Completely Smitten

by Kristine Grayson

  “Ariel Summers,” he said. “You had Cupid shoot her with an arrow so that she would fall in love with me.”

  “The idiot,” Lachesis said.

  Darius had had enough. He stood as tall as he could, which wasn’t that tall, considering. “Ariel is not an idiot. She’s a very good woman with a soul mate, and she has had no opportunity to meet him because of Cupid’s spell that was supposed to make her fall in love with me. Set her free so that she can live her life. I got your point. I’ll put the hundredth couple together. I’ll live a better, more reformed life. Just give Ariel her life back.”

  All three Fates were watching him closely now.

  “We need a more proper setting.” Atropos waved a hand.

  The dark, close, chocolate-smelling room vanished. Instead, Darius found himself in the front parlor of a farmhouse. Sunlight streamed in through the windows that overlooked the porch. He sat on a horsehair sofa pushed against a wall covered with blue-and-white-flowered wallpaper.

  Clotho sat near the fireplace. She wore a demure white dress that went to her knees. Her blond hair was pulled on top of her head in a topknot. She clutched the sheers in her hand as if they were a bouquet of flowers.

  Lachesis stood near the matching sofa on the other side of the room. She wore a dark dress that reminded Darius of a matron’s uniform in World War I. Her high-button shoes looked uncomfortable and so did her hair, which was bound so tightly on the back of her skull that it pulled the skin on her face.

  Atropos sat at the upright piano in the corner. Her pink dress was covered with fringe and didn’t go past her knees. On her legs she wore no stockings, and her shoes were the flat-soled shoes of a flapper. Her black hair was cut short, and made Darius think of all the women he’d seen fawning over Scott Fitzgerald.

  “You think this is more formal?” Darius asked. He held a bowler hat between his hands. He looked down at himself. He was wearing a blue wool suit and spats. “It’s only formal if I were going to propose to someone, which I am not.”

  “Really?” Clotho clutched the scissors even more tightly and looked somewhat offended. He supposed if the little scene before him were any indication, the woman he would have been sparking was Clotho in her demure white dress.

  The idea of dating her made him nauseous.

  He said, “All I mean is—”

  “Don’t explain yourself, Darius,” Lachesis said. “You’ve already said enough.”

  “No, I haven’t.” He stood and flung the bowler hat on the scratchy couch. “You’re picking on an innocent woman. I want you to let her out of your clutches.”

  “She’s not in our clutches,” Atropos said, running her hands over the keys without depressing them.

  “Then she’s in Cupid’s clutches, which is worse.” Darius wanted nothing more than to get out of this cloying room.

  “You know,” Clotho said, “Eros is no longer on probation.”

  “Wonderful,” Darius said. “He’s a schmuck and he gets time off for good behavior. I serve my sentence, and the woman I care about loses the life she’s supposed to have.”

  “We didn’t say he got his sentence reduced,” Lachesis said.

  “He made an illegal deal with the faeries,” Atropos said. “Inferior arrows, pretend shootings, faked affairs.”

  “Not to mention the loan-sharking.” Clotho shook her head. “He claims they were repaying him for a slight that happened—oh, a long time ago. That horrible man you brought here, what was his name?”

  “Shakespeare,” Darius said, reluctantly.

  “The man who thought we were evil,” Lachesis said.

  “Boil, boil, or whatever he wrote about us,” Atropos said.

  “I told you we should have destroyed that play,” Clotho said.

  “Art is sacred,” Lachesis said.

  “Whose rule is that?” Atropos said.

  “Guess,” Clotho said.

  “We were talking about Cupid,” Darius said.

  Lachesis shook her head. “The man has more magical IOUs than anyone in the history of our people, which is saying a lot when you consider Caligula.”

  Darius had had no idea that Caligula had been a mage, but that didn’t surprise him. Nothing surprised him any more.

  “What are you saying?” he asked.

  “We’re saying that Eros has been sent up.” Atropos was now holding a cigarette in a very long holder. A feather had appeared in her black hair.

