by Sarah Fine
She whirled around to see Moros standing by her desk. “I’ve always thought it was incredibly ill-mannered to enter without knocking.”
Moros smiled. “You Ferrys do enjoy lecturing me, don’t you?”
Aislin took a step toward him, watching his face. He was ancient, thousands of years old, though he looked no older than Rylan. His wavy black hair was tousled, not slicked back as usual. There were faint shadows beneath his steel-gray eyes. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he looked tired. Exhausted, actually.
“Did you ascertain the security of the souls in your charge?” she asked.
He nodded. “Though my sisters swear they have been secure all along.”
“You don’t trust them.”
Their eyes locked. His glinted red. “I no longer trust anyone.”
Aislin knew what that was like, and for a moment, she felt a pang of sympathy for the Lord of the Kere. Then she reminded herself who he was and what he could do. “Can you ensure that Eli is no longer a threat? He’s closer to us than any of the Kere, and my sister will never give him up.”
Moros pulled a small object from his trouser pocket. It looked like a cigar case, sleek and polished. “Eli is no threat. He is under my control.”
Aislin eyed the case. “You have his soul in there.” It was both terrifying and fascinating, knowing that this man carried another man’s soul in his pocket, that he did it with the same casualness that most men carried their phones.
“Because of his proximity to both you and Galena, I felt it best.”
“You believe that someone has been taking the souls?”
His eyes traced over the case. “There is no other way to control them.”
“So Eris stole Eli’s soul—and then put it back?”
He slid the case back into his pocket. “I’m not yet certain of that.”
“Have you been able to locate the rogues?”
“Luke is himself. Nader has returned to my service, and Tamasin is by his side. Their souls are safe and sound. But Trevor’s is nowhere to be found.”
“And my brother? Do you have any idea where they’ve taken him?” It had to be in the real world, since he was no longer a Ferry. It chilled her beyond words to know that Rylan was in the hands of an enemy. “Rylan knows every detail of our business. He could be very dangerous under the wrong influence. But he is also human now. You should be able to track him.”
Moros’s nostrils flared, and he bowed his head.
“Is it that you can’t find him, or you won’t?” she asked.
He walked over to the window and stared out. “The fabric of fate is in tatters,” he said quietly as Aislin watched his reflection in the glass. She had long since memorized his expressions; she felt as if she’d been watching him her entire life, and yet she’d never been able to figure him out. “My sisters are distraught. If it continues to fray like it has been, it’s going to fall apart completely.”
“What happens then?”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “Chaos.”
Aislin folded her arms over her chest, frustration coiling within. “Our summit with the Keepers is in six days, Moros. They will want an explanation. The stakes are incredibly high for both of us. So I suggest we decide, right now, if we’re going to work together or against each other.”
Moros tilted his head. “Come now, my dear. We both know that if you were working against me, you’d never say it openly. You’re far too clever for that, and so am I.”
She forced a superior half smile onto her face. “What a compliment. I have no desire for war, Moros.”
“But you wouldn’t mind having the dominion of death to yourself.”
“What I wouldn’t mind is having the business running smoothly,” she snapped. “What I wouldn’t mind is knowing that there aren’t rogue monsters on the loose, threatening my family and trying to destroy the future!” She stalked toward him, too angry to be intimidated. “Stop these petty little games. You’re in too weak a position to play.”
Moros’s eyes glimmered. “Have you considered the risk of allying yourself with me at a time like this?” He sobered, his smug smile fading to nothing. He walked back over to her, close enough for her to feel the heat rolling from his body. “Aislin, I cannot sense your brother. And I don’t know what that means.”
“Are you actually suggesting that I work against you?”
He gave her a smile tinged with sadness. “No. I’d hate to have you of all people as an enemy.”
Her brow furrowed. Her of all people? “I am not like Rylan, Jason. I will not sacrifice order for power.”
“I believe you. But now we are playing a game with gods. Lesser gods, perhaps, but still gods. Ferrys are the most vulnerable players on the board. You cannot look at what Eli did to Declan and think otherwise.”
