Page 17 of Ride the Sky

She raises a mocking brow when I balk at the gnarled hand she extends. “Scared, girl?”

I scoff. “Never.” Reaching out, I grip her hands. The rings on her fingers are pretty. Turquoise. I want some of my own.

The tent fills with a kind of static charge. A sliver of cold runs along my spine.

“Do you have a question?”

“Yes.”

“Ask it,” she says and taps her temple. I see what she wants.

Inside my mind, I voice my question.Will my mother come back?I’ve already vowed that if it’s a no, I’m dedicating myself to a life of spite. I won’t be sad and calm like Dakota.

My wild heart wants to rage.

The woman opens her eyes. Releases my hands. “I’m sorry.”

I look down at my chipped purple nail polish, hating the heat behind my eyes. “I figured.”

I rise to leave. When I’m at the curtain of the tent, the woman says, “Wait. I have something to make up for your disappointment.”

Once again, that static charge.

This time, her eyes go gray, unseeing. “Death will be your true and constant companion your entire life. You have nine lives. And when they’re up, they’re up.”

There is something spooky in her tone, and I shiver. But instead of being scared, I feel thrilled. I have a countdown clock. It’s like a dare to beat it.

She continues. “But when you finally face death, you swing.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nine strikes and you’re out.”

I cock my head. “That’s baseball.”

She gives a wise shrug. “It’s what I see for you, girl.”

A hand on my shoulder makes me gasp. Heart hammering, I wheel around.

Dakota stands at the edge of the tent, cotton candy gripped in a fist. “There you are,” she says, angry. “You can’t just run off, Fallon.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, too giddy to tell her about what I’ve just learned. “She said I have nine lives.”

A frown. “Who did?”

“That lady right there—” I turn and feel a chill. Gone. The woman at the table with her big black book is gone.

“Anyway, that’s ridiculous,” Dakota says, tossing her glossy black hair. “No one lives forever.”

“We’ll see about that,” I mutter and follow her out into the bright sunlight.

I’ve never forgotten that day, or that woman’s words. Obsession’s the best way to put it. Obsessed with that slow tick of my clock. Obsessed with beating it.

Real or not, I have two lives left.

Aiden took the third, and ever since then, I haven’t cared if I lived or died.

My eyes snap open.

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