Breaking Fate

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  “Your—” Darci’s lungs shut down and nothing but a croak came out. “Your son?” Blaéz’s mother was the great queen of the Celtic pantheon? The goddess of war and death? She’d read about her, but never thought she’d see her in reality.

  And just as fast, fury overrode her shock, surging through Darci like a dam breaking its banks. “Then why have you waited this long to help him?”

  “I tried—”

  “Obviously not hard enough,” Darci retorted.

  The Morrigan’s eyes became blue ice — crystalizing the very air in the room. It hurt to breathe as power flowed around Darci. She gasped, stumbling back and rubbing her sternum at the suffocating pain. Then the dense air eased. Coughing, Darci dragged in a huge amount of air and wondered at her foolishness in antagonizing a goddess who could probably end her life with a flick of her fingers. She didn't care. This woman had left Blaéz to suffer.

  “Do not speak so foolishly and listen well, mortal. Without his soul, there is nothing here to serve as tether for Blaéz,” The Morrigan said. “Evil gathers its forces. Soon, he will be drawn deeper into the darkness. There is no return from that.”

  As if she didn't know that. If it meant going into Hell herself, Darci would. Not even Blaéz’s wrath could stop her if what this goddess said was true. “What can I do?”

  “It is good you want to help” — her blue eyes glowed eerily — “because you are the only one who can. You and Blaéz are connected in a way that led to this moment.”

  Uneasy, Darci rubbed her damp palms down the hips of her tee. “I don’t understand.”

  “Have you not wondered why your eyes appear so?” The Morrigan drew closer. “The colors unusually jagged and yellow instead of the browns, blues, and greens mortals are commonly born with?”

  Her eyes? “What about them?”

  “That yellow is just a side-effect of what happens when you house a god’s soul.”

  It took a moment for the words to connect in her brain. A hysterical laugh escaped Darci at the absurdity. “I don’t believe you!”

  At the goddess’s cool stare, Darci’s disbelief morphed to horror; the truth crashing into her like a wrecking ball.

  She possessed Blaéz’s soul?

  No—no! God — no! Darci reeled back. Her legs banged into a padded surface and she fell into an armchair.

  At the thought of all that Blaéz had gone through — the humiliation of being tied to and violated by an insane demon — hit Darci hard. She wrapped her arms around her waist, trying to hold herself together. He may not feel emotions, but its absence had dug deep, leaving scars in his psyche. She’d seen it.

  “Take it, then — give it back to him.” She didn't want him sliding into darkness through no fault of his own.

  “If only it were that simple. I cannot. You must, and you must do so freely. But knowing my son, he would not be still and calmly accept it — if that happens, it will come back to me to move on to the afterlife, or worse, go back to the demon seeking it. Either way, it will be the end for him.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Use this.” The Morrigan set a small cream-colored disc with strange writing on the coffee table. It looked a lot like the leavened bread given in a Catholic Church. “Place this disc in your mouth before you kiss him. It will create a conduit and hold him to you so the soul passes back.”

  Darci glanced back at The Morrigan, who watched her as if waiting for something. What, Darci had no idea. “How did this happen — why did I end up with Blaéz’s soul?”

  The Morrigan glided toward the window. “Eons ago, your bloodline bore only males. The arrival of a female babe broke that—” She turned and flicked her fingers for a word. “It’s not a curse, but something that just is. All rejoiced. Except, a few days later, the babe began to ail. Prayers were sent up and sacrifices made. They were devout worshippers of the goddess of war and death. Me. The infant, it appeared, had been born with a defect. A fractured soul, and would soon die. I knew she would be the perfect recipient.”

  Darci stared at the goddess. Of all the things she’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them. Her stomach twisted into a hard knot as she braced herself.

  “After Blaéz’s soul slipped from the demon who would have trapped it,” The Morrigan continued, “it came to me. Not even I could hold on to something that powerful. I'm merely a conduit for immortal souls to pass into the afterlife. With Blaéz incarcerated in Tartarus, I needed a host urgently. One the demon after the soul couldn’t find. So I saved the babe by giving her the soul, and every woman born to that bloodline since has been sworn to continue the lineage, to pass on the soul.”

