Fated

by Sarah Fine

  “The moment she touched you, it was all so compelling, wasn’t it?” she continued, sounding haunted. “All the ways I hurt or slighted you, all the things I have that were rightfully yours, how your skill and intelligence has never been recognized. She brought it all to the surface and then showed you how you could bring me down.”

  “How . . . how did you know?” Hugh asked, his fingers gripping the table.

  “Because they did it to me, too, while they had me in their clutches. It was like torture.”

  Hugh nodded eagerly. “You’re right,” he said, staring at her gratefully. “It was like torture.”

  Moros nearly scoffed. He’d seen the memories in Hugh’s head, and the only thing that had resembled torture had been Hugh’s fantasies of Aislin being torn apart by Shade-Kere.

  And here she was—showing mercy to this piece of human garbage?

  “Now that you’re free of it, you see things clearly, don’t you?” she asked Hugh with a soft smile.

  “I do,” he said, looking around at the rest of the board. “I definitely do. I’m no longer under her terrible influence.”

  Aislin slowly walked around the table, her fingertips trailing along the back of each board member’s chair. Her face seemed lit from within, ethereal and lovely. “I know, Hugh. I know. I’m so glad to have you back.” Aislin reached her cousin and placed her hand on his arm. “Especially now that you realize you never should have challenged my position, particularly not at this crucial time.”

  Hugh froze midnod.

  “You understand that I have a job to do,” she said. “One that I am well prepared for. You understand that I have the support of the Lord of the Kere.” She looked over briefly and gave Moros a small knowing smile that sent his blood rushing south. “And you understand that the best thing to do now is to allow me to get on with it, don’t you?”

  She held out her palm.

  Hugh blinked down at her hand, looking like he’d been clubbed over the head. Moros couldn’t blame him in the slightest; he felt the same way.

  “Get on with it, Hugh,” said Ennis impatiently. “We have work to do.”

  His hands trembling slightly, Hugh unfastened the Charon’s Scope from the chain around his neck and handed it to Aislin. She patted his arm. “Thank you for keeping it safe for me,” she said, her voice lilting and kind.

  “Of course,” Hugh replied. “It was an honor.”

  “I know.” She pulled a delicate chain from under her collar and clipped the Scope to its setting. Moros grinned. She’d anticipated this outcome all along.

  She was now standing next to Hugh at the head of the table, and even though her cousin was several inches taller, he seemed to fade into the background as she addressed the board. “I have reports that the Shade-Kere have, for the time being, left the city. Declan is leading the emergency response and coordinating with law enforcement.”

  “Who created those things?” Ennis asked.

  Aislin gave Moros an uneasy look. “Eris and her allies. I have instructed my assistant to send a message to all Ferrys in the field, to let us know if they reappear anywhere else in the world. We need to respond rapidly to any additional attacks to keep the fabric of fate from unraveling further.”

  “It feels like we’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop,” said Ciara.

  Aislin nodded. “I agree, but I have a plan to change that.” She explained her intention to go to the Lucinae realm and negotiate with them for access to the Spring of Life, so that new weapons could be created. “With such weapons, we could eliminate the Shade-Kere, which right now can only be disabled—until they are killed by Moros directly.”

  Moros nodded, though he couldn’t quite imagine the Mother, the leader of the Lucinae, would allow them to build an actual arsenal, and maybe that was good. More blades might help—but it also might result in more death—including his death—if they fell into the wrong hands.

  “I’ll leave tonight,” Aislin announced. “As soon as the arrangements have been made with Cavan. I will return in time for our meeting with the Keepers, and in the meantime, I would like Aunt Rosaleen to manage business, with particular attention to maintaining order both within the city and the world markets. Does anyone have an objection to the plan?” She stared at Brian, who put up his hands and shook his head. Everyone else was doing the same, including Hugh, standing impotently at her side. Next to him, she was luminous. A goddess.

  The thought of her being taken from this world was unbearable.

