Strange Fates (Nyx Fortuna) (3 page)

I mean, how could you see the sum of someone’s soul by a quick glimpse into her eyes? I needed at least a dinner and a movie first. But lust at first sight? That I believed in.

She caught me staring and blushed. I was practically salivating over her, like a cartoon big bad wolf over a succulent little pork chop.

The burger was as good as promised, so juicy and tender I had to refrain from licking the plate. Once full, I realized I was incredibly weary. The knife wound throbbed, which reminded me how stupid I’d been. It had been nearly six months since the last contact from my aunts. It was almost like I wanted to be found, calling attention to myself that way.

Drifts almost covered the windows, which only added to the claustrophobic feeling. We were snowed in. I had to force myself not to think about how the white flakes slowly covering the windows made me feel like I was being buried alive.

I hated the damned snow and even more, I hated the feeling of being trapped. I was in Minneapolis to settle a score with my mother’s killers and find my thread of fate. A thread of fate is your life force; when it’s cut, you die. Problem was, mine was missing.

I was sure my thread of fate was hidden in one of my mother’s charms. She never took that necklace off. It had disappeared after her death, when I hadn’t been thinking clearly. I’d found the chain six months later, but the charms had already been sold several times over by then.  

 The silver chain was cold against my skin. I couldn’t bring myself to touch the charm hanging on the end. It was the only charm I’d found. I’d been so sure that the diamond-studded key held the answer, but it wasn’t the one I needed. The one hiding my fate.

“There are some board games in the game room,” she said. “I’ll go get them.”

“I’ll go with you,” I said.

The game room contained a pool table and a bookshelf filled with the souvenirs of someone’s childhood: Monopoly, Twister, worn baseball mitts, and a couple of adventure novels. There were several video game consoles and a television set up in front of an old couch. It was an adolescent boy’s dream room.

”Did your family spend a lot of time in here?”

“We used to,” she said. Her voice was clipped, signaling she didn’t want to talk about it.

“What should we do to pass the time?” I asked.

She moved away from me every time I took a step closer to her. She didn’t seem the nervous type. I was finally getting the idea that she didn’t have the same activity in mind as I did.

“Video games?” she suggested. “I bet I can kick your ass in Zelda.”

The game had barely booted up when the lights flickered and went out. I stubbed my toe on something and swore.

“Hang on a minute. There are some candles around here somewhere,” she said. A match flared and her face came into view, looking ghostly by candlelight.

She handed me a candle and then lit a few more until the room was illuminated. She crossed the room and rummaged through the board games. “We can play until the lights come back on.”

She set up the board on the coffee table and tossed me a couple of pillows. I knew she expected me to sit across from her, but I took a spot next to her on the floor.

I had thought of one way to forget all about my cabin fever. My rule was to never get involved, but I was a man, too, and it had been a long time since I’d touched a woman and even longer since I’d slept with one. One night with Elizabeth would be worth the risk. I’d leave in the morning before anyone could catch up to me.

I touched her face. “You have the softest skin.”

She handed me the dice. “You go first.”

I put the dice down, carefully. “I’m going to kiss you now,” I told her.

“Nyx, this is a bad idea,” she said in a small voice.

“You’re not attracted to me?” I knew she was, but wanted to see if she’d deny it.

“It’s not that. It’s not a good idea to—”

“I think it’s a very good idea.” I bent and kissed her, maneuvering her toward the couch as I did. In the back of my mind, I wondered why my defenses were down, but the thought slipped away.

As I kissed her again, I heard eerie laughter. At first I thought it was just my imagination, but the sound came again.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

“It was probably just the wind,” she replied, but her voice was shaking.

“I don’t think so.” I went to the window and looked out, but the falling snow obscured my vision.

“There’s no one out there, not in this storm,” Elizabeth insisted.

“I heard something,” I said stubbornly.

I listened again, but there was only the sound of the wind roaring through the trees. By the expression on Elizabeth’s face, the mood was ruined.

“I think you should go.”

What had her so spooked?

“There’s a storm raging outside,” I said. “Where would I go?”

