And she shakes her head. “My baby,” she says.
“Is it inside, ma’am?”
And it becomes clear to her—and to me—that the paramedic doesn’t remember Baby Me. No one else seems to. Just Mom, who sits there, like she’s been burned really bad.
Only Daddy removed all the burns.
And he removed me too.
And Mom didn’t fight it.
Because she couldn’t.
He bamboozled her, just like he bamboozles everybody else.
The scene is fading. I’m staring at Mom, her eyes the eyes I remember—not young and frightened, but old and resigned. And then she disappears, and there’s only Daddy, looking just the same, standing in front of that smoke stain.
“See?” he says. “She gave you away.”
“You didn’t give her much choice,” I say.
“You’d’ve killed her, given a few more weeks,” Daddy says.
“She was right,” I snap. “You could’ve broken the rules.”
“Ah, sweetheart.” He sits back down on that white chair. “Why do you think I fought the real Fates? Tried to get you girls to take over? The Fates enforce the magical laws. I nearly got nailed just for that little bit of interference. Imagine what would have happened if I had given your mom what she wanted.”
I look back at the stain. Raised here? With magic? I can’t imagine it. This is a completely different world.
I’d know everybody since they were little, just like Olivia, and I’d know if Josh was really interested, and I’d understand American history.
“Let’s give you a taste of it,” Daddy says.
He opens his fist. There’s a vial inside, and inside the vial is a drop of liquid. He floats the vial to me.
“What’re you doing?” I ask.
The vial opens itself, and tilts. I back away, but the vial follows.
“What are you doing?” I ask again.
The drop falls out of the vial and lands on my leg. It burns for a minute, then disappears. My stomach settles down immediately.
“What did you do?” I ask.
Daddy grins. “I gave you some of your magic back.”
“But that’s breaking the rules,” I say.
“It’s so small, no one’ll notice,” he says.
“I notice,” I say. But I feel better. A little stronger.
“You’ll get one spell out of that,” he says. “A weak one. Or two wishes. So be careful what you’re thinking.”
“Daddy, I promised I wouldn’t use magic.”
“So blame me. You always do anyway.”
He grins. I don’t like that grin.
“Daddy,” I say, “I gave my word.”
“So?” he says. “That only means something to someone who cares.”
“I care,” I say.
His grin widens. “Then don’t use the magic,” he says, and vanishes.
FOURTEEN
DON’T USE THE magic? That’s like handing a starving person food and telling her not to eat. I pound the pillow with my fist.
“Daddy!” I shout. “Get back here! Now!”
But he doesn’t come back. I yell until I’m hoarse, but he never reappears.
Even though I know he’s listening.
And probably laughing.
I stand up. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I know what I should do. I should tell Mom and have her get Megan. Not that Megan has the kind of magic that’ll get rid of this drop Daddy’s given me, but she’ll know someone who can.
But I don’t want to do that because that means Mom’ll know I talked to Dad, and that’ll just cause a scene. I’ve caused scenes—with Daddy—and I hate them. But that’s what I’m good at, or so he says.
Then I frown. He asked me how come I’m always hard on him. Is he doing this to me because of that? Is he testing me? Is that why he showed me that bit of the past with Mom? Does he want to turn me against her or show me how powerful I was?
Because I know he was lying to her. He didn’t want to raise me—he didn’t raise me. He let other people do it—he just wanted me in his control.
This is probably about that too. Me being in his control. Because until this afternoon, I wasn’t in his control.
I get off the bed and pace around the bedroom. Outside, the scene is different than it was when I was a baby. The people across the street painted their house white, so now it glitters in the sunlight. The sun is bright and strong. The tree beneath my window is still green. The street is still pretty empty.
It’s not that much later than it was when Daddy got here. Maybe it’s no later. Maybe he froze time with me, just like he did that time with Mom.
