Fated (Fate of Love Book 1)

by AJ Brooks

  “Why do you think I brought them here? To a place you can’t bring your precious Helena.”

  I stutter, all the words gone. All my thoughts gone.

  “You left her behind. Exposed. All to what? Be her hero? When will you learn Cassius? You’re no hero. You don’t belong on Olympus. You belong here. With me.”

  PART IV

  To seek the truth in love, one need only stand still and listen to the heart,

  for real love is finding the courage to turn in,

  with pure intent to project out.

  London, England

  1800

  He takes a tentative step into the dimly lit parlor and lowers his guard so he can be seen by Lena. Her frail frame sits on a low bench by a tall window. She is dwarfed by her opulent surroundings. A large life can make a person feel very small, as Cassius had discovered in the short years following his departure from London.

  The years he was forced to spend as a human as part of his punishment, too filled with shame to come back and face her, had taught him the tiny blip in the grandness of Fate that is mortal existence. The shame still ate away at him, even that day, when she sent Curo to find him.

  The sight of hunched, boney shoulders jabbed at his heart. To see such defeat on the girl who was once so full of life and joy nearly destroyed him and he hadn’t yet seen her face.

  Her back stiffened as she sensed his presence and she pulled her shoulders back, like a lady would. Cassius shook his head and stepped closer to her as she wrung her hands in her lap.

  “You came?” Her was voice stiff, sad, nothing like he remembered. Her hands were visible, but she kept her face angled to the window, the London rain streaking like teardrops down the glass. The closer Cassius got to her the more vivid the lacerations were that circled the delicate skin of her wrists. His heart pumped wildly in his chest.

  “I did.” He didn’t know what else to say. He did come. But ten years too late.

  “I didn’t think you would.” The sadness poured through him like the rain as she finally turned to face him.

  Her pale eyes were all that remained of the Lena he had once loved. This Lena, the Duchess, was pale and sunken. Her face was smooth but there were red marks around her neck, cuts on her hands and wrists. Along her hairline was a thin scar that only the eyes of a god could see. Cassius felt his own skin split and crack just as it did the last time her saw her.

  “Lena, what has he done to you?” Cassius reached for her hand but she jerked her arm away and rubbed the raw skin of her wrist.

  “You will address me as the Duchess, Cassius. I have told you once before, I am no longer Lena. Lena is gone.” Her eyes were cold. Ten years to him was nothing, but to a mortal ten years can carve out the essence of the soul and leave behind a new being, hardened and calloused.

  “My apologies, Duchess. But I must know if you’re well. Your injuries look painful.” He switched his tone to one of cordial acquaintanceship and she smiled the fake royal smile.

  “I will live, I assure you,” she said and it tore at his heart because he wasn’t sure he believed her. “That is not why I asked you here. I asked you here because I need you to undo the Fating. I need you to take it back.”

  “It doesn’t work that way, my lady.” His ears flooded with the sound of his regrets as the cracks through him widened and stretched. He wished his words weren’t true as he sunk down to sit next to the Duchess. The look on her face said that she’d already known his answer.

  “You cannot take back fate. What’s done is done.” He touched her chin and turned her head to look at the scabs that trailed down her neck. Her face was unbruised, unbroken most likely to avoid public scrutiny. “Please, tell me. Has he done this to you?”

  His sadness gave way to a wave of anger as he pictured the cause of these wounds. She placed her hand on his, her pale eyes never meeting his gaze.

  “I do not wish to talk about this with you, Cassius. I accept my life. It has given my family a comfortable home and full bellies. There are worse things.”

  “It’s rubbish, Helena, and you know it. If only you talked to your father?”

  “My father is dead. I have no option. I chose this. I must live with it. He really is pleasant much of the time. He has found wonderful husbands for my sisters, and my mother is well taken care of, as I knew she would be.”

  Cassius pushed himself up and began to pace. “And that excuses the rest. I have done this to you, Helena. This is my doing. If only I had chosen you.”

