Maybe Fate: A Novel (New Adult Paranormal Romance)

by Brint, Cynthia

  Reluctantly heading back into the bleak day, my boots carried me on their well-known trek to the park.

  ****

  The sparrows were having a party around my ankles, content to scarf down bits of bread while I contently chewed on my own.

  With everything as overcast as it was, enjoying the sunset wasn't possible. That was fine, though. I was happy to just have a moment to myself, a moment that was still steeped in the bland reality of a simple act of habit.

  Blandness isn't so bad... not really.

  Glancing to the side, I expected to see Nethiun. I'd been looking ever since I'd sat at the bench, but still, the twaelin hadn't showed himself.

  It was an unsettling realization, but I was starting to notice his lack of presence. Dusting crumbs off my jeans, my mind wandered to the last thing he had said to me, how we had discussed that he was going to go report to the person above him.

  His Mistress, I thought bitterly. The person behind the curtain who's telling him what to do. Would she ask him to do something he wouldn't agree with? Ethlyn said it wouldn't matter, that he'd go along with whatever. But then, I think Ethlyn might do the same. It isn't like he's in a different position... is he?

  Ethlyn, why are you so sure your Master means me no harm, but Nethiun's does?

  I haven't seen Nethiun in a bit, I wonder if he's alright. Who am I kidding, of course he is. I'm worrying about the wrong person here, he's the one who's immortal or whatever.

  Looking down, I studied a small bird as it hopped around my boots. It fluttered its feathers, cocked its head, then pecked at a chunk of crust.

  The crunching of boots on dry leaves caught my ear. Lifting my eyes, I twisted on the bench and spotted the familiar, tall vision of my English teacher.

  “Mr. Birch,” I blurted, surprised by his appearance. His smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle, reminding me that even with his kind face, he had the dignity of age. How old is he, anyway? You'd think, having a big house and a nice career here, he'd have to be at least in his late thirties.

  Closing the gap between us, his long tan coat swishing, he nodded down at me. “Please, remember to just call me Wallace outside of class. We don't need formalities.”

  Casually as I could, I set the empty bag on the bench beside me. I had a suspicion about why he had come to find me. “Listen, uh, Wallace. I'm so sorry about earlier, the whole running out of class thing. I just—just had some stuff to go handle.”

  His eyes warmed with understanding, which only made me feel worse. “It's fine, Gale. I just wanted to check on you, make sure you were alright.”

  Forcing a soft laugh, I pushed my hair from my neck. “Yeah, I'm perfectly fine.” Just being stalked by creatures who can jump around through god damn reality, no big.

  Glancing down at the birds surrounding me, he let a curious look bloom. I expected him to ask about what I was doing, but he surprised me. “I wanted to know if that book I let you borrow has been useful.”

  “Oh!” Lifting my eyebrows, I dug a hand into my backpack. “It's been great. Here, I thought you might want it back, so...” Digging the heavy black tome from my bag, I held it out to him.

  Mr. Birch hesitated, like he was waiting for something. Then, with casual grace, he reached out with long fingers and gripped the book.

  Instantly, I felt a familiar rush of pins and needles running around in my gut. The electric sensation made my tongue taste like I'd been eating pennies.

  For a moment, I thought Nethiun was about to appear. It was a good moment, when compared instead to the actual truth.

  My eyes widened, slow and steady, as I gaped at the relaxed shape of my teacher's smile. In that awful, slow moment of time, I knew the truth.

  Mr. Birch. He's a twaelin after all.

  Releasing the book, I jumped from the bench with every muscle screaming at me to run. Around me, the birds became a tornado that flew away, startled by my movement. I wished I could do the same, escape just as easily.

  This was fear. Panic. It drove me to want to flee the scene without a care for anything else.

  My boot crunched down on something, the sound grating in my skull. Baffled, too full of adrenaline to think straight, I looked down.

  A single sparrow, unable to get away in time during my abrupt movement, was broken on the ground. After everything else, seeing I'd accidentally killed one of the birds that had kept me company since school had began, it was too much. My energy was flat-lining, despair taking over.

  Running is pointless, I should know by now.

  Lifting my head, skull shaking from how tense my eyeballs felt, I looked on Mr. Birch with defeat. “You're one of them,” I whispered.

  He didn't move, but even so, I could feel the energy swaying around him. “So you really can sense us. Astounding.”

  “I—what—how...” My lips felt like they would crack, my tongue limp in my mouth. “I don't... who are you?”

  He's one of them. One of them! Oh God.

  But which?

  His attention shifted away from me, down to the book he held in his hand. I followed him, staring at it, trying to remind myself to breathe. It was true, I was sensing him like I had both Nethiun and Ethlyn, yet he felt different.

  It was claustrophobic, an all encompassing feeling like a blanket of itching steel wool was about to fold around me. I knew—inherently, I knew—that whoever he was, he was more powerful than any of the twaelin I'd met so far.

  “Who am I?” he asked, studying the cover of the book like the answer was there, as if he himself had forgotten his own name. “I wondered how much you would discover on your own, how much I might progress things by handing this to you.”

