Braving Fate (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 1) (3 page)

A sudden clap of thunder rocked the house, making her jump. She fumbled to find the kitchen light, but her hand stilled when she heard the front door creak open.
 

Damned wind
. She must have forgotten to lock the door. She never used to forget things.

Footsteps thudded down the hall and her stomach dropped to the floor.
Who is
that
?
 

The footsteps thudded slowly but inexorably closer. She heard the intruder turn into the small library at the front of the house, but he’d be in the kitchen next. No time to call the police.

She clamped a hand over her mouth and her eyes darted around the kitchen in search of a weapon. Dim light from the porch lamp streamed through the window, its faint yellow glow illuminating the neatly modern space.
 

Damn
, nothing on the counter, not even a stray knife. Why did she have to be so organized?
 

The back door. Maybe it was unlocked.

She tripped in her haste to reach the door to the porch, a crash of thunder seeming to propel her forward. The handle was slick beneath her sweaty palms. The door wouldn’t budge. Swollen from the rain, damn it.
 

Turning around, she pressed herself against the panes, her skin cold and the hair on the back of her neck standing upright. There had to be a weapon in here. A knife, a meat hammer—anything was better than nothing.
 

She spied her enormous skillet sitting by the sink and snatched it, wincing as the heavy cast iron dragged her arms down.
God, this thing is heavy.

She cursed herself for not taking self-defense classes. With research and teaching, it was another thing she had no time for. And now, she really wished she’d made time. Thank God for skillet corn bread, she thought, as her fear bubbled into panicked hysteria.
 

An enormous figure stepped into the kitchen and she bit her lip to stifle a gasp. Over six feet tall, its freakishly slender form was draped in a long coat that looked to be made of raw leather. Long black hair streamed from its head. When she finally caught sight of the face, a scream was strangled in her throat. It couldn’t be human. The dim light glinted off dark, burnished crimson skin and eerily feminine features. Beady eyes, a nose that was almost beaklike, and thin lips all gave the appearance of a bird.
 

She was not a she, she was an
it.
 

Monsters aren’t real. They aren’t real!

But this was no Halloween costume. It was far too realistic.

Diana cringed back against the wall.
No, no, no
. This couldn’t be happening to her. She shook her head, but it didn’t disappear.
Her heart thudded in her chest, beating in a painfully frantic rhythm against her ribs while her breath was strangled in her lungs.

“You’re Diana,” it said, as if expecting her to confirm.
 

She heard a squeak of fear and realized it had come from her own throat.
 

It nodded, clearly taking her squeak as confirmation. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Two heavy steps and it was almost upon her. Her feet were glued to the floor. She couldn’t even move, not even to curl up into a ball like her brain screamed at her to do. She tasted something metallic in her mouth. She’d bitten straight through her lip.
 

A claw-tipped hand reached for her. Fear clogged her lungs and she jerked the skillet out from behind her back and swung haphazardly at its head. Luck alone landed the wild blow.

Its roar of rage drowned out the sickening sound of the iron connecting with its skull. The impact made her arms vibrate and she nearly dropped the pan.
 

Eyes on fire and mouth gaping, the beast shook itself, then backhanded her across the cheek. Pain exploded in her head as she whirled from the force of the blow. As agony seared her skull, a rage like she’d never known engulfed her, so strong it felt like a living thing. Gasping, and as terrified of the unfamiliar anger as she was of her attacker, she felt it wash over her.

The rational part of her mind faded to the background as instinct and something otherworldly took over her body. The pain in her head forgotten, Diana lithely jumped to her feet.
 

Hurt it. Kill it.
She turned on her attacker and leapt on it, throwing its spindly form to the ground with her weight. She raised the skillet. Its weight felt natural in her palm, as though she was meant to do some damage with it. Somehow she knew exactly how to kill this creature, but she wanted to hurt it first. How
dare
it try to beat her?
No one
did that to her.
Never again
.
 

