To The Fairest

by Adrianne Brooks

  Their voices were in perfected sync and the harmony was so flawless that it might as well have been one person speaking rather than three. They even shook their heads in regret together.

  “And we will not be able to grant your request.”

  If anything, my back went a little straighter. “Why not?”

  “You have caused us quite a bit of grief. Because of you and your paramour, the web is tangled enough. We cannot, we will not, create another snag in the design.”

  Sam looked just as confused, and heartbroken, as I felt and it was he who spoke next.

  “I’m sorry Gracious Mothers, but I’m afraid we don’t understand. What trouble has she caused you? Surely, if we fixed whatever wrong was committed, you would reconsider your decision.”

  The Moirai sighed, clearly torn. After a moment they spoke again and their collective voices were saddened.

  “Come Firebrand, and you as well little Widow. Come to us and we shall speak more of broken dreams and dying things. Of missed chances and fates ignored. Come to us and we shall tell you how this great, wide, world of yours truly works. Come.” They crooned. Both together and individually. “Come. Come. Come.”

  Seeing little choice, Sam and I wove through the frozen workers. As we passed them on the way to the stairs it was if some flip had been switched. They began to work again, row by row, until there was a bustle of activity at our backs. Sam and I made our way up the metal staircase and stepped through the open doorway into the inner sanctum of the Moirai. There was a desk in the center of the room and one sister sat upon it while another crouched down by its side. The third sisters stood straight and tall before us.

  For all intents and purposes they seemed like normal women. Smartly dressed in business suits, their hair braided into neat little chignons at the nape of their necks. The only distinguishing thing about them was that there was only one eye amongst the three women. The sister standing at attention was in possession of it at the moment. The dark brown orb secure in her right eye socket. The left socket was completely empty, a black void. Her sisters stared at us with gazes that held a surprising amount of weight considering the fact that they couldn’t see us.

  At least, I didn’t think that they could see us.

  I took a step back from the group and Sam stepped smoothly in front of me, shielding me without making it look as if I were running away. The single eyed woman looked between the two of us and I got the feeling that she wasn’t fooled.

  “Samuel.” The woman spoke his name graciously, as if truly pleased to see him. When she looked at me, some of that pleasure faded away. “Alexandria.”

  “Forgive us,” Sam said, all diplomatic and polite. Ass. “But you seem to have us at a disadvantage, for we do not know your names.”

  She smiled slightly and beckoned us further into the room. We gave in to her silent pull willingly enough, though I immediately missed having the exit so close.

  “I believe you know exactly who we are, Samuel. But I will indulge the pleasantries nonetheless.” She rested the fingers of one hand against her chest and bowed slightly, her single eye trained unblinkingly on us the entire time. “My name is Atropos. I believe you were looking for me?”

  “Yes.” I managed to answer for us both. Swallowing heavily I edged forward until I was standing beside Sam rather than behind him. “We need to save our baby. She can’t die.” I shook my head as I spoke to emphasize my point. And Atropos gave a tittering laugh.

  “Of course the child can die.” She told me.

  “Apologies. Let me rephrase that.” Sam said, Mr. Congeniality. “Our daughter won’t die. Not anytime soon anyway.”

  The woman’s mouth tightened with irritation. “That isn’t really up to you.”

  “Hence our presence before you now.”

  Her jaw worked and Atropos looked over her shoulders to her sisters. The one on the desk leapt to her feet and stormed forward. I gagged when Atropos dug overly long nail into the space around her eye and pulled it loose to hand it to the other woman. There was a noise, like a shoe being pulled free of the mud, and then the eye was in its new home. The second Fate glared at us and this time, the eye was a dark blue.

  “You’ve brought this heartache on yourself.” She hissed, cheeks flushing with anger.

  I opened my mouth to explode on her, but Sam touched the small of my back. A silent signal to stand down. I did so, but couldn’t help but sneer at the woman.

