Fated (Fate of Love Book 1)

by AJ Brooks

  The sun is hot and glaring. People watch as I pass in my hoodie and jeans, Seattle clothes that I don’t bother to change. At the portal I asked to be brought to where Curo was and this is where I ended up. So he’s here. Somewhere. I’ll just look for a group of women whose hearts are on the verge of breaking.

  Curo took my place of being ‘that guy’ once I was punished to the Fates.

  That’s a lie.

  We were both ‘that guy’. It’s why we became friends. Mortal conquests were a sport for us. Then I turned into ‘that super depressing guy’ but Curo is loyal. It’s his one redeeming quality.

  Shaggy blond spirals and an ear-to-ear grin are visible from a quarter mile down the beach, and I make my way through the crowds. His brows scrunch and his eyes snap up, sensing another god present. Like I thought, around him are four impossibly gorgeous Thai girls, which makes me laugh harder. I don’t know where he finds these women.

  “Curo, don’t you have a job or something?” I call out to him.

  “Not if I can help it. What the hell are you doing here?” He stands and makes his way to me throwing his arm over my shoulder and guiding me away. We head toward a cluster of buildings that run along the sandy beach.

  “I need to talk to you. About Serissa.” My tone gets serious and Curo shakes his head, dropping his arm from my shoulders.

  “No can do, Cy. That bitch and I have problems.”

  I nod. “Everyone has problems with Serissa. But I need to know some things and for the sake of our friendship, I’d really like for you to give it up willingly. Even half status I could crush you.” I wink. I’m far from the toughest of the gods, but I'll always have more power than Curo.

  “Dick move, buddy. But fine. We’ll talk.” The second we’re hidden behind a building, Curo makes us disappear and my gut drops from my body. I have a feeling that the lack of warning is a punishment for my remarks.

  When we reappear we’re in a bathroom. It’s dark and dingy and smells terrible. A man stumbles through the door and a flood of god-awful music thunders in after him.

  “Where did you bring me?”

  “To a place where no one will overhear us, and if they do, they won’t get it. Speak Latin and we’ll be fine. He clasps my shoulder and pushes me out the bathroom door into the booming bass and technicolor light show. We weave our way through crowds and chairs and half naked women. Curo nods to the bartender and raises two fingers on our way to the farthest table.

  “You brought me to a strip joint?”

  “Yeah, and...”

  “It’s degrading. I hate these places.”

  His brows shoot up. “You hate naked women?”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t need to answer that. You’re an idiot sometimes, you know that?”

  “An idiot who loves naked women of all kinds.”

  “You know what I mean. There’s so much sadness here. I can’t handle it.”

  It’s true. I look around and can feel it floating in the air, stuck to the peeling paint of the walls, following the dancers like a trail of broken dreams. Sadness. There is no love in places like this. Only lust and shattered hearts.

  I think about Serissa.

  “Well then talk fast and we can get out of here.” Curo shrugs.

  “Have you ever seen an Unfated?” I ask and his eyes widen.

  His head goes down as he hunches his shoulders.

  “What the hell, Cy? Lower your voice.” His eyes dart around, and I wonder why he’s all of a sudden terrified.

  “Have you? More specifically have you ever seen more than one working together?” I’m speaking in Latin but I’m sure no one would believe what we’re talking about anyway.

  “Never. I saw one once a few hundred years ago and basically -poof- I was outta there.”

  I nod remembering my heart being crushed from my chest when I saw them. I shudder and can’t help but look over my shoulder.

  “Well I saw three. Together. All going after this girl I'm…” Truth or lie. Truth or lie. “...considering for my assignment.” The lie wins because maybe the less he knows, the better.

  Curo looks blank, like I cut off halfway through a thought, and he’s waiting for the rest. I sigh and continue. “And Serissa is behind it. I feel like that should be obvious, Curo. She’s the cause of basically all our problems.”

  “I don’t know dude, sometimes I think maybe you’re the cause of all of our problems.” Curo leans back in his chair and I can hardly be angry with him. It might be the most honest statement ever made.

