Fated (Fate of Love Book 1) Read online

  I squint into the darkness but still don’t see him. A chill runs up my arms and across the back of my neck as I start jogging, suddenly feeling a need to be home. Crystal reaches for the stairway.

  “Wait!” I shout as I jog up the alley in the semi-darkness.

  She stops at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh. Were you not home?”

  As I step closer, the alley gets colder and I shiver, pulling my arms more closely around me.

  “Visiting Taylor at work,” I explain, not that she’d think to ask me what I’d been doing with my time.

  “You’ll be so proud. I actually bought food.” Crystal holds up two sacks. “You know, more than just snacks.”

  “Is there more? I can help.” I step to the open door of her car as she continues up the rickety steps.

  A wave of something freezing passes by me, and my insides squirm. I blink and see two somethings almost human formed rotting in the air before they fade to blackness. They can’t be real, but my stomach rolls over as my body swims. I sprint upward.

  Crystal nears the top.

  “Wait. Stop.” But I’m too late, the stairs pull away from the wall, and all I have time to do is react.

  I jump and push my feet hard against the brick wall as I hear metal twist around me. My feet burn as I land in the middle of the alleyway, having very little idea of how I got there, and just in time to watch Crystal and the stairs crash to the ground.

  “Mom!” I yell as I sprint to her side, but it’s too late.

  She’s bleeding on the ground with her eyes closed, and I can’t pull in a deep breath.

  I can’t lose Crystal. Not now.

  The air swirls around me again as I yell for help.

  When I blink I see golden eyes, faint and confused. Worry is etched into his fading features. His intensity is frightening.

  Don’t look at me, Zarah. The words are soft, unlike his stare, and swim around my brain like a thought rather than real words.

  I blink again. The eyes are gone.

  I put pressure on a wide gash in Crystal’s shoulder and chant to myself.

  He’s not here. He’s not real. Those creatures are not real. They’re just imaginings from my paintings come to life to help me deal, but...

  But even that doesn’t make sense. Because the cold was real, and all the blood spreading over the pavement is definitely very real. And I saw the creatures before Crystal hit the ground.

  What’s happening to me?

  IX

  Cassius

  I lean my head back against the brick wall outside of Zarah’s apartment, the same wall I pinned her against what feels like a millennia ago. Having just gotten out of Max, I am taking a complete break from him, from my job. Today I’m here for me. If I can’t get answers from the Moirai, than I’ll get them on my own. Which means I have to talk to Zarah as me. Tell her the truth.

  Maybe.

  That part I haven’t decided yet. I at least should ask her about Taylor, even though I could hunt the girl down with little effort. Max seems to be under the impression that gaining Zarah's favor is important because modern girls work in packs.

  A shadow passes over me and I casually look up even though whoever it is won’t see me. When my head lifts, my whole body freezes. The hollow eyes of a creature I’ve only heard horror stories about, holds my gaze, and every muscle in my body tightens. I push down the urge to gag at a sight far worse than the Eye of the Moirai. The humanoid shape is cold and rotting, looking somewhat like those zombie movies mortals love so much. The hair is gone and blue, bloodless flesh that looks almost black in some places sags or hangs from the skeleton.

  My heart beats so loud in my ears I can’t think.

  The slamming of a car door jars me from my state of panic, and Zarah comes around the corner.

  Another creature joins the one in front of me. This one is darker, older. I can tell by the rot and death in its eyes. These are Unfateds. This isn’t right.

  I hear a voice. It’s Zarah’s voice. She’s talking to a woman that looks like the exact future replica of herself. I push myself harder against the brick. I don’t know which stories are true about the Unfated. Two thousand years and today is the day I see one.

  Make that three.

  A third Unfated, much younger by the purplish blue skin still relatively intact, moves out from behind Zarah’s mother’s car and steps up behind Zarah. My mind goes from muddled mess to ultra sharp in a split second as I watch the Unfated run his scabby fingers across Zarah’s shoulders, her hair moving under his touch like a soft breeze pushed it aside. Zarah shudders and she looks right at me, but without focus. She doesn’t see me.