  “Earlier you spoke of trouble.” Sam reminded the three, and they looked at each other in silence before the third sister came to her feet and waved a hand through the air. A 3D image appeared in the air and began to spin slowly around so that we could see every angle of it.

  “Each spot of light you see, represents a life.” Atropos told us once her sister returned the eye. At first I thought it was a very detailed view of the galaxy. But the third sister’s hands moved and the picture zoomed out enough so that we could see that it wasn’t a mass of stars but the individual connecting points in a large quilt. A quilt that grew larger and larger with every second that passed. The third woman moved her hands again and the picture expanded once more. The quilt shrunk and it was no longer a vast bit of cloth, but an individual thread in an even larger tapestry. A tapestry constructed of billions and billions of threads just like it. The picture expanded again, and again, and again, until the 3D picture before us was real time view of the warehouse below, workers spinning eternities through their spindles.

  I don’t think the reality of where we stood truly sunk in until that moment. The idea that we were literally standing before deities, women who controlled something so vast and intrinsic, boggled the mind. I found myself shaking, throat dry. This didn’t seem like such a great idea anymore and my fists clenched at my sides as my bravado took a beating.

  “Each life helps create a string.” Atropos continued. “Every string builds a thread. A thread, a bolt of cloth and every cloth, together, forms a picture.” She looked at the third woman, brown eye serene, and nodded. The sister controlling the visual effects moved her hands through the air again like a conductor and Sam and I watched silently as the nearly translucent image unfolded before us. The snag was hard to see at first, but as the Fate zoomed in on it, I was able to see just how much damage it had managed to cause. The mass of tangled threads was beginning to distort the sections of the tapestry surrounding it.

  The Fate magnified the picture ten-fold, closer than when we’d originally begun. It was as if we were crawling to the center of the disturbance, past the hundreds of other spots of light that represented other lives. Past the connections they made. Down, down, down, until we were looking at two lights whose paths crossed and merged together into one. Atropos took over control of the image and with a wave of her hand, pictures began to rise up from the combined lives. My breath caught as I realized what I was looking at. It was Sam and I. From the moment we’d first met until now. Snapshot images sliding about the room like slides on a giant projector.

  Our first meeting, or lives together, every intimate, personal, soul changing moment displayed for the whole room to see in glaring three dimensional color. Atropos ignored a long series of images to focus on one in particular. She tugged it to the forefront with a dance of her fingertips and suddenly Sam and I were watching the scene of his death play out once again. Though I knew it was coming I still cried out when Zaran reached into his chest and took his heart. I’d seen it once already, lived it, and I’d never expected nor wanted to go through it again. When I saw myself eating his heart my stomach heaved and Sam pulled me to him and let me bury my head against his chest.

  “This is the reason why we cannot help you young Widow.” I must have been mistaken about the note of sympathy I heard in her voice. I glanced back to see that Atropos had frozen the replay at a single moment. It was me. I was standing on a stage I’d thought had only been in my mind. In the freeze frame I was reaching out towards a creature, one I knew represented the black widows. “Y
ou made a choice once.” Atropos continued. “One you had no right to make. Because of that choice, lives have been thrown into chaos.”

  “What does that moment have to do with anything?” I asked, honestly confused.

  Atropos blinked at me for a moment before handing the eye over to her sister, the one who didn’t seem to like me all that much. This sister spoke with a level of bitterness that spoke of sleepless nights and failed attempts. In addition to the eye, she took over the presentation as well.

  “You accepted your birthright. Doing so saved the life of the Firebrand.” The scene changed and then we were gazing at Sam at the moment I’d given him back his soul and brought him back to life. “Thanks to that, Diedric was never made Alpha, or Rom baro as your people call it. His loss of the throne was bad enough all by itself, but then Samuel had to go and kill him for good measure. Because of this, there is strife amongst the ranks of the dragons. Their loyalties are split in light of your survival and your quote unquote betrayal, and they have been unable to come together and regain the numbers that they would have, had you simply died.”