  “Pass on? How?”

  “At childbirth, the mother releases the soul and the new babe houses it until she has her own young. Your mother knew of the prophecy when she became pregnant with you.”

  God! Nausea rushed to Darci’s throat. Her mother had died when she’d been just a few days old. “Prophecy? It’s a damn curse.”

  “You should be grateful, mortal.” The Morrigan’s eyes burned in sudden anger. “She gave you life.”

  “I should be grateful that I lost my mother before I even had a chance to know her?” Darci glared at the goddess. “I wish she’d never gotten pregnant with me.”

  “She had no choice, your ancestors saw to that by agreeing to the terms when they begged me to save their babe. The oath is binding. And it would have been for you, too, if you hadn’t met Blaéz. Each generation, a woman will give birth to a female babe and assure that the soul always has a keeper.”

  “And if I didn't marry, had no children?”

  “You would have.” A simple statement. And the absolute truth. “You possess a male’s soul, you would have never formed a deeper attachment with the opposite sex. It’s why you would have wanted children to love.” As if she wasn’t ripping the very fabric of Darci life apart, The Morrigan calmly continued, “However, when I foresaw yours and Blaéz’s paths crossing, I granted a male child to your mother first—”

  “—because you knew the next would be a girl, and that my mother would save me, and finally all this would be over. You knew this would happen,” Darci finished bitterly. She wanted to get up and walk out, but couldn’t move.

  “I granted life to your lineage,” The Morrigan reminded her with a cold stare. “Now it’s time to release what was only loaned to you in good faith and do as your ancestors pledged.”

  Did The Morrigan think she’d renege on that oath? She loved Blaéz; she would never let him suffer.

  “Your kin knows the truth. I told him when you nearly died in an accident at ten summers. To save your life, he would have agreed to anything. He remains silent, thinking it would change the prophecy.”

  “What?” Darci shot to her feet, feeling as if someone had punched her in the chest. “No — you lie! Declan would have told me!”

  The Morrigan flashed to her and grasped her arms in a manacle, eyes glowing with ire. “See, mortal, see the truth.”

  Images flickered alive in Darci’s mind… Enormous black wings strewn on the stone ground… a bare-chested man kneeling in a pool of blood — her heart clipped hard. She knew him. The mirage changed. There she was, ten years old and asleep in her bed. Thrashing about, the sheets twisted around her…

  Tears streaming down her face — Darci’s eyelids flashed open, her mouth wide open in a silent scream. A man strung up, his back a bloody mess — so much agony. It consumed her. The pale, evil man who’d hurt him, his red eyes glowed in the dark as he approached with the fiery whip.

  Darci scrambled out of the tangle of bed covers and raced down the stairs, arms flailing. She crashed into a vase, knocking it to the floor in a shattering of splinters.

  “Darci?” Declan called, coming from the kitchen. She didn't stop, had to get away from the red-eyed man.

  “You cannot escape me — ever. You. Are. Mine.”

  “No-no!” she sobbed. He reached for her. She yanked at the front door. It opene
d. She jerked out of the man’s grip, raced down the pathway and into freedom—

  Screeching tires. A horrified scream rent the night. Darci went flying in the air and landed hard on the sidewalk, cracking her head. Held in the grips of shock, she lie there, pain tearing through her body.

  “Darci, please don’t die — hang on,” her brother cried, cradling her bloodied, broken body in his arms, his agony making her struggle against the oblivion hovering… a peace she could feel, one she longed for to escape from her nightmares.

  Voices intruded, someone calling 911.

  A woman shrouded in black appeared and kneeled beside her, her piercing blues eyes shimmering with annoyance. “Seems I have to put your bad dreams to sleep or you’ll never last until the meeting. So close, I cannot take a chance now.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Declan snapped at the woman.

  She didn't respond. A wave of her hand, and Darci closed her eyes…

  “Oh, dear God!” Darci yanked away from the goddess. “You took away my memories?”

