Strange Fates (Nyx Fortuna)

by Marlene Perez

  She waggled a finger at me to tell me I’d been a naughty boy, and then smiled at me, showing her razor-sharp teeth. She gestured to Alex, making a motion to give him to her.

  I shook my head and she howled again, a ferocious primal scream that scared me all the way to the marrow of my bones. She wasn’t messing around this time. I could never outswim a sea hag. My best bet was to stand and fight.

  She lunged for me. She came close enough for me to see each individual glistening scale on her tough skin. I caught a whiff of her breath, which was like the odor of the slime that grew in trapped water.

  Alex’s weight slowed me down enough that her next swipe with her long fingernails took a gash out of my leg. I sent her sprawling, and her head connected with a stone column. I heard a crack, but didn’t wait around to see if she was still alive. I swam.

  I was already winded by the time I broke the surface of the water. Alex chose that moment to start shrieking, which would let every naiad within five miles know where we were.

  I clapped a hand over his mouth. “Alex, cut it out. Now.” He continued to flail and shriek, and I was growing weaker.

  “If you want to see your sister again, shut the hell up!”

  He went silent and still. I could barely see the shore. A heavy fog had rolled in, concealing more than it revealed. The shore looked a long way off, but I got Alex in a firefighter’s hold and swam awkwardly to shore.

  I threw Alex onto the beach and then collapsed there next to him. I was so tired, but I couldn’t rest yet. I had to get Alex to safety.

  I walked to Elizabeth’s house, still half carrying Alex, but the house was dark. I could have broken in, but it would be safer back at my apartment. And Talbot would be there for reinforcements. I hiked to my car. It was after 1 A.M. and the temperatures had dropped. We wouldn’t last long out there in that weather. Alex was shivering and blue by the time we made it back to the car.

  I helped him into the passenger seat of the Caddy and then turned the heater on full blast. He rocked back and forth, mumbling to himself. Every few minutes, he stopped and cocked his head, listening. “They know,” he said. “They know.”

  He was freaking me out. The sooner I got him to Elizabeth, the better. I parked in front of her house and waited, but she never showed. Alex finally fell asleep and I started the car and cruised through the quiet Minneapolis streets.

  Where was she? I wanted to tell her that Alex was safe, that he was finally free, but I couldn’t even find her.

  I didn’t want her gratitude. I wanted to reunite her with Alex and get her out of my life for good. But Elizabeth never came home.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  I woke when the sun hit my closed eyelids. I stretched and smacked my elbow on the steering wheel. I was disoriented for a moment, unsure where I was. I stared bleary-eyed out the windshield, but it was frosted over.

  When I swore, my breath fogged in the air. I wiped it clear and stared out. I was parked about a block down from Elizabeth’s house. Alex was curled up in the passenger seat. At first I thought he was dead, but then I saw his shoulder rise. He was breathing.

  I turned the key and prayed that the Caddy would start. It rumbled to life and I headed to Talbot’s. I needed to have it out with my aunt and I didn’t want Alex to get caught in the crossfire.

  After depositing Alex at Talbot’s for safekeeping, I drove to Aunt Nona’s house and pounded furiously at the door until she answered.

  “Come in before one of the neighbors call the cops.” Her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in days, and she was wearing a black sack of a dress. There was little trace of the fashionable, confident woman who had been my aunt just a few days before.

  I shouldered my way past her. “Why are you still even here? You’re in danger.”

  She tried to act like she didn’t know what I was talking about.

  “Calm down, Nyx,” she said. “Now, why don’t you come in and tell us what this is all about?”

  I followed her into the kitchen. “How can you continue to trust that guy?” I asked. “Hate me if you want, but since when do the Fates operate on blind trust?”

  “We don’t,” she said.

  “Did you talk to Naomi? Did she tell you that I didn’t kill Sawyer?”

  She gazed at me with her ferocious mother eyes. “Leave my daughter out of this. Naomi has never harmed a soul.”

