Strange Fates (Nyx Fortuna) (8 page)

I squinted and took another look. Not birds, harpies. The bird-women were really my aunt Deci’s favorites. She loved them like they were her own sisters. If the harpies were in town, my aunts had something horrible planned for somebody. I hoped it wasn’t me.

I forced myself to turn and walk, not run, in the opposite direction. The Drake was out and I couldn’t risk going back to Elizabeth’s. I’d have to rough it for the night. I needed to test my disguise. Come face-to-face with my aunts and see if they recognized me. Infiltration. Retribution. Revenge. My plan in three easy steps, except there wasn’t going to be anything easy about it.

It was a big leap of logic to assume that Elizabeth’s brother Alex was the same Alex Jasper knew, but I did know that Alex had worked for my aunts. Maybe I’d be able to find out what happened to him and spy on my aunts at the same time. But none of it would work if the spell didn’t hold and my aunts recognized me.

As much as the thought gave me the shakes, I knew I’d have to face them and soon, if I had any chance of my plan succeeding.

But first, I was going to reunite with the Caddy and head to the library, where it was warm. And more important, where they had computers.

The Internet was as almost as good as witchcraft and not nearly as detectable. It only took me an hour or two to find out enough about my aunts’ new business to figure out my strategy. The company website indicated that Morta, Deci, Nona—and surprisingly, Nona’s husband, Sawyer Polydoros—all worked at Parsi Enterprises. Since when did the Fates bother getting married?

Elizabeth’s brother had worked at Parsi before his disappearance. Why was I not surprised? I printed out the address and stuffed it in my jacket pocket.

*  *  *

I found the address easily. Parsi Enterprises was in an old converted warehouse building in the North Loop neighborhood.

A security guard sat at a desk in the lobby, reading
Guns & Ammo
. When I approached, he grabbed a clipboard. “Name?”

I wasn’t on any list for the building. “Uh, I wanted to drop off a résumé,” I said.

His clipped “Name?” told me I wasn’t going to be able to breeze right on in.

I couldn’t risk using magic to convince him, not so close to where the Wyrd family made their fortune. I held out the sheet of paper with the directions on it and hoped he wouldn’t look too closely. “I wanted to drop off a résumé,” I repeated.

He sneered at my beat-up leather jacket and scruffy Docs. “Twenty bucks,” he said.

I handed over my last twenty and the guy pocketed it before he returned to his magazine. I took that as my cue and rode the elevator to the third floor.

Once there, I admired the limestone blocks and heavy wooden beams. The building was built to withstand time. Or a magical onslaught? A familiar sensation alerted me that the third floor had been warded.

The elevator opened onto a suite. Everything was decorated in soothing neutrals, but a pair of shears, the symbol of the House of Fates, had been woven into the pattern of the carpet. At least I knew I was in the right place.

I ignored the bored-looking girl who lounged in the waiting area and approached the receptionist, who looked almost as bored.

“May I help you?” he asked. He wore a suit and tie and a tiepin with the House of Fates insignia, but I didn’t feel any magical ability coming from him at all.

“Are you hiring?” I asked.

An imposing-looking woman with high cheekbones and silver hair swept into the office and threw down her gloves. Morta. Would my disguise hold?

“Trevor, any messages?” she asked the receptionist.

I choked back the desire to reach out and squeeze her neck until she stopped talking.

He gestured to the girl. “Naomi’s here.”

Morta gave him a short nod and seemed to notice me for the first time. “What do you want?” she snapped. Her eyes were sharp as thorns.

“A j-job,” I stuttered. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans.

She was used to intimidating mortals, so my bumbling response didn’t even cause her to raise an eyebrow. “We’re not hiring.”

The girl had wandered over while we were speaking. “Is Aunt Deci coming, too? I’m starving.” She pulled the hood of her jacket down, which revealed red hair and freckles.

“Aunt Deci isn’t feeling well, I’m afraid,” Morta replied. “Maybe next time.”

My legs began to work again and I left. As I pushed the elevator button, I realized what the young woman had said.
Aunt
Deci. I’d just met my cousin. What had the receptionist said her name was? Naomi.

