“You asked to see us, child?” Atropos asks.
“You know we can’t help you,” Clotho says.
“The Powers That Be have already determined your fate,” Lachesis says.
I glare at her. She used the word “fate” on purpose, I just know she did.
“Yes, I know what the Powers decided,” I say.
They all stare down at me, like I’m a bug. I flash on what it was like to be them, how annoying it is to have someone seek you out when you just want to do something else. Especially if you can’t do anything. Especially if the Powers are involved.
“Well?” Atropos asks.
I take a deep breath and bow my head. “I’m…I’m really sorry,” I say.
“Apologies mean nothing to us,” Clotho says.
“Shut up, Clotho,” Lachesis says. “An apology is nice.”
“But unnecessary,” Atropos says. “If that’s why you’re here—”
“It’s not.” I keep my head down. “I know you can’t do anything about the circumstance I’m in. Daddy says he can take me back to Mount Olympus, but I’d have to petition for my powers—”
“As if that will do you any good,” Clotho says.
“Petitioning can take hundreds of years to resolve,” Lachesis says, as if I don’t know that. Maybe that’s a fair assumption. There was so much that we Interims didn’t know.
“It’ll just ensure that you won’t have your powers for centuries instead of decades,” Atropos says.
“Oh, jeez,” I mutter, using Agatha’s favorite curse. “Of course. Daddy’s sooooo helpful.”
“Well, now that we’ve resolved that,” Clotho says, “we can send you back—”
“No!” I say quickly. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“It’s not?” Lachesis sounds surprised.
I raise my head. All three Fates are staring at me in shock.
“Then why are you here?” Atropos asks.
I swallow hard. I don’t know how to do this. But I’m going to.
I take a deep breath.
“No one wants me around,” I say, trying not to sound self-pitying. “Mother tells me she didn’t even want to give birth to me—”
“Oh, that woman is foul,” Clotho says to the other Fates. “I told you we should—”
“Shut up, Clotho,” Lachesis says.
“Yes, let the child speak,” Atropos says.
I nod a thank-you at them.
“And,” I continue, trying hard not to get sucked into their verbal rhythm. It feels almost natural to me. “We all know what kind of person Daddy is.”
“If, indeed, you can call him a person,” Clotho says.
“Fair enough,” Lachesis adds. “But ‘god’ elevates him to a pinnacle that he doesn’t deserve—”
“Stop!” Atropos says. “Let. The child. Speak.”
I nod at her again. I decide I’m only going to talk to her.
“I don’t belong in either place, Mount Olympus or my mother’s home,” I say. “And they’ll both take care of me, but neither will let me be me.”
“You don’t even know who you are,” Clotho says. She does not sound sympathetic.
“I know,” I say. “And that worries me. I’m not sure if I should go home—”
“Where is that?” Lachesis asks.
“Mount Olympus,” I say. “Where my family is.”
“Like it or not, child,” Atropos says, “they’re all your family.”
I sigh. It’s almost like talking to three versions of Megan.
“I don’t know if I should go home,” I repeat, “or if I should stay in New York.”
“We can’t help you with that,” Clotho says, rolling her eyes.
“I’m not asking for that,” I say. I turn toward Lachesis. “You know things. You can see the future. Megan said to me that we three girls were on our way to becoming evil, and if we get our magic too early, we will be because we don’t know our limits.”
Atropos shakes her head. Clotho looks down. But it’s Lachesis’s turn to speak. “She should not have said anything like that to you.”
“Is she wrong?” I ask.
“It doesn’t matter,” Atropos says. “You won’t get your magic early.”
That makes my heart ache. I really want my magic. But I don’t say that.
“It does matter,” I say. “I don’t like to think of myself as evil.”
“You’re not,” Clotho says. “Yet.”
Lachesis glares at her.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“You have a bit of trouble with your temper,” Lachesis says.
“So?” I ask.
“So you must learn to control it,” Atropos says.
I clench my fists. If these three knew what it was like to be helpless, they would know why I get mad so often.
“We do know,” Clotho says. “If you’ll recall, we were demoted and stripped of our powers.”
Oh, yeah. They can sometimes read minds. If they want to. Mostly, I never wanted to. I doubt they do either.
“Are you asking us how you can avoid being evil?” Lachesis says.
“Do you consider your father evil?” Atropos asks before I can even answer.
Clotho folds her hands in front of herself. Obviously, she’s not going to speak until I do.
I answer that question carefully, in case Daddy’s listening in. “I think he’s thoughtless most of the time, and insensitive the rest of it.”
“I am not!” he says from the next room.
Clotho rolls her eyes. Lachesis frowns. Atropos glares in the direction of Daddy’s voice.
“I at least wanted the kid,” Daddy says. “Her mother—”
“You just want more progeny,” Clotho says. “You do not care for Crystal.”
“That’s not true,” he says. “I like her. She’s tough.”
All three women look in the direction of his voice. My breath catches. Then I whisper to Lachesis, because she’s next to answer, “Is that true?”
All three Fates nod. He likes me?
I feel like I should go with him then. But he was clear. He wasn’t going to have much to do with me.
