The Gifts of Fate

by David T Myers

  Shilpy glared at Barbie, who smirked back challengingly. She was tempted to hit her. The bitch was almost daring her to. Except this was Denise’s party, and what would people think of her if she got into a catfight?

  Before she did anything she’d regret later, she spun on her heel and stormed through the crowd and into the kitchen. She spotted Dusk making his way out of the laundry with a bottle of beer in one hand and a glass of white wine in the second. “I’m leaving,” she told him shortly. Dusk frowned in confusion, but she made a beeline for the door before he could say anything.

  She was halfway down the street before he caught up to her. “Shilpy, wait.”

  She turned and faced him. “I think we should have sex.”

  Dusk’s eyes widened, and he stared at her like a deer in headlights. “Okay.”

  Shilpy nodded. She could feel heat flushing her face, and a million butterflies took wing within her stomach. “Well, good.”

  “Not tonight, though.” Dusk placed both hands on her shoulders.

  “I see.” Maybe the women at the party were right. Maybe she’d been kidding herself. She tried pulling away, but he held her firmly on the spot. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted her face until their eyes met.

  “I want you,” he said. “You have no idea how much I want you, but when you’re ready. Not like this.”

  “You don’t think I’m weird? Or a freak?” she said, wiping her hand under her eye.

  “What happened? Did someone upset you? If you want, I can blow up their car.”

  She laughed. He brushed a stray hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. She was trembling for some reason. He leaned forward until his lips brushed her ear.

  “I want to spend time with you,” he said. “What’s say we get some ice cream.”

  She nodded and linked her arm in his, letting him lead her away from the party.

  * * *

  The vision shifted. Dusk, bare-chested and covered in sweat, kneeled on a very different street. He seemed to be in pain. His neck, shoulder, and arm muscles bulged. Rigid tremors moved beneath his skin. A hint of madness crept into his eyes, as if he were possessed by something primal, animalistic, and dangerous.

  Around him, a cloud of inky-black shadows glided around him, like buzzards circling a kill. Each long shadow was unique. It shifted and slid with separate and individual purpose, biding its time with dreadful, menacing intent.

  Dusk gritted his teeth, his eyes locked on something unseen in the void. Suddenly, each dark shape converged on that spot to form something new and terrible. The thing swelled, twisted, and thrashed angrily, as though trying to come to terms with its existence.

  The shadow went through a metamorphosis, and then a tall, ghostly woman with large black feathered wings and clawed hands and feet emerged from the black. As new shadows disappeared into her form, her shape became stronger and better defined. Her features sharpened into a beaklike nose, sneering lips, and fierce, almost feral, eyes. The shadows became flesh.

  With only two or three metres between them, the winged woman shuffled around Dusk, her body hunched forward and her large dark wings extended. The long talons on her fingers swiped at the space between them, and for a moment it looked as though she would strike him.

  Without thinking, Shilpy ran forward until she stood between the two with her arms stretched out wide. The harpy woman snarled, her eyes blazing with hate and fury.

  “Shilpy?” Dusk’s voice sounded strange, almost as if he were choking. The harpy woman lowered her body, and her mouth twisted into something between a grimace and a smile. Then she exploded into hundreds of inky-black shadows the size and shape of kitchen knives. They flew to either side of Shilpy and above her head before punching and stabbing their way through Dusk’s chest.

  Dusk screamed. Blood flew from his mouth. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and the whites filled with darkness. The shadows flew in a continuous stream, like water flowing down a funnel and into his chest.

  Then his mouth went slack, and he fell limply onto the concrete.

  Shilpy screamed.

  * * *

  The scream carried her into the waking world, and when it finished, she lay curled in a ball, tangled up in the sheets, sobbing.

  She turned on the bedside lamp, and the warm yellow glow banished the inky shapes. She could feel her heart thundering away in her chest, but the light made her feel a little safer. She breathed a little easier.

  Shilpy stepped from the bed, opened the clothes cupboard, and reached for the blankets on the top shelf. Stepping outside, she felt the night air chill her skin through the thin silk nightie. Her hands shook as she placed the folded blankets on the deck of the balcony. Even kneeling, she had a good view of the backstreets of Newtown.

  Closing her eyes, Shilpy pushed her senses out into the night. The sounds of distant traffic moved beyond her sight, and a nearby train rattled. The surrounding streets were populated with small terraces and apartments, which created a natural barrier between their apartment and the pubs and clubs on the nearby Highway. Still, the noise from the street carried across, and for that Shilpy was grateful.

  “Mother Nyx, you are the night,” she muttered. “Mother Nyx, your cloak shades the world from fire. You gift us with sleep, with dreams, with stars, with the moon, and all the night sky. The night is with us always.”

  Shilpy paused, allowing the night to surround her like a blanket, and then she repeated the prayer over and over, until it became a mantra.

  Shilpy would do this with her sister when Aaliyah was twelve years old after a particularly harsh or gruelling combat session. Aaliyah had spent most of her teenage years sporting one injury or another. Most people would describe the savagery of their upbringing as child abuse. Angela called it training, and for the most part, Aaliyah embraced it.

