Broken Fate

by Jennifer Derrick

  #

  When I regain consciousness, I’m lying on the floor of the cottage that I once shared with my mom and sisters. I sit up and rub the sore spot on my chest where the lightning bolt hit me. Zeus’ answer to the Taser. I look down and see a purple bruise with a little singeing around the edge, but the damage isn’t too bad.

  Glancing around, I see that the cottage is in good repair. Someone’s been taking care of it in our absence. I’m in the common area. Three bedrooms branch off from the main room and there’s a small kitchen, as well. A set of stairs at the back of the room leads to the underground workspace. The stone walls are still the same bright yellow that Mom painted them years ago. She said she wanted to make the place glow from within, but I find no joy in the warmth.

  Despite its cheerful appearance, the cottage is a true prison. There’s a curtain of lightning over each window and door, courtesy of Zeus. I know that any escape attempt will end with me fried on the floor but, of course, I have to test it because I am an idiot. As a result, I spend the next day and half recuperating from electrical burns.

  Mom visits once. She tries arguing with Zeus for my freedom but without success. “I’m so sorry, Atropos,” is all she says as she caresses my hair and lets me cry on her shoulder. “So sorry.”

  True to his word, Zeus has all of my work dragged up to Mount Olympus. I take one trip downstairs to see the setup. The room is dusty and musty from disuse. The space has none of the technological conveniences of my workroom on Earth. No computers and no moving racks for the lifelines, meaning everything will have to be done manually. The last time I worked under such conditions, the population of Earth was much smaller and the workload more manageable. My body aches just thinking about the physical labor involved in locating and cutting thousands of lines each day without the conveniences I’m used to. That’s almost more of a punishment than being separated from Alex, and I’m pretty sure Zeus knows that. Sick bastard.

  Zeus’ moving crew just dumped the lifelines into piles that need sorting, except for one. Alex’s lifeline is taped to the wall, a cruel reminder of my punishment. Someone printed out my cutting schedule and piled the pages on the desk. My shears are still in their box, but it lies on the floor as if it were trash. I take one look at the mess and walk out without cutting a single line.

  It’s petty and juvenile, not to mention unfair to the dying, but I’m going on strike. I don’t care anymore. Alex only has a couple of weeks left, and I’m a prisoner. I’m missing out on what little time we could have had together, and I’m beyond bitter. The only leverage I have is my refusal to do my job, and I use it well. It only takes two days for the circle of life and death to lie in ruins. You wouldn’t think it would take so little time, but there is a balance to the universe and it doesn’t take long to throw it off.

  When hundreds of thousands of people worldwide don’t die when they’re supposed to, the population tilts dangerously into the overcrowded category. Things like water and food get scarce in a hurry. Not to mention that resources such as healthcare become stretched too thin. The humans get nervous when things like this start happening. Unpleasant reactions include wars, looting, and global panic. Zeus’ master plan descends into chaos.

  Then there’s the flak that Zeus gets from Hades and Thanatos. From my perch by the window, I can see them trekking back and forth to Zeus’ palace every day to harangue Zeus about his failure to deal with me. If there’s no death, Hades and Thanatos don’t have jobs. Well, technically, Hades does since he gets to oversee the dead in the Underworld, but it gets boring when there aren’t any new recruits coming in.

  With his ordered world in shambles, Zeus shows up at the cottage on the third day of my strike. The lightning on the window sizzles, and the sound penetrates my nap. I sit up on the sofa and look toward the window

  “Are you planning to work, Atropos?” he asks from beyond the lightning curtain.

  “Nope,” I say, flopping back on the sofa.

  “I can make your punishment more severe,” he says.

  “Go ahead,” I say, calling his bluff. “You’ve done the worst you can do. What’s left? Make me push a rock up and down a hill all day, like Sisyphus? Fasten me to a burning wheel for eternity, like Ixion? I’d prefer physical torture to the mental torture I deal with every single day.”

  “Oh, please, you foolish girl. The hero act is getting old. I could hurt you. I could make you beg for mercy, and you know it.”

  I sit up again and meet his eyes. “You’ve already hurt me. You gave me the job of killing everyone, every day. And worse, I don’t know what I did to make you hate me so much that you had to give me that job. Then, when in the midst of the never-ending misery I find a tiny sliver of happiness, you take it from me and punish me for it. When I finally discover that I can be decent and kind, you do everything you can to make me regret the change.

