Fate's Fools Box Set

by Bell, Ophelia

  “She is a complicated woman,” I said. “But I doubt she’s after your worship.”

  “I owe her something. That message gave me the confidence to quit my old job and take this one. I’d been on the fence, then poof! This dream message came to me one night explaining that I was special, there were others like me, and we would be protected by other more powerful creatures than humans. I’d always felt different, but in the past year, it’s become harder to ignore. It’s like there’s been a small flame burning inside me that’s only gotten bigger.”

  “It’s your nature as bloodline,” I explained. “You have divine blood, but the link wasn’t awakened until Deva delivered the message.”

  She remained silent for a few moments, then cleared her throat. “Will you introduce me to her tomorrow?”

  When I looked at Nadia, the boisterous woman seemed humbled, almost reverent. She gave me an earnest look and I nodded in reply. “Of course you can meet her. I’m sure she wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  She smiled and exhaled, though I couldn’t tell whether it was in relief or satisfaction. A few minutes later, she shot me a playful grin. “Any chance you’ve got a brother?”

  I laughed her off with a dismissive shake of my head, but her question made me remember Fate’s little speech two weeks before. The bloodline were officially under Deva’s protection now, not to be harassed or harmed by Fate and its hounds, but only if she took responsibility for finding them soul mates. When Nadia slouched into a broody posture contrary to her earlier excitement, I couldn’t help but wonder if Deva would take time out of our current mission to find the woman a soul mate.

  8

  Llyr

  The hound turned into a semi-industrial area near the marina, then an empty parking lot beside a huge, blocky brick building with street art emblazoned across an entire wall. When I parked, Nadia was laughing.

  “You really are good, you know? This place isn’t exactly easy to find on a map, and it’s mislabeled on Google. It’s Houston’s best-kept secret, where indie music is concerned. But it doesn’t stop us from selling out shows, so the owner hasn’t been inclined to fix the issue. He loves the mystery.”

  She pushed her door open and hopped out, swinging her bulky purse onto her shoulder. “Come on, I’ll introduce you. He’s going to be so fucking stoked!”

  We followed her through a steel door that was the only part of the wall surrounding it not covered in a riot of colors. The dimly lit interior smelled of acrid cleaner with an undercurrent of stale alcohol.

  A narrow hallway led past a pair of restroom doors and into the cavernous space of the club itself, stark and empty with a stage to our right and two tiers of perimeter-hugging catwalks above. Light filtered in from high windows, but otherwise the place was poorly lit.

  Nadia led us to a sleek bar in time for a burly man to emerge from a doorway behind it, arms bunched with the weight of a crate he carried. He paused and gave her a grim look, then set the box on the bar with a grunt. Glass bottles clanked from within as he turned to her.

  “You’re in deep shit, girl,” he said. “Milo’s out for blood after hearing you never showed for your meeting with Swank.” He eyed me and my two friends, then tilted his chin at us. “Who’re they?”

  “They, my friend, are the reason Swank can kiss my ass. Why don’t you serve them up a few beers while I go talk to Milo and tell him our prayers are answered?”

  With that, she skipped off toward the opposite side of the stage, disappearing into the shadows.

  When I turned back to the bar, the big man held out a hand to me. “I’m Pete. Wanna share why the fuck Nadia thinks you three are such hot shit?”

  I took his hand and introduced myself, stepping aside to let Keagan and Rohan do the same. When Rohan moved into the light over the bar, Pete’s eyes narrowed for a second, then widened. He blinked as he studied the pair, then let out a loud, bellowing laugh.

  “Oh, hell no! She didn’t just get us Fate’s-fucking-Fools, did she? Jesus Christ, is it really you? Or . . . ” He studied me again. “Two of you, at least. Unless that Vegas show was to introduce new members. But that’s nothing new, at least lately. What the hell happened to the North brothers? I’ve always wondered.”

  He turned away, grabbed a handful of glasses from a rack behind him, and proceeded to pull pints of beer which he set in front of each of us, chuckling the entire time.