  Something about the routine and certainty appealed to Aaliyah. Shilpy had lost her to the mothers shortly after their birth mother died. Aaliyah swallowed up their dogma and pushed herself harder than any of their fellow sisters. She became Mother Angela’s darling student. Nurtured and mentored, she trained for the day when she would complete the Ritual of Seers. She loved Mother Angela so much that she couldn’t see her lies or cruelty.

  The training gave her purpose and pride, but some nights when her body was covered in bruises and she couldn’t sleep, she would have doubts and would ask Shilpy to meditate in the darkness with her.

  Shilpy hadn’t prayed since fleeing the Keres Ter Nyx flats. Perhaps the ritual was no better than meditation. For the moment, it served its purpose. After the sixth repetition, her breathing calmed further and a sense of peace settled over her.

  Feeling better, she tried to make sense of the vision. This was the first time that she’d dreamed about Dusk. The visions were always about her—usually things that she would live through or had already experienced.

  What was that darkness? It was like something out of a horror movie. And the harpy creature . . .

  Shilpy shuddered. The thought that the Keres Ter Nyx had found her was frightening, but the terror the vision had invoked was more primal and violent.

  Just thinking about the woman standing over Dusk left Shilpy cold. Was she real, a metaphor for something, or some dark part of herself trying to make itself heard? Either way, what did it have to do with her boyfriend?

  After moving to Sydney and escaping the Keres Ter Nyx, Shilpy convinced herself that the visions she’d had during the Ritual of Seers had been some drug-induced hallucination. A way for Angela to control her and keep her compliant, so the Keres Ter Nyx’s influence over her would be absolute.

  There was something similar between those visions and this one. Granted, this one hadn’t taken her to another world, but the harpy woman reminded her of the three women who’d haunted her after the ritual.

  Shilpy shook her head. She couldn’t afford to get lost in the past. Too many bad memories.

  There had
to be more to the vision than what she’d witnessed so far. What lay behind the darkness surrounding Dusk?

  She hated her curse, but perhaps there was a purpose behind it. Could it be that the dream was warning her about something? Preparing her for what was to come?

  She knew only one person who could answer these questions. One person who could instantly identify the harpy creature, and who might even know how to get rid of the visions. If the vision had been about her, she wouldn’t even consider calling Angela Wick. Except the vision hadn’t been about her. She looked over her shoulder at the mobile charging on the kitchen bench.

  Chapter 4

  The bookstore was having a quiet day. With little to do, Shilpy wandered the aisles rearranging books on shelves. Her gaze kept returning to the door. She half expected the sisters from the Keres Ter Nyx to walk through at any moment.

  Madame Jessica had known her name. Would it be that difficult for her to track her down? The apartment was let in Dusk’s name, not hers. Also, she’d avoided placing her name in the phone book, and she didn’t have a Facebook account. But still. Had they already found her? She didn’t know. Nor could she do anything about it. She’d just have to stay alert.

  She buried herself in what little work there was to do. A book launch was scheduled for the following week, but it took only an hour to set up a round table with posters and flyers.

  The door opened and Shilpy stiffened, but it was only George, one of the homeless guys who begged outside Town Hall station. He greeted her with a smile and disappeared into the shelves to browse. Eventually, he flopped into a seat on a small black couch reserved for customers.

  Steve, the manager, didn’t like homeless people coming in. George smelled pretty bad, but he was a good guy and great company on the quiet days. Shilpy was particularly grateful for his presence today.

  With all the stress, she’d lost her appetite, so she gave George her lunch. He devoured the contents of the clear plastic Chinese takeaway container until there was nothing left except the small grains of yellow rice sticking to his beard.

  They chatted about books for a while, and he pressed her as to whether there was any old stock lying about, but that’s where Shilpy drew the line. She apologised. He received the news with an understanding nod before shuffling out.

  She almost called him back but chided herself. The Keres Ter Nyx weren’t going to find her. If they knew where she worked, they would have been here already.

  Around two in the afternoon, the lack of sleep from the previous night started taking its toll. Shilpy could barely keep her eyes open, and yet she dared not close them. She had to mind the store. It wasn’t because she was afraid of what might be waiting for her if she slept. No, it had nothing to do with that.

  So, she occupied her thoughts with the vision from the previous night.

  She hadn’t called Angela. It surprised her that she’d even considered it. The vision could easily have been a dream.

  All her life she’d been preached to about the blessed—enlightened souls and avatars of the true gods. The day of reveal would supposedly be their ascension, and together they would speak the truth about divinity and blah blah blah. Everyone would start following the Nyx and give them gold boats to drive around in.

  The prophecy made no sense when looked at closely. The old gods hated each other and used to squabble and war constantly. Why would their avatars get along? It just didn’t add up, except for one thing—her.

  Her curse was real. Her visions were stronger than her mother’s had been, and her mother was revered in certain circles. If only she could control it.

  Then there was the other consequence. If her visions were real, then what else that the Keres Ter Nyx preached might also be true?

  Shilpy shook her head and texted Denise, hoping she had news. If her friend was being followed, she’d flush them out today. She’d planned to take new and unexpected routes to and from work. Zigzag across the city and generally act contrary to her routine. Any sign of trouble and she’d text and feign illness. If the coast was clear, tonight would go ahead.