  “But you did not.” Her words were short and mixed with both disdain and morose—like a slap to his face. He had to help her.

  “I’m going to speak to my mother. I’m going to fix this, Helena.” Cassius walked back to the door but Helena’s expression never changed.

  “Goodbye, Cassius.” Her pale blue eyes filled with such an even mix of hatred, sadness, forgiveness and love, he wasn’t sure which to hold onto. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

  “I’ll be back for you.”

  < - - - >

  What poor Cassius did not know is if he had come back for her, she would no longer be there. She watched him leave and disappear from her sight before she pulled the blood soaked handkerchief from the spot in her side. She sucked in a ragged breath that tore her lungs like the fires of hell, and smiled to herself. A death so painful, but not as painful as her life.

  But at least she had seen him one more time. She closed her eyes. As cruel as it might have been, at least she got to say her goodbye.

  XXVII

  Zarah

  “Shut up already!” Curo yells as he appears in front of me.

  “Finally.” I give him a shove, which doesn’t even make him teeter. I’ve been yelling his name every few minutes as I walk the streets. The rocky beach. The park…

  “Damn. Do you know how much attention you probably attracted?” He throws his arms up in the air. “If it’s my fault you die, do you know the special kind of mopey hell Cy will put me through for the next… who fucking knows how many years?”

  “Best get me out of here then.” I smirk.

  Curo sighs. “I don’t know. Cassius will kick my ass, not to mention the long list of gods I run errands for. You know I work with Serissa, right?”

  “But you’d never betray Cassius like that.”

  “How do you know?” He pulls a serious stance but the smooth evenness of him pulses around me.

  “You won’t. I can feel it. You’re softer than you like people to think you are.”

  “I’m hard as rock, sweetheart.” He tries to be a dick, but I laugh instead of glare. I glance over his perfect features again. “Whatever. I need you to take me back to the Fates.”

  “Nope.” He crosses his arms.

  I push out a frustrated breath. “I have to feel in control of what happens to me, Curo. Everyone else around me can do something. I need to be in charge of my own Fate seeing as Fate itself doesn’t know what the hell is going to happen to me.”

  Curo’s corded muscles loosen and his face softens. I have him now.

  “You and I both know they won’t tell you.”

  “I have to at least try.” I hold out my hand and he stares at it for a long time before he pushes out a deep sigh.

  “If Cy threatens my life I’m blaming every second of this on you.” His face is serious around every edge except his mouth. He seems equally interested and annoyed.

  “Deal,” I say and he grabs my hand, sending my world spinning.

  I’m as nauseated as last time when we stop on the porch of the Fates. “I thought you had to drop me in the tunnel.”

  “You’re not a god, Zarah. You wouldn’t have been able to get in.” He sounds bored, annoyed for having to explain this to me. Like he somehow doesn’t have all the time in existence.

  “And how will you know when to get me?” I ask as I slowly straighten, steeling myself for what’s to come.

  He scoffs. “Truly. You wound me, Zarah, with your lack of faith
in my abilities. But seriously. Next time you want me. Don’t wander around in this field screaming, okay? A directed thought will get me here.”

  “Okay.” I turn toward the door but pause. “Thanks, Curo. Really.”

  He nods once his face sobering. “Good luck in there.”

  “Yeah.”

  < - - - >

  “…growing bolder…shouldn’t have told her…not sure what to do…Fate isn’t giving us guidance on this one.”

  I’m in the same chair at the same messy table I was at last time, and they’re obviously not as charmed.

  “Look. She took my friends. My mother. There has to be something you can do.”

  Nona pinches her nose in a gesture I’ve seen Cassius do more than once.

  “We cannot help you, Helena. I’m sorry.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but I’m suddenly across the room and next to the quaint door. No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I took control. Came here. And was turned away.

  I close my eyes and imagine myself in front of the Moirai again. When I open them, all three women face me, the eye pointed at my face. “I found Curo and came here for answers. Please give me answers.”

