Of Flame and Fate: A Weird Girls Novel (Weird Girls Flame Book 2)

by Cecy Robson

  His head is that of a ram, his legs, too, the hooves stomping aggressively in challenge. But his torso and arms are human, stretching out and bulging as they wait for me to act.

  He’s making it clear I have to get past him to get to Johnny. But he’s not attacking. Like the wolves on the stage, he’s protecting.

  “Johnny,” I yell. “You don’t want to do this.”

  “Fuck off,” he yells back.

  The creature hunkers down, digging his hooved foot into the soil and kicking back the dirt and broken glass.

  No more warnings. He’s ready to charge. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I tell it.

  Like the wolf who bit me, there’s nothing human in him. His stare is void of emotion, almost robotic, and like a robot blindly following commands.

  He snorts, his breath visible in the cool air.

  I back away. “Stop,” I tell it, my arms lighting up in a spray of sparks. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  His head jerks to the side, charging past me.

  The force he uses spins me and forces me off balance. I regain my balance in time to see him collide into Gemini.

  “No!”

  Gemini’s human form is dragged across the field, his hands gripping the ram’s horns.

  The ram plants his hands into the battered soil, using them like paws to thrust him across. Gemini, steels himself, digging in his feet and driving the ram’s head to the side, trying to snap its neck.

  I don’t stand there, I can’t. My hand jerks out, the buzzing sensation making it tremble and sending a stream of lightning into the ram’s hide.

  Johnny’s pained scream from behind me has me turning around, he’s sprawled on his chest, kicking his feet.

  My attention returns to Gemini at the sound of his pained grunts. He has the ram’s back, his legs wrapped around his torso in a figure four leg lock. The strong muscles of his arms bulge as he readjusts his grasp over the ram’s horns and yanks his neck to the side.

  It’s only because I know Gemini is okay that I take off after Johnny when he flees into the darkness.

  The lights along the highway are the only reason I can see as much as I do. It doesn’t take me long to find him.

  All I have to do is follow his cries.

  Near a mound of withering grass, and close to a smaller patch of woods, I find the rock star, curled in a ball. Broken brown and green glass litter the ground surrounding him, and what looks like a discarded sneaker, digs into his back.

  Less than a mile away, a line of cars battle it out to exit the arena. He almost made it.

  Almost.

  I walk slowly to him, noting how his skin is an awful shade of gray. Patches of raw skin paint his back, arm, and neck. If I didn’t know what happened, and if I wasn’t standing directly over him, I would have mistaken them for port wine stains.

  As I watch, his spine arches and his head turns in an unnatural direction, his neck snapping with a sick crunch.

  “Shit,” I say, leaping away.

  He rolls onto his back, his eyes wild. “Don’t come any closer,” he warns through his teeth.

  I don’t move, observing him carefully and coming to terms with what happened. My gaze moves to his stomach, the definition in his abs brutally disrupted by more patches of raw skin where the inked in images of his bandmates once lay.

  Okay. His tattoos come alive. I get it. What I don’t get is how.

  “Stay away from me,” he says. He tries to sit up, his chin jerking behind me when someone else approaches.

  I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Gemini, and I won’t turn my back on Johnny this time.

  Johnny tries to crab-crawl away, the heels of his palms pressing into the glass strewn along the ground. He winces as the shards cut into his skin. But he’s badly hurt and barely able to move.

  Gemini prowls forward, his animalistic gaze aimed at Johnny.

  “Babe, don’t,” I tell him. My fingers skim lightly over his spine. It doesn’t seem like much, but for the moment, it’s enough to keep my wolf in place.

  Sparks of lightning zing from my fingers when I crack them. “I have him,” I assure him.

  Johnny’s focus darts from Gemini to me. “What the fuck are you?” he asks.

  The unearthly growl Gemini releases cements Johnny in place. “The better question is, what the fuck are you?”

  Johnny opens and closes his mouth, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to speak. I angle my chin to look at Gemini. “You don’t know?” I ask. I was certain he would.