  There was a yet hovering on my tongue, but I didn’t say it. “I happen to like Naomi,” I replied. “And believe me, I’ve tried to tell her that it’s not the smartest idea to hang around me.”

  “Try harder,” she commanded.

  “Someone has tried to kill me,” I said. “At least twice.”

  She shrugged. “It happens.”

  “It happened to Sawyer.” Her icy calm cracked for a second at my comment, but she recovered quickly.

  “I’m one of the Fates,” she said. “We’re not exactly the most popular people on the planet.”

  So the rumors Ambrose had heard were true. Someone was gunning for the Fates.

  “Then you admit it’s possible that someone else killed Sawyer?”

  “You can never hide who you truly are, Nyx,” she said. “At least not for long.”

  “Who am I?”

  She shrugged. “That’s up to you. But you are not a killer.”

  “Not yet.”

  “You are your mother’s son,” she said, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did.

  “Who do you think killed Sawyer, then?”

  Her silence was my answer. She didn’t know. It wasn’t unheard of. The Fates didn’t know everything, but when they did know something, they couldn’t resist meddling.

  “Did you know that your necromancer husband was training Gaston?”

  She looked as though she might deny it, but finally said, “Former practitioner. He stopped before we got married. He was a civilian when he died.”

  “Sawyer is the one who taught Gaston how to call a revenant,” I said. “Your husband trained Gaston in the dark arts.”

  Nona sat down hard on a chair. “He would never do that.”

  “I’m sorry, but he did,” I said. “Sawyer’s the one who broke the occulo spell that concealed my identity—and after he did, Gaston stabbed him.”

  Her eyes darkened, and I caught a glimpse of the ruthlessness necessary for a Fate. “Then he will die.”

  “How did Gaston manage to fool you for so long?”

  “We are not all-knowing,” she said. “I saw him as he used to be, not who he had become.”

  I wondered if Gaston had been telling the truth about Sawyer having a secret daughter. And if it was true, did Nona know about Wren?

  My aunt didn’t look like she could handle any more bad news. I didn’t know how to help her, so I made some tea. I searched the cupboards until I found the bourbon and poured a liberal dose into Nona’s tea.

  “Nona, I know you’re hurting, but you have to believe me,” I said. “You and Naomi are in danger. Are you going to just let him get away with it?” I paced the length of her kitchen. “Gaston killed your husband. He tried to destroy the House of Fates.”

  “Who are you really angry with?”

  I met her eyes. “I’m angry with whoever trapped Alex Abernathy in that labyrinth.”

  “You think that I had something to do with it?”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything,” I said. “But it happened right under your eyes.”

  “You didn’t have to accuse me,” she said. “I can see it all in your eyes.”

  “Elizabeth told me everything,” I said. “How Morta kidnapped Alex, made a deal with Elizabeth to get her to break my heart.”

  She took a calm sip of her coffee, but her hand shook. “I didn’t know anything about it.”

  “You let that monster terrify an innocent girl right under your nose.”

  “Innocent? Elizabeth Abernathy?” My aunt’s tone said it all.

  She had a point.
r />   “You should not make decisions when you are angry.”

  “Are you trying to help me or hurt me?”

  “I have always wanted the best for you,” she replied.

  “Yeah, right,” I said. “That is, when you didn’t want me dead.”

  “You are your mother’s son—sensitive, kind, and with her good looks.”

  “But?”

  “There is no but,” she said. “Despite our…estrangement, I wish you no harm. Others, perhaps, do not feel the same.” I had a lifetime of proof that the Fates wanted me dead and now she wanted to be friends? It didn’t make sense unless she’d finally found someone she hated more than me. Gaston.

  “I’ve been considering your cease-fire,” I said. “And I accept. At least until we trap Gaston.”

  “Done,” she said.

  “Why now?” I asked.

  Her shoulders went tense, but she answered without a hitch. “Don’t you think it’s time? You are our only nephew.”

  “And Morta agreed to this?”

