Fates 06 - Totally Spellbound

by Kristine Grayson

  “I don’t think Megan’s involved.” Zoe had her hands on her hips. She was an attractive woman, but a little too slim. And her clothes were a little too see-through. Rob wasn’t sure where to look.

  He settled for Megan. Now, she was a beautiful woman with appropriate curves. Zoe was too bony, and always had been.

  “Right, Rob?” Zoe asked.

  He didn’t remember the question. He glanced at Travers, who looked nothing like his pretty sister, and tried to ignore the fury on the man’s face.

  “You mind telling me who you are and what you’re doing here?” Travers asked. “It would be really nice to know sometime before the next millennium.”

  “Um, sorry,” Rob said. He truly hadn’t expected this. He was almost as embarrassed as Megan. Maybe he was more embarrassed.

  “He’s Robin Hood,” Zoe said, “and he’s here about the Fates, aren’t you, Rob?”

  “Yes,” he said, wondering how she knew.

  “The question is, how did your sister come to accompany him?” Zoe said.

  “Kyle,” Travers said. “Kyle was behind it. Wasn’t he, Meg?”

  “Well, no,” Megan said. “I mean, maybe. You see, the Fates needed a ride—”

  “And they couldn’t take a cab?” Travers asked.

  “Kyle said they couldn’t. They’d get lost.”

  “You know they can’t, Travers,” Zoe said. “It’s not safe for them out in the real world.”

  “Because someone might steal their magic, I know,” Travers said, but he didn’t sound very sympathetic.

  “No,” Zoe said. “They wouldn’t know the rules of taxicabs.”

  The rules of taxicabs. Rob looked at her. There were rules for taxicabs, weren’t there? And he’d learned them over the years as the taxicabs themselves had evolved.

  But if the story were true—or at least if his understanding of the Fates’ last few months were true—then they wouldn’t know all sorts of things, from taxicabs to slot machines to laptop computers.

  Those three women were helpless in a variety of ways.

  Part of him felt sympathy, and part of him wanted to rub his hands together with glee.

  Travers sighed. “So you’re Robin Hood.”

  Rob nodded.

  “And you have my sister because…?”

  “Because she offered to help,” he said, even though that wasn’t entirely true.

  “Leaving my son with the most incompetent women in the world?” Travers asked a question, but it didn’t sound like a question. Something in his phrasing made it sound like a threat.

  “And my friend John,” Rob said. “He can handle all of them.”

  “John.” Travers didn’t sound satisfied.

  “Little John,” Zoe said. “You know.”

  “No,” Megan said from behind Rob. “He doesn’t know. He hates myths and legends. He prefers books on the history of math.”

  Travers shot her a glare. “Given how myths and legends are working out for me these days, do you blame me?”

  Zoe raised herself to her full height. “It seems to me myths and legends are treating you quite well, Mr. Kinneally.”

  He grinned at her. “If these people would leave your closet.”

  “You’re a myth and a legend?” Megan asked Zoe.

  “Only in my own mind,” Zoe said. “But I spend a lot of time with the real thing. Although we haven’t seen much of you lately, Rob. What gives?”

  He didn’t want to have cocktail party talk in the middle of Zoe’s closet. Especially with Zoe in see-through clothing and her half-naked husband-to-be beside her.

  “I, ah, just came…” Rob stopped himself. That was bad. “I mean, I just got here because I—”

  “He wants to know what’s going on with these Fate women,” Megan said. “He really doesn’t want to help them, and I don’t blame him.”

  “I don’t blame him either,” Travers said, “but not doing something the Fates want is very hard.”

  “Even when they don’t have magic,” Zoe added. “You’d think it was easier, but you’d be wrong.”

  Rob sighed. “They say true love is at stake.”

  “I think they’re right,” Zoe said. “The Faerie Kings have stolen their wheel. The Fates got along without it just fine for millennia, but then they gave up their magic powers because Zeus told them it was a job requirement—”

  “For what?”