  I reach across the table and grip his forearm. Instantly pictures form in my head. Of my assignment, of Zarah, the attack, of her paintings, of the run-in with Serissa in the alley. Touch is how we give our messages to Curo. It’s easier this way than to explain it to him because the intention is less likely to get lost in translation. His eyes go out of focus as he sees what I’m thinking.

  “She wants revenge. It's always revenge, Cy. You know that." Curo pulls his arm back and shifts his gaze toward the bar.

  "For what? She already got me. How many times do I need to be punished?"

  The bartender brings us two beers and I take a long haul off it. Curo picks at the label, his eyes deep in concentration.

  “I don’t know. Tell me though, why do you care about the mortal? Because she reminds you of Helena? I know about your hero complex, man. Maybe Serissa does too. This all feels really coincidental.”

  I nod and take another swallow of beer. This time Curo joins me.

  “It's not coincidence. Fate doesn't work like that. This all ties together somehow. You obviously picked up in my head that this isn't my first time helping this girl. It comes back to Zarah. The way I feel about her and then all this other stuff starts piling on top.”

  “I wish I could help you, but after thousands of years of delivering Serissa’s hate mail, I stopped paying attention to what evil plan she’s running. I’ll keep my eye open for you though. Ear to the ground, if you will. Make sure you talk to the Watcher in the girl’s area. See if they’ve noticed anything?”

  “Good plan.” I smile and pull the small knife my mother gave me from my pocket.

  “I have another favor to ask.” I look down and I can sense that he knows where I’m going with it.

  “Uh-uh. No way.” He’s shaking his head with his hands between us as if shielding himself from what I’m going to ask him. “I’m not meddling, dude. I won’t.”

  “The Unfated are after her, Curo. She needs to protect herself.” I gesture to the knife and he’s still shaking his head.

  “You’re going to drag her into this aren’t you? Like you did Helena?” This is as serious as Curo gets--even his jaw is tight as his protests. “They are mortal for a reason, Cy. They can’t handle this shit. Their brains don’t compute it.”

  I shake my head. “You saw what I showed you. I'm not dragging her because she's already involved. She already knows all this stuff. She sees it when she closes her eyes. She thinks she’s insane. That the world isn’t real. But it is real. The danger is real. I can feel her getting desperate. And you know what happens after that...” My voice trails off and my sadness is reflected in Curo, in the form of pity.

  “You owe me. Big time. I don’t know what yet, but it’ll be big.”

  Curo sighs and snatches the knife from between us.

  “I need you to get this to her, without her suspecting anything. She can't know about the Unfated yet. That’s why I need you. You’re better at this stuff.”

  “Yeah, because I’m not so serious all the time. Really dude, the intensity is exhausting. People would like you more if you lightened up.” He smiles like he’s only half kidding.

  “I don’t need people to like me,” I snap but immediately laugh.

  “My point proven.”

  XVII

  Zarah

  The world feels more solid with Taylor next to me, but only a little.

  “I think we need another round of caffeine, yeah?�
� Taylor asks.

  “Yeah.” I look up to see Max leaning against the coffee shop like the other day.

  His eyes light up when he sees us.

  “Hey.” I give him a little wave, and Taylor grins like an idiot and elbows me.

  “He’s super cute,” she whispers.

  I laugh a little. Amazing how much weight a few words can take off a person’s body and mind. “All yours.”

  Max ambles our way in a vintage tee and worn jeans.

  “Atari?” Taylor reaches out and pokes his chest. “How old are you?”

  “Uh…” He glances down at his t-shirt. “Nineteen.”

  “Relax, dude. I was just giving you shit.” Taylor smirks. “I’ve got one of those cheesy joysticks that has all the old games.”

  “Cool.” He nods. “Me, too.”

  “I think you probably have everything ever made for gaming.” I smile at him.

  He smiles back, and I’m reminded again of how wonderfully nice and safe he is. And then I wonder if he’s too safe for Taylor.

  “I wish we could have met up sooner,” Max says directly to Taylor. “I have another class in an hour.”