She relented. “Okay, but you need to leave in the morning. Early.” She kept glancing at the door when she said it. Was she expecting a boyfriend to come home soon?

A door slammed and a young woman walked into the room.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you had company,” she said. She was an attractive brunette with razor-sharp cheeks and fey eyes to match her pixie haircut. She had a drop of magic running through her veins, but so little that she probably wasn’t even aware of it.

Elizabeth glared at her. “Well, I do.”

I gave her an inquiring look and she made introductions. “Nyx, this is my roommate, Jenny. Jenny, Nyx.”

I cleared my throat. “Nice to meet you, Jenny.”

She ignored me and turned to Elizabeth. “If you’re okay, I’m going to bed.”

“We’re fine, Jenny,” Elizabeth said.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Jenny told her sweetly. But before Jenny left, she glared at me. I glared right back.

“You didn’t mention you had a roommate,” I said, after I was sure Jenny wasn’t eavesdropping in the hallway.

Elizabeth shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important.” She grabbed a deck of cards. “Want to play?”

“Why not?” I grabbed the deck, cut the cards, and shuffled.

“Where did you learn to do that?” she asked.

“I lived in Monte Carlo for a couple of years.”

“Where else have you lived?”

“We moved around a lot when I was a kid.” Before she’d died, my mother and I had lived in too many cities to count. It wasn’t safe to stay in one place for too long.

“We?”

“My mother and me.” I studied my hand. I could have closed my eyes and told you what cards I had, but I didn’t want Elizabeth to see my expression.

“What was she like?”

I cleared my throat, which had grown closed. “Great.”

I had a clear flash of my mother’s face, glowing from the light of the paper lanterns lighting the evening sky. We celebrated the summer solstice in Poland with thousands of strangers, but I wasn’t the only one watching my mother’s face instead of the sky lanterns.

I kept a suitable poker face and changed the subject. “Are we playing or what?”

We played several games, but she showed no sign of tiring. She didn’t show signs of anything really. Most people had a tell, something that gave them away when they had a good hand. They tugged on their ears or leaned back in their chairs, something.

I regretted mentioning my mother, even briefly. The memories would be hard to keep at bay.

I stood and stretched. “I need some air.”

“I’ll go with you,” she said quickly.

Outside, the freezing air cleared my head of things I was better off not remembering. There was a swing on the front porch and Elizabeth sat there. It looked way too inviting, so I took a backless stool across from her. A luminous moon hung low in the sky, but was slowly being blotted out by delicate flakes of snow.

I nudged the swing with my foot and set it to rocking. I touched her shoulder and brushed away a clump of snow. I was making excuses to touch her. “We should go inside,” I said. “It’s getting cold.”

“I thought you wanted some fresh air,” she said, exasperated.

I was twitchy. It was hard to stay in the same room with her and not get ideas I shouldn’t have, even with a throbbing headache. I was in Minneapolis for one thing and it wasn’t a girl, even one as beautiful as Elizabeth.

I suppressed a yawn. She took that as a hint and stood. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Once in my room, I couldn’t sleep. I crossed to the window and stared out at the frozen water below before I finally crawled into bed and collapsed.

*  *  *

When I woke, the sun shone through the slats in the closed blinds. I looked around, disoriented, until I remembered the previous night’s events and why I wasn’t in my less-than-luxurious room at the Drake. My freshly laundered clothes were neatly folded at the foot of the bed. It bothered me that someone had been in and out of the room without waking me.

I got dressed and wandered into the kitchen, drawn there by the smell of frying bacon.

Jenny was standing in front of the stove. I could feel her scowling, even though her back remained firmly turned.

“Smells good,” I offered tentatively. “I guess the power’s back on.”

She ignored my attempt at small talk. “There’s juice and coffee in the dining room,” she said. “I’ll bring you in a plate.” There were bar stools tucked neatly under the countertop in the kitchen, but I didn’t press my luck and obediently went into the dining room.

I poured a cup of coffee and sat. When I spied a folded-up newspaper on the table, I grabbed it and scanned it for any description of last night’s escapade. There was a small entry in the police blotter about the bar fight, but no mention of a stabbing.

