Strange Fates (Nyx Fortuna), Page 2

  “Where are we?”

  For a tiny second, it seemed as though she wasn’t going to answer me. Wild thoughts of abduction and murder flashed through my mind. I knew I was being paranoid, but with relatives like mine, who could blame me?

  “Lake Harriet,” Elizabeth said, and when there wasn’t a hint of recognition on my face she added, “Where we live. In Minneapolis. Minnesota.” The sarcasm in her voice was hard to miss.

  I shot her a dirty look. “I know where I am. I just didn’t recognize this part of the city.” Besides, I hadn’t been out that long, not long enough to leave Minneapolis completely.

  I wondered what I was getting myself into. I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to play out like my new favorite fantasy, which involved Elizabeth, a bed, and a bottle of tequila.

  I managed to walk inside without assistance, although it hurt to breathe if I moved too quickly.

  The place was posh, with white marble in the entryway and long curvy staircases leading to what I assumed were equally luxurious bedrooms. I wondered briefly which one was Elizabeth’s, but turned my attention to my host.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said. I followed her to the kitchen. She gestured to a bar stool. “Sit down and take off your shirt.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can ravage you,” she said sarcastically. “Why do you think? So I can clean your stab wound.”

  I took off my jacket and shirt carefully, but a piece of my shirt got stuck on a bit of dried blood and Red Dragon cocktail napkin and I winced.

  She grabbed a clean dish towel and ran it under the hot water.

  “This is going to hurt,” she warned.

  “You don’t have to sound so happy about it,” I replied. She placed the towel on my chest gently, but I let out a whimper anyway. Not very manly of me. I couldn’t be killed, but I could feel vast amounts of pain.

  She escorted me to the great room, which looked like it was decorated by someone’s rich old grandmother, but featured an outrageously expensive sound system and carpet so thick it felt like I was walking on pillows. I usually avoided places that smelled of money and smugness, and this place reeked of both.

  I wandered over to the bookshelf and eyed the photos. Elizabeth as a debutante in a white gown, posed with a laughing older man and woman. Another one of a handsome young man with curly blond hair and brown eyes.

  I picked up the photo of the young man to examine it more closely. “Attractive-looking guy,” I commented.

  She took the frame out of my hands and stared down at it, her expression unreadable. “Yes, he is,” she finally said. She put it back on the shelf, clearly trying to tell me the subject was closed.

  But I didn’t listen. “Who is he?”

  “It’s my brother,” she said.

  “Your brother?” I wasn’t going to get any more information from her, so I let the subject drop.

  She was cute and I was definitely attracted to her, but a few hours earlier she’d been making out with the guy who stabbed me. It should have been a turnoff, but my libido didn’t seem to realize that. I was reacting to the resemblance to Amalie.

  “Nice place,” I commented. “Is it just you here?”

  Elizabeth hesitated. She took a seat on the comfy-looking sofa and I did the same. “No,” she said. But she didn’t elaborate.

  I sat next to her, close enough that our legs bumped.

  She changed the subject. “Would you like a shower? Something to eat?”

  One of the rules of living on your own was to never turn down free food. The other was to watch your back. I had a feeling there was nothing free about my supper or this situation. She wanted something from me, but what? I decided to play along, for now.

  My stomach growled and Elizabeth giggled. “I’ll take that as a yes. I know a place that makes a mean burger.”

  She ordered the food and then said, “I’ll show you where you can clean up before you eat.”

  The guest room was as luxurious as the rest of the house and had a killer view of the lake. The landscape hanging on the wall looked like an original Turner, and the four-poster bed had to be a couple of hundred years old. She handed me a towel and a robe and left.

  I hung my jacket on the back of the chair—within easy reach—stripped off my jeans and shirt and threw them on the floor, and took a shower to get some of the crusted blood off me. I mumbled a quick little spell to further assist in the healing process.

  Magic is hereditary. All the books in the world can’t teach you magic if it’s not in your blood. There was magic in my blood, strong magic. The magic of the great and powerful Wyrd family. My family’s thing was that there were no boys born into the Wyrd line, only girls. Strictly matriarchal. Until me.

  People in my family lived longer than most. And I would live longer than anybody. Whether I wanted to or not.

  I was toweling off when there was a knock on the door. Elizabeth entered without waiting for a response. I grabbed a robe and put it on. I wasn’t a prude, but I didn’t want any questions about the scars that studded my body.

  “Dinner’s here,” she said. “But I thought you might appreciate something clean to wear.” She handed me some sweats and a T-shirt.

  “I guess you can order anything for delivery these days,” I joked, but I was wondering where they’d come from. They were well used but clean.

  She cleared her throat. “They belong to my brother. He’s…out of town.”

  “That’s very hospitable of you.” Very hospitable. Suspiciously so. Why would a young woman invite a total stranger home?

  She seemed to read my mind. “I can take care of myself. Just because I’m friendly doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

  I nodded to let her know I understood. I waited, but she didn’t show any signs of leaving, so I finally shrugged on the sweats and took off the robe.

  She was staring. “Enjoying the view?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I am.”