  I suddenly feel like I don't belong in this conversation.

  “Crystal’s home,” I say taking a step back and Max looks at me. “So I’m going to go check on her.”

  His brows go up. “Wow. That’s great. Right?”

  “Yeah. Apparently she woke up right after I left the other night, and they’ve been watching her, and then said as long as she had someone she could go home. It seems insane to me.” And I don’t do a great job of keeping the bitterness out of my voice because I’m her daughter and live with her, only I didn’t get a call when she woke up or when she was sent home. Though, I guess I didn’t have a phone then, but we do have one at the house. And an old answering machine. The whole thing is baffling.

  “No one called?” he asks, and all I can do is shake my head.

  “There’s a lot going on, huh?” His voice quiets.

  A gorgeous but over-tanned blond guy grabs my attention as he steps through the wall of the coffee shop. My eyes widen, and my gut drops. Not now. I don’t need this now.

  Max says something to Taylor, which earns him something between a snort and a laugh.

  I try to respond but I still see the guy. The blond glances behind him to see if I’m staring at someone else. Like he’s as surprised as Cassius that I’m watching. You can’t see me.

  “I can see you,” I say as I stare into his eyes, and a corner of his mouth pulls up almost in approval.

  “What? See who?” Taylor asks, but my eyes are still on the guy walking toward me. The one I can see through.

  I’m impressed. I’ve got a drop for you, Seer. He smirks.

  Max and Taylor both stare at me as the blond guy steps half through Max, half through me and disappears before stepping into traffic. I spin around to stare, but see nothing else. Only I’m unbalanced. My jacket’s heavier. I pat my pocket, and there’s something there. Hard. Small. I’m afraid to look now.

  “You okay?” Taylor touches my shoulder and I gasp.

  “Yeah. Fine. Jumpy today. Too much sugar and caffeine,” I try to tease as my heartbeat pulses in my ears.

  “You know how to reach me. Don’t be afraid to call, okay?” Max steps in to give me an awkward hug and then his eyes are immediately on Taylor again. “And you have my number now, so…”

  “Oh. I plan on getting my coffee.” Taylor grins. “I’ll call you.”

  “I gotta run.” I step back, my hand still pressed against my jacket pocket.

  “And I’ve got to get to work.” Taylor eyes him carefully before holding her hand out to shake. “Nice to officially meet you, Max.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.” They linger in their touch long enough that I shift and look away. I bounce my knee half out of the discomfort of intruding on their moment and half because I need to get somewhere private to investigate what that guy left in my pocket.

  As soon as Max jogs across the crosswalk, I shove my hands into my pockets to figure out what I’ve been given.

  “So…” Taylor trails off. “He’s sorta...interesting.”

  “He’s nice,” I say as I start toward my house. My fingers slide up and down the object, but I can’t quite make it out, and after my big admission to Taylor earlier, pulling this out in front of her shouldn’t be a big deal, but I can’t do it.

  And then my finger touches the E from Smith, and my mouth aches. My body twists in anticipation of the release I know will come from that small pill. Not now, not now, not now...

  “Now, let’s go visit your mom. We can get our second caffeine fix later.” She slides her arm through mine before pulling me to the door and bumps my hip with hers. “Now that we know she exists.”

  < - - - >

  Taylor walks up the stairs behind me. I’m not even sure what to say to Crystal.

  When I push open the door, laughter fills the apartment.

  “Hey.” I step in and Taylor steps in behind me.

  “Hey, girls. Out having fun today? It’s so lovely outside.” Her smile fills her face even though she’s still lying on the sofa, and Tennyson’s lounging on one of the large chairs. His fisherman’s hat and funky sweater seem a little too new and perfectly matched.

  Mom looks a little paler than normal, her hair a little messier, but surprisingly...normalish. I should not have bolted out of here this morning.

  “When did you check out of the hospital?” I ask, even though I know. She should have told me.

