Games of Fate (Fate ~ Fire ~ Shifter ~ Dragon #1)

by Kris Austen Radcliffe

  Ladon planned to use the Sister-free peace to cook the women breakfast. Perhaps he’d make a frittata with basil from the garden and fresh eggs from the coop. Acceptance and a friendly gesture might help Mira to be generous with her answers.

  Ladon padded across the cool floor and swung open the door. The hinges squeaked, the iron halting as he pushed. He’d install a new counterweight system so the massive wood panel glided. Scratching at his stomach again, he peered at the rivets on the latch. With Rysa living here—

  The tang of Burner hit his nose in full, clawing fury. He pressed his back against the stone wall, his eyes searching the main cavern.

  Shifters and a few Fates had tried to get in since Sister and Sister-Dragon began excavation more than two centuries ago. The entrance vault kept them out. The ventilation system’s fortifications confounded everyone but the dragons. No one got in.

  Not unless invited.

  Did Billy damage Mira’s mind? But a Burner couldn’t sustain thought long enough to brainwash a Fate. She’d done this on her own.

  Flat against the wall, Ladon’s senses primed to detect movement, breath, blood flow. Somewhere near the mouth of the cave, Rysa gasped.

  Every muscle uncoiled and he ran toward the kitchen, his bare feet gripping the stone floor. He stopped just out of sight of the cabinets, his breath still. Whispers spilled from the sink area. He heard a tug and a push, followed by Rysa whimpering.

  He crept along, silent in the shadows. Rysa stood in the bright light flooding the kitchen, her back against the table. Eyes blank with a vision, she shook. Her fingers bent into claws.

  Behind her on the table, clutching to her throat a dagger forged from the same night metal as Metus’s swords, crouched Faustus. Mira sniveled in the corner.

  “Ladon-Human,” Faustus murmured. “It’s about time you woke up.” His seer danced with Rysa’s, small movements here, another there.

  Her nose bled.

  “Let her go.” Ladon’s chest tensed. The more the bastard twisted the spike, the more damage he did. And the more pain he inflicted.

  Faustus yanked on Rysa’s neck. “No blackouts, pumpkin. Alert and in the moment is what we want.”

  Mira screamed a blistering string of Latin profanity and whipped a plate at Faustus’s head. It slammed against the wall and shattered into a spray of ceramic chips.

  Rysa slipped to the left but her uncle held tight. The bastard yowled, a bitter sound reflecting his effort to hold her seers at bay. “Mira, take the burndust I brought and quit your pathetic bawling.”

  Mira shrieked and hurled another dish. So she’d let him in for burndust, seeking it like some useless junkie. Ladon should have seen this coming. He shouldn’t have offered trust, even with her apology. If the damned dust calmed the sickness, she’d need it now.

  Yet Mira threw dishes. She let Faustus in, but regretted it. Damned Fates, never strong enough to fight their futures.

  Maybe she’d find her backbone. Ladon picked up a dirty glass from the counter and flung it at Mira’s head. If her present-seer showed his intent, she’d cooperate, dust-addled or not.

  “Shut up, cow!” he barked, pointing at her as he released the glass.

  Screaming, she ducked. Dramatic flailing followed, as he had hoped. Faustus’s attention flitted to his sister.

  Rysa jerked free of his grip.

  Ladon lunged. Dagger up, Faustus sliced, but Rysa yanked on her uncle’s arm. Off balance, he dropped the dagger, missing Ladon’s stomach by a fraction of an inch. Ladon slid across the table and landed on the other side.

  Rysa flung herself over the surface and into his arms. He picked her up, her clammy skin a shock against his, and set her down behind his back. Her entire body shook. She pressed her forehead between his shoulder blades.

  “Help her!” Ladon bellowed. If Faustus didn’t release the spike, he’d cause permanent damage, not unlike the ravages caused by the Parcae sickness. No healer could counter it, no matter their skill.

  “You’re the one addicted, you damned fiend! I didn’t let you in for the dust.” Mira leaned against a counter. “You’re killing her.” She buckled forward, panting. “Fix what you did, brother! How many of our triad’s children do you have to send to their deaths? Les Enfants are shadows of who they could have been, all because of you. How many of our babies do you have to murder? Fix my daughter or I will gouge your eyes from their sockets!”