“And yet Declan is alive and well, and so is Galena, whom he was protecting.” She arched an eyebrow. “If you’re trying to manipulate me into asking the Keepers to release us from the treaty altogether, you are both arrogant and foolish.”
He laughed, and his smile was startling in both its power and its beauty. His sharp canines glinted as he grinned at her. “You remind me so much of your father.”
She turned away. What she wouldn’t give to have her father by her side now. She missed him so much it hurt. “Stop patronizing me.”
“Aislin,” he said quietly, “that was a true compliment. Take it.”
“Thank you,” she said, wishing her voice didn’t sound so strained.
His gloved fingers brushed her sleeve, and she faced him again. His eyes were gray once more, with no hint of red. “I don’t want to be your enemy,” he said.
Aislin stared. She’d never seen him look so human. He’s tired, she thought again. He feels hunted, too. It almost made her reach for his hand.
His gaze was riveted to her face, and he seemed to read something in her eyes, because he added, “But right now, being my friend is a very dangerous proposition.”
She lifted her chin and gave him the coldest stare she could muster. She was the Charon, and she couldn’t forget that, even for a moment. “We are business associates.” And though the idea of ruling the empire alone had its appeal, the thought of having to control the Kere, especially now, was abhorrent. “Our alliance stands for now. But we will never be friends.”
Moros’s arrogant smirk returned as he opened his mouth to reply, but she never found out what he’d planned to say.
With a rush of hot air, Rylan appeared in the middle of the office. He wore a finely tailored suit and his face was cleanly shaven. His dark hair was combed and neat. “Hello, Aislin,” he said, straightening his tie.
Aislin blinked in surprise. “Rylan? What—? How—?”
Moros took a half step in front of her. “How did you get here?” he demanded.
Aislin moved to stand beside Moros. Rylan watched them, a look of amusement on his face. “Look at the two of you, squirreled away in here, trying to figure out how to stop the inevitable.”
Moros tensed, ripping one of his gloves from his hand and letting it fall to the floor.
Rylan snorted. “Don’t bother. I’m here to deliver a message and nothing more.”
Aislin willed her voice into a steadiness she did not feel. “We’re listening.”
Rylan’s brown eyes glowed red, and Aislin couldn’t stop herself from recoiling in horror. She looked back and forth between Moros and Rylan. “You’re a Ker?”
Her brother grinned. “So perceptive. You stole my rightful status, but I think I negotiated myself a better deal.”
“Negotiated.” Dread was suffocating her. “Did you really betray your entire family like that?”
Rylan’s eyes faded to a dull dark crimson. “I would have taken care of the entire family, sister, if you hadn’t betrayed me. So whatever happens now is on your head.”
“Who made you?” Moros snarled. “Who owns your soul now?”
“Not part of the message I
’m here to deliver.” His gaze shifted back to Aislin. “But this is: You can join us, or you can welcome your own destruction. This is your chance. We won’t ask again. Be a wise leader—choose the winning side. Not for yourself, but for all the Ferrys. Their fate rests with you.”
Aislin stared at her brother, trying to read the shrewd look in his eyes as he echoed their father’s last words to her. It took a great deal of effort to keep her voice even despite the terror growing inside her. “Join you in what?”
“Awakening Chaos, Aislin,” Rylan said. “We don’t have to be servants anymore, to fate or anything else. And we will not stop until the fabric of fate is nothing but a mountain of tattered thread.”
And then he vanished. Aislin sank into a chair, unable to remain upright for another moment. Rylan was a Ker. “Could Eris have created him?” she asked weakly.
“I wouldn’t have thought so.” Moros glared at the place Rylan had been. He was silent for several moments before he finally spoke. “So what will you do, Charon? Will you join them, or will you remain my ally?” he asked in a low, rough voice.