  “Sent up?” Darius wasn’t following the conversation any more.

  “He’ll be gone for a very long time,” Clotho said, her lips pursed in disapproval. “Hadn’t you heard?”

  “Heard what?” Darius asked.

  “About the attempted murder?” Lachesis sat on the couch as if this conversation tired her. “Actually, it should have been attempted genocide, but the Powers That Be—”

  And again the three genuflected.

  “—felt that the genocide charge should be reserved for creatures like Vlad the Impaler, and shouldn’t be applied to lesser cases—”

  “As if this is a lesser case,” Atropos sniffed.

  Cupid had just been in the restaurant. Sofia and the busboys had seen him. “What did he do?” Darius asked.

  “Oh.” Clotho waved her hand in dismissal. “It is too disgusting to discuss. Besides, he didn’t succeed.”

  “Fortunately for the faeries,” Lachesis said.

  “For all involved, really.” Atropos took a long drag off the cigarette. “It could have set a nasty precedent.”

  “Considering the fight was over money,” Clotho said.

  “Well, it couldn’t have been over love.” Lachesis stretched out on the couch. Her outfit changed as she did so, from the prim, matronly one she had worn a moment before to something diaphanous.

  Darius had to look away so that he didn’t see anything improper. “How does Psyche feel about this?”

  “Psyche?” Atropos exhaled cigarette smoke through her nose. “Manipulative little schemer. We nailed her as an accessory.”

  Now Darius had to sit down. He sat on the bowler, crushing it, but he didn’t care. “Psyche? I thought she was too smart for that.”

  “So did we.” Clotho sighed. She set the sheers down and leaned back in the chair.

  “But who knew the head always followed the heart?” Lachesis said.

  “We thought it was the other way around,” Atropos said.

  “I could have told you it wasn’t,” Darius said.

  “Not three thousand years ago, you couldn’t,” Clotho said.

  “I’ve changed,” Darius said.

  “Indeed.” Lachesis tilted her head back. Above her, a red velvet curtain appeared. The rest of the room lost its blue wallpaper.

  “I suspect,” Atropos said, as if she hadn’t heard that little interchange, “that we would have more clout with the Powers That Be—”

  A third genuflection.

  “—if the whole Eros thing wouldn’t have happened.”

  “True enough,” Clotho said. “They would have trusted our judgment more.”

  “After all, we were the ones who put him on probation in the first place,” Lachesis said.

  “For a second charge. The guidelines have changed over the years. Three strikes and you’re out. But we still saw him as that cute chubby boy—”

  “He never was a cute chubby boy,” Darius said.

  “Sure he was,” Clotho said. “We’ve known him since he was a baby.”

  “Although he had a foul temper even then,” Lachesis said. “We probably made a mistake giving him a weapon so young.”

  “Never say we made a mistake,” Atropos said. “Someone Important might hear you.”

  “So what does all this news about Cupid have to do with me?” Darius was trying not to let his own anger show. The Fates had defended Cupid all those years ago. If they hadn’t thought Cupid was so important, Darius might not have spent the past three millennia looking like a lawn ornament.

 
“The assignment was a mistake on our part,” Clotho said.

  “We should have trusted the process,” Lachesis said.

  “But we’re so used to meddling…” Atropos took another puff from her cigarette.

  “Trusted what?” Darius asked.

  “You, my dear,” Clotho said. “You’ve come a long way.”

  “Indeed.” Lachesis turned her head and smiled at him. Her hair had fallen about her face. It wasn’t as pretty a red as Ariel’s.

  “Really, if I had had to choose three thousand years ago, I would have said you were the irredeemable one.” Atropos frowned. “Maybe there is a reason we have to reapply for these jobs.”

  “Posh,” Clotho said. “We’ve done well enough.”

  “I don’t know,” Lachesis said. “Atropos has a point. After all, there’s the whole Eros problem—”

  “And then the way we treated Aethelstan when he really was doing the right thing—”

  “Not to mention all those lost years Emma endured—”

  “Oh, dear.” Lachesis closed her eyes. “Maybe you do become complacent when you’ve had a job too long.”