  She waved forth another series of images in a fit of pique.

  “At the same time, because of your choice to train as a Widow, Rachel Constance Dupree and Christopher Greyson were able to return to the In-Between. Leading Danielle Greyson and the Djinn, Maxamillian Zaran, to the inner sanctum of the Curse Master, The Collector, Shahriyar.” She turned her head to spit out the taste of the Shahriyar’s name. “The curses they released while in his home were ancient and now they are once again affecting the bloodlines of the women they were originally cast upon. In addition to all of this, the Djinn was able to release a creature not seen in your world for many years. He has been consuming your witches, growing fat off of their meat as well as their power. No witches to save the women and corral the loose curses means no one to stand before Danielle Greyson in her rise to power.”

  As she spoke each thread, each mistake, became glaringly obvious. The discrepancy in the tapestry wasn’t just a small glitch now but a stain that was steadily growing larger and larger. A nasty black hole in an otherwise flawless creation.

  With a noise of abject frustration the Fate spread her arms and dismissed the whole scene until there was nothing in front of us but dust motes and air. Tossing a stray curl from her face she pointed a finger at me, practically growling in rage.

  “Everything you do creates a ripple effect. The birth of your daughter will allow the Black Widows to return to their former glory under the rule of your mother Danielle Greyson. Which will result in the premature deaths of both Christopher Greyson and Rachel Constance Dupree. Which will be cataclysmic in more ways than you can imagine.” She shook her head. “The death of this child is the only way to set things right. To stop the ripple and untangle the threads.”

  My head was spinning and I stood there, speechless and disbelieving. How could one thing, something that shouldn’t have mattered to anyone else, have caused so much trouble?

  “Why was it there?” I said, trying not to cry. “Why was I given the choice if I was never meant to make it in the first place?”

  The eye was passed along again and for the first time, the third Fate spoke. She wasn’t kind, but she was patient at least. Calm.

  “It was not given. It was made. You did not like the alternatives and therefore chose a path of your own making. You would have been just as happy, happier mayhap, if you had picked differently.”

  I looked up at Sam and shook my head. “I doubt that.” I told her and she laughed.

  “You are a strange one.” She said in wonder and the bitchy Fate snorted in derision, making her laugh yet again. “Excuse her, Lachesis has had her work cut out for her lately.” She made a cutting motion with her fingers and her nose wrinkled in amusement. “Her threads are snapping.”

  If the mean one was Lachesis that meant that this one must be Clotho. It was good to have names to go with the other faces. It helped to know where possibly allies lay. Sam had been strangely silent during this exchange and when he suddenly spoke up we all turned to stare at him.

  “What if we killed him?”

  Atropos blinked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You say that a creature was summoned. That he’s killing the witches. If we took him out would that be enough to fix all of this? Or to at least keep it from getting any worse?”

  He shifted uncomfortably when we all just looked at him blankly. Then Atropos hissed and looked at Clotho and Lachesis. They huddled, heads together and talking furiously in low tones. When Lachesis jerked around to glare at us with empty eye sockets I stumbled back in alarm. Mouth tight, she brought the image of the tapestry back up and began to experiment with the strings of the web. With her thumb she snuffed a single light and thousands more popped into existence in its place. The tapestry thickened, the picture changed, and for the first time since I’d seen her, her features relaxed into one of contentment. She dismissed the image, nodded to her sister, and turned away to return to the desk. Obviously done with us all. Atropos looked after her for a moment before returning her attention to Sam and I.

  “Yes.” She said simply. “Killing the creature will suffice.”

  “And our daughter?” I asked.

  Atropos tried a smile, but the expression didn’t sit as naturally on her as it did her sister.

  “We will allow the child to live.”

  Relief hit me so hard it left me shaking and sick, my heart in my throat.

