The Golden Shears (Fated Destruction Book 2)

by D. S. Murphy

“I’ll bet Zeus had you here persecuting witches and scientists,” Maddie said under her breath.

  “Witches, yes. Didn’t really care about the scientists. For much of the Middle Ages, humans persecuted their own—anybody with any power was a witch and persecuted. As well as people who were just different or didn’t fit in, or anyone challenging biblical truths. But Florence welcomed everyone... as long as they had a little money. And if they didn’t, they could just work for someone who did.”

  “Do you feel guilty about it at least?” Maddie asked.

  “Guilty about what?”

  “Killing people. Magical people. People like me,”

  “I never really thought about it before, but I don’t think so. I was doing my job, what I was created to do. I was taught that Zeus was the source of all magic, and anyone using it was stealing from him, detracting from his glory. Compared to Zeus’s light they were nothing.”

  “So you enjoyed it,” Maddie pushed. I’m not sure why she was on his case like this, she’d been nothing but flirty smiles earlier. Was she trying to get him to confess something?

  “Never. Not once. But I enjoyed doing my job well and pleasing Zeus. When the task was difficult, it increased the burden, which made the job more valuable. Dealing with roots was the hardest. Mostly young children, who had no idea of the power they possessed. It was different, with seekers like you—people who had no magic of their own but picked it up out of defiance.”

  “My father was a collector,” Maddie said. “He had a handful of enchanted objects and some books on magic. He didn’t know how to use them. One day he bought a book from a shop and raised some kind of red flag. A team of hunters came and killed him. They killed my mother for trying to protect him. Then they burned down the house. I fled through the back door and spent the next decade in foster care. It was only because I knew about magic, because I’d seen the hunters, that I took an interest and dedicated myself to seeking out more. At least enough so I could protect myself in case they came again.”

  “That’s horrible,” Jessie said.

  “I’m so sorry,” Puriel said.

  “I know it’s not your fault,” Maddie said. “You fell. You’re one of the good ones. It might have taken you awhile to realize what you were doing was wrong, but you did. I’m just tired, and I need some coffee.”

  We hadn’t told Maddie that Puriel fell recently. For a horrible moment I wondered if Puriel was part of the team that killed Maddie’s parents, but his face was impassive. Still, if not that particular mission, Puriel must have been on a thousand missions just like it. I wondered if he was really sorry. If he even realized how many lives he’d ruined.

  We headed down the street until we found a coffee shop. We ordered an assortment of drinks and pastries. The weather was chilly, but not as cold as Washington.

  “I can’t believe we’re in Florence,” Jessie said, sipping her cappucino. “I never thought I’d get anywhere. We have to try the pizza.”

  “And the ice cream,” Sarah said.

  “Later,” I said, pulling out the piece of paper Jadius had given me, with the gallery’s address.

  “Is anyone else concerned that we’re walking into a trap?” Maddie asked. I saw her grip the handle of a concealed dagger under her leather jacket. That’s when I realized we’d just smuggled a shotgun and a couple of swords into the country. No customs or anything. We’d need to be careful not to get in trouble with the local authorities.

  “It’s possible,” Puriel said.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “I’m pretty sure it was Jadius’s assistant who sold us out. Even if Jadius knew what was coming, I think he intended us to escape. The deal he made with me... he’ll get nothing if we don’t find the shears.”

  “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” Jessie grumbled.

  “We don’t have any other options,” I said. “So we go and check out the museum, but we keep our eyes open.”

  Puriel led use through the tight, cobblestone alleys framed with luxury shops. I paused when we reached the main square and saw the massive cathedral. Its facade was covered in white tiles with pink and green designs.

  “Il Duomo,” Puriel said, pointing at the huge red dome. “Engineered in 1436 by Filippo Brunelleschi. It was the largest dome in world for four and a half centuries.”

  A market selling bags and souvenoirs surrounded the church. Puriel stopped a man with a tweed jacket for directions.

  “Mi scusi, signore, sai dov’è questo indirizzo?”

