“That’s not what the salesman said.” Rob stepped inside the other suite. It smelled of chili—rich and thick and enticing—and fresh baked bread.
Megan walked in with him. “The salesman told you the shoes would help you conquer the world?”
“The well-dressed man always controls his environment,” Rob said in a modern, stuffy, upper-class British accent. “Shoes make the man.”
“Really?” Megan said. “Because I’d think that world-conquering shoes would be some kind of miracle boots or tennies.”
“Never tried conquering the world in tennies,” Rob said. “It might work.”
He pulled the door to the suite closed. John was still in the kitchen, removing the bread from the oven. The Fates were setting the table, going around it in circles and placing settings down as if they were playing a game of Duck, Duck, Goose.
Kyle was talking animatedly to his father, and Zoe was petting that overweight dog.
The entire scene in front of him should have made him calmer. Instead, it made him tense.
All of these people were counting on him because of some historical misunderstanding of his skills. If he could, he’d recommend some famous cat burglar, only he couldn’t think of any.
Apparently, among his people, he was the world’s greatest thief.
He sighed.
“You can do this,” Megan said.
He glanced at her.
“You have done a lot of amazing stuff in your life. I’m beginning to understand how this new world works. If the Fates believe in you, then you have the ability to do whatever they ask.”
Rob smiled. “You still don’t understand all of it. Just because there are prophecies doesn’t mean they’ll come true.”
“Good thing we don’t know what they are, then,” Megan said.
He shook his head, went into the living room, and set his shoes beside the chair. He had no real desire to put them on yet.
Zoe saw him first. She patted the dog one last time, then sat down on the couch. She nodded to a nearby chair.
“We have to do some planning,” she said in a loud voice.
“At dinner,” John said from the kitchen.
“Some of it now,” Zoe said.
The Fates looked over at them, all movements in unison. Rob hovered near the chair. He didn’t want to sit down. He didn’t want to be comfortable here, not yet.
He needed more information, and Megan had been right: that information had to come from the Fates.
“Before we have dinner,” Zoe said, “I want to show you what the wheel looks like now.”
“You can’t do a magic spell into Faerie,” Clotho said, leaving the dining room.
“It isn’t safe,” Lachesis said.
“They’d know where to find you,” Atropos said.
“They know where to find me now,” Zoe said. “We’re all safe so long as we don’t threaten them.”
“And they have no idea what we’re up to,” Travers said. “At least, not yet.”
Not until Rob went into Faerie and took the wheel, that is.
He sighed. Megan stood near the door. Kyle looked nervous, which meant everyone in the room was nervous.
“This can’t wait until I serve dinner?” John asked.
No one answered him.
Zoe beckoned with her right hand. “Gather round. You in particular, Rob. You need to see this.”
The Fates set the remaining dishes down and took over the couch. Rob found an armchair similar to the one he’d been sitting in inside Megan’s suite. She came up beside him, and he pulled her next to him.
She opted for the arm again, and not his lap, like he’d hoped.
“I’m going to show you my memory,” Zoe said with a pointed glare at the Fates, “not the actual wheel itself. Because this is Faerie, they’ve probably moved it—”
“They haven’t,” Clotho said.
“How do you know?” Rob asked.
Lachesis shrugged. “We are able to stay in touch with parts of our past, even though our magic is gone.”
“Or perhaps it is our future,” Atropos said, and all three Fates giggled.
Travers rolled his eyes. Rob felt that thread of irritation grow, but Megan looked at all three of them, her head cocked.
“Do they remind you of someone?” she whispered.
“Thank heavens, no,” he said, not bothering to whisper back.
She gave him an exasperated look, then folded her hands in her lap, and looked at Zoe.
Zoe raised her eyebrows at him. “This is for your benefit, Rob. Are you going to pay attention?”
“Did you have a school marm somewhere in your background?” he asked, not liking the pointed way she asked the question.
She shook her head. “We don’t have ‘marms’ in France.”
“France?” Megan whispered.
But Rob didn’t explain it to her. He had first met Zoe in France nearly a century ago. She had just come into her magic, and she was quite frightened of it.
“Watch,” Zoe said, and raised a closed fist.
Then the suite faded. The beeps of slot machines, followed by the soft roar of conversation, snuck into the emptiness. Then the glare of artificial lighting, mixed with flashing signs and too much neon.
A casino.
And not just any casino: a Faerie casino. He recognized the language around him. It was Elvish, mixed with medieval English and Gaelic—the Faerie’s version of their own language.
Faeries played video games, stood next to each other and had real conversations—not the kind they had when they were worried about mages overhearing—and something glowed in the distance.
Signs—in English—announced concerts, comedy shows, and the amounts in progressive slots. So, occasionally, the Faeries brought humans down here, probably to pick them clean of their luck.
Rob shook his head. Megan had grabbed his hand and was clinging to it tightly, as if she had never seen anything like this.
And, of course, she hadn’t.
She was biting her lower lip, her eyes as wide as a child’s.
The scene around them shifted as the memory did—Zoe had gone toward that glow.