  Before I had a chance to sit and enjoy the drink, I caught movement from the direction of the stage. A bald man with a goatee emerged, dressed in slacks and a lavender button-up shirt. He paused long enough to look at the three of us, then turned with a scowl to Nadia.

  “No way,” he barked, stalking back to wherever he’d come from.

  Nadia shot us an irritated look before following him.

  “What was that about?” I asked, settling on a barstool and resolving to enjoy the beer before whatever drama was occurring reached us.

  Pete shook his head, turning to the box of liquor bottles he’d carried in and starting to unpack it.

  “Milo’s really fucking picky, is all. My guess is he wants the whole band present before making any offers. Deals go south fast when everyone’s not on board, and he doesn’t trust musicians any farther than he can throw them.”

  “He can trust us,” I said. “There are only two members of the band not here, and they need this gig as much as the rest of us. We’re all on board, trust me.”

  Pete held up his hands. “Hey, it’s not me you have to convince. But you should make sure your numbers are straight, because from where I sit, you’re missing a few more than two. At the very least you’re missing Ozzie West. I’ve followed Fate’s Fools for a long time, and there have been changes over the years—different members popping up, and such—but one thing that’s always been consistent is him. The drummer’s the fucking soul of a band.”

  Keagan set down his beer. “The fuck it is—” he began, and I held up my hand.

  “How many members do you think we have?”

  Pete shrugged. “Don’t think it’s been set, really. There were four original members . . . back before the name change when they were North by Northwest. That was Lukas, Iszak, and Evie North, and Ozzie West. Then it was just three. I guessed the girl went off and found a life.”

  Rohan leaned onto the bar. “How long have you been a fan, Pete?”

  He tilted his head back and the light caught on the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. His skin was ruddy from days in the sun, and the faint stubble that covered his cheeks and chin was distinctly gray. “Oh, since birth, I reckon.” He shot us all a wide grin. “My mom listened to bootlegs of the band when I was in the womb. I grew up on those, saw my first show at five. I swear those guys never aged. It was the craziest thing. But now I know why.”

  Pete pinned me with the wizened look of a man to whom the universe had recently revealed all its secrets. I darted a glance over my shoulder toward the club’s office, then back at him. “You’re bloodline too.”

  “Is that what you guys call us? I’d love to know more, but we don’t talk about it in mixed company. We know each other, though, which is something. When Nadia started working here, things changed. Not a lot, but half the acts she booked were like us. Not those idiots who were supposed to play tomorrow night—they were on Milo’s short list, not hers. I hope to fuck he gives you guys the gig. There are more like us who will come, trust me.”

  I filed that detail away to share with Deva later and enjoyed the second hoppy beverage Pete set in front of me. It seemed the Quorum’s ritual had worked as intended. The members of the bloodline we’d met so far were clearly loyal and secretive. They probably hadn’t anticipated the bloodline finding ways to communicate without revealing their secrets, though.

  Pete reached beneath the bar and pulled out a small stack of shiny postcards with the club’s logo and schedule printed on them. They looked unassuming enough until I flipped one over and revealed the small design almos
t hidden within the photograph of the painted mural on the wall outside.

  The Fate’s Fools insignia stared back at me—almost a trick of light, visible only if you looked at it the right way.

  “You see it, don’t you?” he asked.

  Keagan grabbed another card and examined it, Rohan looking over his shoulder. “Why this? We’ve never even played here before.”

  “Vegas was what opened our eyes,” Pete said. “After the dream three weeks ago, most of us . . . probably all of us . . . were confused as fuck. I could recognize others like me, but didn’t fucking dare say a word. We don’t talk about it even when we are together, but the fact is we need to be around our own kind.

  “I don’t even know who altered the mural. I just showed up one morning and it was different. Then more and more of us started coming over the past two weeks, and Nadia had these printed up to show that Destiny was a haven for our kind. Your music is the preferred playlist on dance night here. We have a DJ who does a techno mix. You should come back on Thursday, if you want to hear it.”