  Of course he speaks Italian. I’d have to try and stop being surprised by Puriel. The street curved narrowly until we found a tiny sign outside a yellow sandstone building with the right address. The handpainted sign outside was so weathered it was difficult to read.

  Museo dil sconosciuto.

  “Museum of the unknown,” Puriel translated.

  “Well that’s not creepy at all,” Jessie said.

  I rang the bell, and pushed the door open when I heard the click of an electronic lock. The floor was polished wood and the white walls smelled like fresh paint. The round ceiling looked like it had been frescoed at one time, but all that remained were indistinct shapes of faded colors.

  I thought we’d have to buy tickets or something, but there wasn’t any sales counter. It actually looked like they didn’t get that many visitors. We walked around the small room, glancing quickly at the paintings. They hung in handcarved wood frames that had been gilded in gold leaf.

  I met Jessie on the other side of the room after we’d scouted out each side.

  “It’s not here,” I said, my voice heavy with disappointment. Most of the paintings showed scenes from mythology, but none were especially remarkable. Had we come all this way for nothing?

  “The tourists usually flock to the Uffizi or the Galleria del Academia,” said a man behind me. He was mostly bald, with round glasses and a red bowtie.

  “We have particular tastes,” Maddie said, raising an eyebrow and giving him a teasing smile. He pulled at his collar.

  “We’re looking for a painting of the Fates, by Oreste Zetico,” I said.

  His eyes raked over us, and I realized what a band of misfits we must have looked like. Sarah and Jessie were wearing some of the clothes they’d grabbed at JDRI—a random collection of hand-me-downs. My clothes from Nevah were a step up, close-fitting and well made, though his eyes lingered on my long, dark gloves. Maddie looked amazing, a hippie-biker chick with a killer body. We stood out, as tourists if nothing else. In comparison, Puriel looked surprisingly normal, in his suit and white collared shirt, apart from his scorched eyes.

  “Never heard of it,” the man said.

  “It’s important,” I said. “And Jadius told us you might have it here.”

  He turned back and peered at me over his glasses.

  “Well in that case,” he said. “I’m Mr. Ackerley. Follow me, please.”

  He grabbed a set of keys and led us through a door to the side. We climbed a set of winding stairs into a plush apartment, with purple sofas and leafy house plants. There were marble statues, framed paintings and glass cases full of gold figurines.

  “Wow,” Jessie said, “some crib. Business must be good.”

  “I’m not sure why you’re so interested in this particular one,” he said, ignoring her. “Zetico’s earlier paintings are much nicer to look at. Maybe not extraordinary, for the period, but nice. This, on the other hand...”

  He unlocked a small door that opened into a mini-gallery with a tall ceiling. Paintings covered almost every inch of wall. I’m pretty sure I spotted a Rembrandt and a Picasso.

  He gestured towards the far wall. I gasped when I saw it. Zetico’s painting stood out completely from the others, which were mostly landscapes and portraits. With heavy brush strokes and thick coats of paint, it looked like it was done by a colorblind Van Gogh… or a five-year-old with fingerpaints.

  The layout was basically the same as Strudwick’s version, with three women in
a cave. But this one was exploding with detail. Indecipherable inscriptions were carved into the cave walls. Two woman were holding the thread, but the one behind them was pointing towards the mouth of the cave in the background. I stepped closer to view the tiny scene outside the cave.

  “It’s different,” I breathed. “Strudwick’s had a desert outside. This one...”

  It was like a giant boulder, sticking up out of the earth. And on top of the boulder, in almost miniature detail, a temple with symmetrical pillars.

  “That’s it?” Puriel said.

  “Yeah, I thought there’d be a clue or something,” Jessie said.

  “It is a clue,” I said. “All we have to do is find a temple like that, up on a rock or high place.”

  “You’ve just described nearly every Greek and Roman temple,” Puriel said. “They always built them in a prominent position, on a hill or plateau. This could be anywhere.”

  I searched the painting for more information, studying the facial expressions of the three women. I examined their posture and gestures, and tried to make sense of the scribbles on the walls, but they were jibberish.