  Hushed whispers fill the room and shiver their way up my spine.

  Decima puts her hands on her round hips. “We do not have answers. That is your answer. You have no Fate and as we are the channel through which Fate operates, we can offer you nothing.”

  My heart sinks and Nona slides to my side.

  “There is a bit of guidance that we may be able to offer you, my dear. You know the Unfated are after your soul. You know that Serissa is in control of the Unfated. To find out why might require a little digging into your past. Sometimes the only way around is through. A simple thought will take you anywhere you need to go. Curo is not bound by any restraints.”

  Her words aren’t even close to an answer, but so much more than I expected from them. I want to throw my arms around her and thank her, but I blink and I’m back in the field. I fall to the ground, feeling completely determined. I have to find out why Serissa wants the Unfated to have me. I have no idea where to start but at least I have a direction—something I can actually do.

  I close my eyes. Think of where I want to be...

  A presence next to me makes me jump, and I open my eyes to see Curo sitting casually in the grass, his legs stretched out in front of him as he leans on his elbows. “Continue on. As soon as your mind finds a spot, I’ll take you there.”

  I want to know how he knew to come, or if he knew what the Fates asked me to do, but none of it matters. Maybe they did. Maybe it’s part of his job to know. Maybe...

  “Close your eyes, Zarah.” He chuckles. “Damn you’re about as stubborn as you’d need to be to put up with Cy.”

  I smile as I close my eyes. “You love him too.”

  “He’s alright.”

  I love how he’s trying to play their friendship off like nothing.

  “Some things I know.” I open one eye. “You love him.”

  He sits in silence as I try to relax. Try not to think about how many hours may have gone by at home while I accomplished nothing.

  “It might help you to know that Serissa’s tie to Cassius has sometimes dipped into the physical realm. I’d be willing to bet it’s at least part of why she wants you out of the picture. The bitch doesn’t handle rejection well,” Curo says.

  “Wait. Cassius and Serissa…? That’s crazy, but it actually answers a lot of questions.” The new information stuns me for a moment.

  “It was before Helena, Serissa was.” Curo picks up a piece of grass. “That woman is a damn tempting creature, and she knows it.”

  I stare at him and instead of being angry at Cassius for being so foolish, I think about the torture he’s put himself through for hundreds of years.

  “But this extends beyond a jilted heart. No one messes around with Unfated because they were slighted for a mortal. There’s more. We need a place. Focus.” Curo’s voice brings me back to my task. The thought of jealousy pulls a memory of a feuding father and son. A war over the girl who torn them apart.

  Me.

  I think about the house I lived in for the short bit of the good life I had in Paris as Curo continues to rest his hand on my arm.

  “I know the place.” He nods.

  “You can see that?”

  He cocks a brow. “Still underestimating me. Still.”

  I laugh and grasp his arm. “I’m stopping now. No more under-estimation. Take me to Paris. And when you find Cy, I’d like him there, too.”

  Curo’s smile feels more genuine than anything I’ve seen from him so far, and just as my body starts to react in warm fuzzy somethings, I’m whirling in blackness.

  I blink over and over, the pressure, darkness, and feeling like I’m moving through a lead wall crushes me, and we’re outside in the sun, my body still in a sickening, swirling, state.

  I turn to thank Curo, but he’s gone. My stomach lurches again, and I lean over and throw up in the grass. I heave a few more times, but after a few minutes, my body’s beginning to feel like I might be on solid ground. It can’t be good for a human to travel so far in such a short time. I pull in a few more long breaths before allowing myself to stand. But I'm not human. Not totally. Snatching a piece of gum from my pocket, I take in my surroundings.

  The house is the same. No. More beautiful than I remembered. Two stories of white stone and blue roof caps. Perfect. Aside from the noise of traffic, I’d swear Curo had taken me back in time. The tall brick boundary fence surrounds the property—it’s new but feels as if it’s always been there. The trees are massive, and the grounds feel so much smaller than I remembered. There’s a part of me still in disbelief that I lived a whole life here. Not all of it in this house, but the best parts of it.