  “So go ahead. Do your worst. I’m already living a nothing life. A little more pain or suffering won’t matter much. As for begging for mercy, you can forget it. I wouldn’t waste my breath.”

  Zeus pulls his arm back, and a lightning bolt appears in his hand. This one is larger than the one he conjured in the temple. I think, This is it. He’s finally going to strike me down into nothingness. It will be as if I never existed at all. Strangely, I don’t care. I even feel a little hope. Nothingness might be better than being a monster.

  I look straight into his eyes, lift my chin, and wait for the blow. Zeus breaks eye contact first, and I’m filled with pride. And knowledge. This is the second time since I arrived on Olympus that he’s backed down from my challenge. I’m not foolish enough to believe that it’s out of love for me. I know that it’s because he needs me to do my job. That knowledge gives me power.

  “It’s too much trouble to destroy you,” he says, clenching his fist and extinguishing the lightning bolt. “Make no mistake,” he continues. “You are still the Death Fate. And you will do your job.”

  “Not until you allow me to return to Earth and be with Alex.”

  Zeus thinks for a moment before saying, “That’s not going to happen. So until Alex is dead, who should I get to do your job? I’m sure you’ll come to your senses after he’s dead and there’s nothing left for you to fight for. Until then, someone will have to fill in for you.”

  “Don’t bet on his death turning me into a happy worker bee,” I say. “Choose carefully because this substitute of yours will have to take on the job permanently.”

  “Oh, I’m sure his death won’t make you happy. But when Alex is dead, I’ll have the leverage. His soul will reside with Hades, and Hades will do what I tell him. Placing your Alex in the darkest corner of the Underworld with no one for company but murderers and thieves ought to inspire you to work. And if it doesn’t, then remember that punishment and torture are not limited to the living.”

  The thought of Alex suffering in the Underworld strikes me with fear. I don’t know if Hades will really go along with Zeus’ plan but if he does, Alex will suffer because of me. I can’t let that happen. Still, it’s not enough, yet, to make me pick up my shears. Until I know for sure what Hades will do, there is still a chance that I can win this battle.

  Zeus stands outside the cottage, waiting for me to recommend someone. I’m about to tell him to deal with it himself, but before I can tell him to get bent, inspiration strikes.

  “Persephone. Get Persephone,” I tell him. “As Hades’ wife, she’ll be perfect. She knows the ways of death and the Underworld.” This is a lie. Persephone spends six months out of every year in the mortal world, so her knowledge of death is limited. I have a plan, however.

  Zeus nods and stalks off. Ten minutes later, Persephone is in my basement, attempting to work. I go downstairs and perch on the bottom step to watch. As expected, she screws up everything she touches. She can’t figure out my system, and she’s overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of the task. She asks for my help, but I refuse. I have nothing against her and, in fact, we
were once good friends until Mom moved us to Earth. But I’m not going to help her succeed. I need her to fail.

  Let her leave some humans suffering in agony because she didn’t cut their lines on time. Let her cut a few thousand lines too soon and wreck the fabric of destiny and fate. She’ll just make more work for Lacey and Chloe and, hopefully, they’ll add their voices to the cacophony of complaints that Zeus is enduring. I’m hopeful that other gods might join in as well. Without death, gods like Ares can’t wage a decent war, and Charon has no one to ferry across the River Styx. So each time that Persephone asks for help, I send her away with, “Figure it out yourself. It’s not my problem anymore.”

  While Persephone finds inventive new ways to screw up the process of death, I spend my time worrying about Alex and reliving our last night together in my mind. At least up to the point where Hermes showed up, anyway. Every moment of that memory is precious to me, even more so now that it seems I won’t even get to say goodbye. That night was our farewell, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough. I only hope he knows how much I love him since I didn’t get a chance to tell him before being dragged up here.

  Finally, after a week and a half of Persephone’s screw ups, the event that I’ve been praying for finally happens. I’m camped out on the stairs watching Persephone work when Hades appears in my workroom, angrier than I’ve ever seen him. I hoped that being without Persephone for a while would bring Hades up here to yell at Zeus, but I was afraid he’d be too stubborn to come this quickly. To my relief, Hades’ obsessive need to have Persephone near him at all times trumps his dislike of his brother. He’s currently bellowing at Persephone. I’m thrilled. Well, I’m sorry she’s getting yelled at, but Hades knows this isn’t her fault. He’ll let her off easy.