  “They had to reapply to be Fates. They had term limits.” Zoe shrugged. “Don’t ask me why they believed this garbage, but they did. And now everything’s at stake.”

  “So why aren’t you still helping them?” Rob asked.

  “They said we’re done.” Travers reached across a row of cocktail dresses and took Zoe’s hand. “I suppose we could have argued more.”

  “But apparently, it’s been a tag-team rescue from the beginning,” Zoe said. “You know the Fates. Their main job in life is to ensure that people find their soulmates.”

  Rob felt that flare of anger again. “Yeah, right. That always works.”

  Megan put a calming hand on his arm.

  Zoe frowned at him. Like most mages, she only knew bits and pieces of his history. “You don’t like them.”

  “I loathe them,” he said.

  “Oh, great,” Travers muttered. “So much for the wedding.”

  Zoe squeezed Travers’ hand. “We’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

  “That’s like saying don’t breathe.”

  “They want me to steal that wheel,” Rob said.

  “They need someone experienced at theft,” Zoe said. “I’m not it. Travers certainly isn’t. They’re the ones who suggested you.”

  “I’m not a burglar,” Rob said.

  “You stole from the rich and gave to the poor,” Travers said, then stuck his tongue out at his sister. “See? I know some legends.”

  “You could’ve called me the original highwayman or something,” Rob said. “I certainly wasn’t a high-level thief like you see in the movies.”

  “Are there high-level thieves like you see in the movies?” Megan asked softly.

  “Not magical ones,” Zoe said. “We don’t need all that gadgetry.”

  “Except when you’re stealing a spinning wheel,” Megan said.

  Rob shook his head. “The wheel’s in Faerie, right?”

  “Right,” Zoe said.

  “So high-level gadgetry wouldn’t work anyway.” He sighed. “They said you know exactly where it is.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Zoe said. “I can show you a map.”

  “Later,” Rob said. “If I decide to take the case.”

  “Which you’re not going to do.” Zoe shook her head. “Rob, you could be our last hope.”

  “Who’s last hope? You two seem to be doing pretty well here.” The words sounded almost bitter. He hadn’t meant to be bitter, had he?

  But it was ironic. The Fates wanted him to save true love, when they couldn’t save his true love.

  Wouldn’t save his true love.

  “Tell you what,” Zoe said, her black eyes narrowing. “You do me a favor. Spell yourself to the Fates. Say, literally, ‘to the Fates’ when you do it. Then come back here, and we’ll talk.”

  “Zo!” Travers protested.

  She got a cheeky grin and looked at him. “Come back after—what?—four hours?”

  “Five,” Travers said. “In fact, how about we see you tomorrow? Or maybe in a few weeks.”

  “The Fates don’t have a few weeks,” Zoe said.

  “Tomorrow,” Travers said.

  “I have Kyle for the whole night?” Megan asked.

  “You don’t have him right now,” Travers said.

  They were bickering. Rob had never seen adult siblings bicker, except on television.

  “I know where he is,” Megan said.

  “I know where he is too,” Travers said. “That doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with it.”

  “John’s competent,” Rob said so that Megan wouldn
’t get into any more trouble.

  “No one’s competent around the Fates,” Travers muttered.

  “Just do what I ask,” Zoe said, “then take Megan to the hotel and wait for us. We’ll come to you.”

  Rob sighed. He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. He glanced at Megan. The flush that had overwhelmed her face was gone. She looked up at him and shrugged.

  “All right, Zoe,” he said. “I expect to see you later tonight. But don’t have any expectations of me.”

  She grinned. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I know exactly what you’ll do.”

  He was afraid of that. He took Megan’s hand. It was cold. Then he waved an arm and said, “To the Fates.”

  And the closet disappeared.

  Seventeen

  This whirlwind travel was starting to make her dizzy.

  Megan clutched Rob’s hand. It seemed like they existed in a void for a half a second, which was better than the inside of Zoe’s closet, particularly with Zoe dressed like a Victoria’s Secret model (and looking like one too, dammit!) and Travers with his jeans unzipped.

