Fate

by Nadine Nightingale

  He faced me with a sickening grin. “You want to save your little witch, don’t you?”

  Can someone be saved from what seems to be her fate? “So?”

  “I can help you.” He drew closer. “I can make sure the vision her mother had won’t come true.”

  Demon’s lie, my inner hunter screamed. “How?”

  He looked me in the eye. “I assume you know by now that your precious little girlfriend will become a dark queen?”

  Did I? All I had was the word of Manda’s mother and some ancient prophecy foreshadowing Manda’s fate.

  “I don’t like change,” he went on. “And I absolutely abhor answering to a woman who could wipe me out with the power of her thoughts while being so painfully immune to my magic.” He was scared of Manda. “So I’m offering you a one-time deal. I make sure she won’t go dark—”

  “Why?”

  “I just told you,” he replied. “I’m not into feminism. Plus, the boss would be eternally grateful for saving his throne.” I always figured even the devil would bow down before Manda.

  “And what is it you want in return for your service?” I couldn’t believe I considered his offer. Hunters—drunk or not, suicidal, or not—know better than that.

  “What demons always want…” He shrugged one shoulder. “Your soul.”

  I laughed so hard, my guts cramped. “You’re insane.” He was more than that; he was fucking delusional. I’d never in a million years make a deal with hell. Never.

  “Am I?” he questioned. “Let’s see. It’s either this.” Like a flash of lightning he stood in front of me, pressing his index finger between my eyebrows. Vicious pain stabbed through my head, my heart, my soul. It was pure torture. Only lasted a few seconds though. Then the pain gave away to images of Manda walking toward iron gates. Green flames lit up everything around her. Screams echoed through the smoke. Hands stretched through the ashes. She walked over corpses with a damn smile plastered across her face. And the world, the world we knew, it no longer existed. It was an extension of the pit. A dark hole without any sense of hope or love. “This.” Another image popped up. Amanda on her knees. I had my gun pressed against her forehead and pulled the damn trigger, scattering her brain tissue all over the ground. “Or this.” I saw Manda, old and gray, on a porch watching her grandchildren plant some herbs in the garden.

  I stepped back, unable to process what just happened.

  “So what’s it going to be, hunter?” He tilted his head to the side. “Door number one, two, or three?”

  “Fuck you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Tick tock…tick—”

  ****

  All demon, witch, and hunter eyes are on me. They share the what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you look.

  “Back up,” Jesse says, lifting himself up against the wall. “You made a deal with a demon to keep Manda from becoming a dark queen and now that very deal is what’s forcing her to go dark?”

  My heart skips a few beats. “I—” Never saw it like that? Didn’t know she cared enough about me to trade places with me? Was a stupid asshole for doubting her?

  “Why the fuck didn’t you talk to me, Alex?” Jesse isn’t just pissed. He’s raving mad and on the brink of sending me to hell himself.

  “It was part of the deal,” Chelsea says. “My brother made sure Alex couldn’t tell anyone about Amanda, or the deal would have been void.”

  Yup. She’s on point. “It’s why I begged you not to tell Manda. It’s why I refused to ask her for help.”

  Jesse’s eyes widen with realization. “Man, and all this time I thought you truly believed she didn’t care about what would happen to you.”

  “I still don’t get it,” B grumbles. “If you weren’t supposed to tell Manda, then—”

  “We are thousands of years old,” the Nun cuts her off. “And my brother has been planning this for a very long time. You”—she looks at me—“were a pawn in his game, Alexander. And let me assure you, he plays chess like nobody’s business.”

  “Think about it,” Demon-Boy goes on. “The vision Amanda’s mother had of her ruling the underworld, the mysterious death of the guy who attacked her in that alley, you selling your soul to the First Knight to save her, even Francoise enslaving your little brother—it all led up to this.”

  Pink Nail Polish blows out a frustrated breath. “It all led up to her trading places with you, therefore being forced to do the First Knight’s bidding.”

  B gets it. “He planted the vision?” The Nun nods. “You’re saying he made her mother believe she was evil, so she’d become evil?”