As I crossed the street, I spotted a crumbled five-dollar bill in the gutter and grabbed it before the wind could blow it away. I headed for the coffee shop directly opposite my aunts’ office building.

I ordered a large coffee, took a seat near a front window, and waited. They were probably grabbing an early dinner. I didn’t know what I was waiting for until they emerged from the building and got into a town car with Morta at the wheel.

It was after five. Their little desk jockey was probably gone by now and I could sneak by the security guard. Their office was warded, but not by anything I hadn’t seen before.

The thought of going back there made my throat turn dry, but I crumbled my empty to-go cup and headed back to rifle through my aunts’ office.

I made it to the third floor without any problem. I didn’t expect to find anything at the reception desk and didn’t. I froze. Someone was coming.

I moved away from the desk and was standing with my hands in my pockets when an older man with auburn hair came out of one of the offices.

“Can I help you with something?” He had a slight Southern drawl, but he hadn’t lived there for a very long time. I wondered exactly how long it had been.

“I was looking for Alex,” I said.

“I’m afraid he’s not with us anymore,” the man replied.

“But he loved this place,” I ad-libbed.

“He quit about a month ago.”

I tried to look more down on my luck than I usually did. “Damn,” I said. “He said something about a part-time job. I could use the work.”

He gave me a charming smile. “Sorry, I don’t do the hiring,” he said. “Why don’t you leave your résumé and I’ll give it to HR?”

His resemblance to Naomi convinced me to attempt to extend the conversation.

“I don’t have a résumé,” I said. “But I’m a hard worker.”

I tried to look hungry and harmless at the same time.

It must have worked.

“There’s a deli down the street,” he said.

I shrugged. “I’m broke.”

“My treat,” he said. “I’m Sawyer Polydoros, by the way.”

“Nyx Fortuna,” I replied.

“Fortuna?” he asked. “That’s unusual.”

Had I just given myself away? I should have realized they would associate that name with my mother. “Family legend says that my grandfather was a hopeless gambler,” I said. “He changed his last name, hoping it would be lucky.”

“Well, Nyx Fortuna,” Sawyer said, “are you hungry or not?”

“I could use a hot meal.” And information from Nona’s husband.

“After you,” he said.

It wasn’t until he reached for his coat and we left the third floor that I realized I’d just agreed to have dinner with a necromancer.

Sawyer Polydoros was unlike any other necromancer I’d met. Nona’s husband was a handsome man with a booming voice and more than a little Southern charm. He smelled the same, though. Underneath his expensive cologne, the unmistakable odor of grave dirt, mummy dust, and old bones came off him in waves. What was different was the air of kindness and interest in the living world.

Necromancers were also known as bone-conjurers, and since one of their talents was summoning the dead they were on the top of the heap at the House of Hades. Sawyer didn’t wear an insignia from the House of Hades or from the House of Fates, which intrigued me.

Necromancers were almost as rare as trolls. Most had spent so much time in the dark that they had forgotten how to smile, but Sawyer’s smile lit up the tiny deli.

We ordered thick sandwiches piled high with pastrami and settled in at a corner table.

“Have you been with the company long?” I asked.

He nodded. “My wife and her sisters own it.”

“Sisters?” I tried for a casual tone.

“Nona has two sisters who run the business with her,” he replied.

“Only two?” My curiosity was showing, so I added, “I mean, it’s a pretty large corporation and all.”

“There was another sister,” he said. “But she died long before I met Nona.”

“Tragic,” I managed to grit out.

He nodded. “Nona never talks about her, but I think they were close.”

So close they murdered her. Sawyer was clueless. Did he even know his wife was a Fate? He was a necromancer, so he couldn’t be completely clueless. I hoped the occulo spell concealed my magic.

He noticed my untouched sandwich. “Eat. You must be starving.”

I bit into the sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. It was delicious, but my mind was on other things. My aunt was married to a necromancer.

“This is the best deli in the city,” Sawyer proclaimed.

He was right.

“So how do you know Alex?” Sawyer asked.

“We’re old friends,” I lied. “Couldn’t find a job back home and Alex convinced me to try my luck out here. I don’t know a soul in Minneapolis.”

We finished our meal, making inane small talk.

