When Fate Aligns: Book One of The Mortals and Mystics Series

by A. K. Koonce

  A small oak end table fills the space between the chairs. A lamp provides a yellow hue around the room, sending our faint shadows against the white walls. The carpet is worn but clean, and the smell of vanilla wafts through the small room.

  Asher’s immense happiness is overwhelming my emotions. Judging by the vacant look on my mother’s face, she rejected her emotions miles back.

  With Ky.

  Asher stands towering over the thin, elderly woman. She’s overjoyed, but not just from Asher’s return it seems. She appears to be pleased that my mother and I are here as well. She stretches high in her black slippers to reach her arms around her grandson and embrace him for the first time in what must be years.

  I look away, allowing a sense of privacy for them. I swallow hard as guilt drowns me alive at how incredibly unhappy I am during this reunion. It’s probably a day Asher thought he’d never have again. A day with his family. But my family is now falling away, piece by piece. Ky is gone, and my mother seems to have left her life with him.

  I blink repeatedly, trying to stay grounded in this moment. I take in Asher’s beautiful smile, his grandmother’s shining eyes, his grandfather’s proud face. There’s life and love filling this room, and my mother and I are gasping for air as it threatens to pull us under. It’s pressing against the walls of my chest, and I can’t find air that isn’t diluted with it. I take a few more quick short breaths, but nothing helps.

  Asher’s silver eyes meet mine, and his face falls. His happiness dissolves just from my presence. I should go. I step back, trying to allow the happiness to fill my space in my absence. My back presses against the cold wall near the stairs we just came down. With one swift turn, I’m halfway up the stairs.

  Just a few more steps and I’ll be out and into the night air. Almost there.

  But then his hands are on me. He holds me lightly by my shoulders, and I stop walking as soon as he touches me. My breath shakes out of me, unsteady and loud in the quiet, empty stairwell. I turn until we’re face to face, but we’re still not eye to eye. He looks down at me in the darkness. His face is etched in worry, and I can’t find words to fill the void between us.

  He licks his lips, releasing a slow breath, and searches my tired eyes as quiet tears stream down my dirty face. His long fingers thread through my hair, and he pulls me to his chest. Strong arms wrap safely around me, enveloping me like I could meld into him altogether. My sadness mixes with his happiness to find a state of contentment.

  The pain that’s been weighing my chest and lungs lifts a little. Not entirely. It’s still there, scarred into my memory, body, and soul. But it’s not as heavy with Asher here holding me up.

  I can breathe again.

  My palms are pressed between us. My fingers twist into the stiff fabric of his shirt, allowing him to hold me to him for just a little while. His cheek rests against my messy hair. My tears soak into his chest, and he absorbs my pain.

  I don’t know how long we stand like that—in the little cocoon of our own emotions, the dark stairwell shielding us from the life we both know we will return to.

  “I think you should take a shower and sleep. We all should sleep. A lot,” he says with a little laugh.

  I nod my head against his shoulder. He leads me down the stairs, one hand wrapped around my waist as my body continues leaning into him.

  This is not how I should be meeting his family. I’m a disaster, and he’s walking perfection. I hate the weakness that’s wrecking my body, but I can’t find it in me to put on a fake face. I’m too tired, emotionally and physically, to force my feelings.

  We stand back in the living room; it’s no longer bursting with happiness, but the remnants of emotions still linger. His grandmother is nowhere to be seen. My mother holds Ripper in her lap in one of the tan chairs, her thin fingers drifting mindlessly through the little dog’s short hair. His eyes are closed, and I hear a light snore.

  Asher’s grandfather stands from his seat, walking slowly across the room to us. His posture is bent slightly, but his confidence is there in his stride. He stands before me—white hair and pajamas askew—but the kindness in his dark eyes warms me.

  “Shae made up the guest room for you and Charlotte. She’s been fretting about the lot of you for nearly a month now.” His voice is a little gravelly as he speaks. “Asher why don’t you show ‘em to their room and we can all catch up in the morning.” He clasps Asher on the shoulder like he just has to make sure he’s really here, like the weight of his hand could keep his grandson here in this spot.