  “That’s sick,” Jesse hisses.

  “Or”—the Nun straightens—“ingenious. I mean, once he killed the guy in the alley and planted enough evidence that would lead you to Amanda’s witch-secret, he knew you’d never be able to trust her again. So he approached you and offered you the one thing he was certain you would do anything for—Amanda’s life.”

  Pink Nail Polish nods. “Yup, and then he made sure the bokor enslaved your brother, knowing there’s only one person you’d ask for help. Amanda.”

  I’m still stuck at the she-turned-dark-because-of-you part. “Are you saying all of this is happening because I didn’t trust her?”

  The Nun’s harsh eyes soften. “Yes, Alexander. That’s exactly what we’re saying.”

  “It’s called a self-fulfilling prophecy,” Pink Nail Polish explains. “You were so scared she would go dark, you made her go dark.”

  Have you ever been blown up? No? Good. Because after your soul shatters into pieces and unspeakable pain digs into your heart, you’re left with nothing but a burned-out shell.

  “What about Leandro?” At least B’s still able to speak. “What’s his role in all of that?”

  The Nun faces the mamba. “Knowing my brother, I assume he’ll use him as a bargaining chip.” Her gaze darts to me. “The witch would have gone to purgatory for you, Alexander. But as much as she loves you, and as selfish as she might be, she wouldn’t end the world for you. The boy? That’s a whole other story.”

  A story about a mother who would do just about anything to keep her child safe—even if it brought upon the apocalypse.

  “If we find the boy,” Demon Boy says. “We might be able to stop her.”

  “That is if the other hunters don’t find him before us,” Pink Nail Polish adds.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, heart thundering in my ears.

  The Nun squints. “I’m surprised your Malleus friend didn’t tell you. There’s a bounty on your son’s head. Every Malleus member is looking for him. It’s why my brother hid him and the witch’s sister.”

  I have a son. I’m the reason Manda is some demon’s bitch. And the Malleus Maleficarum Order is trying to kill my son. I swear if this day gets any worse, I’ll voluntarily go to hell.

  Jesse stares me down. “Your son?”

  “Long story,” B says.

  “I have time,” he assures her.

  “No, you don’t.” The Nun sighs. “None of us do.”

  “Wait.” B’s brows fly up. “If Leandro was hidden by your asshole brother then why do you think we know where he is?” That girl’s mind works despite a dislocated jaw.

  The Nun gawks at me. “We know Amanda contacted you. She must have told you something.”

  “Yeah, she begged me to put a bullet in her brain.”

  “Liar,” Demon-Boy yells.

  Jesse narrows his eyes. “Rich, coming from a demon.”

  “Enough.” The Nun pulls a knife out of her pocket and presses it against my brother’s throat. “Either you tell us what we want to know, or you all die. Choice is yours.”

  “We don’t know where she is,” I repeat with enough force to pull Pink Nail Polish’s gaze off her nails.

  The Nun sighs. “Well, then we don’t have any use for you.”

  She slices Jesse’s skin.

  “Stop,” B yells.

  “Give me one good reason.�
�

  “I’ll help you find Amanda, b—”

  “Bonnie,” Jesse shouts. “What are you—”

  “But,” she goes on, “on my terms.”

  I shoot daggers at her. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  She ignores me. Focusing solely on her possessed roommate. “Do we have a deal?”

  The demon grins like the Cheshire cat. “Lay out your terms, doll.”

  Chapter 25

  Amanda

  I should focus on getting Leandro and Melinda away from Clyde’s men. I should plan an escape for them, a rescue mission. Instead, I press my forehead against the cool window of Clyde’s Audi, trying to silence the voice coming from that damn First Grimoire.

  Yeah, the book speaks. It calls out to me from the backseat. “You can’t trust men,” it says over and over. “They make you then they break you. They don’t deserve to breathe. They need to perish. All of them.”

  I’m a feminist at heart. This, however, isn’t feminism. It’s pure and utter hate, directed at one gender only. And while I had my heart broken before, I fail to understand how bitter one must be to fall into the abyss of such hostility.