  A slow, triumphant smile spread across Aislin’s face. “Very well then,” she said. “I think we’re done here.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sitting on her bed, Aislin ran her fingers down the slope of her neck as she stared at her phone, wishing her body didn’t heal supernaturally fast. There was no trace of what Moros had done to her, no bruises, no soreness, though he had claimed her body so thoroughly. She’d wanted them, at least for a little while, keepsakes to remind her that it had really happened.

  She refocused on her phone, pushing that sense of longing away. It was impractical and pointless. She hadn’t bothered to tell her board that she was going to die soon, and she certainly hadn’t talked it over further with Moros, but that didn’t mean she’d forgotten. In fact, she was a bit surprised she was still breathing, considering the fight with the Shade-Kere and her subsequent kidnapping. Perhaps it meant she had something to do before she went, some final contribution to the fight, something that would save the fabric of fate. And Jason, she couldn’t help thinking.

  What had happened between them was in the past, a one-time release, a mind-bending loss of control after years of fascination and the realization that she was living the last hours of her life. She’d tossed caution out the window and taken what she wanted, and she’d been rewarded with his hands all over her, his body against hers, inside hers. His inability to resist had been delicious. But now he was back in control, detached and superior, focused on the fight ahead, and she needed to be the same.

  Her incoming call light blinked, and she tapped to open the chat. “Thank you for leaving the realm long enough to talk,” she said to Cavan as his face appeared on the screen, his dark hair neatly styled, looking only slightly less edgy than he had the last time they’d spoken.

  “It’s always easier when the Mother is out of the realm,” he said. “She likes to deliver souls herself from time to time, particularly if she senses something special in them.”

  Aislin understood that. She guided souls regularly even though she was the Charon; it was simply part of being a Ferry and not something she wanted to lose touch with as she’d moved up the chain of command. “I know you wanted to meet, and as it happens, I need to arrange a visit to the realm,” she said. “We are in need of a great favor from the Lucinae.” She explained what she wanted and watched Cavan’s hazel eyes go wide.

  “You want to dip a weapon into the Spring of Life and give it to the Lord of the Kere?” he asked, his usually refined voice rising in pitch. “Something he will then use to kill living beings?”

  “I know it is an affront to their sensibilities—”

  “With all due respect, it’s more than an affront.”

  “But we need it,” Aislin said firmly. “Cavan, our existence is at risk. I need you to understand the stakes.”

  He sighed. “Do you want me to raise the topic with the Mother before you arrive?”

  “I want you to make sure she understands what we’re facing. This could be a disaster of apocalyptic proportions, and it is naive to think that any of us would escape unscathed, including the Lucinae.”

  “They’ve been going about business as usual, though,” said Cavan.

  “But I think the Mother can understand. She need only consult their ancient texts. One of her ancestors must have recognized the danger Chaos presents, as she negotiated with Nyx to create the original Blade of Life.”

  “But that was Nyx. Now you’re asking her to make one for the Lord
of Death.”

  “No one else is powerful enough to win this fight, Cavan. From what I understand, Moros’s mere presence on the battlefield would help keep Chaos in check.” She wouldn’t let herself think about what that kind of proximity might do to Moros himself.

  “This Chaos being hasn’t risen, though, has he?” Cavan asked. “How do we know it’s not just a false alarm?”

  “I don’t think it is,” Aislin said. “And that should be enough for you.”

  “I will explain the threat and encourage the Mother to examine their archives,” he said, still sounding unconvinced.

  “Please inform her that I am requesting an audience as well.”

  Cavan blew out a breath through pursed lips. “And you’ll be the one to tell her of your proposed solution?” He looked like he’d rather have his fingernails yanked out than to propose it himself.

  “I will. But Cavan, I need to arrive no later than tonight.” It was now the middle of the afternoon, and she could feel time slipping away. “My summit with Moros and the Keepers is tomorrow at midnight, and if we don’t present them with a plan to overcome this threat, I’m not sure what they’ll do.”

