“...where else would we be?”
“...give us the thread of life.”
The green eyes of The Fates regarded her with such ferocity it was difficult to ascertain if they were angry, desperate, pleased, or perhaps an amalgamation of many emotions. They no longer disguised themselves as people from Vanora’s life, but each wore the same face of a woman at three different phases of her life. The golden embroidery along the edges of their gowns and their glossy dark hair caught the light from the fire pit. Their unusually bright eyes and the strands of magic weaving between their fingers left no doubt that they were goddesses to be reckoned with.
But Vanora wasn’t about to be cowed by them.
She stood to face the three.
“Give us Aeron’s thread of life…”
“…so all can be set right…
“…and order will return.”
Arianrhod had usurped them by taking her son and Vanora’s fates out of their hands. The chaos Aeron had inflicted on both the supernatural and natural worlds had to have crippled their designs. What would they do once they regained full control over not only Aeron and Vanora, but the fate of the world? As she pondered the full ramifications of Arianrhod’s interference, it became increasingly clear that The Fates were a danger.
“I don’t trust you enough to give you this,” she said at last, holding up the spool.
“It was stolen...”
“...from us...”
“...long ago.”
The women took a step toward Vanora while drawing closer to one another.
“Oh, I know that, but I have it now.” Vanora pressed the combined threads of life to her bosom, both hands covering it. “And I’m not going to turn it over until we come to an agreement.”
Their desire to snatch the spool was unmistakable, but the three women did not attempt such an action. Instead, they stepped even closer to Vanora, shaving away the few feet between them. Vanora had nowhere to go, since her back was to the fire pit. She wouldn’t be forced into capitulating to their desires without understanding the ramifications. Meeting their daunting gaze, she refused to cower.
“It’s ours,” the three said in unison.
“No. It’s mine and Aeron’s. Our lives. Intertwined.” The magic in her veins stirred to the surface, illuminating her flesh and creating a golden aura about her. “I want to know what you plan to do with the threads once I turn them over.”
“We are The Fates,” they answered.
“We weave...”
“...measure...”
“...and cut.”
“Oh, I get all that. I do.” Vanora let her gaze drift briefly to their twitching fingers. Thin, vaporous threads of various colors glinted in the illumination from the fire pit. “But Arianrhod threw an enormous wrench into all your designs and I want to know what you plan to do.”
The youngest held up her hands and a spindle of dark thread appeared. “I hold the life of your beloved.”
The second pulled at the strand made of shadows. “I measure the life of your beloved.”
The third lifted a dagger. “Shall I cut it now?”
“You’re threatening Armando?” Vanora gaped at them, a hard knot forming in her gullet. Her fingers convulsed around the spool.
The gold blade hovered over the thread.
Fury enveloping her, Vanora said in a harsh voice, “This is not about Armando. This is about what I hold in my hands. Don’t you dare threaten me with the deaths of those I love. Their lives are already at risk. Your display doesn’t make that truth any more terrifying than it already is.” Gesturing with her chin toward the shadowy thread and sharp blade, Vanora continued, “I know that’s how he’s lived his life every night since he admitted he loved me. Under the threat of death. If he was willing to take that risk, then I accept it.”
The trio of goddesses exchanged long looks before the eldest lowered her blade.
A surge of hope filled Vanora that they believed her bluff. “Don’t fuck with me. Just talk to me. Let’s work this out. Now.” Vanora took a step toward them.
The Fates retreated to a more comfortable distance.
“What is it…”
“…you wish to know…”
“…about our designs for you and Aeron?”
Vanora stared down at the combined threads. “If I give this to you, will he die?”
“Yes,” they chorused.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Who will kill him?” Vanora raised her eyes to scrutinize The Fates as they huddled together.
“We cannot…”
“…determine…”
“…that yet.”
“But you can promise me that he will die tonight?”