  “There must be something here,” I said, feeling panic rise up in my throat. There had to be more. But maybe I was the only one who could see it. I unfocused my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to see through the flat surface of canvas, like I did when I was looking for the threads.

  It was subtle at first, just a faint, subconscious recognition that something was off about the painting. I squinted, then widened my eyes, as the whole thing suddenly snapped into focus.

  “I can read it,” I said.

  “Read what? There’s nothing there,” Jessie said.

  “Underneath the paint, I can see the individual threads that make up the canvas. Some of them were stitched differently. It creates a very subtle pattern, woven into the fabric of the canvas. Not a pattern, words.”

  “What does it say?” Sarah said, suddenly excited.

  “Look Beneath,” I read.

  “Beneath what?” Puriel asked.

  “Beneath the painting obviously,” Jessie said. “We have to turn it over.” She reached out to grab the frame.

  “No touching!” Mr. Ackerley shouted. Jessie’s hand dropped like she’d been burned.

  “You’ve seen what you came for,” Mr. Ackerley said, his voice icy but his face red. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

  ***

  “Now what?” Jessie said when we were back on the street.

  My eyes brimmed with tears of frustration. We’d gotten so close, only to be thwarted by a little man in bowtie.

  “I could subdue him,” Puriel said.

  “Let’s try to avoid using violence as a solution, for just one day,” I said. “Please?”

  “So we come back at night,” Maddie said. “Sneak in while he’s sleeping. Take a peek at the back of the painting and see what’s there.”

  I nodded. I’d been thinking the same thing.

  “What should we do in the meantime?” I asked, looking at Sarah. She flashed a wide grin. An hour later we were finishing off our raspberry gelato in line for the Uffizi museum. We’d already polished off three large pizzas—Puriel ate two of them.

  After we ate, I gave Jessie some cash and told her to take Sarah and get some new clothes. With Zeus looking for us, we had to try harder to blend in. Maddie joined them, and Puriel kept me company while they shopped. I wanted to see more of the city, so we took a walk along the Arno River, passing the tourist shops full of souvenoirs. A short man with a bunch of red roses blocked our path, holding up his bouquet.

  “A flower for the lady?” he asked.

  Puriel waved his hand to dismiss him.

  “No thanks,” I said.

  “Newlyweds? Honeymoon?” the man asked.

  I looked up at Puriel in surprise.

  “We’re not together,” I told the man.

  He shrugged and moved on, but he gave me a look like he didn’t quite believe us. I caught our reflection in a shop mirror. Puriel with his ash-blonde hair, built like a professional athlete. White, collared shirt barely concealing his large chest and chiseled abs. He looked like one of the marble statues scattered throughout the city. I gasped when I realized, he literally could have been the model for one of them, several centuries ago.

  I was wearing tight jeans and a black sweater. The colorful squares of my lego necklace stood out, so I tucked it under my clothes. I stopped to buy Puriel a pair of aviator glasses to hide his eyes, and picked out some oversized sunglasses for myself. My own green eyes, rimmed with dark blue, were nearly as striking as his.

  With our sunglasses, I couldn’t help thinking that we made a good-looking couple. Puriel looked like the sun—tall, handsome and strong. A golden boy; a perfect human specimen. I was like the moon, with my pale skin and dark features. We could have been actors or movie stars on vacation. We continued walking in silence, but the air was charged between us. I wondered whether Puriel was thinking about the same things. The sun was going down, turning the sky into breathtaking array of colors that reflected in the river. It flooded me with feelings of gratitude.

  “Thank you,” I said suddenly.

  “For what?” he asked.

  “This. Coming with me. Protecting me. Don’t you think it’s bizarre, the two of us just taking a walk together, after all that’s happened? I mean, if we can get along, why can’t the rest of the world?”

  Puriel frowned at this. I bit my lip, waiting for him to respond, wishing I hadn’t said anything.

  “Are you not... happy, to be with me?” I asked, breaking the silence, which was becoming unbearable. “Do you regret it? I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  He considered both questions with equal seriousness.