  She turned her back to me as she loaded a plate into the dishwasher. “She sees the benefits. We want to bring you into the business.”

  Was she talking about the fate business or Parsi Enterprises?

  “Morta’s figured something out,” she said. “A way to end it for you, even without a thread. Don’t make her do it, Nyx.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I finally said. “But in the meantime, you’ll work with me to trap Gaston?”

  She nodded. “He will regret taking on the Fates.”

  “Weren’t you kind of breaking the rules?” I asked. “Being married and all.”

  She looked startled. “There aren’t any rules about marriage,” she said. “Only…” She paused.

  “Only no sons,” I finished for her.

  “That’s because of the prophecy,” she said and then clapped a hand over her mouth.

  I didn’t put any faith in prophecies about destiny. “Do you mean to tell me that my own family wanted to kill me just because some seer needed to make a quick buck?”

  She shrugged. “We overreacted.”

  “What kind of prophecy?” I certainly wasn’t going to share what Talbot had learned.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Morta’s the eldest. She’s the one…” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

  “I get it,” I said. “Morta’s the boss. Do you think she’d go along with tricking Gaston?”

  * * *

  I spent a restless night on their couch.

  In the morning, I jumped up when I heard a noise in the kitchen. Nona was sitting at her kitchen counter with an untouched cup of coffee in front of her. She didn’t even glance up when I came in. “Don’t you want to punish Sawyer’s killer?” I asked, trying to shake her from her lethargy. “You’ve been sitting around when you should be kicking ass.”

  “Nyx, you know that I can’t interfere,” Nona said.

  I snorted. “What are you talking about? You always interfere. You live for it.”

  She shook her head. “Not anymore.”

  “Sawyer deserves better. Naomi deserves vengeance on the man who killed her father. Your husband.”

  Her head snapped up. “Things are not always as they seem,” she said, finally meeting my eyes.

  “That’s bullshit and you know it,” I told her. “You didn’t think twice about ruining my life.”

  “Elizabeth was supposed to bring you back into the family,” Nona said. “She wasn’t supposed to break your heart.”

  “Well, she did,” I said. I ignored the whole family-reunion thing.

  “Forgive her, Nyx,” she said. “Forgive yourself.”

  I knew we weren’t talking about Elizabeth any longer. “I don’t blame my mother for dying,” I said. “I blame you.”

  “It was her time.”

  “This is what I think we should do,” I said. “We’re going to stop Gaston from hurting anyone else ever again.”

  She gave me the first smile I’d seen since Sawyer died. “I’d like that. Very much.”

  “I need to see Elizabeth,” I said. “But I won’t tell her anything about what we’re planning.”

  “That’s a wise decision,” Nona said. “She loves her brother. She’ll do anything for him.”

  “She loves me, too,” I said, but the words rang hollow, even to my own ears.

  “Are you sure?” Nona replied. “Does she love you enough?”

  I didn’t know the answer to that question, but I knew I had to find out.

  First, I had to put the plan in motion. It killed me to pick up the phone and call Gaston, but I was out of options.

  “I have a proposition for you,” I said. “But I have a few conditions.”

  “I’m listening,” Gaston said shortly. I could tell that he didn’t like the fact that I was finally showing some balls, but too bad.

  He’d used Elizabeth to get to me. I’d been played and I didn’t appreciate it. It was time to get a little of my own back.

  The bastard was going to go down. He deserved to suffer as much as I had.

  Maybe all that ambrosia they’d been giving him to keep him alive had finally rotted his brain.

  “You said you had plans for the aunts,” I told him. “How can I help?”

  “I want you to steal something for me.”

  “What?”

  “Snip, snip,” he said.

  “You want Morta’s scissors?” I asked. “It’ll take me a few days.”

  “Call me when you get it,” Gaston said.

  After I hung up with him, I said, “He bought it.”

  There was a short pause. “Good,” said Nona.

  I went to Eternity Road to talk to Talbot. He was with a customer, but he took one look at my face and shooed the guy out the door.