  Megan blushed just thinking about that.

  No one wanted to imagine their brother doing what her brother was probably doing right now.

  She shuddered, and then, suddenly, she was in a library. A large, old library covered with beautiful shelves that ran up several stories. The library didn’t smell like musty books, though. It smelled like old dog pee mixed with bad pizza and bubblegum.

  She had never been to a place like this. It was too big to be real. The rooms seemed to go off this main area for ever and ever. They even disappeared into a fog-shrouded distance.

  Rob squeezed her hand, but he was frowning. He sniffed loudly, obviously taking in that hideous pee-and-pizza smell. He touched the dust-covered surface of a nearby book and shook his head.

  “Something’s very wrong here,” he whispered.

  “We can hear that!” A young woman’s voice floated in from the next room.

  “Why does everyone materialize in the wrong place?” asked another young woman.

  “Have you ever thought that we’re in the wrong place?” asked a third.

  Rob’s frown grew deeper. He let go of Megan’s hand, put a finger to his lips, then stepped over a pile of magazines toward the sound of the voices. Slowly he peered around the corner, and his frown turned into a full-blown grimace.

  Then he reached out his hand, and Megan took it.

  She was beginning to trust this man, although she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the confidence with which he moved, or maybe it was just the mercurial nature of his emotions. Anyone who went through that many moods in such a short period of time couldn’t be hiding much.

  He helped over the magazine pile, around a mountain of dirty laundry, and through a stack of open books, all resting on top of each other.

  The books had interesting titles: The History of Finger-Pointing in the Magical World: The Titans through The Powers That Be; Famous Familiars and Their Times; and, ominously, The War Between The Kingdoms Volume 45: Faerie.

  But Rob wouldn’t let her linger. Instead, he led her into the next room. Three teenage girls sprawled on lawn chairs. Someone had placed ugly green Astroturf beneath the chairs and set up a wading pool next to one of the floor-to-ceiling oak book stacks. Several books tottered along the edge of the wading pool, dangerously close to the water.

  Megan wanted to move all that interesting paper away from danger, but Rob held her tightly at his side.

  He was staring at the girls. They were worth staring at. The one closest to Megan was another redhead—Megan hadn’t seen so many pretty redheads in one day in years (which could have been an effect of living in Los Angeles, where she saw too many beautiful blondes).

  The redhead had cropped her lovely hair so short that it looked like a crewcut. She wore a green bikini that left nothing to the imagination, and she had half a dozen tiny tattoos—most of them of miniature versions of herself (along with one or two roses)—along her torso. A diamond-studded ring stuck out of her belly button, and a matching one hung on the side of her aquiline nose.

  She had large breasts and wide hips, and Megan knew that once she hit her twenties the redhead would share Megan’s plus-size figure and not know how she got there.

  Next to her, a petite blonde (why were they always petite?) leaned forward in a way that would desert her long about twenty as well. She was painting her toenails fuchsia. The girl wore three seashells, all covering the most strategic locations, and tied in place with hot pink cord. If only she had one quarter of the redhead’s figure, she might have been able to pull off the look. But she didn’t. She looked like a little girl experimenting with her sexy older sister’s clothing.

  The last girl wore her hair in cornrows. White beads dotted the ends, making her click with each movement. She wasn’t wearing a bikini at all—or if she was, it wasn’t visible beneath her long white t-shirt.

  She was the only one with a book on her lap, and in her right hand, she held a pencil. The eraser end had been chewed off. Another pencil was shoved behind her left ear.

  Only the redhead looked up when Megan and Rob entered the room.

  “Hey, guys,” she said, “we have more idiots.”

  Rob flushed. Megan tightened her grip on his hand. She wasn’t trying to control him, but she had a sense that antagonizing these girls wouldn’t be a bright idea.

  The blonde raised her head. She shoved a piece of hot pink bubblegum in her mouth and started to chew with her mouth open.

  “Grrrr—aaaate,” she said. “More blinking work.”

  “For me,” said the girl with the cornrows. She didn’t look up at all.