  Leveling his eyes on me, his tone fell lower. “I'm wondering now if I should have simply told you, that day in the library.”

  I have a guess on who he is. I know, I know and I refuse to say it. I won't... I can't make it real.

  Taking a step back on numb legs, I looked down at the dead sparrow once more. He, too, peered at the bird.

  “Go on,” he coaxed me. “Tell me who you think I am.”

  I only shook my head, hands clenched at my hips.

  Mr. Birch—Wallace—no, neither of those were his name—moved forward on confident feet. Seeing him move my way, it gave me enough energy to put another foot behind me.

  Gently, the tome was placed on the bench. In an easy dip, he bent low to the ground; wide palms scooping up the body of the bird I'd accidentally killed.

  Around him, the air shimmered. It was subtle, like heat waves, except we were standing under the dark sky of chilly October.

  The pit in my stomach grew, my hair standing on end so fiercely it ached. I didn't know what I expected, but when the sparrow shifted, warbled, then sat up in his hands...

  Gasping, I covered my mouth, like I might speak and ruin the miracle. Bristling its feathers, the bird chirped. Fast as a blink, it flitted off into the air, vanishing into the trees.

  Watching me from his dark eyes, he stood with a level of self-possessed dignity. Looking up at him, into that intense face, the set of his jaw, I couldn't bite back the name bubbling up in me any longer.

  I knew who he was.

  “Corpse King.” The title fell from my mouth, echoing in my ears.

  He flinched, smooth forehead turning to deep furrows. “A name that implies unfortunate things. Please, call me Valenforth.”

  So, Wallace isn't good enough anymore, I thought in a moment of clear, surprising cynicism. I couldn't keep myself steady enough to find much humor, though. “You're one of the three sources.”

  “I am,” he agreed, inclining his head. Cocking his head, he eyed the black tome where it rested on the bench to our left. “So you
did figure out who I was.”

  “Only now,” I admitted, voice hushed. “I—I knew there were bigger twaelin, guys running things, but I didn't know you... never suspected you were...”

  That last part wasn't entirely true. I had, after all, wondered why he had given me the book. Why he'd known about the twaelin at all.

  I'd expected to have sensed he was one before, though. Seething with a hunger for answers, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Why did I only sense you now? Why never before?”

  Shrugging, he looked at me rather sympathetically. “I'm unsure. I couldn't say what it even is about you that allows you to feel us out at all.” Chuckling, he slid one foot closer. On reaction, I took one step away. “You're a mystery, Gale Everette. One that I admit I am very curious about.”

  “Stay back,” I hissed, noticing how dead the park was with the threatening rain clouds above.

  Amazingly, he stopped his pursuit. “I won't hurt you, Gale. Why would I?”

  “No idea, do you need a reason?”

  His face lit up, like I'd made a joke. “I prefer to have a reason for anything I do, in fact.” Squinting at me, he held up his hands as a sign of peace. “I'm not trying to frighten you. I'm only... excited. I already told you, you're a mystery to me. I can't emphasize enough how strange that is.”

  “A mystery,” I repeated, shaking my head in frustration. “You're one of the top guys, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “Then, how can even you not know why you're watching me? What are you expecting from me?” My voice was getting louder, the bundled up distress at these creatures forcing their way into my life finally hitting the ceiling.

  Here was someone who was supposed to be the top of whatever hierarchy, and even to him, I was just an anomaly?

  Valenforth looked pointedly into my eyes, anticipation building in the heat of his words. “Gale, I'm expecting something amazing from you. Whatever it is that makes you able to sense us, whatever energy or power you have, I believe it's growing.”

  “Growing?” I asked, hardly audible.

  “Yes, or waking,” he said, eyes lighting with wild excitement, a look that sent my anxiety soaring. “Whatever you wish to call it, it's gaining momentum. You're going to do something fantastic, Gale. I don't know what it is yet, but I have a feeling, a true feeling, that it will change everything as we know it.”

  Sweat coated my palms, I didn't waste time wiping them on my pants. “Why, why me? I'm just... I'm no one! Nothing about me is special!”

  His laugh sent chills straight to the base of my skull. “Something about you is.” His tone rolled, smooth as silk as he leaned in. “In the end, the why of it won't matter. The results will. Aren't you curious to see what those will be?”

  “No,” I said quickly.

  He bowed his head, empathy sinking into his voice. “That is very unfortunate. I'm not sure it's something that can be stopped, now. Not with someone like Canendore involved.”

  “Nethiun's Mistress,” I said, watching him for a reaction. There wasn't one. Pressing on, digging for what I could get, my jaw was set in a hard line. “Ethlyn, he told me something similar. He said she was bad news, that Nethiun was, too. Is that... is that all true?”

  Considering me a moment, he glanced back at the book. “You read what was in there, about the twaelin. Yes?”

  My mind flashed with the imagery of the dark, ink-washed drawing of the demonic visage attacking the human. “I did.”

  “Then,” he said quietly, turning away in one smooth motion, “use that information. It exists for a reason. The Queen of Dreams is a wicked woman, and Nethiun lacks the moral compass you might think is natural, being a human. But they are not human, remember that.”