And now I’m mad. I went from what I thought was calm to pissed off in like three seconds. I want to throw things around the room. I want to break that chair he sat on because he touched it.
How come he put me in this position? I mean, I understand the control part (Megan’s only been harping on that from the beginning) but now I have a dilemma—and it’s not the kind of dilemma I’ve been expecting or even living through.
It’s multifaceted. It’s huge. It goes like this:
If I use the magic, am I giving in to Daddy? Am I giving into my worst self? I am breaking my word, aren’t I? Even though I agreed to have the magic taken away—and that happened—I didn’t agree not to get it again. In fact, I gave it away with the express understanding that it would come back one day. This just isn’t the one day I’m expecting.
Do I tell anyone? Mom’ll be mad. Megan’ll be mad and she’ll confront Dad. If I tell Brittany or Crystal, they might be mad, especially if Daddy didn’t give them a drop of magic. Megan says this is the kind of chaos that Daddy loves. If I tell people, do I give into that?
But if I don’t tell people, am I doing what Daddy wants? Megan says dysfunctional families always have secrets from each other. Of course, she told me this while agreeing that I have to lie to all the mortals I meet, which gives her the moral authority of a rotting donut, in my mind. I just talk to her because…well, because she’s the first person who ever really listened to me, or Brittany, or Crystal, and she actually did help us, back when we were Interim Fates and supposed to be in charge of everything. Of course, we were in charge of everything except Daddy and the stuff he didn’t want us in charge of, which is different from the real Fates, who have their powers back and now can control Daddy, which probably pisses him off.
Is that why he came to me? Is he making some new power play? If so, I have no idea how I’m involved. He’s probably just irritated that he has nothing to mess with, so he’s trying to mess with the thing that screwed up his plan to take over the universe—namely, me, Brittany, and Crystal.
I sit on the edge of the bed. The more I think about the three of us screwing Daddy up, the more I think I’m onto something. Daddy doesn’t get mad. He gets even.
And because we didn’t perform well as Interim Fates—heck, we weren’t even good mages. (I still don’t know why us out of all his kids—I mean, there were actually older kids who’re better at magic, but still young enough to be influenced by him; and younger kids who could’ve been molded more.) He said it was because he liked us best, but it’s Daddy. He probably says that to all his kids.
Stupid me, I believed him then.
And I believed him earlier when he told me that he’s doing this because he cares about me.
Just like he told Mom he would raise me.
What did Megan say as she helped the Powers That Be thwart Daddy’s plans and make him listen to us in that first therapy session? She said that Daddy doesn’t understand the finer emotions like love.
He showed me all that stuff about Mom, thinking I’d fall for the logic, not realizing that I saw the love and terror in her eyes. He thought I’d agree with what he did (because he’s so egotistical, he can’t think anything else). He didn’t have a clue that I’d actually feel sorry for Mom.
I mean, what was it like, giving up your baby? Especiall
y to a magical nutball like Dad?
I rub my hand over my face. I don’t even want to think about that. I don’t want to think about any of this—and I get mad all over again.
Dad’s put me in this position.
So…
If I wish my way out of it, asking that the drop leave my body, am I doing magic? Am I giving into Dad’s stupid plan? Is that what he expects me to do?
I growl and fall backwards on the bed. I actually have the beginnings of a headache.
As if school isn’t bad enough. As if learning how to navigate this silly town isn’t hard enough. As if learning how to do all the practical stuff that Mom says most humans learn as children isn’t embarrassing enough.
Now I have to cope with this—and broken promises—and Daddy.
That’s what’s making me maddest of all. I kinda thought I wouldn’t have to deal with Daddy for a while.
Maybe that’s why I agreed to live with Mom and go through all this stupid rigmarole and learn how to be mortal even though I know I’m not, and learn how to do the stuff that servants do, even though I’ll have them when I get magic again.
