A Broken Fate (The Beautiful Fate Series book 2)

by Mann, Cat

  He smiled and wrapped his fingers around mine. “I am so glad I didn’t listen to them.”

  “Me too.”

  Chapter 9

  The Hunt

  We spent the first day of our trip to Greece acclimating to the time change. We were staying at a wonderful place called The Athenian Loft. Our space was open and airy and the view was breathtaking. The master bedroom was crisp and inviting. The wall the bed was on was painted a deep, dark red and the bed itself was embellished with a soft, white, linen canopy. The whole place was romantic and serene. I slipped my shoes and cardigan off, Ari took our luggage and put it in the closet. He turned to me with an impish smile on his face. I peered at him from across the room. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip and sauntered towards me like an animal on the prowl. I giggled and his eyes turned dark.

  “We are not leaving this place until I find what I have been looking for. It has been one whole year, Ava, and I have been patient. I have played my cards fairly. I want that freckle. Now.”

  Holy Hell.

  My jaw went slack. The air left my lungs. I felt a lovely, familiar tickle at the bottom of my tummy. I turned around and ran. I heard a low growl come from behind me and Ari was at my heels in a matter of seconds. I laughed as I ran all through the loft, dodging works of art, expensive stereo equipment, glass tables and lush furniture. I circled through the living room, treating the couch like a hurdle, I ran through the kitchen and back into the master bedroom and then out onto the ultra-private balcony. We had a spectacular view of The Acropolis and Lycabettus Hill from that balcony, but I had no time to enjoy the sight before me. Ari flew through the open glass doors and grabbed me around my waist. The balcony was adorned with a huge, cushioned lounge chair that was the size of a small bed and covered in blue and white linen pillows. Ari tossed the pillows to the floor, put me on the chaise and pinned my hands over my head with one hand. His other hand made its way down my body. He grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head. Ari began to kiss me all over, I squirmed and laughed as the stubble on his face tickled my skin. “Are you going to tell me where that little freckle of yours is, or do I have to kiss every inch of your body?”

  “I’ll never tell.”

  An hour or so later, I lay breathless on Ari’s chest. His fingers traced little pictures on my bare back and he whispered sweet words into my ear.

  “You are beautiful, Ava, even in defeat,” he smiled.

  ****

  On the second evening of our trip, Ari and I decided to take a walk through an old, hilly neighborhood just off the beaten path. Beautiful flowers draped from stone pots and window boxes. Women hollered across balconies to one another as they put laundry out on lines to dry. Stray cats stretched and meandered about the white-washed lane, men sat together at chessboards and smoked cigars while small children kicked a ball back and forth along the narrow pathway. The experience was like walking back in time. I felt at home in the community. I could tell Ari felt that way, too. We belonged in Greece. It was in our blood.

  We came upon an old woman outside sweeping the steps to her home. She turned to greet us and as soon as I saw her face, I knew that I had met her before but couldn’t quite place the memory, as if our meeting had been in a dream. I gave her a smile as we passed and her face went slack. She dropped her broom and pointed at me in awe.

  “Ava?”

  Ari’s jaw dropped and he looked from me to her. “Do you know this woman?” he whispered in my ear.

  “Yes,” I smiled, “I think I do.”

  A dream I had had so very long ago that it felt like a different lifetime flitted into my memory. This woman had spoken to me in my hospital dream and had taught me how to reel the thread in to make time back up; she requested more time and I gladly gave it to her. The lesson that she bestowed upon me was ultimately what had saved Aggie; Ari and I both owed her so much.

  We hugged one another and fat tears fell from her eyes. I wiped them away and turned to introduce her to Ari. She got one look at Ari, blushed, threw her arms around him, and kissed both of his cheeks. She invited us in and I took Ari’s hand and told him that I would explain it all later.

  I remembered that her name was Maya. She welcomed us into her home and introduced us to her little grandson, Max, sitting near the garden door and rolling a ball back and forth. Maya’s hair was salt and pepper colored, long, and smooth. Her eyes were light brown and sparkled brightly. She smiled at us almost adoringly.