Something was awry. She was missing something important. Vanora again studied the threads of life in her hands. The thinnest golden filament stretched from the spool and angled upward. Raising her head, Vanora saw the point where it disappeared. The tiniest little spot of a magical portal shimmered in the air.
“You can’t fully claim my thread of life, can you?” The reverberations of that epiphany shivered through her body. All the bits of information she’d been gathering over time were finally assembling into a cohesive chronicle. “Arianrhod created me. I wasn’t fated to even exist. You can’t control my fate, can you?”
“We are The Fates…”
“…we weave...”
“...measure...”
“...and cut...”
“…but not for you,” they finished in unison.
“You stand outside their influence. That’s why they can’t determine who will kill Aeron,” Dexios said from nearby.
Vanora twisted about to see him gently reclining the Oracle on her back beside the fire pit.
“Why? Because I’m the unknown quantity?”
“Yes. Look at them. They’re afraid of you because they cannot control you.” Dexios gently smoothed Siana’s hair from her face.
Facing the trio of sisters, Vanora recognized the veracity of the werewolf’s words. The Fates regarded her with trepidation, a bit of loathing, and fear. Perhaps she should have experienced relief at the revelation that they did not have control over her fate, but any respite was thwarted by the thought of Arianrhod’s magic still at play in her life. The battle would always be between Vanora and Arianrhod. Even Aeron wasn’t her true enemy. His presence in her life was the product of his mother’s designs.
Holding out the spool, Vanora relinquished it to The Fates.
The three snatched it together.
The golden thread of Vanora’s life instantly unraveled from Aeron’s. The end of the golden strand coiled like a viper, then struck Vanora in the chest, nearly knocking her into the fire pit. Only Dexios leaping over the coals and catching her kept her from the low flames. An awful tingly sensation wrapped about Vanora’s heart as her thread of life claimed a new spool. Pressing one hand to her chest, Vanora shuddered with dread.
“Aeron dies tonight,” the three goddesses vowed.
The fingers of the youngest clasped the spool, the second measured, and the third leaned forward to snip the thread to start the cascade of events that would lead to Aeron’s death.
Standing straight, Vanora watched with bated breath.
With a gleeful, triumphant smile, the oldest Fate drew the blade against the thread.
It did not fray. It did not cut.
Panic settled into the sisters immediately.
“Cut again…”
“…do it now…”
“…I’m trying.”
Again the blade slid along the thread, but did not sever.
“His fate…”
“…is still not…”
“…ours.”
The women regarded Vanora with hatred and terror, retreating into the shadows of the temple. In the blink of an eye, they were gone.
“What does that mean?” Vanora gasped.
“It means you control his fate,” Siana wh
impered from where she was rousing.
“How? They took his thread of life.” Vanora hurried around the pit to kneel at the Oracle’s side.
Siana pushed herself upright and leaned heavily upon her hands. “Yes, but they cannot determine his Fate because it is still intertwined with yours. The choices you make will determine what happens to both of you. This is your battle alone, Vanora.”
“Then it’s simple. I’ll kill him,” Vanora said quickly before the doubt inside her had a chance to speak.
“Will you?” Siana scoffed at Vanora’s proclamation. “Once you are with him, what will you really choose?”
“For him to die, of course,” Vanora vowed, again ignoring the growing dread and uncertainty. Memories of her journey with Aeron attempted to force their way to the forefront of her mind, but she fought to keep them at bay.
“We shall see.” Siana crawled to the vision pool to peer into its tumultuous depths. Dipping her fingers into the water, she let out a sob.
“You can do this,” Dexios said to Vanora, his gaze compassionate yet hard. “You can.”
“Of course,” Vanora replied. “I’ll kill him.”
Even to her own ears, she sounded unsure.
The banging on the door announced Pólemos’s arrival outside the temple. Vanora exchanged worried looks with Dexios.
“It’s your decision as to what to do next,” he said after a few tense moments. Lowering his chin, he deferred to her.
Pulling a deep breath into her lungs, Vanora pondered her options, then picked one. Unsure if the werewolves outside the temple could hear her, she squeezed Dexios arm gently. He nodded his obedience.
