Fortune's Favors Page 4

  “Any luck with Naomi?” I asked Talbot.

  “She won’t talk to you, Nyx,” he replied. “Hell, she’s barely talking to me. Says she’s sleeping with the enemy. Or was.”

  “I need to talk to the Fates before anybody else gets killed.”

  “Talking to the Fates might be what will get you killed,” he replied. “Again,” he added wryly.

  When I first arrived in Minneapolis, I wanted to find my thread and end things on my own terms. Now I wasn’t so sure.

  “I’ll have to take that chance,” I said. “Besides, I’m not sure, but I think I’m already dead.”

  “Maybe you should look at it like you’ve been reborn,” he replied.

  “Have you gone all religious on me?”

  “I just mean that it’s a fresh start,” he said.

  “Bygones,” I said sarcastically.

  “Exactly,” he said. “Bygones.”

  “And don’t roll your eyes,” he added.

  “I’m not rolling my eyes.”

  “Yes, you were,” he said. “Mentally.”

  “Are you going to talk to Naomi for me or not?”

  “I’ll talk to her,” he said.

  Talbot was my best friend, but he got a little holier-than-thou sometimes. I blamed his membership in the House of Zeus.

  It was almost closing time when a group of demons came in. They were trying to act like friends out for a day of shopping, but there was a terrified mortal in their midst. A drunken woman in her early twenties, probably a coed, was sobering rapidly. She lost her buzz enough to know she had stepped in shit.

  The clientele, who knew demons when they smelled them, went silent.

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  “I’ve come for you, Nyx Fortuna,” one of them replied. He looked like a professional wrestler and had a neck almost as wide as the door.

  His fangs distended and his claws came out.

  “Come and get me.” I gripped my athame, which I carried with me at all times.

  “Try to get the customers out of the store,” I told Talbot in a low voice.

  I threw it and it hit the short male demon in the neck. I had to dodge as black demon blood spurted everywhere. Hecate had sent the B team. What were they doing? Snatching mortals, but why? I muttered a quick boomerang spell and the athame returned to my hand.

  “This is getting old,” I told the taller male demon. “Tell Hecate if she wants to talk to me, she can do it in person.”

  “You don’t want the boss making house calls,” he growled. “I can handle a punk like you.”

  I sent a spell his way, but he kept coming. “Those dime-store spells won’t work with me,” he said.

  His partner, a female with a Botoxed face and inflated lips, went for Talbot. His eyes went silverlight before he sent a spell her way. It stopped her, but she managed to rake her nails across his arm before it took effect.

  Her buddy took advantage of my distraction and wrapped me in a headlock. I tried to break his hold, but he held tight. Until I drove my athame into his thigh.

  The mortal’s screaming distracted me and the other female demon, who wore Daisy Dukes and a snarl, drove her claws into my chest.

  “Hear you’re mortal now.” She sniffed. “This is going to be easy.”

  The other demon advanced again. Demons were hard to kill.

  It wasn’t going to be enough to immobilize the demon. I’d have to kill all of them. Before I could make my move, the demon coming for me burst into flames. I jumped out of the way. Behind the demon, Talbot held a lighter and the bottle of absinthe I kept under the register.

  “Thanks,” I said. “You owe me a bottle.”

  He laughed.

  “What should we do with her?”

  The spell he’d cast was wearing off. The female demon had regained some of her ability to move.

  When she reached for Talbot, claws extended, I reacted. My athame hit the chest of the woman, splitting it like an overripe pomegranate.

  “Problem solved,” I said. I pulled the athame out of the dead demon’s chest.

  A couple of college-aged mortals looked on with interest. “Are they filming this? I know my rights. I didn’t sign a waiver,” one of them said.

  “Shut up,” Talbot said. “Now.”

  The mortal subsided into an offended silence, but it was better than him getting killed.

  The mages inched their way out of the store, but one of them got too close to the remaining demon. It reached out with one meaty paw and squeezed his neck until the mage gasped for breath.

  “Let him go,” I said.