  Emotions of memories pour through me and I’m overwhelmed with the life I lived here on top of the one I’m living now.

  I’m in the family graveyard, the place I saw in my head. The elaborate headstones surround me, and I breathe in again, the air feeling different than when I lived here before. This home was outside of Paris, but the noise outside the walls feels as if the city has swallowed it whole.

  I glance down and realize I’m standing on my grave. Apparently standing on one of several of my graves, since I’ve lived seven lives before Zarah. I must have died young in all of them to have had so many in such a short time. It’s surreal knowing a part of me is under my feet.

  I sit and stare at the headstone.

  Collette Enchantre

  1857-1885

  I close my eyes and rest my hand on the stone. Louis’ grave is next to mine. The man nearly twenty years my senior who had some of the only loving hands I remember. His oldest son used me first while we were engaged, and once Louis found out, his son was kicked out and he married me instead. They became estranged over the way I was treated. I sketched in this graveyard, day after day. All the same things I’ve painted as Helena aside from pictures of the lives I hadn’t lived yet.

  I had a child here. A blond son. And I don’t remember the other. Only that I was excited, and Louis was excited. My chest twists as I think about what Louis must have endured at my death. I hope the child lived. I glance at the headstones to the right of where I’m sitting. Another Louis with the proper birth year, my blond son, who lived to be fifty. A smile lifts me.

  A girl… Antoinette. Yes. That’s her. The name we picked. A daughter. Louis raised our daughter, and she lived to be older than her brother. I wonder about their lives. What it was like to grow up without a mother in that time, and I ache for them, an all consuming pain, even though they’re long gone. Part of the dirt beneath my feet.

  I blink a few times in the spring sun and a flash of another baby hits me. Only I wasn’t Collette then. Helena. I close my eyes and try to feel the whole picture. Maybe the one Nona wanted me to see. I began to suspect after I pierced myself with Cassius’ arrow. After he was gone.

/>   The baby was the reason I was so anxious to get married to the Duke. Hiding the pregnancy from my new husband. I clutch my stomach again. Stillborn. The nursemaid didn’t even let me hold the child. Another part of Cassius lost in the horrible life I chose for myself. But a god and a human surely couldn't carry to term. Of course that baby was lost. I never told him as Helena, and as Zarah I’m not sure it would be wise to tell him now. He holds so much regret this would surely shatter him.

  Why did every life have to be swirled in tragedy? I don’t know if my soul can last through another lifetime, but I can’t see any way around it.

  Sometimes the only way around is through.

  I sit straight up, my mind as clear the blue spring skies. That’s what she wants.

  That’s why she’s hunting me. It’s why she took Mom and Taylor and Max.

  Visions of Cy’s broken, damaged spirit follow me for 200 years of memories. Every time I die and come back he finds me. Now that he knows what I am he’ll never stop looking. To get around me, she’s going through me.

  She doesn’t want to bargain for me.

  She wants to bargain with me.

  XVIII

  Cassius

  My feet slam the metal stairs, threatening to tear them off the wall again as I fly up to Zarah’s loft. I slide across the hardwood floor.

  “Zarah!”

  Smith jumps so high he knocks over a cup full of paintbrushes.

  “Shit, man. You can’t just run in screaming like that. Scared me half to death.” Smith breathes heavy with his hand on his chest, surrounded by Zarah’s paintings. “These sure are something. This girl has mad talent. But there is some funky shit goin’ on in that pretty little head of hers.”

  “Where’s Zarah?” I’m out of breath, not from running, but from everything else.

  “She left.” Smith absently answers.

  “She what? When? Where did she go?” My voice raises and I’m already halfway to the door. Smith doesn’t look up from Zarah’s paintings.

  “She left. Two days ago. I have no clue.”