Vanora braced herself for what came next. Sweeping her hand at the rubble before the blocked entrance, the marble chunks parted under her power and raucously rolled away. As the doors burst open, she picked up her discarded bag and stood her ground as Pólemos and his wolves aggressively approached.
“Take her,” Pólemos ordered.
Vanora lifted one glowing hand. “Do not touch me.”
Pólemos sneered. “You can’t escape.”
“I don’t want to escape. I came here of my own free will. I asked Dexios to bring me. I have accepted my destiny and I’m here for Aeron.” She spoke the truth, which frightened her a tad.
Pólemos and the formidable looking men and women clustered behind him appeared uneasy. Clad in black, they were an imposing lot, yet Vanora knew she was more powerful. That thought scared her even more.
“You barricaded the doors,” Pólemos pointed out, still suspicious.
“So I would have time to speak with Siana before we were interrupted. I needed to know for certain the absolute truth.”
“The truth?” Pólemos was obviously trying very hard not to scoff at her. “What truth?”
“I am the White Queen.” Sorrowful acceptance echoed in her words.
Long, agonizing seconds ticked away as Pólemos scrutinized her and the scene around them. Keeping his head bowed, Dexios remained at her side.
At last Pólemos said, “Yes, you are the White Queen, and it’s good that you’re accepting it.”
“Take me to my rooms. I know Aeron has prepared some for me.” Vanora wanted control of the situation and knew better than to leave any of the decision making in Pólemos’s hands.
The werewolf continued to stare at her.
Stepping forward, Vanora summoned her magic. Her body glowed with the power. “I said take me to my rooms.”
Pólemos appeared to contemplate challenging her authority, but abruptly dropped his head as his shoulder slumped. “Yes, my queen.”
“Thank you.” Vanora gestured for Dexios to follow and strode out of the temple behind Pólemos.
* * *
The chambers were exactly what Vanora had anticipated after seeing Aeron’s obsession with the color white. From the marble floor to the opulent canopy bed, everything was ivory with just a slight variation in tone. It was a bit overpowering and caused her eyes to ache.
Vanora looked over her shoulder at Pólemos and Dexios. “Thank you for bringing me here. You can go now,” she said.
“Leto said you would be arriving today,” Pólemos said, suspicion still in his eyes.
“She had a lot to do with my decision to come,” Vanora admitted. “Dexios was kind enough to bring me.”
Pólemos continued to scrutinize her thoughtfully.
“I’m going to clean up and get dressed. Please leave.” Vanora stared at Pólemos, not daring to show her fear of him.
“I will check on you later,” Dexios said, retreating from the doorway.
With one last hard look, Pólemos shut the door.
The second the latch caught with a loud click, Vanora exhaled, dropped her bag, and covered her face with her hands. She’d willingly walked into the trap set for her. Though she’d been full of confidence and bravado before arriving, she was now experiencing doubt and fear.
Lowering her hands, she straightened her spine and took a deep breath. She refused to give into the fearsome emotions churning inside her. This wasn’t just about her. Those she loved and the very world was at stake.
She giggled at the absurdity of her thoughts.
Everything that was occurring seemed so insane, yet it was her reality. The regular people living their lives beyond Aeron’s haven had no idea what was truly happening in the shadows of the world. Normal folks didn’t know a supernatural world even existed or that it was a threat to their well-being. And no one but a select few understood that Vanora was the deciding factor in whether humanity or Aeron would rule the future.
Vases of white flowers filled the room with a sweet scent. An enormous crystal chandelier sparkled overhead. A white vanity with an antique mirror was covered in porcelain pots and ivory boxes. Opening up one of the boxes, she found makeup inside. The cosmetics were the brands she wore, but not the bright colors she fancied. A bureau was filled with lacy underthings in ivory, of course. It was disquieting to realize the sizes were correct. The antique wardrobe revealed garments all in Aeron’s favorite color. Again, all the clothing was in her size range.