The floor throbbed beneath Rob’s feet, almost as if he were in a big machine. Gradually, the Faeries around him disappeared, although he could hear voices whispering. He wanted to turn around, to face them, but he knew this was a memory—and not his memory.
Zoe’s.
He couldn’t see the actual Zoe through all the slot banks, video poker machines, and craps tables. The slots didn’t have the usual cherries and sevens, but instead listing of human traits—a way of betting on and manipulating human lives.
“Why do they allow that?” Clotho said.
Her voice was very distant.
Someone shushed her, and the illusion rose again.
That whispering made his hair stand on end.
Ahead of him, the machines parted, showing a great pit. It was bathed in light, so much so that he couldn’t see in front of it. He went forward and nearly tripped down a flight of clear stairs.
They were lit from beneath. He glanced up, saw himself sitting in the armchair, Megan still clinging to his hand—and yet he was standing on the floor of the pit, all alone.
He was actually inside Zoe’s memory.
He wondered if the others were too.
She had a powerful magic to do this. He was impressed.
Then he focused on the scene before him. His eyes had finally adjusted to the light.
The pit was round and seemed designed for gaming. Blackjack tables stood next to craps tables, which were near poker tables. A giant roulette wheel dominated the entire pit. The wheel shot out red and black lights that didn’t seem to affect the white light that glowed in the entire area.
Rob frowned and started toward the wheel, only to be held into place. It was Zoe’s memory, not his; Zoe’s magic, not his. He had to wait until she had gone forward—if she had.
Sh
e hadn’t, but she had focused on the wheel itself. And that was when he realized that it looked odd, not like a classic roulette wheel at all. Beside it were three empty chairs.
“They couldn’t hang around and wait to see what was going on?” Lachesis asked, startling Rob.
“This is a memory, remember?” Atropos said, and again someone shushed them.
Rob tuned everyone out and stepped toward the wheel. This time, the magic/memory let him. The wheel had spokes—no real roulette wheel did—and didn’t have built-in slots for a ball. Those slots had been added onto the edge as if they were an afterthought, and if he looked at them closely, he thought he could see light through them, but he wasn’t sure.
The base of the wheel was covered in cloth, and then he realized that he was looking at it wrong.
The base wasn’t covered in cloth. That was the part of the spinning wheel where the unspun material was before it was spun into threads. If he looked hard enough, he would find the spindle, and the real base of the wheel—the legs.
He tried to peer around the wheel, but he couldn’t. The memory had frozen him in place. Apparently Zoe hadn’t moved from here. He could only look, and not touch, nor could he actually examine the real base or the chairs or the platform on which the wheel rested.
He couldn’t see how to take it out.
Still, he reached for the thing, and it all vanished.
He had dropped Megan’s hand, his own hand extended across the room as if he were a child, reaching for something he couldn’t have.
Everyone was staring at him.
He cleared his throat, brought his hand down, and took Megan’s again. She covered it with her other hand.
“Um,” he said, trying to think about this entire mission, “where was that?”
“We can look on the map,” Zoe said. “It’s supposed to show us where everything is in real time.”
“No.” Rob blinked. His eyes still ached from the bright light. “What I meant was…was that deep in Faerie or near the surface? We seemed to be in a casino.”
“We were,” Travers said, “but it’s deep, and it’s not like those casinos on Boulder Highway that the Faeries own. It’s an underground cavern, almost, a secret place that took me a long time to get to.”
“I went through some kind of long fall,” Zoe said.
“Me, too.”
That’s what Rob was afraid of. “Once you landed, how far did you go?”
“That’s the tough part,” Zoe said.
“Everything changes down there,” Travers said. “The entire place works on a mathematical system—do you know what fractals are?”
“Not a clue,” Rob said.
Travers sighed. “No one does. Am I that weird?”
“You’re that weird, Dad,” Kyle said.
Travers grinned at him, then looked back at Rob. “It works on a pattern that has a mathematical base. Like slots, only more complex. It works without some overall mind adjusting the pattern all the time. But you have to be able to see it.”
“Math has never been my strong suit,” Rob said, wondering how this applied.
“That’s a problem,” Travers said. “Because if you can see the patterns, you can go directly to the heart of Faerie. Otherwise, you’ll get lost, and you might not come out for years.”
“À la Rip Van Winkle,” John said. Rob started. He hadn’t realized John was behind him. “I always wondered how that guy could lose so much time bowling.”
“The games weren’t as sophisticated then,” Zoe said.
“All right, let’s assume I can see the patterns —” which Rob doubted he could, but for the sake of argument, he’d assume it “—then how far is the wheel from the entrance?”
“It didn’t take me long to get there,” Travers said, “but I was hurrying. I thought Zoe would die.”
She gave him a fond smile.
“Time estimate?” Rob asked.
“I don’t have any,” Travers said. “I’m not sure time exists down there.”
“It exists,” Clotho said, “but it’s Faerie Mountain Time.”
“Which is better,” Lachesis said, “than Faerie Midnight Time.”
“Although you’re better off,” Atropos said, “with Faerie Solstice Time.”