  “Understood.” He smiled. “I must say, this challenge agrees with you. You look positively invigorated.”

  “Don’t flatter me,” she said, but she returned his smile. “Thank you for being so reliable. And—we can talk about whatever you needed to tell me once the negotiations are completed.”

  His smile faltered, and he cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said, then ended the connection. Wondering what could possibly be on Cavan’s mind, Aislin set her phone down and walked to her closet to select her wardrobe. She’d need something appropriately formal for the audience with the Mother, as well as traveling clothes. The trip was short, but it felt ridiculous to do it while wearing a floor-length gown.

  Just as she had selected a coral-colored silk number that had a simple modest neckline but an open back that would show her raven mark, something she rarely did in public, her door buzzed. She looked at the monitor and was surprised to see Cacia standing there, but she immediately unlocked the door and went to meet her.

  Cacia tugged at her paramedic uniform as she walked into Aislin’s apartment, her face bearing the strain of worry.

  “You look like you’ve had a very long day,” Aislin said.

  Cacia nodded. “The Shade-Kere are gone, though. Dec said he told you.”

  “Perhaps you should be home resting, then.” But Aislin couldn’t help but be glad to see her. She stared hungrily at Cacia’s face, forcing herself to reject sneering images of her little sister’s open defiance, her happiness at Aislin’s downfall. None of that had been real. She was . . . almost sure of it.

  “I’m definitely going to pass out soon, but I needed to see you first,” Cacia mumbled. She had her arms folded over her chest as if she expected Aislin to dismiss her.

  “I’m grateful for your concern,” she replied quietly.

  Cacia’s eyes searched her face. “Are you okay?”

  Aislin smiled and shrugged. “I think I am. It’s been a strange twenty-four hours.” What an understatement.

  “Trevor told me Moros busted into his brother and sisters’ hiding place to get you.”

  “That’s a fairly accurate way of describing it.”

  “He also said you rescued his soul and gave it back to Moros.” Cacia’s eyes were shining. “He was amazed you did that for him, after what you’d been through.”

  “Trevor was kind to me while I was in captivity. Besides, helping him helped me. If he had still been under Eris’s control, it would have been harder to escape.”

  “Stop pretending like you’re not a decent person. You helped him because it was the right thing to do.”

  Aislin chuckled. “I only wish I’d been able to recapture Rylan’s soul.”

  Cacia frowned. “Me too.”

  “Would you like to sit down?” Aislin gestured toward her sitting area.

  Cacia shook her head. “I’d get crud all over your furniture.” She wrinkled her nose as she looked down at herself. “I don’t even know what I’ve got on me.”

  Some of it smelled like canal water, but Aislin wasn’t about to mention it. “How’s Eli?” she asked. “Was he with you last night?”

  “He wouldn’t leave my side after the first fight with the Shade-Kere.”

  “It sounds like things are better between you two.” Aislin had been well aware of Eli’s despair after he’d hurt Declan so badly. She’d been relieved to know that Moros had chosen to keep his soul, along with Tamasin’s and Nader’s, on his person at all times.

  Cacia looked away. “Things are better, but he’s still conflicted. Being a Ker hasn’t been easy on him. He’s still adjusting. I know we can get through this if we have the chance, though. I’d rather be struggling beside Eli than living easy with anyone else.” She laughed quietly to herself. “I can’t believe I’m talking to you about this.”

  “You can talk to me about anything,” Aislin said. “That’s something I’ve wanted for years.” She braced for a harsh comeback. Lord knows, she deserved it.

  Cacia gave her a cautious look. “That’s not how it’s felt to me.”

  Aislin’s throat went tight. “I know. I’ve made many mistakes where you’re concerned, but I’ve always wished we were closer.”

  A hesitant smile pulled at Cacia’s lips. “I’m good with starting now, if you want to.”

  Aislin turned away quickly, heading for her wine rack while trying to regain her composure. “Of course we can start now,” she whispered, wondering if she was being selfish. She would be dead soon, and she didn’t want to hurt her little sister more than she had to. But this—she’d wanted this for so long. She whirled around with a bottle of her finest Barolo. “Let’s drink to it.”