He turned to her, his eyes glowing as crimson as Rylan’s had, and she felt the heat inside her, burning right through to her soul. “Because whether you wanted a war or not, it seems one has found you.”
AN EXCERPT FROM SARAH FINE’S FATED
Editor’s Note: This is an uncorrected excerpt and may not reflect the finished book.
Aislin pressed her fingertips to her temples and took a deep breath, trying to slow the pounding of her heart. She felt like she was about to detonate, but, right now, she needed her composure more than she ever had.
She lowered her hands and raised her head. The conference room of her executive suite still bore Rylan’s tastes, with blues and greens and way too much gold, which she found appallingly garish. She hadn’t had time to redecorate, though. She’d been too busy defending her decisions to the board. This was the second meeting they’d called in twenty-four hours, and the fatigue was a seed of pain just behind her eyes threatening to spread. “As I have told you before, I am not completely sure who transformed Rylan, only that he now appears to be a Ker. He’s not on our side.”
There was silence at the long table, and the ten stony stares made her wish for a shield. She stood up a little straighter. “I am being transparent, as you have requested—Rylan appeared to me and told me that he is part of a group attempting to ‘awaken Chaos’ and vanquish Moros, and I—”
Hugh Ferry groaned, rubbing his hand over the receding gray hair high on his forehead. “‘Awaken Chaos?’ What does that actually mean? With all due respect, it sounds like a distraction.”
“I am trying to determine exactly what it means.” And she was still in the dark because Jason Moros was infuriatingly fond of keeping secrets—and hadn’t been answering her calls since Rylan had confronted them in her office a few days ago. “But if it is anything like it sounds, the Servants of Fate—those of us who care about destiny and order and complying with the ancient treaty—should pay attention.”
“We are paying attention,” said Ciara Ferry, a second cousin with fiery red hair shot through with streaks of silver. “But maybe to things you wish we wouldn’t.”
Aislin bit back yet another angry reply. Stay. Calm. “You may attend to whichever of my leadership decisions you like. I have informed you of each one. The Lord of the Kere and I will go before the Keepers of the Afterlife in three days, and I will confirm that we have never violated the treaty.”
“And will you confirm that Moros has?” asked Hugh. “Or are you afraid of him?”
She gripped the table to keep from clenching her fists. “Afraid of him? His negotiating position is weaker than it has ever been.” She paused, remembering Jason Moros as he had been the last time she saw him, his mouth hard as he told her war was imminent and demanded that she choose a side. He certainly hadn’t looked weak. For an instant, she’d seen the warrior inside him, and part of her quaked at the thought. Not with fear, exactly, but . . . She cleared her throat. “I do not believe the Lord of the Kere has violated the treaty. It’s not in his interest to do so, and he always acts according to his own interests.”
Hugh smirked as the others grumbled. “And yet one of his Kere kidnapped Rylan. Another attacked Declan and caused him dire physical injury—”
“Declan is fully recovered, and that Ker was not in control of himself at the time. Now he is.” In fact, Eli seemed as determined to stop Eris—and anyone helping her—as Moros was.
“But the fact remains that Moros has lost control of his monsters,” said Brian Ferry, Hugh’s son, who shared his father’s brown eyes and prominent jaw. “We’ve had more unauthorized Markings and killings in the past few weeks than we have had in the last millennium.”
“And Moros has also joined in protecting Galena Margolis,” said Aislin. “He dedicated two of his most experienced guards to the task.”
A poisonous smile spread across Hugh’s face. “If my information is correct, at least one of them also ‘lost control of himself,’ as you so tactfully put it.”
Aislin’s cheeks burned. “Nader, the Ker of which you speak, is also solidly back on our side, and Moros has informed me that there is no danger of him repeating his attack on Dr. Margolis.” She’d seen Nader’s soul herself, a slithering golden wraith with crimson streaks, tucked into a small silver case that Moros carried with him at all times.
“You believe you can trust anything the Lord of the Kere says, it seems,” Ciara said.