  Asher nods to the old man. His hand pressing lightly against my hip, he guides me a few feet toward a door across the small room. For a moment I’m mortified by how I must look—dirty and broken and weak. My heart pounds in my chest at how different our first meeting should be. How amazing and successful this moment could have felt if Ky were here to share it. I swallow hard and straighten my spine.

  I turn quickly out of Asher’s grasp and extend my hand to his grandfather.

  “My name’s Fallon Fiercely, sir,” I say, swallowing hard and tilting my chin up higher.

  The wrinkles around his eyes grow as he smiles at me. More happiness that I don’t want right now but appreciate all the same. He takes my small hand in his. His grip is loose but warm. Kind and caring.

  “That’s a beautiful name. Call me Jim.” He releases my hand and smiles over my shoulder at Asher. There’s a look of approval in his eyes. “Now please, sleep. Y’all look like you went to take a midnight stroll, but wound up in a manure field by mistake.” Shae’s warm laughter is heard from the room adjacent to us. The noise is high pitched but infectious.

  I can’t hide the small smile that tugs at the corner of my lips. I can’t fester in my sadness forever. And I can’t force happiness out of my life. It’s there whether I’m currently accepting it or not. Whether I can feel it or not. It’s still there. Waiting for me.

  Just like Asher.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Burrow

  My eyes drift slowly open to complete darkness. I blink repeatedly against the pressing blackness. The home is unique. And interesting. The lack of windows and natural sunlight makes time seem nonexistent. Hours pass without acknowledgment here, and it’s nice not to live by society’s schedule.

  My hair is soft and dry against my cheek, so at least a few hours must have passed. My throat is so parched it hurts, so maybe more than just a few hours have passed. Is it after breakfast or only two in the morning? I have no idea.

  I’m hesitant to get up. What if everyone is still asleep?

  Voices drift through the walls, muffled but steady. Not a beat of silence passes between them. Any silence is gobbled up by laughter or words or both.

  I guess two AM is ruled out. My stomach rumbles, and I pray I haven’t missed breakfast.

  Fumbling through the darkness, I search against the smooth, cold wall for the light switch. After a few seconds, I find it and light instantly fills the room. It’s a small room with two incredibly soft beds and an adjoining bathroom. It’s small, but is still much larger than any of the rooms back at camp.

  The bathroom I showered in before I went to bed was small as well. I’m not used to a closed-in, individual shower. It was actually very nice to have the warm steam surrounding me without the peering eyes of a dozen other women from my community. A little strange, but nice.

  There are clothes set out on the dresser in the corner of the room. The white walls make the windowless room feel bigger, but I still manage to hit my head on the dresser while tugging the jeans on, causing the voices in the next room to pause a moment from my lack of grace.

  The jeans button with ease. They fit. They’re almost identical to the clothes supplied by the camp, black and tight against my legs. They might essentially be my jeans from home. I try not to dwell on the thought as I pull on a shirt that I most definitely have never worn in my life. It doesn’t contain the inseam cooling agent that our camp shirts are made with. It’s j
ust a thin, short sleeve gray cotton shirt. It fits perfectly. The soft material feels foreign, but good against my skin. I holster the gun at my hip, the feel of it hard against the softness of my clean clothes.

  I run my fingers through my hair a few times, trying to tame the long curls that hang loosely down my back. It’s the first time I’ve worn my hair down in years. It’s too hot to have my hair on my neck in camp, but this house is full of cool air despite its lack of fresh air flow.

  My bare feet brush against the carpet as I leave the room. I can hear male voices in the next room as I linger near the door, not sure if I should interrupt. I pause where I am, my head leaning against the partially open door.

  “Didn’t think I’d ever witness a union in my life, but here my grandson brings home a beautiful girl covered in dirt like he dug her up from a wildflower garden and brought her home to marry,” Jim says.

  Marry? I don’t understand the reference. Older generations use such formal and outdated speech. It’s almost cute how much they live through their emotions.