  I felt too exposed, so I grabbed the tee and put it on. She was a complication I didn’t need, but my body responded, even while my brain told me to run.

  I needed to get out of that room and fast. “You mentioned food?” I said. “I’m starving.”

  I followed her down the stairs, enjoying the view the whole way. I finally remembered to check my libido at the door and make sure I wasn’t walking into a trap.

  “I thought we could eat in the family room,” she said. “The dining room is so stuffy.”

  “Nice place,” I commented. There were no signs of any magical allegiance. I had pegged Elizabeth as a mortal, but I’d been wrong before.

  There were four Houses in the magical world, and all members were descended from a god. The old gods had faded away when Christianity took hold, but their progeny lived on, less than gods but more than mortals.

  They eventually organized into the House of Fates, the House of Zeus, the House of Poseidon, and the House of Hades. Nobody knew where the old gods were now, but there were plenty of rumors. All that was left were the magical creatures, concealed from or ignored by the ordinary world.

  There were bagfuls of delicious-smelling greasiness on the coffee table, but my gaze kept returning to Elizabeth.

  She still wore that ridiculous floral barrette and I had to stop myself from unfastening it and running my fingers through her hair. She had a body it would take me a long time to get to know. She caught me staring at her.

  “You look hungry,” she said. “Eat. I ordered plenty.”

  If she only knew what I was really hungry for. I was instantly attracted to her, but I knew getting involved would be a bad idea. It wasn’t love at first sight. I didn’t believe in falling in love, especially not the first time you got a look at someone.

  I mean, how could you see the sum of someone’s soul by a quick glimpse into her eyes? I needed at least a dinner and a movie first. But lust at first sight? That I believed in.

  She caught me staring and blushed. I was pr
actically salivating over her, like a cartoon big bad wolf over a succulent little pork chop.

  The burger was as good as promised, so juicy and tender I had to refrain from licking the plate. Once full, I realized I was incredibly weary. The knife wound throbbed, which reminded me how stupid I’d been. It had been nearly six months since the last contact from my aunts. It was almost like I wanted to be found, calling attention to myself that way.

  Drifts almost covered the windows, which only added to the claustrophobic feeling. We were snowed in. I had to force myself not to think about how the white flakes slowly covering the windows made me feel like I was being buried alive.

  I hated the damned snow and even more, I hated the feeling of being trapped. I was in Minneapolis to settle a score with my mother’s killers and find my thread of fate. A thread of fate is your life force; when it’s cut, you die. Problem was, mine was missing.

  I was sure my thread of fate was hidden in one of my mother’s charms. She never took that necklace off. It had disappeared after her death, when I hadn’t been thinking clearly. I’d found the chain six months later, but the charms had already been sold several times over by then.

  The silver chain was cold against my skin. I couldn’t bring myself to touch the charm hanging on the end. It was the only charm I’d found. I’d been so sure that the diamond-studded key held the answer, but it wasn’t the one I needed. The one hiding my fate.

  “There are some board games in the game room,” she said. “I’ll go get them.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I said.

  The game room contained a pool table and a bookshelf filled with the souvenirs of someone’s childhood: Monopoly, Twister, worn baseball mitts, and a couple of adventure novels. There were several video game consoles and a television set up in front of an old couch. It was an adolescent boy’s dream room.

  ”Did your family spend a lot of time in here?”

  “We used to,” she said. Her voice was clipped, signaling she didn’t want to talk about it.

  “What should we do to pass the time?” I asked.

  She moved away from me every time I took a step closer to her. She didn’t seem the nervous type. I was finally getting the idea that she didn’t have the same activity in mind as I did.

  “Video games?” she suggested. “I bet I can kick your ass in Zelda.”

  The game had barely booted up when the lights flickered and went out. I stubbed my toe on something and swore.

  “Hang on a minute. There are some candles around here somewhere,” she said. A match flared and her face came into view, looking ghostly by candlelight.

  She handed me a candle and then lit a few more until the room was illuminated. She crossed the room and rummaged through the board games. “We can play until the lights come back on.”

  She set up the board on the coffee table and tossed me a couple of pillows. I knew she expected me to sit across from her, but I took a spot next to her on the floor.

  I had thought of one way to forget all about my cabin fever. My rule was to never get involved, but I was a man, too, and it had been a long time since I’d touched a woman and even longer since I’d slept with one. One night with Elizabeth would be worth the risk. I’d leave in the morning before anyone could catch up to me.

  I touched her face. “You have the softest skin.”

  She handed me the dice. “You go first.”

  I put the dice down, carefully. “I’m going to kiss you now,” I told her.

  “Nyx, this is a bad idea,” she said in a small voice.

  “You’re not attracted to me?” I knew she was, but wanted to see if she’d deny it.

  “It’s not that. It’s not a good idea to—”

  “I think it’s a very good idea.” I bent and kissed her, maneuvering her toward the couch as I did. In the back of my mind, I wondered why my defenses were down, but the thought slipped away.

  As I kissed her again, I heard eerie laughter. At first I thought it was just my imagination, but the sound came again.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked.