  The door was barely locked before I spilled. “I am totally screwed,” I told him.

  “What has happened?”

  I told him everything I’d learned. “I’m missing something,” I concluded.

  “Gaston knows more about your family’s business than most,” Talbot commented. “Do you think Sawyer was the one who raised the revenant?”

  “I think so,” I said. “But I don’t know why. He seemed like he was in love with my aunt and she with him. She was devastated when he was killed. But I did wonder…”

  “Wonder what?” Talbot prompted me.

  “Why would he have a necromancer on his payroll?” The answer to my own question entered my brain.

  “You’ve thought of something,” he said.

  “Maybe,” I admitted. “But if it’s true, it’s pretty horrible.”

  “Tell me,” he demanded.

  “Alex mentioned that his mother talked to him. I thought he was just…unbalanced, but what if it’s true? What if Gaston threatened Sawyer, got him to summon Alex’s mother to drive Alex crazy? And then used the spirit to do his dirty work?”

  “Why would he do that?” Talbot said. “That’s monstrous.”

  “I have no idea,” I replied. “But I’m going to find out.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The next few days were spent drinking at the Red Dragon and waiting to hear from Gaston.

  Talbot had Alex stashed somewhere safe, with wards surrounding him. I wasn’t ready to reunite the siblings, not until I was sure it was safe.

  I didn’t like the idea that someone else was trying to kill my aunts. The prophecy said that was my job.

  He finally called. I drove to the Mall of America, headed straight to the food court, ordered lemonade, and then took a seat. Gaston wouldn’t do anything in public, not in the world of YouTube and viral videos.

  “Did you get them yet?’ He took a long sip of his orange soda.

  “Not yet,” I said. “I’m sure they’re jittery because of Sawyer’s death.” I kept my voice cool, unconcerned, even though I wanted to punch him.

  “I already nabbed the Book of Fates, but Morta is a little less trusting than Deci
.”

  “I want it all,” he said. “And when I get it, I promise you I’ll help find your thread of fate and cut it for you. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “That’s what I want,” I said. I’d wanted to die for a long time. Why was I so uneasy about the idea now?

  “Then we’re in agreement?”

  I crossed my arms. “Why do you think I can get the scissors when you couldn’t?”

  “Because you’re from the Wyrd family line,” he said.

  “You can’t touch them yourself,” I guessed.

  He frowned. “I’ve tried,” he finally admitted. “It didn’t go well.”

  “If you can’t touch them, what good are they?” I asked.

  He grinned at me. “That’s where you come in. You steal them and hand them over to me. I’ll be able to use them if they’re freely given to me by someone with Wyrd blood.”

  “I’ll do it, but the deal has changed,” I told him.

  “What do you want?” He didn’t seem surprised. Probably because it was something he would do.

  I named a sum that would make a Saudi prince gasp.

  “You want that kind of money and you don’t even know where to get what you need to acquire?”

  “You mean steal,” I corrected him.

  “Semantics,” he said. “I want you to steal Morta’s golden scissors,” he continued. “And then I’m going to cut her thread of fate.”

  “How am I supposed to find her scissors?” I said. “Or her thread of fate?”

  “That’s the easy part,” he said. “I’ll tell you where to look.”

  Gaston had been my aunts’ pet monkey for a long time. He was most likely planning a double cross, but I didn’t have a choice.

  * * *

  Morta lived in an elegant high-rise apartment downtown. No suburbia for her.

  It didn’t take much to slip inside behind a chatty couple and head up the stairs. The alarm would have been tricky, but Gaston very cooperatively gave me the code.

  She kept her golden shears in, of all places, the sewing room. The thought of my aunt placidly cutting out patterns with the same scissors she used to end lives seemed ludicrous, but the evidence was right in front of me.

  Rows of bright fabrics were neatly folded neatly on built-in shelving and an elaborate antique quilt hung on the opposite wall. The scissors were lying on a table covered by a partially finished quilt.