  “Indeed. I blocked them. Or else you would have ended up dead, long before the meeting with your heedless need to run into danger.”

  But Darci wasn't listening. That demon in her nightmares had been coming for Blaéz, not her. Those memories were his, not hers. Because she housed his soul. And if she did… then were the emotions he felt truly his?

  Inhaling a shaky breath, a glow of joy lit inside of her, but just as fast, it dissipated. With The Morrigan watching her with that severe stare, her uneasiness trebled.

  God, what else could there be?

  Darci waited for the other shoe — shoe, hell, this was a damn boulder — to drop because nothing in her life was ever simple. Or without cost she was finding out.

  She went motionless, her blood icing as another thought occurred. With her fragmented soul, she would have died at birth if her mother hadn’t made the sacrifice. Once she returned Blaéz’s soul, how long would she have with him?

  She squeezed her eyes tight, could barely breathe, the truth ripping through her. Not long. Her mother had survived only for a few days.

  “Do this for him and I will grant a healthy babe to your brother and his mate. Your sacrifice won't be in vain. It will ensure future births of strong infants in your bloodline.” The Morrigan’s voice came to Darci from a distance. She opened her eyes and cut the goddess a stony look. Of course, she’d know of Grace’s miscarriages. She’d have all her damn bases covered.

  “You have seven days before the conduit’s incantation fades.”

  Seven days. Darci stared in dread at the lethal disc on the table, her fingers crushing the fabric of the t-shirt she wore, her heart twisting in pain.

  “It’s always about balance.” The Morrigan cast her a pitying look. “Like I could say nothing to Blaéz once I gave his soul to your lineage to keep until you both met naturally or it would have been lost forever. Likewise, your ancestors accepted this deal knowing death would be the end result. It’s better this way. Mortals were never meant to be consorts to our kind. Dalliances? Yes. My son will eventually mate, but with one more suited. He is a male of worth.”

  While she was nothing.

  In a swirl of silvery blue sparks, The Morrigan vanished from the bedroom.

  Darci tried to hold in her anguish, her shock. Her trembling grew at the impossibility of her situation. A dry sob racked her as she slid to the floor and rocked herself, staring at the disc on the table.

  That little thing would give Blaéz a chance at a normal life, but it was one she could never share with him.

  Chapter 25

  Darci rubbed her clammy palms on her jeans as she made her way downstairs what seemed like years later, even though just an hour had passed. She had to find Blaéz and tell him the truth, but didn't know what to say or where to start—

  Darci faltered mid-step. Declan.

  The Morrigan had told her all those things, but she needed to hear it from him.

  She ran down the last few stairs to the kitchen, looking for Hedori, but he wasn’t there. Hurrying out, she saw Michael striding toward her. He slowed to a stop. His gaze drifted over her. “Are you all right?”

  How could she be when she knew the horrifying truth? The lengths Blaéz had been driven to, forced to hurt himself just to feel, and she had his soul the entire time.

  She tried for a smile but it appeared she no longer possessed that ability. She rushed into speech. “I’m looking for Hedori, I need to go to Westwood. I have to see my brother.”

  Michael stared at her with those fractured irises as if he could see into her soul. God, she prayed not. He didn't comment at her boldface lie, merely said, “I’ll take you. Ready?”

  She nodded. A touch to her cold hand and he dematerialized them. Moments later, they took form in the park-like playground a few houses from her brother’s.

  She pulled in a trembling breath. Now to face Declan.

  “Give me your cell.”

  At Michael’s voice, she glanced blankly at him as he held out his hand.

  Darci retrieved the phone from her jacket pocket and handed it over. His fingers flew over the keypad. The rain had eased, but the wind still blew, snagging the archangel’s hair free from its tie. Ebony strands swept across his face. He appeared formidable, even in his old gray tee, jeans, and biker boots. Magnetic. But not as compelling as Blaéz. No one was.

  Michael passed her cell back. “Call and I’ll be here.”