  The last demon grinned. “Make me.”

  Even the smaller demons tended to be cocky in a fight, and this guy looked like he’d eaten twenty or so of his friends. He also looked like he killed people as a hobby. The poor mage was turning purple.

  I threw my athame at the same time I muttered the spell. “Incendium.”

  The knife went straight for his heart, but the demon blocked it with his hand. He held up the hand, which had been skewered through with the athame. A trickle of thick black blood seeped out of the wound, but the demon only smiled.

  “This is going to be fun,” he said. He dropped the mage, who stayed down and gasped for breath for breath.

  “Not much fun for you,” I said.

  The demon laughed and a puff of smoke escaped. A flame escaped from his nose and then his body was encased in flame. The heat was intense. We shielded our eyes, but the smell of demon flesh permeated the store.

  He burned until there was nothing left but a pile of greasy, noxious-smelling ashes. And the athame.

  “Not so spontaneous combustion,” Talbot said.

  The rest of the customers had already left, but the mage the demon had almost strangled waited until the end.

  “Thank you, son of Fortuna,” he said. His voice was hoarse, and he rubbed his throat. “You saved my life. If you need anything, anything at all, just call.”

  “And who should I call?” I asked.

  “Emmett Greenfellow, at your service,” he replied.

  “Emmett, it was probably my fault you were injured in the first place.”

  “The demon was the one who squeezed me like a grape,” he replied.

  “The demon was here because of me.” I don’t know why I was standing there arguing with him, but I couldn’t seem to stop. I couldn’t figure out why Hecate hadn’t made an appearance. Maybe I’d hit her on the head harder than I’d thought. Or maybe she was busy pursuing my father.

  “Others in Minneapolis do not speak well of you,” he continued.

  I bet.

  “They’re wrong about you. You’re a hero. They just don’t know it yet.” He shook my hand and left.

  I was the farthest thing from a hero. I stared after him, astonished that someone I’d never met before had such a high opinion of me.

  I stayed that way until Talbot nudged me. “It’s your turn to clean up the demon blood.”

  “Hero,” he added.

  I got out the mop and bucket. Some hero.

  Chapter Eight

  Talbot had managed to set up a meeting with my aunts, but only because they’d heard about the slaughter. Morta probably wanted to spit at me, too.

  “Will Naomi be there?”

  “She’s still pretty pissed,” he replied.

  “Deci was evil, working with Danvers, and possibly even Hecate, and Naomi’s mad that I killed her?”

  “Evil or not, she was still her aunt.” Couldn’t argue with that.

  The meeting was set to take place at Hell’s Belles at midnight. Not exactly neutral territory, since I’d found out that the Fates owned it. But they owned half of Minneapolis, so I couldn’t really complain. And the food was fantastic.

  “Are you coming with me?” I asked.

  “Nope,” Talbot replied. “Family only or no meeting. Fates’ orders.”

  I snorted. “Some family.”

  “It’s the on
ly one you have.”

  “I miss her, you know.” Naomi was the only member of my family I wanted to claim.

  “I miss her, too,” Talbot replied.

  “She’s talking to you at least,” I replied glumly. “And she didn’t break up with you.” The “yet” hung unspoken in the air.

  “Nyx,” Talbot said, “you know they might try to kill you.”

  “And now they can,” I said. After over two hundred years, I was no longer immortal, which took some getting used to. You’d think my aunts would stop snipping threads of fate, since we were trying to save the world, but you’d be wrong. Morta’s scissors were busier than ever.

  He was right. I could be walking into a trap, but I needed to convince my aunts we should join forces, at least long enough to stop Hecate.

  I decided to get there early. The restaurant was empty, except for Bernie and a stranger who sat at my favorite booth. Her back was to the entrance, and she didn’t even look up when I entered.

  She had long dark hair, which she’d shoved up into a messy bun and secured with a pair of takeout chopsticks. She wore jeans and a tee and a pile of textbooks were spread out in front of her. I dismissed her as a grad student looking for a quiet place to study.