  “You’re saying the club’s entire clientele is bloodline?” Rohan asked.

  “Mostly,” Pete said. “Milo isn’t, and a few normies make it through the doors, but for the most part, they get turned away before they can even come in.”

  “We can ward the doors so they don’t even try,” I said. “Though that’d keep Milo out too.”

  Pete chuckled. “That wouldn’t be an issue for me, but no, we don’t mind them. It’s just more comfortable if we can be ourselves among our own kind. They’re none the wiser when they join us.”

  When Nadia came back out of the office with a scowl on her face, we all followed her progress across the wide expanse of floor and around the high-topped tables to the bar. By the time she sat down with a huff, Pete had a stiff drink poured and ready. She spat a series of expletives at it before downing it in a few gulps. Pete poured her another.

  “Bad news?” Keagan asked. “I thought he’d be on his knees, ready to offer us the keys to the kingdom.”

  “Me too,” she said. “But he won’t deal with any of you ‘wannabes.’ He wants Ozzie West, or there’s no deal. He’s the last original member still playing with you guys.”

  I bit back a curse and glanced at Milo’s office.

  “Let Llyr talk to him,” Keagan said. “He can be persuasive.”

  Nadia frowned. “Why not just call Ozzie and get him here? You can’t play the gig without your drummer, anyway.”

  The guys both remained silent, watching me and waiting for me to act. They didn’t just want me to talk to Milo, though—they expected me to walk in there and hypnotize him into doing what I asked. But that didn’t solve the bigger problem Nadia had just inadvertently pointed out: We needed our drummer for a gig like this one, and it wouldn’t go unnoticed that he was missing.

  None of Fate’s Fools popular songs would fly without percussion, and I didn’t want to risk doing long-term damage to Milo’s mind. Short-term persuasion was easy and benign. By the time the person regained their senses, we’d be long gone. But if I talked to Milo now and tried it, it would have to be powerful enough to persist for more than a few minutes, leaving him damaged as a result.

  I rapped my knuckles on the bar and gave Nadia a weary smile. “Wait here.”

  Keagan and Rohan both looked shock as I turned and strode back around the stage toward the hallway we’d come in through. I ducked into the bathroom, my gut a roiling mess. This was going to have consequences, and I didn’t know if I wanted to deal with the fallout, but it’d at least preserve a human man’s sanity.

  I leaned on one of the white enameled sinks and stared into the mirror for a moment before closing my eyes and concentrating. The face I brought to mind was one I knew well, the body attached to it nearly as familiar as my own despite us only being intimate twice. But his blood flowed in my veins, so the change was almost effortless as I let my body morph into that new shape.

  When I opened my eyes, Ozzie’s face stared back at me from the mirror, expression every bit as judgmental as I’d expect his to be if he were here in the flesh.

  The door to the bathroom opened and Keagan entered, stopping halfway with a curse.

  “Fucking hell, dude, you did not just turn into him.”

  I turned to him with a scowl. “What the fuck does it look like?”

  Rohan pushed in behind Keagan and froze, staring wide-eyed at my transformation. “Maestro?”

  “Not the fucking Maestro,” Keagan snapped. “That fucker’s shifted into him. I suppose you plan to play like this too, don’t you? You know you can’t be two people at once, right?”

  “It isn’t me they want—it’s him,” I said. “I’m extraneous to the band. I’m the newest member after Deva, and she’s the one with the voice. You don’t really need me.”

  “Oh yeah, and what about her?” Keagan asked. “Did you stop to think what this would do to Deva? Unless you planned to fake it . . . somehow make her believe you’re him just to get her to give into you finally.”

  “Dion’s balls, no. I will never lie to her.”

  Keagan crossed his arms, his frown deepening.

  “I’m serious,” I growled. “I understand the stakes all too well. Ozzie should never have hidden the truth from her. I should never have allowed him to.” My voice cracked at the end, and my inadvertent show of vulnerability made Keagan relax.