Besides, Artemis gave me a talk before I left, reminding me to make my own decisions.
Never let a man decide anything for you, or let the desire to be with a man decide anything, she had said.
She would say that, Aphrodite said when I told her. She’s not fond of men.
Yeah, Athena said with a grin. And Aphrodite’s too fond of them. But she’s also good at manipulating them.
The three Fates are watching me now.
“What do you want to ask us?” Lachesis says softly.
“I just want you to tell me what place is best for me. I can’t decide,” I say.
“Oh, child,” Atropos says gently.
“We can’t tell you that,” Clotho says, and for once she sounds sympathetic.
“You have free will,” Lachesis says. “If we tell you—”
“Then we are influencing you,” Atropos finishes.
“And we have taken a vow not to influence,” Clotho says.
I nod. No one will help me. No one ever helps me. Tiffany has a mother who loves her. So does Brittany. But me? I get Monique and Daddy and the stupid four brothers and advice from siblings thousands of years older than me.
“Sometimes,” Lachesis says, “refusing to provide assistance is help.”
They’re all staring at me, as if I should understand that.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means you have two feet,” Daddy says, walking into the room. “They want you to stand on them all by yourself.”
“I believe,” Atropos says, “that is your life lesson.”
“You’re not supposed to tell her,” Clotho hisses.
“And really, it’s not her life lesson,” Lachesis says. “It’s just what Megan decided the girls need to learn.”
“How to get along without each oth
er,” Atropos says.
“I can’t imagine it,” Clotho says, slipping her hands through her sisters’ arms.
“But it is her reality,” Lachesis says. “She is no longer a Fate.”
They stare at me. They seem united. After we’d been Fating for a while, we couldn’t stand the sight of each other, and that’s the truth of it.
Sometimes there’s close and sometimes there’s too close.
Daddy claps me on the back and I jump.
“Come on, kid,” he says. “Let’s go.”
Everyone is staring at me. But I have no idea what I want. Still.
“Can I stay here for a day or two?” I ask the Fates.
“I’m sorry,” Atropos says, “but you no longer belong in this library.”
At least she didn’t say “here.” Because I wouldn’t have known what she meant.
“And you didn’t make use of it when you were here,” Clotho says.
“You do understand that an education is valuable, don’t you?” Lachesis’s eyes seem even greener than they were a moment ago.
Is she giving me a clue? If so, what is it? Because Athena was handling my education before I left. But she wouldn’t when I got back. She never teaches anyone anymore. She told me that was something special, and she wasn’t going to do it for a long time.
“Even a mortal education?” I ask.
“What other kind is there?” Atropos asks.
“A magical one,” I say.
“You act as if they’re different,” Clotho says.
“Even mortals can study magic,” Lachesis says.
“They just can’t practice it,” Atropos says.
“You’re confusing her,” Daddy says. “C’mon kid, let’s go.”
They’re not confusing me. They’re trying to tell me something without telling me.
“You go on ahead, Daddy,” I say.
His hand tightens on my shoulder. “They’ll poison your mind against me.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” I say. “It’s hard to lower my opinion of you.”
He lets go of me as if I’ve burned him. “What have I done to make all of my children hate me?”
“Do you really want us to catalogue each action you have taken against all of your children?” Clotho says to him.
“Because we’d have to step out of time to do it,” Lachesis says.
“I think it would take us nearly a century to itemize each action,” Atropos says.
“And that’s if we don’t go into detail,” Clotho says.
“I really wish you women never got your jobs back,” Daddy says, and disappears.
This time, I can feel that he’s gone. And he didn’t even say good-bye.
“We’re sorry you had to see that,” Lachesis says.
“Remember that he doesn’t like us much,” Atropos says.
I wave a hand, trying for both dismissive and carefree. “I know who he is.”
“He really does like you,” Clotho says. “That’s more than we can say about most of his other children.”
“He doesn’t even know most of their names,” Lachesis says.
“Oh, he didn’t know mine until recently,” I say.
They don’t answer that. The Bench disappears, and suddenly they’re sitting on lawn chairs—which look like the lawn chairs he bought me and Tiff and Brit when he was trying to make us enjoy being Interim Fates.
“You won’t have an easy road of it, child,” Atropos says. “Your path is a little darker than your sisters’.”
“Why?” I ask, and it sounds plaintive to me, like I’m whining. Because, I guess I am.
“Because you girls are different from each other,” Clotho says.
“You opted to get to know your families,” Lachesis adds.
“Your family is…less pleasant than the others,” Atropos says.
Of course it is.
“Lucky me,” I say.
“Indeed,” Clotho says without a hint of irony or sarcasm. “Lucky you.”
FIFTEEN
SO, I OPT to go back to New York. At least it’s somewhere different than I’ve lived before, and I won’t get shunted off to some other distant relative, which I know will happen at Mount Olympus. Plus, I don’t want to deal with magical problems if I don’t have magic.
If I have to be in a situation where I lack control, I’m going to make sure someone can’t change me into a warthog at a moment’s notice.
The Fates send me back to the same place Daddy pulled me out of—that table in front of the deli.
