelled to point out, but she did feel a small ache somewhere in her chest, as if someone were tugging, trying to get her attention.

4

    A DISCUSSION OF STRINGS
    Stringman12: Most people don’t even see them, but they’re there. They look different for everyone, all unique in color, in shape, in texture, but only certain people see them—only the special ones—and even fewer can wear them like the Creator and I.
    Merrygo: Okay, steal from the Japanese mythology much? By the way, that’s only for your true love.
    Stringman12: They are not. You don’t see them. You don’t know. There’s a girl in the woods who can take the strings.
    BigBangNerd: Who’s the creator? God?
    Stringman12: No, my Creator. She makes me live. Through her I have taken the strings that I wanted.
    FateFriend101: Clearly, the name of the city, Fate, has spawned some imaginative reinventions of Greek myths, but though references to “string-makers” have occurred throughout the town’s history, it’s commonly accepted that it’s a term used to describe a family named Dobra, who were famous for making strings for fiddles and other instruments.
    Stringman12: You’re wrong. I’ve seen . . . touched strings. I’ve taken them from so many. I gained more today—taken from a girl with rainbow hair.
    Merrygo: hello crazy
    ThreeHands: You’ve taken them? How?
    Stringman12: Stupid. With a knife.
    Joe closed his browser in disgust. He should have known better than to talk about the strings. He’d been so excited when he’d found the website referring to string-makers in the