  He shakes his head. “I smell witch, but witches can’t conjure whatever the hell I just killed.”

  “It was a tattoo,” I explain. “His tattoo. The rhino, the wolves, they were all inked into his skin.”

  “What?” Gemini asks.

  I point to Johnny’s wounds. “I didn’t cause those injuries,” I say. “None of us touched him. When he went on stage, he was covered with tats. Now all that’s left is damaged tissue.”

  Gemini charges forward, lifting Johnny by the throat and taking a sniff. Johnny flails his arms, his gray skin turning blue.

  “Gem, stop it.”

  He drops Johnny like trash before I can intervene.

  Gemini is the reasonable one—the one with the cool head which is why Aric chose him as his second in command. Except he’s not so cool when I’m in danger, his beast side accelerating his aggression.

  I’m certain he crushed Johnny’s larynx, but thankfully Johnny is still breathing, his skin morphing back to gray.

  I frown, noting how quickly the color begins to improve. He’s still in bad shape, and unbelievably pale, but he is healing.

  “He didn’t try to hurt me,” I say, speaking softly to ease Gem’s anger and soothe Johnny’s fear. “Not outwardly. If anything, I think he was just trying to defend himself.”

  My voice fades in the breeze as Gemini’s features harden. “What is it?”

  The cords along his throat tighten as he swallows hard. “He’s a Fate, Taran.” His eyes lock with mine. “The male version of Destiny.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Gemini escorts Johnny back in the direction of the arena.

  And when I say “escort” I mean he lifts him by the arm and drags his floundering feet across the ground.

  “If you try to run, or use your magic against us, I’ll kill you,” my beloved tells him, flatly.

  Johnny rights himself, more or less stumbling forward. He laughs, kind of hysterically, bordering on psychopathic. “You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

  His question is odd, as if he’s not completely sure. He should be sure, being what he is.

  Gemini picks up on as much. “That’s right,” he replies.

  We wait for more of an explanation, not that it comes. You don’t have to be a genius to figure out Johnny is terrified of Gemini.

  “You’ve never seen a werewolf?” I ask, careful to keep my tone light.

  His attention trails to me. “Sure. Plenty of times. They just don’t see me. Right, big guy?”

  Gemini’s deep growl has Johnny shrinking inwardly. Again Johnny looks my way, this time for help.

  “Don’t taunt the big bad wolf,” I warn. “Unless you want to be eaten.”

  I don’t realize how far we ran until I see the bright arena lights in the distance, barely visible in the ink black night. I stumble over a rock, swearing when it hits the open toe of my tall shoes.

  “Are you all right?” Gemini asks, beating back what very much resembles a smile.

  He watched me pack and questioned why platforms are my go-to for guard duty.

  “Sneakers are more practical,” he said. “In case you have to run.”

  “Sneakers don’t go with my cute clothes, and they can’t stake a vampire.”

  He crossed his arms. “When was the last time you staked a vampire with a shoe?” He thought about it. “When was the last time you staked a vampire ever?”

  I didn’t have a good comeback th
en, and I don’t have one now. Right or not, I’ll never admit my choice in footwear was damn stupid, especially with that smirk he’s currently wearing.

  “I asked you if you’re okay?” he reminds me.

  “Fine, baby,” I tell him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Because you wore those ridiculous shoes instead of practical sneakers,” he mutters.

  “I’ll remember that next time.”

  “Next time your life is in jeopardy?” he asks, growing annoyed.

  There’s no point in arguing that my life wasn’t in grave peril, seeing how it damn well was. Instead, I shift the conversation back to Johnny where it belongs. “What did you mean by wolves can’t see you?” I ask Johnny.

  Gemini answers when Johnny clams up. “It means if we passed him on the street, we’d mistake him for a warlock since he only smells of witch magic.”

  “So what’s the big deal if he is a Fate?” I ask. “It’s all shits and giggles having Destiny.”