Aislin let out a long, slow breath. “Jason Moros has worked collaboratively with all the Charons before me. By my father’s report, he operated in good faith—”
“Forgive me, Aislin, but you are not your father,” said Hugh, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers beneath his jutting chin. “What makes you think Moros isn’t taking advantage of your inexperience?”
The question plucked at a thread of insecurity inside her. She wasn’t sure what Moros thought of her, only that he’d known her since she was a child. The darkest part of her feared that he still thought of her as one. “He can try,” she said in a low voice. “But if he’s smart—and all of us know that he is—he will work with us to—”
“To what?” Brian blurted out. “We’ve spent millions to protect one person who threatens our long-term profits. We’ve tried to cooperate with the Boston authorities, who are putting the screws to us because of the damage caused by Dr. Margolis’s enemies, only to have our efforts subverted by Declan. And we have to sit by and deal with all this because you allowed that woman to become a Ferry, and now we’re stuck with her.”
All of the board members were nodding now, even Aunt Rosaleen, who had always supported Aislin. “I was told today that you have requisitioned the entire fifteenth floor for use as Dr. Margolis’s lab,” Rosaleen said, the lines around her mouth deepened by disapproval. “Which is why I requested we meet again to discuss it.”
“The lab is being funded by Declan personally,” Aislin said.
Rosaleen shrugged the clarification away. “I was in favor of protecting the woman, Aislin, but now we’re actively helping her achieve her goal to cut the death rate, dramatically, as soon as she possibly can.”
Aislin met her aunt’s gaze. “If that is what is fated, who are we to undermine her work?”
“If that is what is fated, shouldn’t it happen without our help?” asked Hugh, looking around at his fellow board members for support. “Why are we investing in research that will negatively affect our earnings?”
Aislin rolled her eyes. “Please. If the death rate due to contagious disease drops, won’t the birth rate rise? Eventually, all those people will die, and we will reap our profits then.”
“But if it happens a hundred years from now, what are we expected to do in the meantime? We don’t live forever,” said Ennis, his white hair tufting about his ears. “And who’s to say she’ll stop when she finishes her work on this vaccine? Who’s to say
she won’t find other ways of prolonging life, maybe indefinitely?”
“Again, if it’s fated, who are we to interfere?” Aislin asked, her voice rising. “Since when are we responsible for increasing profits at the expense of our sacred mission? I am the CEO of this company, but I am first and foremost the Charon, pledged to uphold the treaty with the Keepers above all else. If there is a threat to our revenue stream, we will find other ways of offsetting that, through development of additional businesses—possibly including the manufacturing of this vaccine.” She swallowed, wishing her mouth wasn’t so dry. “Forgive me, but you all seem overly focused on factors outside of our control.”
Hugh’s dark eyes flared with the insult. “And forgive me, but you seem overly focused on everything but our profit margins, on which we depend to support our entire race! Tell me this, Aislin—if Rylan is determined to bring Moros down, and Moros currently represents the biggest threat to our ongoing existence, who’s to say we shouldn’t discuss aligning with your brother?”
Aislin’s mouth dropped open. “You’re talking about a man who plotted to assassinate his own father!”
“But perhaps the enemy of our enemy is our friend.” Hugh’s voice dripped condescension. “Though I suppose it all depends on what your priorities are.”
“The ongoing strength and well-being of the Ferrys is my only priority,” Aislin shouted, her temper breaking free for a moment before she stepped back and bowed her head. “I am the Charon,” she said quietly, willing her voice into steadiness.
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Hugh retorted.
“Here, here,” said Brian. “Now more than ever, we need strong leadership and your family seems to have lost its way, cousin.”
“So now I am to be blamed for my brother’s crimes?”
“Haven’t you committed enough of your own?” Hugh snarled. “The city is in an uproar. In this past week alone, Declan has defied you and made a fool out of us all by helping Dr. Margolis escape from prison.”
“For a crime she did not commit,” Aislin reminded him. “One for which she was framed. And the true culprit has since been arrested.”