  “Glad we’re on the same page. How are we going to explain this quick change to Nadia?”

  “We tell her the truth. We can trust Pete too. No one else will care, and this will satisfy the club owner. I’ll meet you back out there in a few minutes.”

  Keagan gave me a curt nod and pushed back out the door past a bewildered Rohan.

  “Sweet Mother, you’ve even got his aura down,” Rohan said, his gaze flitting up and down my body.

  “We’re blood-melded. If I could actually link to his mind now, we could literally trade places by shifting. What you see is Ozzie, except for what’s up here.”

  I tapped my temple. Tempted as I was to also tap my chest to indicate my heart, I stopped myself. Ozzie and I were no different where matters of the heart were concerned. We both shared the same love for Deva, as well as a perhaps unhealthy need to protect her. I believed if I peered inside the hearts of all five of us, I’d see the same thing.

  “I’d offer you some joy smoke, but I think you’d play off the whole Ozzie thing a lot better without it. You need anything, just let me know.”

  “Wait,” I called when Rohan turned to leave. I gestured down at the loose-fitting shirt and jeans that hung on this smaller frame. Ozzie was slighter in build than me, and the clothing that had fit before now made me look like a boy in his father’s threads. I undressed quickly, giving Rohan a sharp look when he paused to appraise me.

  “Sorry, I just don’t get to see the guy naked that often.” Golden smoke began to filter out of his nose and past his irritating grin that did nothing to lighten my mood. I slipped back into my own boots once I was dressed while Rohan exited, the door swinging shut behind him.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled, trying to calm the churn of conflict in my belly. When I opened my eyes again, it only surged higher.

  “Where the fuck are you, Ozzie? We need you. Deva needs you. For fuck’s sake, I need you, you son of a bitch.”

  His face stared back at me with its trademark scowl, but the raw fear in his eyes—in my eyes—was unmistakable. What if he never returned? Would any of us be able to live without him?

  I braced myself, shaking off the feeling that I was about to step into the deep end, and turned to the door. It was time to get back to business. The hound had led us here; that had to count for something.

  Deva’s reaction would be another issue entirely.

  9

  Deva

  “Wake up, sweetness.”

  Llyr’s deep, rumbling voice roused me, his scent surrounding me with a sense of safety. I kept my eyes clo
sed, snuggling into the warmth of his strong embrace, comforted more by him than the others. I didn’t understand this contradiction. Here I was in the arms of a satyr, in a state that required almost constant sex to subdue, yet while his touch was not the least bit sexual, it did everything to settle the madness encroaching on my mind.

  If I opened my eyes it would be another story, though. Seeing his face hurt too much; I still saw his link to Ozzie, and that always made the memories return full-force, and with them the emptiness. That ache to be filled never seemed to leave, and it was only held at bay with an almost steady stream of music, food, and sex.

  “I’m awake,” I said.

  “I believe you,” came his amused reply, “but I need you to open your eyes before we drift. We got a gig across town. Rohan got us a hotel suite. Keagan and Bodhi are going to bring the bus over to the club and will meet us there. I thought you might like some time to relax in a full-sized tub for a change.”

  That got me interested. I opened my eyes and hooked an arm around his neck, lifting myself enough to look straight at him. “Seriously? A real hotel room? I could kiss you!”

  I didn’t, but the news warranted a hug. I threw my arms around him and squeezed, gratified by his soft chuckle and his tightening embrace. Without warning, the air shifted around us, followed by the rushing pull of the drift. Seconds later, we were in a big, brightly lit suite standing before an enormous bed. Rohan lay against the pillows with his arms outstretched.

  “Missed you, baby,” he said.

  I sprang out of Llyr’s arms and into his, kissing him soundly. My improved mood seemed to do us both a world of good. It was reflected in his smile and his aura when we parted, and he was far more relaxed now that my distress had waned. I intended to take advantage of this reprieve.