  Based on the bitterness claiming Johnny’s boyish features, and the way he averts his gaze, I asked the million-dollar question.

  Gemini’s rigid stance alerts me that it’s not good news. “Destinies are rare,” he says.

  “Right, a gifted female born of two witches, once every century,” I say, articulating what every supernatural knows as I wonder where he’s headed.

  “Fates are even rarer,” he replies. “There’s only been five documented in history.”

  “Now you have lucky number six,” Johnny says, his voice absent of humor.

  Gemini tightens his posture, pretty much the same way he does right before he takes a swing. “What’s the problem with having Fate and Destiny?” I ask, seeing there obviously is. “Aren’t they the same thing?”

  “They are, and they’re not,” Gemini replies, his expression darkening further. “They’re not supposed to coexist. They can’t actually, not in the same lifetime.”

  “Because they’re anomalies?” I ask. That’s my guess. But there’s more, obviously.

  “In part,” he answers. “But it’s what happens when they’re together that’s the real issue.” He releases a harsh breath. “According to mystical beliefs, their powers brutally clash, interfering with the natural balance of the earth and triggering the start of unspoken evils.

  I stumble to a halt. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

  Gemini and Johnny stop in place, frowning. “I’m sorry,” I say, holding out a hand. “But I’m sick to death of all this mystical shit. It’s always something with you people.”

  “You people?” Gemini asks, cocking a brow.

  I point. “That’s right, you people. It’s always doom, gloom, and destruction, always. Whether it’s some prophecy saying we’ll sprout six tails if we wear green on Wednesday during a full moon while watching Seinfeld or finding some messed up artifact that opens a portal to hell—and don’t get me started on that damn singing knife you shouldn’t insult or risk having it stab you in the ass while you sleep.”

  Gemini tries to shush me, I’m guessing about the knife. I don’t, enough is enough. “And now you’re telling me the lead singer of some boy band with freak of nature skin is bringing on the apocalypse?”

  “I never said anything about the apocalypse,” Gemini says. He thinks about it, maintaining that same stoic tone. “At least not at the moment.”

  “And I’m not in a boy band,” Johnny adds, getting pissy.

  I ram my hands on my hips. “Oh, now you have something to say?”

  He scowls at me, but then something he sees in me softens his brow.

  “What are you?” he asks again. “You’re not a witch or a beast.” He huffs. “And I don’t think you sprout fangs either.”

  “No.” I smile. “But I have been known to bite.”

  Gemini works his jaw, trying not to grin. I’ve taken my fair nibbles of him. And with his primal side on edge, he remembers when and where.

  I keep my voice easy, although by now all I want to do is go home and fall asleep in my lover’s arms, comforted by his presence and knowing that I survived yet another hellish night.

  What sucks is, that’s not an option, and crawling into bed is a goal too far away to see.

  We reach the small section of woods, the mounting darkness stimulating my arm to flick on like a night light and set the skin aglow.

  Johnny’s gaze takes it in, appearing as fascinated as a Star Wars nerd with a new light saber. “Cool,” he says.

  Damn. If I dropped him in the middle of any college campus, he’d fit right in. This is a kid who should be headed for class somewhere, or talking to his buddies about the next big keg party. This isn’t someone who should hold the grand title of Fate. It’s too much of a burden and more than someone this young should bear.

  I look at Johnny, and the way my arm casts light against his youthful features. “What’s going to happen to him?” I ask Gemini.

  “That’s up to the witches,” he replies, his voice low.

  Johnny bows his head, that same sense of defeatism claiming him as heavily as before.

  I stiffen. “Wait . . . you’re not going to kill him, are you?” Gemini doesn’t answer me. “Are you?” I press, barely believing it.

  “Whether he lives or dies is not my call. Nor is it the decision of the Pack,” he replies. He continues forward, leading Johnny down the dark path and toward his impending doom. He stops when he realizes I’m not following. “Taran, we have to get him to the Elders so they may summon the witches.”