  Faustus’s future-seer thundered through the kitchen and he rolled his eyes. “No, you won’t.” He pointed at a plastic bag on the counter. “The dust will make you feel better. Stop the pain in your joints.”

  “You’re going to die,” Mira muttered.

  “Quiet, dear sister.” Faustus shook his head, sneering.

  “I don’t know what your seer has shown you.” Ladon held Rysa against his back. “Whatever is coming is not my doing. Nor is it Sister’s. You should understand that. All the Fates should understand that.”

  “Parcae!” Faustus scowled.

  “I won’t go with you,” Rysa murmured.

  “What was that, pumpkin? Did you have something to add?” Faustus leaned toward her.

  Ladon twisted to stay between them.

  “Oh, I think you will. The pain’s so strong you’ll do anything to make it stop.”

  “I’ll die first.”

  Faustus’s eyebrows arched. “Ha! You’ll kill him first.”

  “Get out!” Mira shuffled forward. “Twenty centuries and I’ve always done what my seer told me to do. I shouldn’t have listened this time.”

  “You know none of us has a choice.” He jumped and latched onto Mira’s neck. “I won’t kill you, but I will snap a bone or two.”

  Mira hit Faustus with a full blast from her present-seer, a colossal wave of power rolling off her body. Ladon stumbled and Rysa let go, gasping as she fell to the floor.

  Mira’s elbow landed in Faustus’s gut. “I hate you! You goddamned monster! I’ve always hated you!” She bent over, vomiting onto the kitchen’s stone floor.

  “Ladon!”

  He spun just as the Burner punched. Encased head to toe in a wet suit, the ghoul looked ready for a dive into the ocean. He gave off a faint whiff of the Burner odor anyway. Huge and ugly, he hit harder than any Burner Ladon had dealt with before.

  The ghoul punched again but Ladon ducked and rammed him against the stovetop. He kicked and the Burner rolled, his fist coming down hard on Ladon’s kidneys. Ladon breathed through it and seized the stove’s grating. He swung. Twenty pounds of metal contacted the Burner’s jaw.

  “Let go of me!”

  Faustus hauled Rysa into the tunnel, but she kicked at his knee. Dodging, he bounced her head against the wall.

  She crumpled to the stone floor. Ladon’s focus constricted to her, to the damage her uncle caused, and he willed her his strength. He’d will her his life, if he could. He’d give her everything.

  She gasped, her back arching.

  Ladon dropped the grating and sprinted down the tunnel. If he could get enough distance between—

  The Burner slammed him into the rock. Mouth wide in a stiff sneer, teeth luminous, the ghoul pressed a palm against his own face and clicked his neck and jaw back into place. His other hand sizzled around Ladon’s throat.

  The bastard blew an acid kiss.

  Ladon coughed. His eyes blurred and he twisted against the ghoul’s grip. “You’re dead, Faustus!” he yelled down the tunnel.

  Faustus wrenched Rysa’s hair and dragged her away without a response. He offered no grunt or snigger or comeuppance, only his sour gaze as she screamed and kicked against his grip.

  Ladon tried to lunge but the Burner held him fast. “Not so tough without the dragon, are you?” The ghoul laughed.

  “Rysa! Fight!” Maybe she’d get away. She was strong enough.

  Faustus hit her again. He pointed past Ladon into the kitchen. “Mira! Come!”

  Rysa panted, clawing at his grip.

  Ladon pun
ched but the Burner hissed and banged his shoulders against the rock. The ghoul tisked, sparks flying off his teeth.

  “Fate binds us, Ladon-Human.” Mira shuffled by and down the tunnel. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  Rysa bit Faustus’s wrist.

  He hit her again. “Bite me one more time and the stone wall will be the last thing you see, you little bitch.”

  Mira hit Faustus’s back. “She’s your niece!”

  The Burner scratched at his forehead with one hand while he fried Ladon’s neck with his other. He might be strong, but he was still stupid.

  Ladon grabbed the rock wall and lifted both legs. He kicked, his heels shooting down into the ghoul’s knees.

  They both tumbled into the tunnel.