  “It was probably just the wind,” she replied, but her voice was shaking.

  “I don’t think so.” I went to the window and looked out, but the falling snow obscured my vision.

  “There’s no one out there, not in this storm,” Elizabeth insisted.

  “I heard something,” I said stubbornly.

  I listened again, but there was only the sound of the wind roaring through the trees. By the expression on Elizabeth’s face, the mood was ruined.

  “I think you should go.”

  What had her so spooked?

  “There’s a storm raging outside,” I said. “Where would I go?”

  She relented. “Okay, but you need to leave in the morning. Early.” She kept glancing at the door when she said it. Was she expecting a boyfriend to come home soon?

  A door slammed and a young woman walked into the room.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know you had company,” she said. She was an attractive brunette with razor-sharp cheeks and fey eyes to match her pixie haircut. She had a drop of magic running through her veins, but so little that she probably wasn’t even aware of it.

  Elizabeth glared at her. “Well, I do.”

  I gave her an inquiring look and she made introductions. “Nyx, this is my roommate, Jenny. Jenny, Nyx.”

  I cleared my throat. “Nice to meet you, Jenny.”

  She ignored me and turned to Elizabeth. “If you’re okay, I’m going to bed.”

  “We’re fine, Jenny,” Elizabeth said.

  “Don’t stay up too late,” Jenny told her sweetly. But before Jenny left, she glared at me. I glared right back.

  “You didn’t mention you had a roommate,” I said, after I was sure Jenny wasn’t eavesdropping in the hallway.

  Elizabeth shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important.” She grabbed a deck of cards. “Want to play?”

  “Why not?” I grabbed the deck, cut the cards, and shuffled.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” she asked.

  “I lived in Monte Carlo for a couple of years.”

  “Where else have you lived?”

  “We moved around a lot when I was a kid.” Before she’d died, my mother and I had lived in too many cities to count. It wasn’t safe to stay in one place for too long.

  “We?”

  “My mother and me.” I studied my hand. I could have closed my eyes and told you what cards I had, but I didn’t want Elizabeth to see my expression.

  “What was she like?”

  I cleared my throat, which had grown closed. “Great.”

  I had a clear flash of my mother’s face, glowing from the light of the paper lanterns lighting the evening sky. We celebrated the summer solstice in Poland with thousands of strangers, but I wasn’t the only one watching my mother’s face instead of the sky lanterns.

  I kept a suitable poker face and changed the subject. “Are we playing or what?”

  We played several games, but she showed no sign of tiring. She didn’t show signs of anything really. Most people had a tell, something that gave them away when they had a good hand. They tugged on their ears or leaned back in their chairs, something.

  I regretted mentioning my mother, even briefly. The memories would be hard to keep at bay.

  I stood and stretched. “I need some air.”

  “I’ll go with you,” she said quickly.

  Outside, the freezing air cleared my head of things I was better off not remembering. There was a swing on the front porch and Elizabeth sat there. It looked way too inviting, so I took a backless stool across from her. A luminous moon hung low in the sky, but was slowly being blotted out by delicate flakes of snow.

  I nudged the swing with my foot and set it to rocking. I touched her shoulder and brushed away a clump of snow. I was making excuses to touch her. “We should go inside,” I said. “It’s getting cold.”

  “I thought you wanted some fresh air,
” she said, exasperated.

  I was twitchy. It was hard to stay in the same room with her and not get ideas I shouldn’t have, even with a throbbing headache. I was in Minneapolis for one thing and it wasn’t a girl, even one as beautiful as Elizabeth.

  I suppressed a yawn. She took that as a hint and stood. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Once in my room, I couldn’t sleep. I crossed to the window and stared out at the frozen water below before I finally crawled into bed and collapsed.

  * * *

  When I woke, the sun shone through the slats in the closed blinds. I looked around, disoriented, until I remembered the previous night’s events and why I wasn’t in my less-than-luxurious room at the Drake. My freshly laundered clothes were neatly folded at the foot of the bed. It bothered me that someone had been in and out of the room without waking me.

  I got dressed and wandered into the kitchen, drawn there by the smell of frying bacon.

  Jenny was standing in front of the stove. I could feel her scowling, even though her back remained firmly turned.

  “Smells good,” I offered tentatively. “I guess the power’s back on.”

  She ignored my attempt at small talk. “There’s juice and coffee in the dining room,” she said. “I’ll bring you in a plate.” There were bar stools tucked neatly under the countertop in the kitchen, but I didn’t press my luck and obediently went into the dining room.

  I poured a cup of coffee and sat. When I spied a folded-up newspaper on the table, I grabbed it and scanned it for any description of last night’s escapade. There was a small entry in the police blotter about the bar fight, but no mention of a stabbing.

  From Jenny’s reaction, I wasn’t the first freeloader to stay the night. I wondered exactly how many moochers had crossed the threshold. My curiosity was soon satisfied.

  Jenny handed me a plate with such force that my scrambled eggs nearly slid off.

  I righted the plate and saved my eggs. “Where’s Elizabeth?” I wanted to say good-bye before I left.