  They’re discussing our union though, that I understand. A strange nervousness bubbles in my stomach at the thought. I hadn’t really had time to consider the plan my mother finally revealed before …

  Shae laughs, like a school girl admiring the words of her crush. But she’s the only one.

  “It’s not exactly like that,” Asher says slowly. “Fallon and I haven’t really had a chance to talk about anything like that.”

  “You haven’t?” Jim’s voice is loud, almost echoing through the tiny home and making me jump in my hiding spot. “Y’all been out in the woods for almost a month now and you haven’t found time to discuss this minor detail?”

  A minute ticks by in silence. It’s hard for me to tell what the mood of the conversation is. I badly want to peek my head around the corner to see them, to see what the quiet means, but I’m not ready to reveal myself just yet. Something in me wants nothing more than to hear Asher’s reply.

  “We hardly know each other, Grandpa. Fallon’s …” He takes a deep breath that I can almost feel in my own heavy lungs. “It’s just not something we’ve talked about. At best, we’d still live in hiding. So Fallon won’t live all her life in a camp. Is hiding with a hybrid really any better?” His voice is pained, but he regains his composure before speaking again. “We’ll lie low for a while and maybe plan a future or maybe we’ll hate each other in less than a few weeks. Nobody knows. It’s not a quick decision. It could …“ He releases another exasperated breath. “I could ruin her life.”

  I swallow hard at his confession. He thinks he could ruin my life? Worse than I already have? Not likely. What would our government do if they found out he’s not Micah? If they found out I forged my union with a hybrid. A pike.

  I push my feet forward to reveal myself.

  Just past the living room is an open kitchen with a long wooden dining table. The four of them are seated at the table eating and talking, but they grow instantly quiet at the sound of the door closing behind me. Asher’s eyes meet mine across the room. His head is hung low and his fingers push his disheveled hair back from his serious face.

  He’s showered and changed into a clean black shirt. Cleaned up, he looks more like the boy next door than like the piece of lethal property from the compound I met a month ago.

  A fluttering nervous feeling takes up residence in my stomach at the sight of him. His words still linger in the room, but the uneasy feeling his words created is swiftly replaced when a delicious smell meets my nose. Gravy and potatoes and a mixture of hot food swarm my senses. My stomach grumbles and my mouth salivates for the food I haven’t even seen yet.

  Shae rounds the table and walks toward me. “Come take a seat, dear. Before Jim and Ashby eat all the food.” She gives me a big smile that creases her face, giving her an even more welcoming ambiance. Any hint of their earlier conversation has been washed from her features.

  “He’s a grown man, Shae. You can’t call him your little Ashby anymore,” Jim says with a chuckle.

  Shae rolls her eyes at him. Her tiny hand leans on my shoulder, pulling me to her side and into the crowded kitchen.

  “How long did I sleep?”

  Shae smiles at me as I take a seat between her and my mother. Asher sits across from me, a half-eaten dinner roll now in his hand, his eyes avoiding mine. Now that I’m closer I can smell the fresh baked bread he’s holding, and it takes all my willpower not to rip it out of his hands like a starving wild animal.

  “Well, you missed breakfast this morning,” Shae pauses with another wide grin, “and lunch. But you’re here for dinner, and that’s all that matters. That’s the best meal anyway.” She takes a bite of chicken.

  My eyebrows rise high. I slept for an entire day? I certainly feel like I’m well rested so, yeah … one day sounds about right.

  Shae and Jim chuckle at my realization. The two of them are so synced they might literally be two halves of a whole. Shae looks at Jim with such love in her hazel eyes that I think she might really believe he owns the moon, and stars, and all that the galaxy possesses. And Jim looks at her like he’d give it all away just to hear her laugh once more.

  “It smells like it’s the best meal,” I tell them, trying to find some normalcy in the room.

  “All of Shae’s cooking is the best,” Jim says, shoving a heaping spoon of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

  Shae rolls her eyes at his compliment, a light hint of a smile in her eyes. Then she starts loading a plate up for me. Everything smells amazing, and she doesn’t stop to ask if there’s anything I don’t want. Which is good because I want all of it. I take a big drink of water, but then I pace myself as I eat bite after bite of hot food. I can’t express how glad I am that I woke up in time for this.