  “Be warned.” Clotho interjected. “In order for this to work, you must move quickly. Before your mother learns of the child and takes measures to use her against you.”

  “She wouldn’t—” I couldn’t finish protesting because Sam wrapped an arm around my waist and squeezed a warning.

  “How do we find him?” He asked.

  Atropos shook her head.

  “It is not our place to say.”

  Fine. We’d figure something out. At least now we had a plan.

  “Thank you.” I spoke to all three of them and despite their various attitudes, I actually meant it. Atropos shook her head and once again the Fates were speaking in unison.

  “Do not thank us just yet young Widow.” They singsonged. “Rumplestiltskin will not be easily tamed. The task you’ve set for yourselves is a daunting one.”

  Hold up.

  “Magic bitches say what?”

  As it turned out, magic bitches didn’t have to say anything. Our high had run its course and Sam and I dropped back into our physical bodies with such suddenness and force that it took my breath away. Sam scrambled to his feet, stumbled a few steps, and then fell to his knees to vomit outside of the circle. I appreciated the sentiment, but I didn’t have the strength to follow suit. Instead, my eyes rolled back in my head and I collapsed onto my side. Dead to the world for the moment and relieved to be so.

  Chapter Eight

  I flinched as something cold and wet touched my face.

  Flo pulled the rag away from my cheek only long enough to flick me in the forehead.

  “Calm down.” She said. Some of her usual grump was missing, replaced with worry as she wiped the sweat from my face and neck. Awake now, I was able to appreciate just how nice her careful touch felt. They helped steady me. Cleared my head. I settled back down as instructed but took the rag from her to place over my eyes.

  “Thanks Flo.” I said.

  She made a grunting sound and I felt her get to her feet. I raised the rag enough to watch her go to Sam where he lay on another couch a few feet from me. She placed a hand on his forehead and hearing him sigh in relief I let myself relax once more. After a moment she sighed.

  “Well.” Flo spoke stiffly, disapproval in her tone. “Was it worth it?”

  “So worth it.” Sam said gruffly. Flo huffed and I could practically feel her scowling at us both.

  “Idiots.” She mumbled and I listened as she stomped her way out of the room. I waited a few minutes until
I’d regained my equilibrium before removing the cold rag and looking around. I’d never seen this room before but it looked as if we’d been moved to a waiting/lounge area. Through the windows, the sky was pitch black. Testament to just how long we’d been there since we’d arrived at Clarabell’s in the early afternoon. I felt cold, empty, as if someone had scooped all of my insides out.

  I heard clothes rustle, and without looking at him I moved over enough so that he could lie upon the couch beside me. It wasn’t meant for two, and we turned on our sides in tandem, pressing close. One of his arms was around my waist and I grabbed it, tugging it up until I was resting my chin in the crook of his arm. A knot in my stomach loosened and I sighed into the warmth of his skin.

  “Are we really going to kill…?” My voice lowered to a whisper on his name, but I wasn’t sure why. “Rumplestiltskin?”

  “Don’t worry.” He kissed the back of my neck and I arched back against him. “He’s not as scary as you think.”

  “Really?” I asked hopefully.

  “Really.” He assured me. Then, “He’s much, much, worse.”

  My elbow drove back into his stomach.

  “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

  He chuckled darkly, and his hands began to roam.

  “I love you too little Siren.”

  I wasn’t happy with him, but I couldn’t help but smile a little at that. I felt his fingers trail beneath my clothes, teasing skin, and had to bite back a squeal.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed, squirming in his arms.

  He bit the back of my neck again, and growled, the dark rumble traveling along my spine and making desire flare hard and low.

  “Pre-battle prep.”

  He stuck his hand down my pants and I grabbed his wrist.

  “Stop.” I said. We weren’t exactly in a private setting and someone could come in at any second. But his fingers strummed me, played my body like an instrument, and both my words and my restraining grip lacked conviction. I wanted him to stop…but not really.