  My intuition buzzed, warning me he was leaving. “Wait! Hold on, I still have questions! If you're telling me to look out for Canendore, are you on Ethlyn's side?”

  To his credit, Valenforth paused, looking back at me with a mild smile. “I don't mind answering questions. I told you, I don't want harm to come to you. I'm on your side, and yes, Ethlyn and I are working together.”

  Thinking about what the gold-eyed twaelin had told me earlier, I felt a flicker of suspicion. “Does that mean he's your slave?”

  The Corpse King chuckled, enough that I found myself turning beet red under his amused stare. “My slave? In a sense, he is... However, the ones created by source twaelin are called 'servants,' if you must call them anything.”

  “Servants,” I mused, making sure to remember that.

  “Anything else?” he asked, tilting his head back to observe the clouds. “I'm afraid to say I have some things to attend to, so—”

  “Can you tell me who the other one is,” I said, desperate to put the last piece into my puzzle. “The Duke of Creation? I know you, and the Queen of Dreams.” I haven't met the Queen of Dreams in person, at least, not that I know of. “He's all that's left.”

  Valenforth was quiet, hard eyes stuck on me, unblinking for an uncomfortable length of time. I resisted cracking the silence, forcing myself to be patient.

  Opening his mouth, the corners digging down into a frown, he spoke. “On that, I can't help you. The Duke of Creation, like all of us source twaelin, has always kept to himself. I haven't seen him in many, many years.”

  “Well, then tell me what he looks like, at least?”

  “Twaelin are changelings,” he murmured, gesturing again at the book.

  Petulant shame tugged at me, making me want to defend myself, how I'd actually read that in the book. Instead, I just kicked at the ground.

  “Whatever he looked like in the past would be useless to know, now.” he said, peeking back at me. “We can alter our appearance if we must.”

  There, I spotted a flicker of something, as if he wanted to expand on that. Instead, he showed me his back. “We'll talk again, soon. For now, be careful. Remember what Ethlyn and myself have said about Nethiun and his Mistress.” In a flash of rippling lines, the walls of reality itself seeming to split before me, he was gone.

  Waiting for him to return, not convinced he wasn't about to, I stood there for uncountable minutes. Eventually, I let myself breathe easier.

  That really just happened.

  He'd appeared, a vision from a nightmare, then given me some answers I'd been craving.

  Also answers I wanted to wash away. Nethiun, lacking morals? I know he isn't human, but Valenforth and Ethlyn have now both made it clear I should avoid him entirely.

  Who do I believe?

  I quickly snatched the thick book off the bench. Digging out the notebook paper I'd scribbled the seals of the twaelin on, I sat down and hurried to write some notes.

  Before I forget, before I can't make sense of this.

  When I was done, I'd added some names to my drawing. It now had a line branching off of the Queen of Dreams tree with the name 'Nethiun' at the end of it. I did the same for Valenforth's, writing down 'Ethlyn' with a frown.

  Now, if I just knew who the Duke of Creation was, and if they have a servant, too.

  Nodding to myself, determined to figure this mystery out, I folded the paper into a nice square. Then, assuming the book would be mine for as long as I wished to keep it, I stuck my notes between the old pages.

  If he wanted it back, he wouldn't have left it with me.

  Burying it in my backpack, I hooked it over my shoulder and set off with a resolute skip in my stride.

  If I could find out this much, the real answer at the end of this quagmire couldn't be impossible to grasp.

  Chapter 12.

  Nethiun

  I wasn't okay with having left Gale alone for so long. Especially not after seeing how bold the Corpse King was getting by sending Ethly
n straight into the fold.

  However, when I'd returned to talk to my Mistress, she had instructed me to tell her in detail the entire course of the evening at that club.

  When I'd finished, she'd made me kneel as she mulled over the information for hours. Hours had turned into an entire day, a thing that, in the past, might have flown by for me.

  Now, I had a hard time not fidgeting.

  Finally, she had waved me off and told me to continue on as I had been.

  Shifting between realities, watching the world shift from colorless, to vibrant, than back again, I eventually found myself standing on top of one of the campus buildings.

  Staring down at the earth, chill wind tugging against my shirt and fighting to throw me down to the world below, I scanned the area.

  Sensing a twaelin was difficult if you weren't actively searching for them with every little bit of focus.

  Unless you're Gale Everette, for some strange reason.

  Squinting at the milling students, I didn't halt my sudden smirk. Then again, finding Ethlyn is easy when he tries to hide in plain sight.

  He could fool humans with his guise, but not me. No, I could see him buzzing with energy, propped on the stone wall of the commons.

  I almost left him alone, debating on watching him from afar to see what he was up to.

  However, that would have been much too boring.

  Flickering off the roof, I appeared in the gap between, strolling out into the grassy campus with a delighted expression.

  I, too, knew enough about how to fit in. Though, in the end, I didn't care as much about such things. If a human suspected something about me, it wouldn't matter.

  What could they even do? I wasn't trying to live some pretend life among them that could be threatened with ruin.

  “Hello, Ethan,” I said brightly, sitting down beside the twaelin on the wall. The way he jumped, the mixture of surprise that shifted to pure disgust in his eyes...

  It was lovely.