“Okay,” Rob said, suppressing another sigh. “I get it. We have no way of measuring how far the wheel is from any exit, which, I have to admit, makes it impossible to make a plan. Add that to the fact that thing looks too big for one man to carry—”
“That’s the effect of the magic,” Clotho said.
“Really, I could carry it,” Lachesis said.
“Anyone of us could,” Atropos said.
“When you had your magic,” Rob said.
All three Fates shook their heads in unison.
“Even without,” Clotho said.
“It’s made of the lightest wood,” Lachesis said.
“It’s designed so that even a child can carry it,” Atropos said.
“A real child or one of those, y’know, magical kids?” Kyle asked. He was sitting on the floor, one hand on the obese dachshund’s back. The dog was looking into the kitchen, tail wagging. Apparently the creature hadn’t forgotten about the food on the counter.
Neither had Rob. His stomach was growling.
“A real child,” Clotho said, sounding somewhat indignant. “Magic did develop over time, you know.”
Rob didn’t even know that. He just assumed it came into being when the Earth came into being. Of course, history—like math—wasn’t his strong suit, unless he’d lived through it.
“If I don’t know how hard it is to remove,” he said, “and I don’t know how long it’ll take me to carry the thing out of the casino, and I don’t know if I can even lift it, then I can’t plan this heist.”
“I think heist is the wrong word,” Clotho said.
“We weren’t thinking of anything armed,” Lachesis said.
“You watch too many movies,” Atropos said.
He hardly watched any movies, except late at night, and often on pay-per-view or Turner Classic Movies. He usually fell asleep in the middle of whatever he was watching, so the plots really didn’t stick with him.
But he knew better than to contradict the Fates.
“I have to get it out of there somehow,” he said, “and my magic isn’t enough to take on the entire Faerie Kingdom. My theft skills weren’t really skills. They were bullying and thuggery, and always with a political aim. I’m not really the man for this.”
“Oh, you’re precisely the man,” Clotho said.
“If only you’d stop denying it,” Lachesis added.
“After all, this is political,” Atropos said.
“Because of Zeus?” Rob asked.
All three Fates shook their heads again. He was getting an image of those bobble-head dolls that were sold in stores all over Vegas, and he wasn’t sure he could keep a straight face about it.
“Because of the Faerie Kings,” Clotho said.
“The initial rivalry was between magic systems,” Lachesis said.
“What’s it between now?” Megan asked.
Rob glanced at her. She seemed involved in the conversation and not out of her depth like she had before. If anything, the vision of the wheel seemed to calm her.
It had simply convinced him he had no idea what he was doing.
“We do have to deal with Zeus, that’s true,” Atropos said.
“He will destroy everything we’ve worked for,” Clotho said.
“He doesn’t believe in true love,” Lachesis said.
“And if you were married to Hera, would you believe in it?” Atropos asked.
Clotho waved a hand. “Of course, that relationship is not our fault.”
“We would never allow a man to marry his sister,” Lachesis said.
“His sister?” Megan sounded appalled.
Travers put his hand over his face. And Kyle wrinkled his nose.
Apparently, som
e parts of Greek mythology were left out of modern schooling. Among the ancient gods and goddesses there was a lot of what would be called incest now, which Rob found just as disgusting as he had when he first heard of it, however many centuries ago.
“The Titans arranged that marriage,” Atropos said, “for reasons we’ll never understand.”
“And then put Hera in charge of married women which,” Clotho said, holding up a single finger as if she were giving a lecture, “we never would have done.”
“The woman is supremely unhappy,” Lachesis said. “Her husband is the most unfaithful creature ever created, and she blames it all on the women he gets involved with.”
“Which,” Atropos added, “is why so many married women are bitchy, in my opinion.”
“Huh?” Zoe said, twisting her new engagement ring.
Rob suppressed a grin, although Travers looked alarmed. Megan had leaned against Rob’s leg, watching the entire proceeding as if it were being staged for her benefit.
Rob wished he could remain as detached. He had to bring everyone back to the real topic soon enough.
Clotho reached over and patted Zoe’s leg. “It’s not that married women are unhappy, dear.”
“It’s just that occasionally Hera sends a little discontent their way,” Lachesis said.
“Simply to stir things up,” Atropos said.
“She believes it brings passion to a relationship,” Clotho said.
“And it does,” Lachesis said, “but the wrong type.”
“Why haven’t you stopped her?” Megan asked.
All three Fates turned toward her. Even Zoe looked shocked.
Megan shrugged and extended her hands. Rob put his hand on her shoulder, leaning her back against him.
“I misunderstood something again, didn’t I?” she asked.
“Hera’s one of the Powers That Be,” Rob said. “Technically, they’re the Fates’ boss.”
“Although I note you don’t give them obeisance any more,” Zoe said to the Fates.
The Fates looked down at their hands. This was the moment, then, that Rob could turn the conversation back to his so-called heist. They had to know that this wouldn’t work. Why were they sacrificing him?
“Are you trying to kill Mr. Hood?” Kyle asked.
Rob glared at him, then cursed silently. He must have broadcast that last thought.
Fates 06 - Totally Spellbound Page 40