  “I was told the same story my entire life. All magic is evil, stolen from Zeus. It’s unnatural, unpure. Diluted. Grotesque.” He curled his lip.

  Did he just call me grotesque?

  “Hunters are bound by duty and obedience. Trained to destroy the warped reflections of his glory. Anyone who couldn’t control their baser instincts, weren’t worthy to serve. Falling was a fate worth than death. It’s difficult for me to shake that narrative.” He slowed down, looking out over the river, before turning to face me.

  “Am I happy?” he said, with a sad smile. “No. And I may never be. However, I’m also learning that there is a little bit of magic in everything, and some of it is more beautiful than anything I’ve ever experienced.” He reached up and tucked a strand of my dark hair behind my ear. His fingers nearly touched my cheek, but I didn’t pull away. I had to fight the urge to lean in and feel his skin on mine.

  We were uncomfortably close, but neither of us moved away as our eyes locked. There was an intensity in his gaze I’d never seen before. I licked my lower lip, and closed my eyes just as I saw him lean in.

  My heart went into my throat when he grabbed me around the waist and dragged me over the ledge of the cement canal. Air rushed past my ears as we plummetted towards the water. Before I could think to scream, he’d landed on a tight walkway along the side of the river and pulled me underneath the Ponte Vecchio.

  “What the hell!” I whispered.

  He raised a single finger to his lips. There was barely enough room for both of us to stand. His body pressed into mine, pinning me against the wall in the shadow of the bridge. But he wasn’t looking at me, he was peering up above at the street.

  “Hunters. Two of them.” I leaned into him to get a better view of the street. I ducked my head back when I saw them, strolling down the sidewalk where we’d been just moments ago. They looked almost like twins.

  I’d given Jessie my bag with the sword and shotgun, but now I wished I had it back. I could feel the hard metal of Puriel’s sword, stashed inside his jacket.

  “How did they find us?” I asked.

  “They probably haven’t. Hunters are regularly stationed at every major town, l
ooking for heirs or roots. And Florence has more magic than most cities.”

  My heart pounded as I watched them walk past us. What if they looked this way? What if they found us? I tried to see their threads. It was difficult, with so many humans around, but I finally picked them out. Two glowing white strands. Not nearly as bright as Mist’s had been, but still brighter than a regular human. However there were too many other threads around, in a diverse array of colors. I gasped as I realized all of those threads must be magical creatures or heirs of some kind; or even roots—descendents with magical blood who hadn’t yet uncovered their abilities.

  “Don’t,” Puriel said, when he saw me reaching my fingers into the air. “Hunters can sense each other. If you take these two out, a dozen more will show up to see what happened.”

  We watched the hunters cross over the bridge and disappear around a corner. I exhaled slowly, trying to control my racing heart.

  “Um, I think we can leave now,” I said.

  Puriel turned back to me, with undisguised longing in his eyes. I felt his warmth against me, and my body responded. We both leaned in at the same time and our lips met—not quite on the mouth, only half of our lips locked together.

  My first kiss was everything I thought it would be, and more. I saw fireworks. Maybe not literal fireworks, more like... a universe of stars and galaxies, spinning into a whirlpool and then blinking out into nothing. It was like when Puriel touched me the first time we’d met, at JDRI. He showed me the universe, the end of time. I hadn’t known what it meant then. Did it mean Puriel was immortal, that he’d live forever? Would he stay the same age forever, as I grew older?

  I pushed him away gently.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, looking at me like he was trying to read my soul. “I’ve always wondered what that felt like. Forbidden fruit and all.”

  Was that all it was to him? Just an experiment?

  “Careful, or you might turn into a reprobate,” I teased, trying to play it off like it was no big deal. The truth was, even though Puriel and I didn’t make any sense at all, I’d enjoyed kissing him. And to be able to touch someone, to let them touch me… it was more than I’d ever let myself hope for. It filled my chest with warmth. I wondered if I’d have a chance to kiss him again, or if Puriel would lock himself away under his rigid demeanor.