  It was nearly half an hour before Denise responded, and even then it was only to tell Shilpy she was too busy to talk. A good sign. She would have to wait until tonight to find out more.

  Shilpy’s shift finished at four. She figured she’d have enough time to do some last-minute shopping before dinner.

  “Excuse me.”

  Shilpy sat up. A scruffy young man wearing a black shirt and trousers was trying to attract her attention. She hadn’t heard him come in. “Do you have the latest Stephen King?” he asked.

  She nodded and silently led him along the bookshelves. At the new-release section, she began sifting through the books. It wasn’t there, which was odd. The store had received a shipment last week, or was it the week before? She remembered the books’ arriving because the usual delivery guy had been sick and a girl with pigtails and bleached hair had filled in for him.

  “I’ll check at the desk. We might have sold out already.”

  The computer had no record of the inventory. Weird. Someone should have recorded the stock receipt number. She couldn’t find any sign that the books had arrived.

  A quick search in the back revealed a similar result. There should have been a whole box of Kings there. With no other choice, she returned to the customer and apologised. He left looking agitated.

  Nobody else walked in, so Shilpy triple-checked the various shelves, scanning for the book. The bell at the door interrupted her, and she abandoned the search hoping for another customer.

  It was the pigtailed girl from last week. “New shipment of books for you,” she said. “I’m covering for Jake, the usual guy. Okay if I take them around the back?”

  “Good to see you again.” Shilpy smiled at her. “Is Jake still sick?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she replied, giving Shilpy a strange look. “It’s my first day, but I have a whole box of the new Stephen King fresh off the press!”

  * * *

  The elevator to Shilpy and Dusk’s second-floor Newtown flat didn’t work. In fact, it had been out of order since they moved in. Still obsessing about the book mix-up, Shilpy carried the groceries up the stairs. This wasn’t the first time she’d confused memories and a vision, but it was no less frustrating. So far no one had complained, but if she wasn’t careful, her episodes could attract unwanted attention.

  Denise hadn’t texted, so it looked as if they were on for tonight. Which was one less thing to worry about.

  She didn’t need to be psychic to know Dusk had beaten her home. Even before she opened the door, she could hear the TV. The roar of the soccer crowd greeted her when she walked in, but to her surprise, Dusk wasn’t stretched out on the couch watching the game.

  He’d found a spot at the counter and was busy cutting vegetables into long neat slices for her curry. The smell of grilled goat flooded her senses, and her mouth watered when she eyed the small chunks piled in a bowl waiting to go into the curry. All she had to do was provide the sauce.

  “I didn’t expect you to do all this,” she said.

  He gave her a tired smile and ran a hand over his bald head before reaching for a bottle of pale ale. He looked exhausted. “I got home early.”

  Shilpy frowned, concerned about his harried appearance. This was more than just travel fatigue. Whatever was happening at his work was taking its toll.

  He cocked his head and winked before making a come-hither motion with his finger. She approached him, and his lips locked on hers. A large hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him. She tried pushing herself away, but he was too strong. Her body melted into his, and she began returning his kisses.

  “Do we have time?” he asked, with a cheeky grin. She answered with an expression of mock disapproval.

  “They’ll be here soon. After,” she said. “If you’re good. Go get ready—I’ll take it from here.”

  After some good-natured grumbling, he pulled away and di
sappeared into the bedroom, but not before giving her arse a good squeeze. She slapped him away, binned the empty beer bottle into the recycling, and took over from where he’d left off.

  There wasn’t much left to do. She noticed that he’d also already washed and put away the breakfast plates she’d left on the sink and cleaned up the utensils he’d already used to prepare the meat.

  “How was Melbourne? Did you sort it out?” Shilpy asked, as she dropped all the food into a big pot. She kept her voice light and casual, trying to conceal her anxiety.

  “Doing okay,” he said, from the bedroom. “Mestor is insisting we find this sword.”

  “Why does he need you for that?”

  “Firstly, because it’s an antique and Mestor believes I have connections he doesn’t; secondly because we did such a good job on the project he wants to keep us around; thirdly, because the men respect me more than some of the other clowns he has working for him; and lastly, because he couldn’t organise a pissing contest in a brewery.” He stuck his head out of the bedroom and caught her eye. “Australians do say that, don’t they?”

  Shilpy shook her head and flashed him a smile. It wasn’t quite correct, but points for trying. “Piss-up in a brewery.”

  “Right.” He disappeared again.

  With the groceries unpacked and a new bottle of pale ale on the bench for Dusk, Shilpy put on some rice and brought the curry to a simmer. She chose her words carefully. “Dusk, I’m worried.”

  “Worried?” he asked. “About what?”

  What indeed? The vague vision? Or the Keres Ter Nyx threat?

  Yes, the Keres Ter Nyx were looking for her. But if Denise was right, and they weren’t following her, then she should be safe. The dream, on the other hand, was extraordinarily unsettling. The mere thought of the creature with the blackened wings turned her blood cold. And the frequency of these visions was increasing. The confusion at the bookstore was the latest incident.