Through her rage, she barely recognized the thoughts. She’d never been beaten before, and she rarely got angry, but now she was inflamed. She swung the frying pan hard at its head, beating it as if to drive her own demons away. The thud of the metal against its skull was a joy to hear and fueled the raging beast within her.

Though an otherworldly power sang through her veins, the creature was stronger. With a great heave, it threw her off and the pan flew from her hand. She was on her feet in seconds.
 

“Come on,” she said, beckoning it to her. She barely recognized her voice. She should be running, but some part of her
wanted
it to try something. So she could kill it.

The creature obliged, coming toward her with murder in its eyes. Snarling, she ran at it, ducking beneath its outstretched arms with a grace that felt entirely unfamiliar. She spotted a knife strapped to its calf and nimbly plucked it from its sheath. With deadly precision, she sank it into its back, punching through the skin and then sinking into the muscle. She twisted right where its heart should be and was rewarded with its howl. The creature clawed at its back, attempting to reach the knife, but within seconds its strength had leached away and it tumbled to the floor. It shuddered, then lay still.

With the threat gone, the fog of rage that had overtaken Diana’s mind evaporated. She stumbled away from the woman—the creature—the
thing
—sprawled on her kitchen floor. Tripping over her own feet, she collapsed in the corner, a sob rising in her throat. The floor was hard beneath her as she started to rock back and forth, weak with exhaustion and fear.
 

What did I just do?

She hadn’t recognized herself, not even a little bit. Where had those instincts come from? She was losing her mind. She was losing
herself
. The self that she didn’t even know.
 

Panicked, remembering the body in her house, she looked up. It was still lying there, with the knife protruding grotesquely from its back. Diana tried to take deep, calming breaths, but the air had gone thick and worthless, heavy with the coppery and sinister scent of blood.

The back of her wrist began to burn again, as if fire ants were crawling over her skin in a pattern. She rubbed it and looked down, temporarily distracted from the corpse in her kitchen.
 

Her mouth fell open when her wrist began to turn red in a thinly lined pattern. Fine black lines replaced the red, as if she were being tattooed from the inside.
 

This could not be happening.
 

She squinted at it, scrubbing panicked tears from her face as she tried to make out the design. It looked like...
a mountain range?
No, not a mountain range, but close. Scrawled across her wrist where it met the back of her hand was a beautifully embellished depiction of a craggy hill.

She rubbed it more fiercely, desperate to make the image disappear. To make all of this just go away. All she wanted was to go back to her normal life and continue on her nice, safe, sane path.
 

A sizzling sound distracted her from her assault on her wrist and she looked up at the creature lying on her floor, its black blood creeping across her lovely limestone tiles. Strike that—it
had
been lying on her floor.

Its skin had begun to steam with heat and its extremities were disappearing. She shook her head. No way. There was no way that creature was sublimating in the middle of her kitchen.
 

But before she could blink the rest of the tears out of her eyes, the last of the arms and legs vanished. The torso began to steam and shimmer out of existence as well. Within moments, the creature’s knife clattered to the floor when the torso it had been buried in disappeared. A black substance—it must have been blood, though it looked more like tar—coated the wickedly serrated blade.

She scrambled to her feet, shock and terror thick in her throat. This couldn’t be happening. Now she couldn’t even tell herself that the awful beast had been some kind of criminal with weird red tattoos. And how could she explain her own tattoo? She’d think she was going crazy if she didn’t have proof on her wrist. Scratch that. Just because she had proof that something really weird and really wrong was happening didn’t mean that she wasn’t
also
going crazy. Diana laughed, sounding insane even to herself. She had to get this thing off her.

She leapt to her feet and ran to the foyer to wedge a chair beneath the handle of the front door to make up for the broken lock. Within moments she was scrubbing her hands beneath scalding water in the downstairs bathroom, but the heat didn’t stop
 
the pervasive cold streaking through her veins. She frantically rubbed the lavender soap against the back of her wrist, feeling the thin raised lines underneath the black ink. She had to get it off.
 