“I’d better go,” I finally said. It was clear I wasn’t going to find out anything else. “Thank you for dinner.”

“It was my pleasure,” Sawyer said.

“You sure there isn’t any work for me?” I asked. The occulo spell had held. Now it was time to get close to my aunts. Close enough to stick in the knife.

He laughed. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. I’ll see if I can get you an interview. No promises, though.”

He took down the number of my brand-new burner phone. I switched numbers every few months. The not-so-anonymous death threats got old, and I figured why make it easier for Gaston to find me.

I could still feel Sawyer’s eyes on me when I left the deli. As my mother always said, once a necromancer, always a necromancer. A bone-conjurer in the mix spelled danger, but I wasn’t going to stop searching for Alex, especially now that I knew he was linked to my aunts.

Chapter Nine

That night, I camped out at the Dead House at the abandoned fort. The stone troll was right where I’d left him, which was comforting. There was no evidence that Jasper had been back. I parked the Caddy in the empty lot across from the Dead House and triple-warded it before I snuck inside.

I slept soundly for the first time in weeks.

The next morning, I stepped into a day that gleamed bright and clear. It was as if the storm hadn’t even happened, if you ignored the snow crunching underfoot.

I needed to get my hands on a bloodstone, two if I could, but one was essential. I could protect myself from magic, but Elizabeth was defenseless. I’d give her the amulet and then dump her. I needed a clear head and no distractions.

I hopped into the Caddy and drove until I found Hennepin. I passed a Masonic temple, a comic-book store, and an Irish pub, before I finally found a bank. I needed to make a withdrawal. The amulet wouldn’t be cheap. I had money stashed away, a lot of it. I relied on good luck—and if I had to, hard work—for money for my minimal day-to-day expenses. I liked knowing that if my luck ran out someday, I’d have something to fall back on.

I’d discovered a long time ago that the old saw was true: Money didn’t buy happiness. On the other hand, poverty sucked. I’d discovered that, too.

I needed cash to buy what I needed. The kind of people who had what I needed didn’t exactly take Visa.

I filled out a withdrawal slip and got in line for the teller. I sorted through my IDs to find the one I would need and handed it over with my slip when my turn came.

“How would you like this, Mr. Fortuna?” the teller asked.

“Hundreds, please,” I replied.

I looked around nervously. I half expected my aunts to show up, hissing about ill-gotten gains, but the transaction went smoothly and I exited the bank without spotting them. It was pure stubbornness that made me cling to the name Fortuna. It was my mother’s name and when I heard it, I thought of her.

I walked along Hennepin, trying to get a feel for any magic lurking inside the restaurants, bars, and clothing stores that lined the street.

I wandered for blocks without picking up anything, but finally caught a faint trace of magic.

I looked around and paid attention to my surroundings for the first time in hours. It had grown dark during my search and I was in the seedy part of town. But the trace of magic was coming from a pawnshop on the corner.

The sign read
ETERNITY ROAD PAWNSHOP
. There was the usual stuff in the windows, a brass trumpet, a couple of diamond rings, and an old moth-eaten fox stole that screamed to me of its death. There was no sign of the bloodstone I was seeking, but I didn’t really expect it to be in a display window.

The bell over the door clanged when I entered, but the store was empty. The interior was crammed with floor-to-ceiling shelving and a stack of wooden chairs created a wobbly tower in one corner.

An enormous stuffed bear stood in the other, poised to strike, but there was a mischievous expression on its face. The shop reminded me of my mother’s closet, safe and warm and stuffed full of fabulous trinkets.

“Hello?” I said. “Is anyone here?”

There was no answer, but I felt magic somewhere in the store. A jewelry case contained cut-rate diamonds. The bottom case held an emerald that sparkled with magic and two bloodstones, imbued with protective power.

A mannequin was dressed in a shimmering gown with a dusty feather boa around the neck. On her head was a cloche hat with one faded silk flower.

When I was fifteen, my mother’s luck started to run out. She’d sold or traded magical items before, but they were mere trinkets. I was too stupid to know that what she’d done was something different, something drastic. She’d sold the diviner’s ring, the pack of gilded tarot cards, and the pair of golden dice, but she held on to her necklace.