  I sat in the booth next to her, but facing the door. Bernie took my order, the blue plate special, and then stood there like she wanted to say something. The grad student held up an empty mug and Bernie left to fill it.

  I waited, but the Fates didn’t show up. They were probably still too angry to talk to me, Or it was a setup.

  Bernie set my order in front of me and the delicious aroma of chicken and biscuits wafted up. Hell’s Belles made the best food in town. At least my last meal would be a delicious one.

  “It’s nice to see a murderer with a hearty appetite,” the grad student said.

  I stopped mid-chew. “What did you say?”

  “You’re a murderer.”

  Before I could react, she was practically on top of me. She whipped out one of the chopsticks, which, I realized too late, made a handy weapon. She held it to my throat. “You killed my mother.”

  The stranger’s glare now made sense. I’d only ever killed one woman, and that was my aunt Deci. I was looking at Deci’s absent daughter, a pissed-off Fate-in-training.

  I matched her stare. “She deserved it.”

  Our face-off was interrupted by my aunt. “Rebecca, I see you’ve met Nyx,” Morta said. “Take a seat.” Rebecca’s chopstick pressed tighter against my throat. “You can try to kill him later,” Morta snapped. “Right now we have bigger problems.”

  The pressure against my throat lessened, but my neck still throbbed. Rebecca wanted to kill me, but hadn’t. Why?

  The entire Wyrd clan had arrived while I was occupied with Rebecca—my two aunts, the remaining Fates, and Fates-in-training Claire and Naomi. There were always three of them—always exceptionally powerful, always female, and always from our bloodline. The Fates were not immortal. Every few hundred years, the old Fate would step down and her daughter would take her place.

  They were down to two Fates, which was why they’d sent for the black sheep, Rebecca. One of the Fates-in-training would have to join the big leagues. I studied my three cousins. Which one would it be?

  They took seats at a neutral table and Rebecca and I grabbed our stuff and moved to opposite ends. Morta gave Bernie a curt nod and Bernie turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED and dimmed the lights.

  I tried to give Naomi a hug, but she stiff-armed me. Rebecca didn’t even try to stifle her snicker.

  “What happened to your arm?” Nona asked.

  “Something bit it,” I replied blandly.

  “It’s a wonder you have any blood left,” Naomi said. It was the first time she’d spoken to me since she’d arrived.

  I smiled at her, but she looked away.

  While the rest of the family exchanged pleasantries, I was stuck on Rebecca’s appearance.

  “You don’t look anything like Deci,” I said casually. Before she’d died, Deci had mentioned the loss of a child. I’d thought she’d meant her child had died, but after meeting Rebecca, I realized it was a different kind of loss.

  Everyone at the table fell silent.

  “Don’t be an ass, Nyx,” Naomi said.

  “I’m told I resemble my father,” Rebecca said through gritted teeth.

  Another long pause. What was the big deal?

  “No one ever talks about you,” I continued to charm her. Her gaze turned to acid.

  “Rebecca is the oldest child in the Fates’ line,” Morta said. “She’s been away.”

  “Except for me,” I said cockily. “Technically, I’m the oldest.”

  Morta’s slow headshake took a while to sink in.

  I looked closer at Rebecca. “There’s no way. You’re older than me?”

  “Apparently, smarter, too,” she said snidely.

  “What?”

  “What everyone is tiptoeing around,” she said, slowly, like she was speaking to a not–particularly bright child, “is that we’re siblings.”

  “Siblings?” I had a sister? I was gaping like a trout. My family closet was full of secrets, and I never knew when another one would come spilling out.

  “Half siblings,” she emphasized.

  “But we’re cousins.”

  “That, too.” She waited several beats for it to sink in. “Yes, our father was doin’ sisters.”

  “Rebecca, language,” Morta rebuked.

  “Ever met him?” I asked.

  Rebecca shook her head. “Never wanted to.”

  “Your mother didn’t handle rejection well, which is why half of his face is melted off.”