  “How are you, love?” Clyde keeps asking me every five minutes. I blame the black veins spreading from my hands toward my heart. “Do you need a break?”

  A break from life itself would be much appreciated. A break from driving to the location of the next ritual? Not so much. What’s the point? It’s not like I can escape its performance.

  “Amanda,” he whispers. “Talk to me.” He bats his thick black lashes, courtesy of his newest vessel—a five foot ten, future rock star—at me. “Please?” The creature is a walking and talking contradiction. One minute, he’s full of wrath and loathing. The next, he acts like the mother I never had. You know, one who actually cares about my well-being.

  “I’m fine,” I hiss, unable to keep the loathing I feel for this creature under the blankets. What did he expect? That I’d roll out the red carpet, and drop on my knees to worship him after he showed me that video of Melinda and Leandro? Yeah, not going to happen, pal.

  His gaze remains on me. Luckily, he keeps his damn mouth shut.

  We drive for hours without exchanging any more words. That doesn’t mean silence rules the fancy car. Quite the contrary. The voice of the book grows louder and louder. At first, the book keeps on repeating its men-hating mantra. But as time passes, it starts to speak to me directly. “Why do you resist me?”

  Because you’re a mad bitch who wants to destroy the damn world? A world in which the people I care about live.

  “You’re weak, Amanda.” It laughs like a damn hyena. “Look at you. A mighty witch, born of the strongest blood and all you care about is saving a man who despises your very existence.”

  Shut up!

  “I was in love once, too.”

  No fucks are given.

  “He was beautiful. Strong and kind, sweet but protective—the perfect man,” she continues. “We were going to give ourselves to each other, tying the everlasting red knot that would bind our lives together forever.”

  Let me guess, he stood you up because he realized what a crazy bitch you were?

  “No.” The voice thunders through my brain. “He promised me to stay with me for all eternity. Then he found out who I was, the daughter of the Queen of Night, the creature who broke every law between heaven and hell.”

  Sob story. Yay!

  “Be quiet!” it yells, bursting my damn eardrum. “You don’t know what it feels like to be left for your blood. I wasn’t my mother. I despised her just as dearly as he did. And yet he gave me no chance. Instead, he went on to live happily ever after with someone else.”

  All right, I get it. It sucks what he did to you. But just because one dude is a freakin’ asshole doesn’t mean all of them are.

  “See,” it says, cheerfully. “That’s where you’re wrong. They use you, abuse you, then leave you.”

  Have you ever considered therapy? I bet Dr. Phil would love to work your men-hater case.

  “How many times did your great hunter threaten to kill you, Amanda?”

  None of your damn business.

  “He pointed his gun at your head when you were carrying his child,” it goes on. “Tell me, is a man like him worth your love? He used you to save his brother, then abused you when he no longer needed you.” It pauses. “He never loved you. And he will never be able to love your son.”

  Shut up!

  “It’s true,” it says. “You know it is. Why else would you have kept that boy a secret for so long?”

  I throw my hands over my ears. “Shut the fuck up!”

  Clyde’s disturbed gaze darts to me. “I didn’t say anything, love.”

  “I…I—” I shake my damn head, trying to rattle the madness out of me.

  “Are you sure you don’t need a break?” he asks, crossing the state line into Idaho.

  “Just drive,” I bark, fire coursing through my blackened veins.

  Chapter 26

  Alex

  When it comes to women, my brother has an exclusive taste. Bonnie Lacroix isn’t just a pretty face with the body of a Victoria’s Secret model and the brains of Stephen Hawking. The mamba is one helluva negotiator, too. The terms she threw at the Nun? They were meticulously worded and thought through ’til the very end. I sincerely wish she’d been by my side when I struck my deal. I have a feeling we wouldn’t be in this mess had she been.

  The Nun gazes at the blazing contract. “Who taught you how to deal with hell?” Yup, I’m not the only one impressed by B’s skills.

  She shrugs. “You learn a thing or two when demons can ride you anytime they please.”