  Cacia smiled and walked to the large island in Aislin’s kitchen, sliding onto a stool. “You look a lot better than I thought you would after being kidnapped and . . . whatever they did to you.”

  Aislin set down two glasses and opened the wine, then gave them each a generous pour. “I think I’m quite lucky. I was very confused at first.”

  “How did you recover so quickly?” Cacia asked, drinking Aislin’s finest red as if it were cheap beer. “It took Eli a full day or two before he felt like he was in control of himself again.”

  Aislin swirled the wine in her glass to open it up. She closed her eyes and inhaled faint hints of truffle and marzipan. “Like I said, I was lucky.”

  She opened her eyes to see Cacia staring at her. “Trevor also might have mentioned that Moros took you back to his apartment. And that you were still there a few hours later.” She took another gulp of her wine. “And that you were wearing Moros’s shirt. Only Moros’s shirt.”

  Aislin nearly choked on her first sip. “Trevor is quite the gossip.”

  Cacia snorted. “It’s one of his hobbies. But seriously . . . Declan saw it, too. He’s worried about you.”

  “Is that why you’re here? Did he ask you to come?”

  Cacia shook her head. “I wanted to come. But, Aislin, are you up to something with Moros?”

  A sudden memory of Jason in the shower, water dripping from his ebony hair, his jaw tense as he jerked his hips against her, filling her so completely that she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began, invaded Aislin’s mind. Her cheeks grew hot. “I—” She cleared her throat. “He was helpful.”

  Cacia whistled low. “Be careful, Aislin.”

  “There’s nothing to be careful about, Cacia. We are business associates. He has his priorities and I have mine, and at present, our interests are aligned.”

  “He’s also pretty damn sexy when he wants to be.”

  Aislin pressed her fingers to her heated skin. “He certainly is,” she admitted softly.

  Cacia’s eyes went wide. “No way. No fucking way.”

  “He can touch me without hurting me. He says it’s because I’m fated
to die soon.”

  “Moros told us.” Cacia reached up and peeled Aislin’s hand from her face, then held on tight, locking their fingers. “But if anyone can figure a way around that, it’s you.”

  Aislin laughed. “You vastly overestimate me. I’m doing what I can, though.”

  “And Moros?” Cacia asked. “He looked a little frantic before he went off to find you.”

  “He did?”

  “Well, as frantic as Moros gets.”

  Aislin bowed her head, thinking of the look on his face as she took him in her mouth, his eyes blazing, his fingers clutching at her hair. She shivered as pleasure shimmied down her back. “He doesn’t lose his composure often.”

  “So it seemed like kind of a big deal,” Cacia commented. “I think he has a crush on you.”

  “A crush?” A giggle burst from Aislin unbidden, and she slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle it. “That seems a bit beneath his dignity.”

  “Bullshit.” Cacia grinned. “I think you’ve got one on him, too.”

  “Even if either of us had time for that, we wouldn’t—”

  “It makes a weird kind of sense.” Cacia squeezed Aislin’s fingers. “I’m just saying.”

  Aislin looked down at their joined hands. “You can’t be serious.”

  “It doesn’t matter if I’m serious or not—you get to decide what to do. As long as, you know, the world doesn’t end and stuff.” She tossed back the rest of her wine in a single gulp and set the glass on the table. “I need to get home to Eli.”

  Aislin walked her to the door. It felt like Cacia had just dumped out Aislin’s neatly arranged thoughts about Moros and thoroughly shuffled them. She didn’t know whether to feel grateful or angry about it.

  Cacia threw her arms around Aislin, who turned her face away, grimacing at the smell of the city at its worst. But she hugged her sister back, unwilling to sacrifice this new, strange closeness.

  “Be careful on your trip,” said Cacia, her brow furrowing. “Are you sure you have to go, with Moros’s prediction and everything?”