  “He probably deserved it,” she snarled.

  Couldn’t argue with that. “So where have you been?” I asked, but the other part of my brain was still grappling with the fact that I had a sister. One about as friendly as a feral cat, but still a sister.

  For some reason, the question upset everyone at the table. “Why do you ask?” Rebecca replied.

  “Why all the mystery?” I asked. “What did you do? Embezzle company funds? Murder someone?”

  There was a long silence. I stared at Rebecca in awe. “You stole money from the Fates? You are your mother’s daughter.”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” she snarled.

  “Children, quit quarreling or I’ll send you to bed without any supper,” Nona said.

  There was an unmistakable note of amusement in her voice. I’d been so busy exchanging barbs with Rebecca that I hadn’t noticed my aunt watching us closely.

  I snuck looks at my sister when I didn’t think she was looking. Had my mother known about her?

  “Give me a reason I shouldn’t kill him,” Rebecca said.

  “He is your brother.”

  Her expression didn’t change. “So?”

  “He’s the Custos,” Naomi blurted out.

  If anything, the news made Rebecca angrier. “I was supposed to be the Custos.”

  “You weren’t around,” I said. “So Deci gave the Book of Fates to me.” I wasn’t going to admit I didn’t have the Book of Fates any longer.

  She sneered. “You must have made her.”

  “Rebecca, you know it doesn’t work like that,” Nona rebuked her gently.

  Morta cleared her throat. “Technically, Nyx is no longer the Custos.”

  I glared at her. “Is that why the Book of Fates is missing?”

  “It’s not missing,” Claire said. “I have it.” She flipped her blond hair triumphantly.

  “You have it? But I thought there had to be some formal ceremony or something. Isn’t that why Deci was willing to hand it over to me? Because she had no other choice?”

  “We are Fates,” Morta replied. “We always have other choices.”

  “My mother was doing you a favor,” Rebecca said. “Being the Custos is an honor.”

  Being the Custos sucked, so why was I
pissed that Claire had taken over? Maybe because it had made me feel like part of the family. The thought sickened me. Had I forgotten what this family had done to my mother?

  “Your mother was evil,” I said.

  “Because she tried to kill you?”

  “No, because she was working with a necromancer to free Hecate,” I said. “And dabbling in dark magic.” And she killed her own sister, my mother, Lady Fortuna.

  “She wouldn’t do that,” Rebecca said.

  “She did.”

  My sister looked at her aunts for confirmation. After a long moment, Morta nodded. Rebecca’s eyes welled with tears of sadness or maybe anger, but she shook them away. “You didn’t have to kill her,” she said in a whisper.

  “I did.” I wasn’t winning any points in the good brother category, but I wasn’t going to sit there and pretend Deci was a saint just because she was dead. Just because I’d killed her.

  “So what now?” Rebecca asked, after she got her emotions back into check. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Rebecca, you will be trained as the Atropos,” Morta said crisply.

  “What’s an Atropos?” I asked.

  Rebecca gave me a scornful look and then made a scissoring motion with her hands.

  “You get to be a mini-Morta,” I said sarcastically. “Murdering friends and family alike.”

  “You really don’t get the Fates at all,” Claire said. “It’s not murder. Someone has to do it. The Atropos is called and must obey.”

  “Enough quarreling,” Nona said. She stared at me. “It is done. Nyx has fulfilled the prophecy.” He, born of Fortune, shall let loose the barking dogs as the Fates fall and Hecate shall rise.

  “And?”

  “And now we have to fix it,” she replied. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I said. It still hurt to talk, and my sister’s chopstick hadn’t helped. I put a hand up to my throat.

  “But what about the rules?” Rebecca said. “He shouldn’t even be alive.”

  “Screw the rules,” the normally elegant Morta said. “We are at war. We need him. We will settle all debts after it’s over.”

  My sister’s stare let me know she planned to collect her debts: probably by slicing off my fingers one by one.

  “We’ll all help you,” Naomi said. “Even if it means killing Wren.”