  “You never have time for me anymore,” he yells. “You’re up here, doing this damn job of killing humans. I only get you for six months out of the year as it is, and now I have to share you with Zeus and this bullshit job?”

  “I couldn’t say no, Hades,” Persephone says. “You know I couldn’t. Zeus didn’t ask me to do this; he told me to do it. I had no choice. And it’s turned into a mess, and she won’t help me,” she says, pointing at me.

  “Well, it’s over. As of right now,” Hades roars. “Come on.”

  He drags Persephone past me and up the stairs. Near the top, he pauses long enough to say to me, “I’ll be back to take care of you.” I simply smile, knowing that things are turning in my favor.

  I follow them upstairs and watch out the window until Hades reaches the palace doors and disappears inside. A flurry of figures comes rushing down the front steps. Rats fleeing the disaster, I think. No one wants to be in the room when this bomb explodes.

  I figure that once they get inside the palace, I won’t be able to hear the argument between the brothers, but I’m wrong. When two Olympian gods get good and pissed at each other, the shouting can be heard for miles.

  “She’s done being your death machine,” Hades yells at Zeus. “I won’t let you curse my wife like you cursed your daughter. I’m taking her home.”

  Watching the street from my window, I see heads poking out of cottages all up and down the street. Gods and goddesses stop whatever they’re doing to listen.

  “She cannot leave,” Zeus roars back. “Atropos will no longer work because of that boy, and death must continue in the human world. You know that. You depend on that. Persephone must continue.”

  Now that they know the argument is about me, every god in the street turns toward my cottage. I give a little wave and shrug, but I make no move to hide. I’m neither scared nor ashamed.

  “Fine. Death must continue,” Hades says. “But you can find someone other than my wife to do that job. It’s not like she’s doing it right, anyway.”

  “Hey,” Persephone interjects.

  “How many gods are sitting up here doing nothing?” Hades asks, as though Persephone hasn’t spoken. “Get one of them to do it. Better yet, why not just send Atropos back home? Stop being such a stubborn, sanctimonious ass and let her be with the boy. They only have days left. Even if she only works half time, it’s better than the mess we’ve got now.”

  “She has defied me and must be punished,” Zeus says.

  Hades laughs. “Everyone here has defied you at one time or another, including me. If you punished every one of us, you’d have no one left to do your work for you. Then you’d really be in a mess. You’d have to get your butt off that throne and work, and that might kill you. My advice is to get over it. If Atropos will agree to work if you let her go home, let her go.”

  They quiet down after that so I’m unable to hear any more of their argument, but on his way back to the Underworld, Hades stops back by the cottage. He simply walks through the curtain of lightning as though it’s nothing. That’s one perk of being the god of death—immunity to many of Zeus’ minor tortures. Persephone remains outside, although she shoots an angry glare toward the cottage now and then.

  “I think Zeus will let you go home,” he says.

  “Thanks,” I say, holding out my hand for him to shake. “I know you didn’t have to get involved.”

  He takes my hand. “Don’t thank me. I’m not too happy with the way you treated my wife. I know it was you who suggested her for the job. Couldn’t you have helped her a little bit?”

  I draw back and raise one eyebrow at him. “And if I had? Would you be here right now, arguing for my freedom?”

  He studies me for a moment before he laughs. “You devious little death goddess. I see your plan, now. Damn, I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. You’re right. I probably wouldn’t have come. If she’d been good at your job and efficient enough to make it home to see me occasionally, I probably would have let her stay.”

  “Then I did the right thing. Apologize to her for me, please. Tell her it was nothing personal, but I needed you to get pissed off and come up here and make Zeus see sense.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s hard to believe sometimes that Zeus is your father. You think more like me with every passing year. I shouldn’t be proud of you, but I am.”

  I smile at him. To everyone else, Hades is scary and forbidding, but to me, he’s always been a slightly eccentric uncle and surrogate father figure.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say.

  “Fine. But please just do your damn job so I don’t have to have this conversation again. If I don’t see my brother for another five hundred years, I’ll be perfectly happy.”

  “If he lets me go home, you have my word.”