I’ve been lying to myself. I don’t want to go back home. Not Mount Olympus home. Because with all the troubles I’ve had here, none of them are as mind-bogglingly difficult as dealing with the manipulative minefield that is Daddy.
And then he has to go and show up here.
Screwing me all up.
Okay. I need a plan.
And here are my options in shorthand:
Tell Mom.
Tell Megan.
Tell Brittany and Crystal.
Make Daddy take the magic back somehow.
Wish the magic away.
Use the damn thing and forget about it.
And here are the reasons I can’t do any of that:
Mom—I shake my head. I can’t. I just can’t tell her. She’ll be so upset.
Megan’ll tell Daddy and confront him, and then he’ll just be mad. Things’ll get worse because Megan doesn’t have the power to defend me or Mom.
Brittany and Crystal might not have had this opportunity, and they might be hurt/mad. Besides, when they have problems, they come to me. I never go to them. I’m smarter than both of them combined—or at least, that’s the role I was given (according to Megan; which kinda hurt my feelings when she said that, truth be told).
Make Daddy take the magic back—like that’ll happen.
Wish the magic away—which means I’ve used it. Hello! That’s what he wants.
Use the damn thing and forget about it. Which is what he wants. And then he’ll be back, meddling even more.
So I don’t have any options, except the one I’m just not strong enough to do: I can’t just ignore the magic. Because one day, I’ll say something dumb using that phrase which I can’t even think at the moment, at least not in order, but it’s a two word phrase with the words “wish” and “I” in it.
I’m trapped, trapped, trapped.
I close my eyes and think for a moment. The Powers control Daddy kinda, but he is a Power, so he’d know if I went to them. But the Powers listen to the Fates, and the Fates understand magic rules, and they’ll do what they think is best, and they can handle Daddy—and he won’t know if I went to see them or not because sometimes the Fates watch over stuff, just like the gods in those myths Mrs. Fiddler has us read.
The question is: can I get to the Fates without using the magic?
I sit up.
I have to try.
I walk over to that smoke stain, wondering if there’s even a trace of magic left in it. I touch it, and it vibrates. See? I remember some of my reading from Interim Fate days.
The vibration makes that spot on my leg ache. I lean as close to the smoke stain as I can, and say, “Fates, if you can hear me, I need help. I need to see you. Please? I’m asking as a former (and repentant) Interim Fate. Please?”
And before I get out the last please, the smoke stain disappears. I’m in a wall of white, and I feel dizzy. Transporting has never made me feel dizzy before.
But I’ve never done it without magic before—letting someone else control it.
I breathe as best I can, and suddenly I’m tumbling onto a marble floor—which knocks my breath out of my chest, but doesn’t really hurt me.
I slide forward and stop, right in front of a spa. There’s a swimming pool beside me, with a waterfall tumbling into it from outside. The ceiling overhead is blue, with painted clouds and stars and some kind of ambient light that makes it look like the sun is shining even though it’s not.
As I get my breath back, I realize that I have skinned my elbows. They burn just a little, but that spot on my calf burns more.
I sit up, and there they are—all three Fates, looking pretty and powerful…and naked.
They look at me and grin in unison.
And suddenly, I’m very, very scared.
FIFTEEN
AND WHY SHOULDN’T I be scared? Here I am, lying on the floor of a spa, in some place—any place, maybe even a place out of time—with three of the most powerful women who’ve ever lived. And to make things worse, I helped Daddy betray them. He convinced the Powers that the Fates were screwing up, made them reapply for their own jobs, tried to impose term limits, of all things, and somehow convinced them to give up their powers and live among mortals for a while. (Hmm, sounds familiar…except that Daddy opposed us girls doing it. The giving up powers/living among mortals part, anyway.)
In the meantime, me, Brittany, and Crystal took their places—without the thousands of years of knowledge or a clue about the overall grand scheme or any real help from Daddy or the Powers.
But we did relinquish the Fateness, and it was my idea. Well, our idea.
And Megan helped.