  “So they can kill him?” Un-freaking believable. “What do you think they’ll do, babe? Burn him at the stake? Drown him? Nothing like a good public stoning, is there?”

  He rubs his goatee, muttering a curse. “Ines who leads the French Coven, and Genevieve will decide what’s best.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because he’s one of them, and as head witches to the most powerful clans, they rule on behalf of their kind.”

  He takes me in the longer I stand there. “As part of the Alliance, the weres will be allowed a say,” he adds, his way of attempting to placate me when I don’t move.

  When he says weres, he means the North American Were Council, in addition to Gemini’s pack since he was the one who seized him.

  “And how will you decide?” I ask.

  My chest tightens as his features steel. “I will decide as I always do, in favor of our world, and for the greater good.”

  The traffic along the highway finally lifts, allowing the caravan of cars to speed up. Their engines roar, the drivers anxious to put space between them and the arena.

  I remain still, refusing to move. “He’s just a kid,” I say to Gemini. “Not a shapeshifter, and not one of their twisted followers.” I motion to Johnny. “Look at him, he’s barely a man.”

  Gemini is the logical one, the one who’s able to stay reasonable even when I’m losing my mind. For the most part, I welcome his sensibility, it keeps me sane after all. I don’t welcome it now. Sometimes, it’s not enough to use logic and reason. Sometimes, you need to follow your heart and allow it to guide you to do the right thing.

  “He’s not just a kid, Taran. He’s a young being of power who will keep getting stronger in ways that could potentially destroy us.”

  “You’re acting like he’s a villain bent on taking over the world.”

  The look Gemini hits me with lodges the breath in my throat. “Is that what you think, that he’s the new threat the Alliance has been worried about?”

  “I don’t know,” he states, his intensity building with each word. “What I do know is what history has shown us, that when Fates and Destinies appear within the same lifetime, darkness rises and evil is reborn.”

  “This has to be the most blatant display of over-exaggeration I have ever heard,” I insist, turning in Johnny’s direction. “I mean, if we’re all still alive, their presence can’t be that bad, can it?”

  “Actually, it can,” he replies. “T
he most devastating earthquakes, cyclones, and tsunamis have been linked to the coexistence of Destinies and Fates. They’ve also been tied to the appearance of dark ones so savage and murderous, the world has come close to obliteration.”

  I stop moving. “So you’re saying the natural disasters that have occurred over these last two decades, and all the unexplained evil nasties we’ve encountered are the result of Destiny and Johnny being born during the same century?”

  “No.”

  I sigh. “Oh, good.”

  “I’m saying they’re just the start.” He lifts Johnny’s arm, his effort minimal but enough to pull Johnny to the tips of his toes. “I can’t be sure if he is the new evil we’ve been anticipating. But the power he possesses could be what feeds the evil and ultimately gives our enemies the upper hand.”

  “You’re assuming he’ll go all dark side or allow himself to be used,” I point out. “That’s not fair, the same could have been said about me and my sisters.”

  “You’re different, and so are your sisters,” Gemini snarls, giving Johnny a shake. “Don’t allow your sympathy for him to blind you to what I’m saying. There’s a reason the witches pass the Law of Death to Second Fates and Destines born.”

  “Come again?” I ask. “What the hell is the Law of Death to Second Fates or whatever?”

  “I can tell you,” Johnny says. He huffs, rolling his shoulder and rubbing it when Gemini sets him down. “You don’t mind, do you, wolf? This is technically about me.”

  Gemini doesn’t respond, especially when angry tears form across Johnny’s eyes. “As per Witch Law, the Destiny or Fate who is born first is revered and takes her or his place among the supernatural royalty,” he replies bitterly. “The one born after must be destroyed within the first year of life. Nice, huh?”

  So his only mistake was being born. Damn.

  “My parents were powerful witches. Did you know that?” he asks. “The way I hear it, among the most badass witches who ever were. They knew what I was when I was born. And because they knew, they ran.” He paces in place. “I was raised in Canada, among humans.”