  I take a step forward toward the Unfated and his sickly gaze lands on me. I’m a god, but Unfateds are not like typical demons—hydras, hellhounds, and gorgons. They can turn gods into monsters if the stories are true, and I am not going to be the one to test it. The other two move to surround Zarah and her mother, busily talking—not having a clue what’s happening around them.

  Zarah’s mother begins to climb the metal staircase, the Unfated standing on either side gripping the railings. Zarah yells, her eyes wide, but the sound of her boots slamming against the stairs drown out her exact words.

  I know what they’re going to do, but I can’t stop them. I can’t make myself move. I’m afraid of the Unfated, and guilt tears me in half as I watch the metal staircase be ripped from the wall and come crashing to the ground.

  Zarah reacts, propelling herself backward and landing cat-like on the pavement. Feet down, knees bent, eyes wide and scared.

  This is when I force my body into motion. The three Unfateds move toward Zarah, and I push into a desperate run, sliding to a stop once I’m between them. I have no idea what I’ll do. I have a bow and useless arrows that make people fall in love. Not exactly helpful here.

  The Unfateds know what I am. They don’t look at each other but they step back in unison and turn to run.

  Instead of going after them immediately, I turn to look at her. She’s in shock but her eyes are focused. On me. I feel my body begin to solidify. The smooth marble wrapping up my muscles, filling my veins.

  “Don’t look at me, Zarah.” My lips move but no sound comes out. She squeezes her eyes shut and I relax. When her eyes open they dart around. Frantic.

  I could stay and help. I can’t. The Unfateds flood my mind again. As soon as the heaviness of cracked stone leaves my limbs, I spin on my heel and run as fast as I can.

  X

  Zarah

  I clutch Crystal’s hand in the ambulance and close my eyes. Two of the three EMTs have a nice, steady peace about them. The third’s energy is skittering and nervous, so I try to tune him out.

  Their words crawl over each other in a language I don’t want to understand—one that has to do with whether or not she’ll live. Crystal’s still breathing. I can hear a beep that’s her heartbeat. Neither of these things brings me much comfort.

  One of the EMTs steps over my lap, knocking my head into the metal cabinet behind me, sending a sharp pain across my skull.

  I stumble out of the ambulance, still feeling completely confused about what happened. The stairs are definitely rickety, but it’s… The situation tonight was weird. I felt something first. Something bad. I know I did. But I'm not sure things that move in the shadows even count. And part of me knows there was more than one. I’m lucky she’s still alive. That I’m alive. But the stairs falling make no sense. There was no one there. A feeling around a person doesn’t come without the person.

  One of my pieces of art couldn’t have come to life and cut down the stairs. A creature made out of a hallucinogen could not have put Crystal in the hospital. If I could trust myself—what I see, what I feel—then I’d know that something I didn’t think existed hurt Crystal and probably tried to hurt me.

  Medical personnel take her on a stretcher through double doors, and I’m accosted by a nurse with a clipboard of paperwork.

  “Seriously
?” I snap as I point to where they’ve rounded a corner. “That’s my mom.”

  “And we need your current information. Insurance provider. Home address...” Her brows arch up, making her wide face look even wider.

  I want to laugh because they’re worried about paperwork when my mom’s on a stretcher unconscious. “I don’t know it. I’m sorry.”

  I start toward the doors again but she holds out her hand. “Let the doctors look her over first. We’ll let you know as soon as we have her stabilized.” She pushes the clipboard toward me again. “I’m sure you can manage your name, address and basic employment information.”

  I snatch the clipboard from her and vow to find something gross to dump in her coffee later.

  I sit, still feeling hazy and exhausted, and see Max out of the corner of my eye. While I'm surprised to see him, I actually warm a little, which is definitely a new feeling. Maybe he’ll end up being a friend.

  “What did you do to yourself this time?” I call, teasing, and wondering if we’re friends after his bizarre run away the other day.