Look at it
, a dark part of her whispered.
 

No. She wouldn’t look at it until she couldn’t feel the raised lines anymore. She scrubbed harder.
 

Look at it
.

Willpower, Diana
. But her gaze was drawn down to the tattoo. Still there. Terrifying and beautiful.
 

Wait a second—she had seen that before. Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh? The famous landmass, an extinct volcano jutting from the center of the Scottish capital, had a well-known profile. One that she was familiar with from the treatise that FedEx had delivered earlier. She’d looked at the first couple of pages before running out to the grocery store. There had been a frontispiece. She’d been drawn to the small illustration, captivated by the delicate curves and jagged lines that told the story of the mountain’s past.
 

Get it together, Diana
. There was no way the tattoo was going to wash off. And she’d actually just killed a monster with some new strength and bravery she couldn’t define. Bravery that was long gone now and she was all alone
.
Though she normally didn’t mind being alone, her small townhouse now seemed cavernous and dark outside of the bathroom.

She had to get out of here. Diana turned off the water with a trembling hand and grabbed a towel. After scrubbing her hands dry, she ran to the library to grab the book and went out the back door. It took her a few minutes of yanking on the stuck door, but she managed to get it open. It was worth the effort. Anyone could see her if she went out the front. But the back led to a miniscule fenced-in plot protected from prying eyes.
 

Rain pounded her as she ran across the tiny yard to the little gate she’d added at the side. It swung open easily into an identical tiny and private yard and she ran across and up the back steps of the neighboring townhouse. She cradled the book to her chest, protecting it from the rain, and pounded on Vivienne’s door until it swung open.

“Di, what’s wrong?” Vivienne beckoned her inside.

Diana bolted out of the rain. A small rush of warmth flooded her when she entered her friend’s cheery kitchen, but not enough to banish the cold that had gripped her heart with icicle claws.

Vivienne was the only person she knew who wouldn’t immediately call for a straitjacket, and she was so damned grateful they were neighbors.
 

Vivienne rubbed Diana’s shaking arms and said, “Come on, let’s go to the living room. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
 

Vi dragged her into the brightly colored room. Such a contrast to her own, and so welcoming that Diana almost wept. They sat on the couch.
 

“Tell me what’s up.” Her friend’s face was creased with worry.

“Oh my God. I don’t even know. Um, a monster broke into my house.” With a trembling voice that bubbled just under hysteria, she described the attack.

“What?” Vivienne’s voice was incredulous.

“Look.” Diana thrust out her arm. “This appeared.”

“Holy crap.” Vi ran tentative fingers over the black lines.

“Yeah. And it looks like the frontispiece illustration in this treatise. The one that I ordered.” Diana flipped open the book and showed Vivienne. Diana watched her inspect the two, waiting for Vi to speak, her breath caught uncomfortably in her throat.

“Well...huh…” the normally eloquent Vivienne said. Silence.

“I know.”

“This is crazy. I mean, I believe you. But it’s insane.”

“The worst part was...it knew my name, Vi. The monster said that
they
were waiting.”

“Who are they? More monster things? Are you sure it wasn’t some kind of freaky gang?”

“Lord, I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. But it really wasn’t human. That body
disappeared.
I need answers.” Her wrist burned again, screaming at her. Was it a sign? She laughed bitterly. Of course it was. But of what?
 

“They know where you live. You have to get out of there. Stay with me.”

“No. I snuck through the backyards, so no one saw me come here. But I can’t be seen staying here. What if they send more after me? What if they find me here? Then you’re dead, too.”

“We’ll figure something out.” Vivienne frowned, no doubt trying to figure a way to smuggle Diana in and out of her townhouse. Their little backyards were great for privacy because of the fences. But there was no way to get out of them. The only other option was the front door. “You can’t just wait around there for the next monster to come through your door.”