  My mother sits next to me, her plate also heaping with the delicious food, but hers is untouched. She listens to Jim and Shae’s banter, seeming engaged in the conversation if only as an intrigued audience member. She takes a few sips of water, which is a good sign, I suppose. She’s showered as well, looking more healthy and alive, but still a little lifeless inside her green, tired eyes. Her blonde hair hangs thick around her like a curtain ready to drop.

  My thoughts start to pull me under, manifesting in my chest until it’s hard to find air and swallow down my feelings.

  “The two of you seem like a perfect match. Our government so rarely gets it right, it’s nice to see success for once,” I say to Shae, trying my best to be present in this moment. To be here with them even though I’d rather crawl back in bed beneath my soft covers.

  I take another large drink of cold ice water to calm my worries. Ripper fidgets at my feet, desperate for a scrap of food. His anxiousness does nothing to ease my nerves.

  Jim laughs. Shae, of course, joins him. They seem to find what I just said very funny. I tried to be kind, to compliment them, and now they’re laughing at me. Perfect.

  In all honesty, it really is just what I need to take my mind away, though. Nothing distracts your thoughts quite like confusion. And embarrassment.

  “I don’t get it,” I say with a hesitant smile.

  Asher smirks and shakes his head. “My grandparents weren’t a match. Not even close.”

  “We were too a match. Just not an assignment for the government to check off like a task,” Shae says in a defensive tone. Her head is held high like she’s ready to fight anyone who says differently. I can’t help but smile at her tiny aggressive figure.

  Jim’s smile grows broader before he leans forward. His arms rest on the table. His plate is pushed away, practically licked clean.

  “Well decades ago, believe it or not, I was nothing. I was not the charming man who sits before you today.” He gives a wink to Shae who rolls her eyes, but a blush creeps up her face despite herself.

  “I was just a young man going from one dead-end job to the next. But, for some reason, Shae loved me anyway,” he says without his confident and booming voice. His eyes ne
ver leave hers. “She loved a man who only had love to offer. So being the selfish kid I was, I asked her to marry me. To let me spend the rest of my life trying to live up to the man she deserved. And to everyone’s astonishment, she said yes. I never knew three little letters could add up to the happiest moment in my life.

  “It lasted less than a month. Politics have a way of nudging into our lives despite how greatly we try to avoid them. The government put a freeze on all marriage licenses. We had set a date for the following year, but the official statement to hold all paperwork set a bad feeling into my bones. I still bought a ring.”

  Shae looks down at her aging hands to a simple diamond ring on her left hand. Her thin lips ease into a small, wistful smile.

  “We still made plans, even bought a little two-bedroom house just east of here. It was all forward thinking in a time that was changing too fast for us to keep up. At the first of the year, Congress signed a new law. A law that its people were not consulted about. It stated that going forward all unwed persons under the age of twenty would be assigned life partners. They would form a union, and basically be provided an outline for life. What job to lead, what children to have, what life to live. It was a process put in place to reduce our recklessly growing population and poverty.” His brow creases, and a look of anger passes over the man’s face.

  “Shae was nineteen, and I was twenty-one. I would be encouraged to live my life alone, while they assigned her some dirtbag to marry—to unite with.” His fingers air quote his words like it’s a made-up language he won’t acknowledge. “I’d rot in hell before I watched the woman I love spend the rest of her life with Jason Miller.” A cackling laugh escapes Shae’s mouth, and Jim narrows his eyes at her, but a little smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

  “Ugh, my mother had a fit when I told her I wouldn’t marry the wealthy boy. Not that wealth has any significant symbolism nowadays.” Shae shrugs her small shoulders at the thought.

  “So, we got the hell out. We left our little house behind in the middle of the night. The little house that we saved for over two years for just a down payment.” He raises his eyebrows in outrage at that confession. I don’t really understand down payment, but I don’t interrupt either. “We came here to the outskirts of town to the house I grew up in as a boy. It took a year for me to turn the basement into a functional home.”