Still, the Fates are scary. I mean—they’ve been at this since the beginning of time—maybe literally—and some say they have the power of good and evil at their fingertips. But from the books I read, and what Megan says, and what the Fates really claim, their biggest task is to protect True Love.
Which is why Daddy really wanted to get rid of them. He doesn’t believe in True Love. Not that I blame him. Who would, married to Hera?
Anyway, the Fates don’t look anything like the mythology pictures that Mrs. Fiddler passed out one day in class. Those women are wearing long, old-fashioned Greek robes and look—I dunno—classic. But in real life, they’re pretty and, like I said, naked.
Clotho—who in that picture is holding the spinning wheel from which they used to get their powers (they got stronger over the years and no longer need it)—has a green beauty mask all over her face. She looks like a grown-up version of Brittany—all blonde and skinny. She grabs a towel and wipes off her face, The better to see you, my pretty, I think and then regret, because sometimes the Fates can hear thoughts (if they want to. I’m hoping that at the moment, they don’t want to).
Lachesis—who according to that silly drawing is supposed to give people their destinies at birth (The Disposer of Lots, the picture said)—is tall and heavy and redheaded, Rubenesque, Mom would say, even though I still don’t know why being heavy is called that. Lachesis wiped off her white beauty mask and is glaring at me with those green eyes that are uncannily like Crystal’s. She and Crystal share red hair, and I’m beginning to wonder if maybe Daddy picked the three of us just because we’re blonde, brunette, and redheaded like the real Fates and we’re close in age.
Which would mean that Atropos is my counterpart. In the drawing, she’s got a pair of scissors in her hand because she cuts the thread of life. Mortals think she ends their life—or used to think it, when they believed Fates were gods. But they’re not. Gods, I mean. They are really powerful mages from the beginning of time, and they do have some remarkable abilities.
As for power over death, yeah, sure, I suppose. A little. But I never had that responsibility—or if I did, I didn’t know it.
Atropos’s eyes are dark and so is her hair, but her
skin isn’t. That’s where we differ.
That and our ages, of course.
“So,” Clotho says, “you say you need us.”
“You realize,” Lachesis says, “that throwing yourself at the feet of the court isn’t always a good idea.”
The other thing I didn’t mention—which is part of the Fate destiny or whatever (it happened to me, Brit, and Crystal too) is that the Fates must speak in a particular order. When they got back to power, the order reestablished itself as Clotho first, Lachesis second, and Atropos third.
So I just look at Atropos. She’s going to speak next, whether she wants to or not.
But she doesn’t say anything. I guess in the scheme of things, I’m supposed to speak next—and tell them why I’m here.
“I need your help,” I say.
“The entire world needs our help,” Atropos says. “We usually decline, unless it has something to do with destinies and love.”
“You’re too young to worry about true love,” Clotho says.
“In fact, if you fall in love now,” Lachesis says, “it won’t be true.”
I sit up and cross my legs, ignoring the burning in my elbows and calf. The air smells of sulfur and is waaaay too hot. But it’s a spa, and apparently a natural one.
The Fates line up on one side of their pool and stare at me. The staring makes me even more frightened, and that’s probably why they’re doing it.
Since they’ve come back into power, they’ve decided to use it more. Or so it seems to me, not that I have a lot to base anything on. I mean, I never met them before I took over their job (that I remember) and then afterward, they were more concerned with repairing the mess that Crystal, Brittany, and I made than with us in particular. In fact, even though they wanted some kind of action, they really didn’t blame us much at all.
They barely noticed us.
“I’m not here about love,” I say. “I’m here about Daddy.”
All three Fates sigh as if I’ve brought a bad smell into the room. Maybe I have. After all, it’s Daddy who has been trying to defeat them all these years. They probably hate him.
And for that reason alone, I probably shouldn’t’ve come.
Tiffany Tumbles: Book One of the Interim Fates Page 12