  “Hello!” Darius said. “Can we get back to me?”

  “Why, darling?” Clotho said. “What problems do you have? You’re our only success story this year.”

  “I’m not a success story,” Darius said.

  “Of course you are, my dear,” Lachesis said. “Didn’t you come to us because the girl is obsessed with you?”

  “Yes,” Darius said. “But it’s wrong. She has a soul mate. Being under a magical spell is bad for her—”

  “She’s not under a spell,” Atropos said.

  “What?” Darius asked.

  “Think, darling,” Clotho said. “What did we tell you about Eros?”

  “Unredeemable,” Lachesis said.

  “Criminal,” Atropos said.

  “Inferior arrows,” Clotho said.

  “He shot her with an inferior arrow?” Darius asked, feeling panic build.

  “No, silly,” Lachesis said softly. “He didn’t shoot her at all.”

  “He was supposed to,” Atropos said. “Again, a mistake on our part. We really should have trusted you.”

  “But we haven’t spoken to you in so long,” Clotho said. “We thought the arrogance remained.”

  “And arrogance is so unattractive in a man,” Lachesis said.

  “Especially unfounded arrogance,” Atropos said. “You were such a youngling in those days.”

  “Green,” Clotho said.

  “Untested,” Lachesis said.

  “Full of yourself,” Atropos added.

  “Wait.” Dar’s head was spinning. Something on the bowler was stabbing him in an uncomfortable place. He rose slightly, removed the hat from beneath him, and tossed it on the floor. “He didn’t shoot her?”

  “No,” Clotho said. “He missed.”

  “But he told me he shot her.”

  “He also told you that he had forgiven you,” Lachesis said.

  “He was going to implicate you in the faerie affair,” Atropos said.

  “In fact, he tried,” Clotho said.

  “But we know all, see all,” Lachesis said.

  “Except you rent movies so that you can understand the real world,” Darius said.

  “All right,” Atropos said, glaring at him. “Know some, see most.”

  “You can still be a royal pain, Darius,” Clotho said.

  “I don’t understand,” Darius said. “If he missed her, what about her soul mate?”

  All three Fates stared at him.

  “Apparently he’s still somewhat clueless,” Lachesis said.

  “Well,” Atropos said, “not everything can be corrected in three thousand years.”

  Darius was watching them, that dizzy feeling returning.

  Clotho smiled at him. “Darling, you are her soul mate.”

  “What?” Darius asked.

  “She’s told you she loves you, right?” Lachesis paused and stared at him.

  “Yes.” Darius still didn’t believe it.

  “Wonderful,” Atropos said. “Someone has shown an interest.”

  “Not just any someone,” Clotho said. “The right someone.”

  “And it happened without magic or potions or spells.”

  “With Darius actively trying not to let anything happen,” Atropos said.

  “We were the ones who tried to force the hand,” Clotho said.

  “After all,” Lachesis said, “three thousand years is a long time. We did want your sentence to end, but we couldn’t change it entirely. Not without a bit of help.”

  “Fat lot of good that plan did us.”

  They were all silent for a moment. Darius was breathing shallowly. Ariel was attracted to him? To both hims? To the tall, slender, runner, handsome him and the short, stocky, obnoxious him? She could actually fall in love with him?

  She had a soul mate and it was him? How had he missed that?

  “We do have one other thing to tell you before we declare your sentence fulfilled.” Clotho stood. She ran a hand along her side, changing her clothing into the black robes of a judge.

  Lachesis stood and did the same. So did Atropos. Suddenly they were in a courtroom. Darius stood before the bench as the three women looked down on him.

  “We will tell you this,” Lachesis said, “but you are not to tell your lady love this until after you are married.”

  “Or you don’t have to tell her at all if you choose not to,” Atropos said.

  “But you cannot tell her before she agrees to spend her life with you,” Clotho said.

  “Not because she doesn’t love you,” Lachesis said. “She does.”