  Max was a beautiful child, with rosy, chubby cheeks and stubby little-boy fingers. His brown hair stood up all over in disarray, just like Ari’s. He had a cute, baby tooth smile and the same light brown eyes as his grandmother. He took to Ari instantly. Max spoke only a tiny amount of English and Ari kept looking at me for guidance, but the little boy’s speech was mostly that of a two-year-old – nonsensical sounds along with some words for various toys and games.

  Maya’s home was lovely. It possessed a worldly charm with stone walls and exposed, natural wood beams, windowsills and doors. She had a large farm kitchen sink and freshly cut flowers displayed in antique vases. The space was really quite magical. Maya insisted that Ari and I stay for dinner and she served moussaka with a plate of olives and wonderful loaf of bread. For dessert, she gave us Greek yogurt with honey and almonds. Max sat on Ari’s lap the entire time and babbled to him about playing ball on the pathway. When the meal was done, Max drug Ari by the hand out to the courtyard near the garden.

  I helped Maya clear the plates and walked with her to the sink in her little kitchen. I set the plates down and Maya took both of my hands in hers and looked me in the eyes before pulling me in to another hug. She released me then placed her hand on my cheek.

  “I have waited a long time to meet you, Ava.”

  I looked at her quizzically.

  “Why me?” I could tell Maya was a descendant of a deity but I was not sure of whom. “Who are you?”

  She walked down the hall and pulled out a large book from a closet and then took my hand and sat back down at the table. She pulled a picture out of the book and showed it to me.

  I cocked my head to the side and took in every detail. The picture was of Maya, taken probably forty years earlier. She was wearing a dress that went past her knees and was standing next to another young woman of approximately the same age. I pointed to the one that was clearly Maya.

  “You?” I asked.

  “Umm hmm,” she responded. She pointed to the other woman, looked at me, and said “Margaux.”

  My eyes turned the size of half dollars and my heart began to pound of out my chest.

  “My Margaux?”

  “Umm hmm.”

  She took out another picture, the photo was of Maya and Margaux again, only this time, Maya’s belly was swollen and round. She pointed to her belly and smiled at me until I understood.

  “Lucy. My mom.”

  “Yes.”

  “You are my Grandmother?”

  “Yes, Ava, I am.”

  I felt as though the wind had been knocked from my lungs. My jaw slacked at this revelation and my heart pounded against my chest. Maya was my mom’s birth mother. My grandmother.

  “I am of the goddess of Demeter, Ava. My husband, your grandfather Christos, was the last known descendant of Clotho, the spinner of the thread.”

  I learned last year, on my trip to London, that my mother was the descendant of Clotho. I had to beat the information out of Margaux but in the end, she confirmed that my suspicion was right. I kept this information to myself. I had not even told Ari of my discovery.

  Since my grandfather was that of Clotho, Maya had known, in my dream so long ago, that I could pull her thread longer. I possess all three capabilities -- I can spin life, measure life and end it. I looked out the garden door at Max who was laughing loudly at Ari who was trying with much difficulty to bounce the ball on his head consecutively.

  Maya nodded at me with a smile and stated that Max was my cousin. She had had ano
ther daughter, Lacy, ten years after my mother was born. When Lacy died, Maya, not willing to lose another child, kept Max to raise him. She said both of her daughters had possessed the power to spin life and that the Kakos had sought them both out. Max’s mom, Lacy, and his dad, Egan, were murdered right after Max’s birth when they refused to spare the Kakos’ lives any longer. Margaux had taken my mother, ten years prior to Lacy’s birth, vowing to keep her safe and away from her destiny as a Fate.

  My mother was never told about her past or where she came from; she had no idea who she was until she met my father. Maya added, with a bit of bitterness, that if it hadn’t been for Margaux allowing my mom to be with my dad, my mom would still be alive today. The Kakos, she said, found out about my mother in the course of their hunting down my father.