  “You should look, Tiffany,” said the redhead. “This guy’s a dish.”

  “Yeah, babe,” said the blond. “Dump the empath and join us. We need some entertainment, right, Tiff?”

  Tiffany tucked an errant cornrow behind her right ear. She still didn’t look up. “Daddy’s gonna be really mad at us if we don’t figure out this familiar thing. He says it’s gonna be a crisis real soon now.”

  Megan frowned at Rob. He shrugged ever so slightly, but that grimace he’d had earlier had morphed into an expression of controlled panic.

  What was so frightening about three teenage girls?

  Except, of course, that they were teenage girls.

  “So that means it’s not a crisis right now, right, Brittany?” the redhead glanced at the blonde. Blondes named Brittany. Apparently they infected every plain of existence.

  “Right, Crystal,” Brittany said, and blew a bright pink bubble.

  “Find out what they want and make them leave,” Tiffany said. She sounded angry.

  “Tell us what you want and then leave,” Crystal said.

  “Who are you?” Rob sounded like he already knew, like he was afraid of the answer.

  Brittany rolled her china blue eyes. “Everybody asks that question.”

  “Maybe because they can’t believe what they see,” Tiffany mumbled as she turned the pages.

  “You’re in a really bad mood, y’know?” Crystal said.

  “Yeah,” Brittany said. “Get your nose out of that book for once, and look up. This guy’s hot.”

  Tiffany looked up. Her flat gaze met Rob’s. “Hi, hot guy. Do you know how to read?”

  Rob opened his mouth, closed it, and looked at Megan as if she had the answers. She wanted to lean back and observe for a moment. These teenagers had issues, and not just with each other. Something was going on here, something underlying the entire scene, that made all three girls unusually tense.

  “Of course I can read.” Rob sounded offended. “I’ve been able to read since the Renaissance.”

  Megan gave him a startled look. She couldn’t remember when the Renaissance was, exactly (if she ever knew—history had never been her strong suit), but she knew it wasn’t during Robin Hood’s era. He went at least a hundred years or two or three before he lear
ned how to read.

  No wonder the question made him bristle.

  “Daddy sent you, didn’t he?” Crystal asked, her full lips turned downward. “This is another stupid test, isn’t it?”

  “Tell him we’re not going to stand for it!” Brittany poked Tiffany. “Tell him after getting this fake-o lame-o pool as a reward, we’re not doing anything he wants ever again.”

  “You guys are not getting this,” Tiffany said. “We would’ve gotten a real pool if you both hadn’t blown the final question.”

  “Daddy says this is a real pool,” Crystal said.

  “It says ‘pool’ on the side,” Brittany said.

  “‘Wading pool,’” Tiffany said with barely masked anger. “And if you knew anything about anything, you’d know that wading pools are for babies, not for babes.”

  “Oh.” Crystal’s entire body wilted.

  “She already told you that, dummy,” Brittany whispered so loudly that it sounded like she was shouting.

  “Excuse me,” Rob said. “I asked a question. Who are you?”

  “You’re going to irritate Crystal if you keep asking that question,” Tiffany said, turning another page in her book.

  “Then answer it,” Rob snapped.

  Megan dropped his hand, walked through the lawn chairs over to the pool. She removed one book from the side, then another.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Crystal asked at her.

  “Whatever it is, Meg,” Rob said, “it’s probably not a good idea.”

  “You might want to listen to the hottie, empath,” Brittany said.

  That was the second time they had called her an empath. Megan had ignored it the first time. She took a deep breath, but wouldn’t let herself be distracted.

  “Thanks,” Tiffany said ever so softly and just to Megan. “I’ve been asking them to clean up for the last two days. We’re really gonna get it if we don’t fix stuff.”

  Megan removed the last three books from the side of the pool, set them as far from the water as she could without leaving anyone’s line of sight, and sat, cross-legged on the Astroturf between all three lawn chairs.

  “You girls want to tell me what’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Meg, you don’t know who they are,” Rob said.