  “Well. I woke up two nights ago, probably not long after you left, and felt fine. The nurse said you’d come home, so I figured you were okay. They ran some tests. The coma wasn’t really a coma, just them keeping me asleep so they could check me over. The doc said that as long as Tennyson stuck close by, I should be okay. I have an appointment with a specialist tomorrow to give me another once over.”

  “But… Why didn’t you call me if you woke up two nights ago?” I ask stepping further into the room.

  Crystal waves her hand. “I didn’t want to bother.”

  Even Tennyson’s eyes widen a little.

  I’m going to explode. Right in front of her. “I was worried. I stayed up.”

  I take a few more steps to where she sits on the couch and even her precious Tennyson stares at his lap, realizing this is awkward as hell.

  “But I’m fine.” Mom shrugs, her voice still light. Her smile still intact. “I’m sorry if I’m not a great parent like your dad was.”

  A gagging, coughing noise sputters out of my mouth.

  “Have you read anything Sue’s sent to you? Listened at all when they told you what my life was like?” I’m shaking from the inside out and wishing we weren’t having this conversation with Tennyson here.

  Mom takes a sip of her tea. “It wasn’t really important, honey. Past is past. You’re here and you’re fine, and I—”

  “But that’s the thing!” I yell surprised at my own volume. “I’m not fine!”

  How the hell could I be fine? Take away the crazy shit from the last few days, even, and I’m still not fine. Even Crystal was asking about my sanity the other day. Asking about Sue and appointments, and… This isn’t even crappy parenting, it’s just me being attached to yet another person who does shitty things, or doesn’t do basic things, which makes her shitty.

  I turn for the door as Taylor throws Mom a glare of disgust that I’m sure won’t register.

  < - - - >

  Taylor starts her shift, and I take a booth in the farthest, quietest corner of McDonald’s. I immediately pull out the object in my pocket and slide my fingers over the fine metal of a small knife. I squint at the intricate designs again and then clutch the necklace, jerking it over my head.

  They match, and not just one another. The etchings on both are the same swirl design on my tattoo. How did I not see that when I first put on the necklace?

  All the bits and pieces of wha
t’s happening to me scatter across the floor of my mind. I try desperately to pick them up. To organize them into something that makes sense.

  I hold the necklace in my shaking hand before sliding it on again, having very little idea of what to do next. Or what to trust as real.

  I trust that my feet are on the ground and that the ground is real. I know that an impossible being gave me this knife and someone else impossible was dying to know where I came up with the inspiration for my paintings.

  When I slide the knife back in my pocket, my fingers touch the small packet from Smith. I pinch the E again as my heart hammers. One high. One. One is not a big deal. And I’m completely losing my shit anyway.

  Why am I trying so hard to move forward when everything seems to be going backward?

  I squeeze my eyes shut, and slide the small tab under my tongue. I half expect to open my eyes in the closet at my dad’s place, my move and paintings and Cassius and everything being a massive bad trip. In a few moments the rush starts to hit, tingling in my limbs and numbing my brain. I stand up ready to move, having no idea where I need or want to go.

  < - - - >

  Every step over the next two blocks gets blurrier than the last. Everything is too slow and then too fast and the lights from the buildings all blur together. Someone puts their arm around me to help me across the crosswalk and the more he asks me if I’m okay, the funnier it is. Wait. It’s Smith.

  “Hey, Smith.” I poke his smooth dark cheek and he ducks away, shaking his head.

  “Keep an eye out, Z.” His face is so serious. “It’s not safe out here for you tonight.”

  “You’re hil.ar.i.ous.” I poke him again before he spins from my side and disappears down a side street.

  Smith. The stealthy, stealthy, ninja man. You can’t catch me. I’m as fast as I am. Ma’am. Can. Fan. I’m crying I’m laughing so hard. I feel good. Free. Why did I fight this for so long?

  Wait. Am I supposed to still be at McDonald’s?

  That’s even funnier and I stumble toward the alleyway and home. Taylor can find me at home. Easy. Peasy. Lemooooon. Squee-ee-ee-eezy. And I convulse in more laughter. I should be with Cassius right now. Get him on some of this shit. Lighten. That. Boy. Up.