Only the deli is closed for the night (who knew the deli closed?), with the metal gate over its door and the tables pushed up against the gate and chained to it. (Wow. Who knew the theft in this neighborhood was so bad?)
Of course, Ron the Chauffer and the boys aren’t at the curb anymore, and freakily, no one is walking on the sidewalk either, although a homeless guy is sleeping in the doorway of the little bodega (also closed—who knew?).
If the Fates wanted me to be scared to death about coming back to New York, they’ve succeeded.
I’ve learned enough subway/street protection from M, V, & A to know that I shouldn’t stand around looking lost, and I should keep my book bag and purse in front of me, and I shouldn’t reach inside searching for my phone, even though calling someone might be a good idea.
But if I stop and look lost, then I’m saying Tourist here! Mug me! and that’s the last thing I want to say.
So I walk with purpose to the nearest subway stop, and hope the train’s still running. Because I’m not seeing any cabs either, or that much traffic for that matter.
Creepy.
I hurry down the stairs. The subway station is well lit. I glance at the map, like I’ve seen New Yorkers do, and note that the trains are still running here, all the way to my usual stop.
My palms are sweating. I’ve never taken the subway alone before. But I have a pass, and I swipe it, and I go through the turnstile, and I see some well-dressed people along with a busker playing the same Simon & Garfunkel song he plays in the middle of the day, and I let out a little breath.
Okay. I can do this.
The train is already at the platform when I arrive, so I run through the doors just before they close. The car is mostly empty. I slide into one of the seats, and now I pull my phone out of my purse.
The phone’s dead. Even though I charged it all night, it isn’t working at all. Probably something to do with the magic. Magic and tech never get along.
I wonder if the visit to the Fates actually ruined my lovely (almost magical) iPhone.
I don’t know, but I do feel a little lost not having any phone at all. I can’t text anyone (who would I text, anyway?) or call anyone (like maybe Tiff & Brit to tell them what happened) or even play Candy Crush or Angry Birds or something.
I shove the iPhone back into my purse and almost lean my head back (the window’s too grimy for that).
I have no idea what Clotho (or the Fates, if she was speaking for them) meant when she said I was lucky to have a difficult family on both sides. I couldn’t get her to tell me either.
I guess that’s one of the things I have to figure out on my own. Just like I have to figure out who I am on my own.
But it was kinda great to go back to that library and remember that not everything back home is hunky-dory totally-freaky-nifty-cool. I hated that library and I don’t want to go back. And while I loved having magic, I’m beginning to wonder if I misused it sometimes.
It was also kinda nice to remember why I was the one who decided we weren’t going to be Interim Fates any more. Yeah, Tiff and Brit and Megan decided the whole mother/losing magic thing, but actually stepping up and saying we weren’t going to be in charge of all magic anymore because we didn’t know what the ef we were doing? That was me.
Maybe I’m stronger and tougher than I think I am. I stood up to Mother and Melanie, after all. And Megan too.
I grin and stand as the train slows for my stop. I g
lance around, like I was taught, to see if anyone else is getting off and no one is. The three other people on the car are busy tapping on their phones, so I guess there’s service down here.
As the doors open, I get off. I walk to the stairs and up into the light.
It’s only a half a block to our building. Here, with the park across the way, the streets are so lit up that it almost seems like daylight. Our doorman is helping one of the rich biddies out of a cab, so I slip inside the building without saying hello.
I take our elevator to the top floor, and as I get out, I hear Mother’s voice:
“No, no, I’m not minimizing this.” She sounds panicked. Have I ever heard Mother sound panicked? “But that sketch—the man in it—he’s her father. He wouldn’t kidnap her.”
“Ms. Chandler,” says a male voice with a heavy Brooklyn accent, “kidnappings are often committed by the estranged spouse. I say we do an Amber Alert.”
“And say what?” Gordon speaks up. “That some arm came out of a big fluffy cloud and grabbed her?”
“Will someone please take my son to his room?” Mother sounds frazzled.
“You reported her disappearance to us,” the male voice says. “We have an APB on the guy, but I don’t have a lot of hope, given all the witness descriptions. I’m suspecting he works as a magician? He did one of those sparkly smoke bomb things?”
Mother giggles oddly.
“Crystal’s father is rather strange,” Owen says quickly, “but now that we know it’s him, we can handle it from here.”
I walk into the main living area (although it’s so big we don’t do any living here) to see the entire family gathered. Mother and Owen are talking to four men, two of whom are in police uniforms. Owen’s lawyer is standing to one side, arms crossed. E’s frowning. Danny is slumped in a chair. Fabe looks stressed, and Gordon (of course!) is the one who sees me.
“Hey!” Gordon says. “You’re back.”
And then he runs across the room and slams into me so hard I nearly fall over. Great. Exactly what I need. To be punched out by an eight-year-old.
Then I realize that he’s got his arms wrapped around me and he’s making little choking sounds.
He’s hugging me? The world really has gotten weird.
Mother makes a little choking sound, takes two steps toward me, and stops, hand in front of her face.
Crystal Caves Page 13
