“We are all Binders. In simple terms, we bring things together which provides us a base skillset we can then adapt to our individual interests.”
“How does the ability to bind manifest with you, Tía?”
“I have always felt a connection to ghosts,” she said. “They are as alive to me as the living. Sometimes even more so, depending on their circumstances.” She pulled a heavy chain from underneath her sweater and dangled a vial in front of us. “This is soil from the graveyard in México where I was born on the night of November first, in the middle of Day of the Dead celebrations, when the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead is at its thinnest.
“My mother chose to birth me amongst bones and ashes. Though your abuela has never answered me directly, I suspect she had an inkling of my predilections as she carried me in her womb.”
I leaned back on my hands. I could listen to my aunt recount our family’s history for hours. Hours we did not have. “And what about Uncle Malvyn? And our mother?”
“My brother expanded his magical heritage and added sorcerer to his curricula vitae,” she said. “He also studied with a Master Jeweler which focused his skill such that he could bind spells into metals, which as you know is a hallmark of the sorcerer’s profession.”
“I didn’t know that.” I was more than willing to admit my ignorance.
“Your mother was—” Tía Mari paused and glanced around the room. “Your mother was one of the most powerful witches I have ever met. She was a born Triple Binder, one who carries the gifts and burdens of the Cult of Three, and who must keep the three gifts in balance within her.
“After she birthed you, Clementine, her third daughter, her powers coalesced. Had she lived, I think she would have inducted you into her business, so she could share the joys—and the burdens—of her work.”
I had noticed three was a common theme with our mother—she was one of three siblings, she had three daughters, she’d been attacked by a being who became three out of one—but this was the first I was hearing about the Cult of Three.
“Centuries ago, our early mothers dedicated themselves to the Fates, the Morai—Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. Clotho spun the thread that marked the beginning of a being’s life. Lachesis measured the length of the thread—a length that could not be altered no matter how powerful the being. And Atropos cut the thread created by her sister, marking the end of each being’s life.
“Moira embodied the work of all three Fates. Because she was a brilliant witch, a savvy businesswoman, and she wanted to focus on life rather than death, she turned her talents to love. To beginnings, rather than endings. She did not wish to carry the weight of making the final cut.” Our aunt paused to examine her flawlessly polished nails. “As each of you began to show magical promise, your mother understood her gift had divided itself between her offspring. Alderose, you wield the sword, am I correct?”
My oldest sister nodded. “Which would align me with Atropos?”
“Yes. Given your early fascination with sharp objects and your propensity for cutting your hair and your sisters’, Atropos it is.” Alderose’s face went stony.
Maritza gave a tiny nod in her direction and continued. “Beryl, you are the most sensible and measured of your sisters?”
Beryl looked to us. We affirmed our aunt’s assessment. “Which connects me to Lachesis, the one who measures the length of a given life?”
Maritza affirmed Beryl’s connection to the Fate, then looked at me. “And you, Clementine, the youngest. You were born with threads twining through your tiny baby fingers. It was your birth that cemented my sister’s notions that her combined gifts had been divided amongst her three beloved daughters.”
“Why didn’t tell she tell us any of this?”
“Because to be gifted in such a way is to be burdened far beyond the normal weight carried by your average witch. Alabastair has informed me there is some suspicion my sister’s death was a crime. If that is true, I suspect her inability to fend off her possible attacker or their magic had more to do with the toll her body paid for managing the weight of so many destinies.”
8
My sisters and I could have used more time to let our aunt’s words sink in, but time wasn’t a luxury we had. Alabastair cleared a section of the table, set out snacks he’d packed into one of their suitcases, and asked, “Have the three of you come up with a strategy in regard to Mr. Ruisseau?”
We shared unsure looks with one another.
“Do you have any leads?”
I raised my arm. “We don’t have specific names, but we’ve been advised to start with magical beings who rely on water.”
Maritza studied the air around me. Her face wore a look that likely mirrored mine when I was seeing story threads. “Alderose, have you brought your sword or any of your blades?”
She shook her head. “That’s the second time in twenty-four hours someone’s asked about my sword. It’s not here.”
“You are going to want to arm yourself for the work ahead. Alabastair can create a temporary portal which will see you to your home and back.”
“Should—should we do that now?”
“Yes.” Maritza popped a cube of cheese into her mouth and speared a piece of apple with a toothpick. “Oh, leave the ring with us, please. Beryl, will you take on the responsibility for unlocking any doors we might come across?”
Beryl blanched.
“Don’t worry,” Alderose said, wiggling the ring off her finger. “This isn’t a one-ring-to-rule-them-all situation.” My middle sister hesitated for a