  Maya, angry with Margaux, stopped speaking to her friend when I was born. She had herself spent considerable energy and ingenuity keeping Max a secret. The little boy was born. I was the first person to know of his abilities as a Fate. She said that she had been following my progress with the Kakos. And she wished me good luck.

  “What do you mean…good luck? There’s more, another Kakos isn’t there?”

  I took a deep breath as I asked my question. I wanted to know what Maya had meant by wishing me luck. Her face turned serious and she nodded yes, slowly.

  “Is he safe -- Max?”

  She frowned. “It is you he wants, not a little boy. He will find you, Ava.”

  I asked who he was and where I could find him. She told me there are some things not to be spoken of and that the person I wanted to know about was one of those things. I begged for more information and she simply said that No. 7 rarely shows his own face and had not been seen for eighteen years. When No. 7 does come forth, she added, he takes the form of someone else and thus is not recognizable. He has the power to possess someone else’s soul and body. A very cold chill ran through my veins at this news. I pressed Maya again for more information but she was not forthcoming. She turned to look behind herself often, as if someone might be listening in on our conversation.

  It began to get dark; Maya’s home filled up with shadows, and a cool evening breeze came in through an open window. Ari carried Max, who was rubbing his eyes sleepily, back to the table. I stood up to leave; worried that Ari and I would not be able to find our way back in the dark. Maya gave us great big hugs. Max threw his chubby little two-year-old arms around Ari and cried for him to stay. I choked back tears, afraid of what would happen with Max the next time I saw our grandmother in the hospital dream.

  Maya stopped us right before we walked out the door and told me to wait one more minute. She hurried down the hall and started rummaging through a closet and came back with a long rectangular box. She handed the box to me and I looked at her curiously. She motioned for me to open it. I slid the top of the old, dusty wooden box off and found a very ancient pair of sharp scissors tucked away inside. The very same pair I hold each night in my dreams.

  Shock and wonder consumed me as I sucked in a breath. Maya smiled and told me the scissors had belonged to Atropos. She took my face in her hands and her eyes looked straight into mine as she said, slowly and deliberately, “Use them; you have to use them.”

  I tried to ask what she meant but, looking out into the darkening sky, she ushered us from her home and bolted the door behind us.

  I linked my arm through Ari’s and we walked back to The Loft. I told him that the scissors had belonged to Atropos, and that they are the very ones I use each night when I roam the hospital halls in my dream. Then I told him about the dream I had had a year ago, when Maya taught me to pull the thread, and I told him how my experience with her had given me the tools I needed to save Aggie.

  “Ari, I haven’t told you this yet, but I have found out that my mother was descended from Clotho.”

  He came to a stop on the path and turned to gape at me.

  “When did you learn this, Ava?”

  “On my way to London, last winter. Margaux explained a little bit of my background to me. I had to force the information out of her and I couldn’t tell if she was being truthful or not until tonight.”

  “Ava, why do you keep things from me?” Ari’s jaw was tight and he sounded irritated.

  “I’m sorry, Ari. I have a hard time talking about some parts of my life.”

  “I’m your husband. We should tell each other everything. I know I tell you everything.”

  I closed my eyes and nodded my head, filled with remorse, yet I still didn’t say anything about No. 7. I wasn’t ready for him to know that my fight with the Kakos was not yet over.

  * * * *

  The rest of our trip passed quickly. Ari and I basked in the sun on the beaches near Cape Sounion. We spent a morning at the Central Market. We walked to the top of Mount Lycabettus and back. We toured the museum in Mycenae. We spent a great, lazy day in Hydra.

  Ari and I decided to make a hike up Mount Olympus to the Skolio summit. We arrived in the city of Litochoro, also known as The City of the Gods, in the early morning. There was a kind of vibe in the air, a certain kind of electricity. The sky was bright blue and brilliant without a cloud in sight, creating a magnificent background for the Mytikas peak. The higher we climbed, the more at peace I felt. However, with my growing calmness, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, there was a buzzing in my veins, coursing through my body, pushing me higher.