  Hades nods and then turns to leave. At the door, he stops and turns back to me. He clears his throat.

  “I’m going to give you some advice, and I want you to listen.”

  I nod. Hades offering up anything other than bare facts is rare, so you pay attention when he does.

  “You’re going to have to kill the boy in the end. There isn’t any way around it, and you know that. It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do. Stop fighting everyone and everything and let him go gracefully. You can’t win, and you’ll only make yourself crazy if you try. You have to find a way to accept what is.”

  He’s not telling me anything I don’t know, but I appreciate the sentiment behind his words.

  “I understand. Thanks,” I say.

  He pulls me in for a quick hug, which is even rarer than the advice. Letting me go, he steps outside and I watch as he takes Persephone’s hand. The two of them poof back to the Underworld. Is it my imagination, or does Persephone give me a quick wink just before they disappear? I owe her. I’ll have to make this up to her somehow. Later. After.

  Thirty minutes later, Zeus’ guards appear and remove the lightning enchantment from the doors and windows. At that moment, there is a bang and the floor shakes hard enough to rattle Mom’s decorative pottery off the end tables. I recognize the noise as my workroom being moved back to Earth. When the shaking quiets, Zeus appears in
the doorway.

  “I’m sending you back to Earth on one condition,” he says.

  I wait, silent. Zeus’ condition may not be one I can agree to.

  “You will do your job to the best of your ability. You will not shirk your duties to spend more time with the boy. If you do, I will yank you back up here and you will remain here. Permanently.”

  “Am I allowed to see Alex, as long as my work is done?”

  “As long as your work does not suffer, you may spend time with the human. I don’t like it, but Hades was more than clear that death cannot continue to be treated so callously. Your refusal to work is impacting the work of too many other gods and causing chaos in the human world.

  “Fortunately, the boy will die soon and the problem of what you’ve told or shown him will die with him. However, you are forbidden from having any relationships with humans that go beyond casual interaction after this. You have proven that you cannot be trusted. Do you understand?”

  “Fine. I won’t want anyone else, anyway,” I say.

  “You might. Eternity is a long time, after all.”

  “As long as you and Lacey stay out of my business for that eternity, I’ll be fine,” I say.

  “Then you are free to go.”

  I don’t have to be told twice. Shoving past Zeus, I run for the pool. I step into the water and let it take me back to Mount Mitchell. Navigating the cave as fast as I can, I start to run when I burst into the open forest.

  As I jog through the woods toward the parking lot, I worry that I’ll have to call a cab to get home from the park. There’s no telling how long it’ll take Mom or one of my sisters to get up to Mount Mitchell and get me home. Yet when I emerge from the woods, I see my mom leaning against her car in the parking lot. I smile and wave, so happy to see her.

  I go from happy to thrilled when the car door opens and Alex steps slowly out into the sunshine. Taking off running across the lot, I throw myself into his arms. He staggers, but I steady us. I kiss him, but he is too weak to respond with anything more than minimal effort. Mom coughs politely, reminding me that she’s still here.

  “How did you know I’d be here?” I ask Mom when Alex and I break apart.

  “Hades stopped by on his way back to the Underworld. He told us what happened and that he was willing to bet you’d be home within the hour. I stopped to pick Alex up on the way. I knew you’d want to see each other.”

  “Thank you,” I say, giving her a big hug.

  Now that the rush of reunion is over, I study Alex. It’s distressing to see how far he’s deteriorated in just under two weeks. He only has four days left to live, and it shows. He is alarmingly thin and pale. As soon as we get into the backseat of the car, he wraps himself in a thick blanket, despite the fact that it’s close to ninety degrees outside.

  I pull Alex close to me and put my arms around him. He’s already asleep. I kiss the top of his head and hold him all the way home.

  When we get to his house, I carry Alex inside, beyond caring that his father’s jaw drops to see me carrying his son as easily as I’d carry a load of laundry. I carry him to his room and lay him on the hospital bed that has replaced his regular bed.

  “I’ll be back soon,” I promise as I remove his shoes and tuck him in. I kiss him lightly before I leave, hating this new reality and cursing Zeus for the time we lost.

  I go home with Mom and head down to my workroom to start repairing the damage done over the past weeks. And, hardest of all, to prepare myself to say goodbye to Alex.