  He freezes and stares for a moment before breaking into a smile. I like Max’s smile. It fills his thin face, and adds to the quirky vibe he has. He plays with some of the bands on his wrists as he comes my way. “I’m actually here with my grandma, for my granddad.”

  “Oh. Your nose looks better. Sorry, by the way. The eye thing.” The swelling’s gone down nicely.

  Max lifts his hand and runs his fingers along the light yellow bruise under his eye, but his head angles down and his eyebrows pull together.

  He takes a few steps closer. “Yeah, that. Listen, Zarah. My weekend was… I don’t know what it was… Weird. Do you ever feel sort of… I don’t know… Outside of yourself? Detached? I’m thinking I may have come across a little crazy. I didn’t sleep much and… I was... Yes. Outside of myself.”

  “Happens to me a lot. Yeah.” I try to stay focused with him maybe understanding the confused part of me I don’t know how to describe to anyone.

  I want to ask him to step closer so I can feel that home feeling he has along with his smile, but can’t push up the words. I think of Taylor and the way she smiled when I mentioned Max. He shouldn't feel like home to me.

  “Max!” An elderly woman with curly grey hair calls across the waiting room. “We can go in now!”

  He steps back. “Gotta run. Are you okay?”

  “I… I’m here for my mom, and I…” Now tears are starting to push against the back of my eyes. “I don’t know how she is.”

  Max frowns. “I’ll find you. Okay?”

  My throat’s suddenly so closed off all I can do is nod. And as he walks away I’m sad he didn’t get close enough for me to feel him because no matter what is right or wrong in this twisted scenario, being around him feels good.

  < - - - >

  Medical-Induced Coma. That’s what’s going on with Crystal. Necessary so they can run some tests. The back of her head was sliced open, and they’re worried about a list of things so long that I fuzzed out. Like so many things in my life, it feels too awful to be real, so my only choice is to keep pushing forward like I’ve always done. They promise they’ll let her wake up soon.

  The hospital chair is pulled as close to her bed as I can manage, and despite my feet continually falling asleep, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Right now I don’t even know if I can get to our house. The stairs are gone. I let out a nervous laugh as I sit next to my comatose mother with no way to get home. Thank God I’m alone.

  I lean forward and rest my forehead on Crystal’s bed wishing for sleep. Wishing that I didn’t want to steal some of whatever’s in her IV right now. I snap open my eyes and stare at the wall so I won’t end up at the place where my cravings take over. Maybe coffee. Or sugar. Maybe after some caffeine I’ll be able to sort out what I think I saw.

  “Be right back.” As I walk down the hall I try not to think about what my fate will be without her. Where I’ll live. Craphole or not, no way could I afford that place without her.

  “Zarah.” Max’s familiar voice sends a wave through me that loosens the tension in my shoulders. I’m sort of amazed at myself for finding a friend in him so fast, and kind of happy about it too, because I need a normal in my life. And I’m thinking that Max and his quirky nerdiness is a pretty nice normal.

  “Hey, Max.” I turn to face him. He has a smile pasted on and both hands clutch little steaming paper cups, like he read my mind. He holds one out to me and I open my mouth to ask if he grabbed sugar just as he digs through his pocket and pulls out packets of sugar, shaking them like baggies of Coke. They are about that valuable to me right now. He pats his pocket as a show there are a lot more.

  “You became my most favorite person,” I say as I start ripping open sugar packets.

  “How’s your mom? Do you have family here? Or…” he asks.

  “Nope. It’s pretty much me and her. She’s alive, so…” But this is all really personal and maybe strange for two people who don’t know each other—well, aside from nosebleeds and gravel. We stare at our coffees for a moment.

  His face drops into a frown. “I’m so sorry.”

  “The steps to my place. Remember?”

  He nods, hesitantly.

  “They came off the wall, and…” And there’s nothing else I can explain without sounding crazy. “And crashed.”