  A thing or two, huh? She’s big on modesty. B got Jesse and herself healed, made sure the demons wouldn’t harm Leandro in any way, and convinced the Nun to free me from my shackles. In return, she swore to find Manda and promised neither Jesse nor I would attempt anything stupid. You know, like shooting at demons with bullets that can’t kill them.

  There’s only one term the demon refused to agree upon—keeping Manda safe. Not from a lack of trying on the mamba’s part, that I can assure you. She did her best, came up with plenty of arguments to talk the Nun into it. But one argument trumped all the others. The Nun pointed out that when it came down to rescuing Manda or the whole of creation, she’d opt for the latter. Of course, a demon doesn’t give a shit about the greater good. What she does care about, however, is the survival of her own kind. To secure it, she would gladly sacrifice Manda. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t sign the deal. Because there’s no way in heaven or hell, I’ll let them hurt Manda.

  The Nun’s gaze drifts over the mandala B draws onto the cement floor of the NYU basement. Yeah, looks like we never left the building. The demons simply locked us in the boiler room. “And you’re absolutely certain this will work?” she asks, less than convinced.

  B casts her a murderous look. “Will your lackey get me the ingredients?”

  “Don’t talk about my brother like that,” Pink Nail Polish warns.

  B rolls her eyes. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m beginning to miss old Jules.” Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. Between dealing with the Nun and getting us out of the boiler room, B mentioned Pink Nail Polish’s real name is Jules. Apparently, she and the Nun—both members of the religious fanatic league—are BFFs. B said their mission was to make her and Manda’s lives hell. Ironic, considering they’re now possessed by demons.

  “He’ll get what you need,” the Nun assures B, stepping between the two girls.

  B conjures up a half-hearted smile. “Then, yes. I’m sure it’ll work.”

  Jesse drops his hands in his lap. “What the hell does she think she’s doing?” he murmurs, next to me. “She’s a goddamn voodoo priestess. She should know better than to deal with hell.” He’s pissed and worried. Never a great combination when it comes to a Remington.

  “She’ll be okay,” I assure him. B’s a
s tough as they come. She can handle the demons.

  Jesse casts me a sidelong glance. “And what about Manda, Alex?” His nose twitches. “Is she going to be okay, too? Because last time I checked, those mothers didn’t guarantee her free passage.”

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to her,” I swear.

  He laughs dryly. “Like you didn’t already.”

  Damn! A fucking stab in the heart is what that was. Can’t blame him, though. I am responsible for Manda’s misery. I have no one but myself and my lack of faith in her to blame for the shit that’s going down.

  Jesse sighs heavily. “I’m sorry, man. I—”

  “Don’t be.” I glare at the gray floor. “You have every right to be pissed at me.”

  “I do.” He pats my shoulder. “But I also know you have a lot going on and none of this can be easy on you.” He’s referring to Leandro. B filled him in after she got him healed and before she signed the deal.

  “I’m okay.”

  He shifts closer. “C’mon, man. Whom are you trying to bullshit? This has got to fuck with your mind. Knowing you have a s—” He cuts himself off.

  “A son?” I finish what he clearly can’t.

  “Yeah.”

  Choking back the lump in my throat, I stare at the colorless walls. “I just…I can’t believe she didn’t tell me, Jess. I had a right to know.” Sure, her letter gave me reasons as to why she kept Leandro from me, but I can’t shake the feeling her fear—I couldn’t love him due to his witch blood—played a major role in her decision. “Did she really think I’m that kinda guy?” I ask more myself than anyone else. “A guy who would leave his own child?”

  Jesse props his elbows on his knees. “Did you ever tell her how you feel about her?”

  “What’s that got to do with keeping my son a secret?” Plenty of parents are separated. Doesn’t mean they can’t be there for their kids.

  “Dude,” he says, pressing his thumbs against his eyebrows. “Are you serious right now? You threatened to kill her”—he meets my gaze—“how many times?”

  “If I wanted her dead, she’d be dead.” It’s true. I never hesitated before a kill. The second I aimed my Beretta at her, and gazed into those sad emerald eyes, I knew I’d rather shoot myself than her. How could she ever think I’d pull that fucking trigger?