  “Thank you.” Slipping the phone in her pocket, Darci buttoned her denim jacket and walked the short distance to her brother’s house. Slowly, she made her way up the paved pathway toward his white two-story home with blue trim. She really, really didn't want to face what was to come.

  The door opened as she trudged up the two steps. Her brother filled the entrance, worried green eyes searching her face. He stepped aside and waited for her to enter then he shut the door.

  She turned on him. “Why, Dec — why didn't you tell me?”

  His tone lowered. “What are you talking about?”

  “She— The Morrigan paid me a visit.”

  He stared at her for infinite seconds before his face crumpled, grief lining his features.

  “Why, Dec? Why didn't you tell me?” she cried again. “How could you keep such a secret from me?”

  “I tried to protect you.” His expression distraught, a tick beat savagely on his jaw. He ushered her toward the kitchen. Glasses rattled. Declan set two on the table and poured brandy into the squat crystals. He handed her one.

  “I want the truth — tell me,” she demanded, setting her glass on the counter.

  He stared at his dark amber liquid. “It rained that night. Grace was seeing to Daniel, who had the flu. I was in the kitchen getting a drink for him when I heard the vase break. I thought it was Mr. Tibbs, Dan’s cat. Before I even got there, you’d already opened the front door and ran out… I was too late. I can still hear your screams tearing through the night—” He squeezed his eyes tight, “—the thud as the car hit you. You were bleeding so badly from your injuries, I was terrified you’d die when this woman appeared. She said she could save you. Then she told me who she was, and some bizarre tale of our bloodline being the keepers of a god’s soul. I didn't care about that crap, I just wanted you to live, so I agreed that if you and the Celtic warrior should meet, I would not interfere. She healed you…” Declan stopped and took a swallow of his drink. “As the years passed, I forgot for a while. But when you didn't fall in love, I began to worry—”

  “And you brought your friends home, hoping I would? If I already had a boyfriend, a husband, then this prophecy wouldn’t happen?”

  A dull flush rode his lean cheeks. “Yes, I wanted you to have a chance at a life… then I saw him that night at the club and I suspected. When he healed me, I knew.”

  Hearing it from Declan didn't make it any less painful. She realized then that The Morrigan hadn’t told Declan everything. That Darci wou
ld have died giving birth when she had a daughter. It was inevitable.

  Too upset to say anything, she walked out from the kitchen.

  “Darci, please.” He grasped her upper arm. “Talk to me.”

  “What do you want me to say, Dec? Everything is falling apart…” The words lodged in her throat, thick with tears. Logically, she knew it wasn't his fault, but emotionally, she was a wreck, and couldn’t deal with Declan’s despair when she was crumbling to pieces herself. She patted his chest. “I need to think, Dec… I need time.”

  Time? Hysterical laughter bubbled in her throat. She didn't have that luxury, not when two lives hung in the balance. She walked away from her brother, who cried for her, and slowly made her way down the road back to the playground.

  In the shelter of the trees, she sat on the bench and stared at the damp patch of sand beneath her feet, numbed to the marrow of her bones. With The Morrigan releasing her memories, more came. She saw that last day in Tartarus, too. Blaéz being strung to the girders and whipped for attempting to escape, and despite the immense agony he must have been in, it was Michael whom he’d tried to help before his soul was ripped out.

  God. She rubbed her sternum and stared blankly into the trees, feeling as if she’d hit a wall with nowhere to turn.

  ***

  Blaéz stalked into the kitchen after he’d changed into dry clothes. All the time he’d wasted waiting at the cliffs, and The Morrigan hadn't shown. She would avoid him now? What was she up to? He planted his palms on the counter and stared through the window, watching as Echo’s smog-colored cat attempted to clamber up the ivy-covered wooden trellis.

  Blaéz still reeled from his discovery.

  Darci possessed his soul.

  How was that even possible? And yet, it was the only thing that made sense, why he’d reacted to her the way he had. At least he knew his emotions — his feelings for her were his own because he was possessive as hell when it came to her. Darci didn't have that streak which ran through him like a fault-line, making him just as dangerous.