“Someone’s just a bit obsessed,” she groused.
Though she had been determined to not clean up or dress nicely for her first meeting with Aeron, she’d changed her mind. In order to find a way to kill him, she had to make him believe she’d come of her own free will to be united with him. That meant playing nice. With a grumpy sigh, she pulled out a simple, long-sleeved angora sheath dress that would come down to her ankles. The haven was incredibly cold and her breath misted in the air. The dress would keep her warm. White knee-length lace-up Christian Louboutin boots with red soles were too beautiful not to wear.
“Okay, you have a good sense of style.”
It was awkward to select lingerie. The dainty panties and elegant bras were something Armando should see her in, not Aeron. Yet she had to gain Aeron’s confidence so they could be alone together. Then she would find some way to kill him.
Steeling her resolve, she finally retreated into the attached bathroom that was larger than her old apartment. It was so stark and modern it looked better suited for a futuristic space station than a hidden vampire lair. It took a little bit of investigating and jiggling stainless steel fixtures to finally start a bath. A cabinet built into the wall revealed fluffy white towels and toiletries in the brands Vanora used. Again, she was unsettled by this little detail. Had Armando gone through her things? Or had it been one of Aeron’s spies among Roman’s vampires? That had been one of the more shocking revelations revealed to her after their escape from the rental house. Zachary’s crush, Emily, had been one of Aeron’s spies.
The hot bubble bath did help her sore muscles relax and the scented water calmed her mind. When the water turned dark with the debris of her many battles, she emptied the tub, refilled it, and sank back into the comforting warmth. Exhaustion weighed on her, but she didn’t dare doze off. If she slept, she feared she wouldn’t awaken
in time to mentally prepare for her meeting with Aeron.
When she finally climbed out of the tub, wrinkled and pale pink from the hot water, she gazed into the only mirror in the bathroom. She looked different. Clean of makeup, her appearance seemed more refined. The softness in her face had faded over the last few days. Her cheekbones were more prominent and her eyes harder. She looked regal even if she was naked, and her white-blond hair was clinging to her pale skin. She looked like the White Queen.
I am the White Queen.
Shivering, she ignored the voice in her head and the doubts in her soul.
Turning this way and that, it was evident that the dealings of the last few weeks had taken their toll. She’d always been small-framed and thin, but now she could see the faint outline of her ribcage beneath her breasts. Her transformation into someone other than the human girl who had lived in Austin just a few weeks before was nearly complete.
After donning a robe, she blow dried her hair, brushing out the slight waves so it was sleek. She started to pull out her makeup kit from her bag, but thought better of it. Aeron had a specific aesthetic about how she should appear. That much was clear from the clothing and makeup. Playing along would help her, so she instead concentrated on highlighting her white eyelashes and brows instead of darkening them. It took a few false starts to figure out a natural look, but finally she settled on playing up her albino features. The lingerie, dress and boots all fit like a glove. In a large jewelry case, she found blue boxes filled with diamonds, pearls, and opals. She avoided the diamonds, instead selecting a long platinum chain with a huge opal dangling at the end.
Checking a clock, she realized that time had slipped by faster than she had realized. Very soon she would face Aeron.
A knock on the door pulled her out of her worries. When she opened it, Dexios slipped in, carrying a small tray.
“I brought you something to eat.”
“Thank you.”
“You look very regal, yet witchy.” He flashed a small smile.
“That was the look I was going for.”
Vanora gratefully took the tray and set it on a writing desk. It was a winter vegetable stew with bits of turkey in it, a buttered chunk of cornbread, and iced sweet tea. It reminded her of the meals Miss Robbins used to prepare. Vanora hoped the housekeeper and her husband were safe and far away. Time was broken and confusing. It felt like centuries since she’d lived with Rhonda in Austin and even longer since her childhood in the Socoli Mansion.
In Darkness We Must Abide: The Complete Third Season Page 31