  “Do you feel it?” Ari asked, as he took hold of my arm, he rubbed his fingers across the goose bumps that had appeared there.

  I nodded and gazed at him curiously. “I do…. It’s a bit strange.”

  “I don’t think the feeling is strange at all, Ava, this is our home after all. The mountain is just calling out to us, welcoming us back. Mount Olympus is in our blood.”

  “It is. I can feel that.”

  A week into our trip, August sent me a text asking us to meet him for dinner at a beach resort called Delfino Blu. Ari and I arrived early and ordered drinks. We sat at an outside table at the beach bar and were mesmerized by the bright blue Mediterranean Sea as we waited for August.

  “You’re sunburned,” he said softly and with a slight frown.

  I patted my cheeks with my fingertips.

  “Just a touch… it doesn’t hurt.”

  I could feel Ari’s penetrating gaze on my cheeks. From the time I disappeared on a run and turned up broken, beaten, and burnt a week later, he had been consumed by worry for my safety and wellbeing. Sometimes when I wake from a nightmare, I find him sitting up, watching me sleep.

  “Didn’t you wear sunscreen?”

  I smiled at his fatherly tone.

  “Yes, I put some on, but it must have worn off. I’m ok, Ari. It doesn’t hurt.”

  Ari took my hand in his and slowly turned it over to inspect the pink, freshly healed scar on my wrist.

  “I should have never let you out of my sight. I should have never let you leave me that day. I should have never let him get to you. I wish I had killed him myself.”

  I shook my head slowly.

  “You aren’t a murderer, Ari.”

  “Neither are you, Ava.”

  We sat silently for a long moment and watched the gulls over the sea dive into the water and come back up with dinner. We listened to their screeches and cries over the crashing waves.

  “I could live here,” I said, mostly to myself.

  “Could you?” Ari asked; his interest peeked.

  “Yeah, I could.”

  “We could, you know. Leave California and live here. Change our names and hide away. I could keep you safe here.”

  I shook my head no.

  “You could never leave your family, Ari, and I would never ask you to.”

  “I would leave everything behind if it meant keeping you safe.”

  “Damien Kakos is dead, Ari. He can’t hurt me.”

  I closed my eyes and pushed back the threat of tears welling up inside me. I should tell him! I thought. I s
hould tell him that I am not safe, that I am being hunted! But I couldn’t do it.

  August showed up with his ex-boyfriend Claude, breaking us from our quiet conversation.

  “Ugh,” I sighed, when I saw them walk together up the path, hand in hand.

  “What?” Ari said out of the corner of his mouth. “Who’s that?”

  “His ex. We hung out in London. Nice guy, but he’s a cheat. I’ll tell you about it later.”

  August and Claude stood at the table smiling down on us. As soon as I saw them, I knew it had been Claude I heard talking in the background of my call to August before the trip. I also knew instantly why August began speaking in English as soon as he heard my voice. Claude speaks very little English; August almost certainly didn’t want him to know about the plan to move to California. I gave August a knowing look when Claude’s back was turned. August shrugged his shoulders and mouthed, “What?”

  “You know what,” I said in a sharp tone.

  I introduced Ari to Claude as August’s friend, and then asked Claude what he was doing here in Greece. He explained that he had taken a few days to holiday here with August and was leaving for home on an evening plane. I then gave August another accusatory, unbelieving look.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t like Claude. He was actually a pretty fun guy to hang around with. The three of us had had a blast one night in London at an Amy Winehouse tribute party. Claude had arranged VIP passes for us and pressured me into dressing in character. He puffed my hair and tied it in a wrap, then did my eye makeup to look just like Amy’s. Truth was, I looked quite ridiculous while August and Claude ended up looking quite fabulous. August actually won one of the look-alike contests.

  I tempered my usual impatience with Claude that night because, after all, he had brought us to the party... and because I ended up getting to meet Kate Nash and Lily Allen. But Claude, for the most part, treated August poorly, and one quality I cannot stand in a person is the failure to be faithful.