  “If she’s half as tough as you, she’ll be out of here in no time.” He smiles again but it’s not a full smile, it’s a sympathetic one.

  I step closer, wanting to feel that warmth from the other day, but it’s not there.

  What changed? Maybe it’s the hospital, or… It’s that everything with him feels new and stilted instead of comfortable like before.

  “You okay?” He rests a hand on my arm, and I jerk without meaning to. He lets his arm fall away, which is fine because he doesn’t feel right. Not like touching him in the park, and how could that be different? What’s different? Me? Him? Something I don’t understand?

  “How’s your arm?” I ask. “And what’s left after we picked all the gravel out?”

  “Oh.” He pulls up his long-sleeved tee to show me his bandages. “Healing. Grams cleaned it.”

  “Probably nicer than me, huh?” I’m talking because I’m talking to someone who’s talking back to me who isn’t a nurse or a doctor.

  “Oh no.” He chuckles. “She used to be a nurse. No mercy.”

  I step back not sure what to do with how different Max is. “Well, I’m going to caffeinate and head back in. Thanks. For the coffee. That was really nice of you.” I feel so awkward now. I just don’t know how to deal with nice.

  “Is your friend with you?” Max blurts out and I spin back around to face him. His cheeks are blazing and for a second my gut falls even though it shouldn't.

  “Taylor? No, why?”

  “Well, uh, she’s your best friend and all, and with no family I thought that she’d maybe be…” Max trails out, and I force a smile.

  “I’m fine, Max. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Do you have a place to stay?” His head tilts to the side. “I mean. Can you get home now? Is Taylor going to come get you?”

  “It’s cool. I mean, I’ll be here, anyway. Our landlord should take care of the stair problem. I think.” Maybe.

  “Yeah, but it’s going to take longer than a day.”

  I shrug because I hadn’t really thought of the inability to get into my house.

  “Look. I’m sure this is totally creepy of me or something, but if you need a shower or a nap in a place that doesn’t smell like hospital, give me a call, okay?” He holds up a pen and takes my hand to write his number. “You… You and your friend can drop by whenever.”

  “Thanks, Max.” The offer is a simple thing, but not a simple thing, and my situation would have been a lot easier for him to walk away from. There’s something different about him. Less edgy. With him next to me I can’t believe I punched him. He doesn’t
feel like someone who would need a punch. Which makes me feel guiltier about it. Not that someone who felt like home would, but there was an edge there, too. Something…more.

  He reaches in and we share an awkward sort of half hug and I breathe in expecting… I don’t know what. The brilliant tingling I felt with him over the weekend and it’s not here.

  I’m messed up.

  XI

  Cassius

  As I run full speed down the streets of Seattle, I can’t help but be grateful it’s the middle of the night. The few scattered people brave enough to be out right now freeze as I pass them. Gusts of wind swirl as I pass, making them look around, or clutch their hats, or tighten their coats.

  The Unfated still run, and I push myself harder. Who knew soulless zombie people could move so fast. I slide around the corner into a particularly dark alley and stop so quickly it peels part of the sole from my shoe.

  The Unfated stand in a line. In front of them are two hideous growling four-legged beasts with huge muscled shoulders and short bristly dark hair. The snarl that rips from behind their jagged teeth makes me back against the alley wall.

  Hellhounds.

  If they have hellhounds that means…Really? I do not have time for this.

  “Cassius, what a wonderful surprise.” A sickeningly sweet voice floats through the air as she steps from the darkness.

  My body stiffens with the hatred I feel for this woman. I definitely do not have the patience for her right now. Serissa moves from the shadows with long flowing dark hair and robes so sheer they leave almost zero to the imagination. Not that I’d need an imagination, because I’ve already been there. Many regretful times.

  Her movements are slow and calculated but graceful and beautiful.

  “Serissa. An honor that I’m the top of your kill list this year. I've missed you the last few seasons.” I press myself harder against the wall as the Hellhounds snap furiously at me. I can kill them, but that doesn't make their teeth less sharp.