  Ladon came down on top of the ghoul, one knee smashing into his face. The Burner’s nose and jaw cracked. Wheezing, he threw off Ladon. Middle fingers jabbing the air, he bolted into the cave.

  Toward Dragon.

  Faustus dropped over the ledge at the entrance, Rysa with him. “Go save your beast, Ladon-Human,” he called.

  “Rysa!” The damned Burner didn’t know where to look. Ladon would grind Faustus into pulp and then take care of the ghoul—

  Mira’s seer chimed through the tunnel, so strong Ladon cringed. She pointed over his head, her eyes wide. “Go!” she yelled, and dropped off the ledge.

  Ladon skidded, turning on his heels, his body instinctively listening to the warnings of a powerful present-seer. How many times had he regretted pausing before listening to Timothy? He darted through the kitchen, picking up Faustus’s dagger as he sprinted into the living quarters. The ghoul ran through the garden, moving fast. Ladon threw the dagger, praying that this one time he’d be good enough without the beast.

  The dagger sliced through the Burner’s spinal cord and lodged hilt-deep in his chest, the tip a dark point protruding from his breast bone. He crystallized, imploding into a point above Sister’s salad vegetables.

  The blast ricocheted off the walls and blew over a storage shed.

  The plots lay shredded, a wide crater in their place. A fruit tree toppled. Benches caught fire. Six panes of the draconis fenestra shattered, the leaded crystal raining onto the library.

  Ladon bounced against the cavern’s rock wall.

  He dropped to his knees. His home ripped apart. Rysa gone.

  Her uncle meant to turn her Burner and Ladon let it happen. He let Faustus drag her away. He might have to take her life, exploding her newly-incendiary body, all because he couldn’t take the chance of being too far from Dragon.

  He needed to hold his psyche together, to keep his wits about him. If he descended too far, the beast would wake a hunter and smear flat every Fate within a thousand miles.

  He couldn’t. Rysa did not want him to become a monster like Faustus.

  Something glinted on the cave wall. It flashed and he stared across the cavern at the spot. The threatening rupture of his control froze, entranced by the dancing light, and he stood up. His eyes focused, the spot flashing again. Walking through the shattered field and past the smoldering apple tree, he watched the glints of light. He continued walking, moving around a storage shed and the stream.

  Mira’s wedding band hung tied to a string, a note taped beside it. He pulled it off, turning it over in the reflected sunlight.

  He unfolded the paper. Across the front, written in Mira’s precise hand, was an address on the outskirts of Salt Lake City. An address, and three words: “You are right.”

  A new fear tumbled through his gut. Faustus couldn’t see the possibilities beyond turning Rysa. Once the venom hit her blood, she’d vanish from his future-seer, cloaked in chaos. No one could read Burners. So he didn’t know.

  She wouldn’t create an army. She never could. The venom would kill her.

  Shifters always died.

  He had no way of heading it off. Dragon slept and would for another day. They’d follow, but they’d be too late.

  Ladon flipped the note over, fighting a need to shred the paper. Three more words were scrawled across the back: “Wake the beast.” Followed by another four: “What makes you tremble?”

  Ladon stared at the paper. He didn’t tremble. Nothing made him tremble. But… he looked down at the swath of skimmed hair on his chest. He and the beast, they mirrored more than their energy.

  A single chuckle rose from his throat.

  He touched Rysa’s spot before running for Dragon’s nest.

  42

  The storm lit the building like a forties black and white horror movie. Lightning flashed. Reflections thrust across the glass and brick surface in jarring, high contrast angles.

  A giant boomerang seventeen stories tall, the building’s top floors weren’t finished. The roof shredded the sky like the open jaw of a shark-toothed ogre.

  And like an ogre, it dominated the land surrounding it.

  Rysa leaned against her mother as they rode up the elevators at the center of the behemoth. When her uncle jerked them onto an open level, she heaved forward, stumbling.

  “Let her go.” Mira’s present-seer hissed across the concrete deck of the unfinished floor. Her chiming had been subsumed by a faster, discordant vibration that rattled Rysa’s teeth.

  Faustus squinted and slapped her mother.