  “But you have to be able to trust the emotion,” Atropos said. “Years from now, you don’t want to have that voice of doubt, wondering if she decided to be with you for the perks.”

  “Perks?” Darius asked.

  “We have spoken to the Powers That Be,” Clotho said, and they all genuflected for the fourth time.

  “We did it about two centuries ago when we thought you were getting close to completing the sentence,” Lachesis said.

  “We really had hopes for you in London during the Season, until we realized the Marriage Mart was all about power and money,” Atropos said.

  “There were a few love matches,” Clotho said.

  “But not as many as in the books,” Lachesis said. “If you read those novels they publish these days, you’d think that everyone was wealthy, titled, and in desperate need of a special license.”

  “And it really wasn’t that way,” Atropos said.

  “I know,” Darius said. “I was there.”

  They paused, as if they had forgotten what they were doing.

  “Oh, yes,” Clotho said, sounding surprised. “You were.”

  “Anyway,” Lachesis said. “We spoke to the Powers That Be—”

  Darius waited through the fifth genuflection.

  “—and they gave us permission that we have only received twice before.”

  “He doesn’t need that much information,” Atropos said.

  “Well, he needs to know how special this is,” Clotho said.

  “And,” Lachesis said over her companions, “we received permission to extend your Ariel’s lifespan to match yours, should she desire to spend the rest of her life with you.”

  “They let you do that?” Darius asked.

  “Yes,” Atropos said. “Didn’t we just say so?”

  “But I thought that wasn’t allowed.”

  “It takes a special request,” Clotho said.

  “Which we made before this century of debacles.”

  “Really,” Atropos said, “it was just a decade or two of debacles. It only felt like a century.”

  “Still,” Clotho said, “we checked. The dispensation remains.”

  “For Ariel,” Darius said. “Who wasn’t born yet.”

  “For your soul mate.” Lachesis peered
at him. “She is so well suited to you. She sees the magical edges. The familiar she found you came none too soon.”

  “Do you watch everything?” Darius asked.

  “Goodness, no,” Atropos said. “Only the good parts.”

  Clotho punched her on the arm. Atropos glared at her. Lachesis leaned over and separated them.

  “We will share our lifespans,” Darius said. It wasn’t a question. He was only beginning to understand.

  “You will share everything,” Clotho said.

  “Remember,” Lachesis said, “you are our success story.”

  “Congratulations,” Atropos said.

  “You are free to go,” Clotho said.

  And together all three Fates clapped their hands. A bright light filled Darius’s eyes, and then he found himself back in his own kitchen. The smell of spaghetti sauce threatened to overwhelm him. The noodles had congealed in the sink, and Munin was nowhere to be seen.

  Darius leaned forward, putting his hands on the table. He felt dizzy and out of sorts. The world seemed like it had tilted somehow.

  Ariel was his soul mate, and he had sent her away.

  “Who the hell are you?” asked a voice from behind him.

  He jumped, then turned around.

  Blackstone stood there, arms crossed, looking more ferocious than Darius had ever seen him.

  Darius let out a breath. “Jeez, Aethelstan, am I glad to see you.”

  “Really?” Blackstone’s voice was cold. “Have we met?”

  “Yes, of course, we have.” Darius felt a shiver run through him. In exchange for ending his sentence, had the Fates taken away the last three millennia? Was he going to have to rebuild everything?

  “I don’t remember it,” Blackstone said.

  They ended his sentence. The chill Darius felt grew. He looked down at himself. No wonder the world had felt as if it tilted. It had. It had grown smaller.

  His custom-designed house no longer fit him. He was too tall, too thin, too young.

  “Hey!” he shouted to the Fates, hoping they could hear him. “You can’t do this! It’s too soon!”

  But no one answered him. Blackstone was still staring at him. “You want to explain that little comment?”

  Darius swallowed. Lovely. He hadn’t expected this twist. “Aethelstan, it’s me. Andvari.”

  “Sure it is,” Blackstone said. “And I’m really Chauncey Blodgett, brought back from the dead.”