From Jenny’s reaction, I wasn’t the first freeloader to stay the night. I wondered exactly how many moochers had crossed the threshold. My curiosity was soon satisfied.

Jenny handed me a plate with such force that my scrambled eggs nearly slid off.

I righted the plate and saved my eggs. “Where’s Elizabeth?” I wanted to say good-bye before I left.

She paused. “Elizabeth is out shopping.”

She wasn’t going to tell me anything. The name did fall smoothly off Jenny’s tongue, though. Maybe Elizabeth
was
her real name.

“I have my eye on you,” Jenny said. She shot me a squinty look. “I know your type.”

I looked up from my paper. “Exactly how many of my type have there been?” Her hostility didn’t bother me. Compared with my aunt Morta, she was a walk in the park.

She gave me another look. “Six,” she said. “There have been six others in as many weeks. All sponges. Out for what they could get.”

I was lucky number seven. Interesting. Elizabeth had been here at least six weeks and had brought home six stray puppies. Who or what was she looking for?

“What does Elizabeth get out of it? Besides the obvious.”

That stumped her for a minute. “She’s kindhearted. Like me.”

I nearly snorted coffee through my nose. Jenny seemed about as charitable as a cobra, but it was Elizabeth who really intrigued me. She was a strange mixture of street and sweet. You always had to watch the sweet ones.

Chapter Three

Elizabeth was back before I’d finished my scrambled eggs.

“No luck?” I asked as I scooped up the last bit of egg with my buttery toast. Crabby or not, Jenny was an excellent cook.

I looked up from my food just in time to catch the look the two of them exchanged. Elizabeth was tight-lipped and unsmiling.

She wasn’t carrying any bags. I’d never met a girl yet who came back from a mall empty-handed, at least not the ones with money to burn.

When she shrugged off her coat, I could see she wore a low-cut top and a tight skirt. Her hair was slicked back, and the floral barrette had disappeared. It was the little things that changed her into a completely different person. Actors often had that same ability to transform into someone else at the drop of a hat.

Mom and I had spent the summer I was twelve working for a traveling theater troupe that, ironically enough, was performing “the Scottish play.” Mom always said Shakespeare hadn’t gotten much right, except that they were witches. She’d also hinted that Shakespeare had had a crush on my aunt Nona.

When we were on the run, my mother would only use magic as a last resort, for fear her sisters would sense it and use it to track us down. I stuck to the same rules. No sense asking for trouble.

“No luck shopping, he means,” Jenny said, breaking my reverie. Idle conversation, or was she letting Elizabeth know what alibi she’d given me?

I was a suspicious bastard the best of times. My gut told me to cut and run. “Thank you for the hospitality,” I said. “But it’s time I go.”

“Do you have to leave?” Elizabeth fiddled with her purse strap.

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked.

She hesitated. “I felt responsible,” she said. “I mean, because you got stabbed.”

“You didn’t do it,” I said. “And I feel much better today.”

Although I felt the same pain as anyone, I did mend quickly.

“We thought you could stay with us for a few days,” Elizabeth said. “Just until you get on your feet. Unless there’s somewhere else you have to go? Family or friends?”

“There’s no one,” I said. “But I can’t stick around.” She couldn’t seem to make up her mind if she wanted me to stay or to go.

I’d learned a long time ago not to try to tell anyone the truth about myself. The one time I did, I’d ended up involuntarily committed to a mental health facility. But back then, there was nothing healthy about the place I’d been. I shuddered at the memory. That was the last time I’d opened my mouth about living forever. Or close enough. I’d live until I found my thread of fate or my aunts did.

Being an immortal was like walking around talking in a language that nobody understood anymore. My aunts were the only other people I knew of who’d lived for centuries. My mother had been the only one in history who had been ballsy enough to try to outwit her sisters.

I had a plan when I came to Minneapolis. I’d been alive a long time and Minneapolis in winter seemed like the perfect place to die, but on my terms, not anybody else’s.

Elizabeth was a complication. She intrigued me, which was an emotion I hadn’t felt in a long time. But I didn’t need complications. I needed revenge.