  The spike in Rysa’s head bled colorless heat into the void behind her eyes. About half way between Rock Springs and Salt Lake City, her uncle shut down her seers and her nasty yelped once before cowering under her consciousness. She felt nothing. Not the spike, or her pain, or any of the emotions that should be flooding her mind.

  I’m normal again, she thought. Back to the hyperactive girl who failed school but aced tests. Who scared the other kids because she knew. Who hid with her toys and dreamed of a day when she’d swim in lakes and explore caves.

  Back before Ladon helped her find the will to fight for the life she wanted.

  Plastic tarps snapped and dust blew into her eyes when the wind gusted through the open walls.

  “Let us go,” Mira pleaded. “Please.”

  Faustus slapped her mom again, wiggling his fingers when he pulled back. “You don’t see the visions. You don’t know what they’re going to do.” He wiped Mira’s tears on his pant leg.

  “You don’t understand what you’re seeing! How could you? You destroyed our sister.” She waved her swollen knuckles. “You destroyed me. The future means nothing unless you understand its foundations.”

  “Is that so?” Faustus snorted. “Yet here you are, propelled by the same power that propels all Parcae.” He grabbed Rysa’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  “No!” Mira swung at him. Faustus bent her wrist and she screamed.

  “Next time, I break it.” He waved at Rysa. “Only we were capable of dealing with this. No one else could maneuver the Dracae. Only the Jani Prime.”

  “I hate you,” Rysa screamed. “You murdered those people in Chicago! The Burners were your tool. You did it. You destroyed Ismene’s life. You twist and destroy everyone you touch.” Rysa tried to pull away but Faustus slapped her across the mouth. The sting pushed onto her tongue.

  Mira spit at her brother. “I sent her to Ladon! When we were young, when we all served the Empire and his sister claimed retribution and you and Ismene paid dearly for our father’s conceit, Ladon never treated me or our sister like meat. Not once. He let us live when the Dracas wanted our heads.”

  Surprise darted across Faustus’s features.

  “That’s right! He’s always regretted what he did! The first time Ismene and I escaped from you? When the ash from the mountain fell? When you and Father schemed? We found him. He let us go! Ismene and I tried to hurt him but he made sure we reached the port. He’s a better man than you. He’s always been a better man!” Mira tried to pull Rysa to her side. “I wasn’t hiding from our sister. I was hiding from you.”

  Ladon only told Rysa about the girl. He didn’t tell her that he’d protected her mom. But he wouldn
’t. Protecting is what he did. To him, it wasn’t special.

  Mira yanked her face around so they were eye-to-eye. “I do forgive him, honey. He’s worth forgiving. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “Mom.” Her mother never felt she had a choice.

  Faustus’s ice-cold grip clamped down on Rysa’s bicep. Mira’s pleading hands pawed, her eyes wild with a whirlwind of love and hate.

  “It changes nothing.” Faustus shoved Mira into a stack of sheetrock.

  “You are as much Torres as you are Jani.” Mira held up her bandaged forearm for Rysa to see. “Maybe more. Use it, daughter!”

  Her mother’s words made no sense. Rysa’s dead emotions blocked any attempt she made at understanding.

  Faustus wound an electrical cord around Mira’s wrists and tugged her toward an open wall support. The cord snapped against the metal as he bound her mom’s arms to the teeth of the building. “You’re staying here.”

  “You’re going to die!” Mira yelled. “You undo what you’ve done or you’re going to die!”

  Faustus dug his fingers into Rysa’s back and pushed her forward. “So says the present-seer.”

  They walked from the elevators into the left wing of the building, around a gas-powered winch attached to a spooled cable. Faustus snatched down plastic sheeting and the wind cracked it against his face before it tumbled away. He spit out dust. “You can hate me all you want. It will have no effect on the future. You’ll birth an army. They’ll follow you.”

  Twice Faustus pushed Rysa over pallets of concrete blocks and stacks of girders.

  “I will not do this.” Words held power, Ladon told her. She’d use hers to find her strength. She’d snatch her control back. Her uncle interfered, but her seers—her nasty—were part of her. Not him.

  Faustus continued droning. “After a while, you won’t remember hating me. You won’t remember your mother. You won’t remember sleeping with the Dracos. But you’ll always be Parcae, and you will always go to your fate.”

  “Shut up.”