Dark Descent - [Nyx Fortuna 02] (4 page)

I spent the rest of the night reading, but I didn’t come up with any leads. I gave up around three, but my dreams were blood drenched.

In the morning, I drank an entire pot of black coffee and then took the key I’d found at Gaston’s to a lock shop to see if they could identify it. I checked PO boxes and safety deposits at banks, but no one could tell me what the key unlocked.

It was dark by the time I made it back to my apartment.
Now what?
I took the key out again and examined it under a magnifying glass. Three symbols were engraved on the thickest part of the bow. It was the Tria Prima, which made me think that Claire had gotten tangled up with Hecate followers somehow.

I finally caught a break in the search for my cousin. I knocked on Talbot’s apartment door but wasn’t surprised when Naomi answered it.

There was a bottle of wine and a half-finished pizza on the coffee table in front of the couch. Talbot sat up and buttoned his shirt while I looked away.

“Claire’s gone to the land of the dead,” I said. I held up the brass key. “And this is a key to one of the gates.”

“Where did you get that?” Naomi asked.

“Gaston’s,” I told her. “I knew he was holding out on the Fates. It was probably just in case he got caught. He needed a bargaining chip.”

I wasn’t sure the information was reliable, but it was the only thing I had to go on.

Naomi said, “You don’t know what Hecate will do to her.” Hecate: keeper of doorways and crossroads, badass goddess of the underworld, and my aunts’ worst enemy.

“How did the Fates manage to imprison Hecate in the first place?” Talbot asked.

“The Fates drained Hecate of her powers,” Naomi said, “and then turned the underworld into a permanent prison.”

“What did they do with the powers?”

“I don’t know,” Naomi said. “But, Nyx, you have to rescue Claire.”

“Rescue her? How am I going to do that? I don’t even know where the gates are yet.”

“You are a necromancer,” Talbot butted in.

“No,” I said. “You assume I’m a necromancer, just because of the knife.”

“Athame,” Naomi said helpfully. “I didn’t know you had one.”

I glared at Talbot. “That was the general idea.”

He glared back. “Do you have any better ideas? Claire’s life is at stake. Elizabeth’s, too.”

“Even if it
is
a necromancer’s knife,” I said, “I’m not a trained necromancer. In fact, I don’t know the first thing about it.”

“I do,” Naomi said. “I caught Mom throwing out some of”—she gulped and then bravely continued—“some of Dad’s stuff, so I hid it. You can have it all.”

Gaston had killed her dad, and then I’d killed Gaston. Or at least tricked him into cutting his own thread of fate, which was the same thing.

“I don’t know that I want it,” I said.

“You’ll need it,” Talbot said. “How else are you going to find a way into the underworld?”

“What’s the real reason you’re hesitating?” Naomi demanded.

Talbot and I exchanged glances. Was it possible she didn’t know about the prophecy?
“He, born of Fortune, shall let loose the barking dogs as the Fates fall and Hecate shall rise.”

Her next words disabused me of that notion. “Don’t be such a wimp,” she said. “Don’t tell me you believe that moldy old prophecy?”

“You don’t?” Talbot asked her.

“It’s probably just wishful thinking on Hecate’s part,” Naomi said. “Her followers have been spreading that rumor around for ages.”

“Why don’t you fill us in?” Talbot asked her.

“Mom says it all started when the Fates took the harpies away from Hecate and then imprisoned her in the underworld. It was way before Mom was born,” Naomi said.

Being a Fate was a hereditary position, which meant Naomi would take over for her mom one day. The Fates weren’t immortal, but they lived a long time. Aunt Nona had dated Shakespeare when she was a teenager, and as anyone who’d read
Macbeth
might be able to figure out, it hadn’t ended well.

Hecate, however, was a true goddess, and therefore, an immortal. And like all good goddesses, she knew how to hold a grudge. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’d started the prophecy rumor herself.

I thought of something else. “How did the Fates manage to take something away from a goddess?”

“Don’t know. It might be written in the Book of Fates somewhere.”

“What’s the big deal about the Book of Fates?” I asked. “Besides the prophecy, that is?” According to the prophecy, the first male born in the Wyrd line, which would be me, would bring about the fall of the Fates and set Hecate free.

Talbot and Naomi stared at me. “You mean you don’t know?” she asked.

“Hello, black sheep here,” I snapped. “My mother and I were too busy running for our lives to talk about family traditions.”

“Every House has a book,” Talbot explained. “You do know about the Houses, right?”

I gave him a dirty look. “I’m getting a whiff of I’m-so-superior House of Zeus right now. Of course I know about the Houses.” There were four houses and every magical creature belonged to one of them: The House of Poseidon, the House of Hades, the House of Zeus, and finally, the House of Fates.

Talbot and his father were card-carrying members of House of Zeus, and sometimes a little entitlement showed. The only house that trumped Zeus was the house of Fates, of which I was a very reluctant member. My mother had been Lady Fortuna, the fourth Fate, but her role as a Fate had been all put expunged from modern memory, thanks to her sisters.

Talbot had the grace to look abashed. “Sorry, Nyx,” he said. “I forgot you don’t believe in all that…”

“Nonsense,” I finished his sentence, knowing he was about to say something else entirely.

He cleared his throat. “The house book is where the Custos, the keeper of the book, writes down lineages, any noteworthy events, house secrets, that kind of thing. Anyone who belongs to the house has access to the book in the keeper’s presence.”

I gave my cousin a questioning glance. “Fates, too?”

She nodded. “Deci keeps the book. She got it back after Gaston died.”

My aunt Deci was ill, most likely poisoned by that traitor Gaston when he tried to take over the family business. “Do you think she’d let me see it?”

“I’ll ask,” Naomi said. “But I’m not making any promises.”

“Do the aunts even want me to find Claire?” I asked, frustrated.

“Of course they do,” she said. “She’s Morta’s daughter.”

“Since when does blood matter?” I snapped in reply. “How am I supposed to find Claire and save Elizabeth if they won’t tell me anything?”

“I’ll ask,” she said again softly.

I gave in. “Can you bring me your dad’s stuff?” I asked. “I might as well get started. The clock’s ticking.”

She nodded.

Talbot changed the subject. “Seen Willow lately?”

“Why do you ask?” I sensed a lecture coming on and I wasn’t disappointed.

“It’s not polite to sleep with someone and never call,” Talbot said. He was blushing.

“I’ve never been described as polite,” I said bluntly. It was true, but I’d never been so careless about another’s feelings before. Deep down, I knew my actions were ungentlemanly at best.

“You’re not worried about a pissed-off naiad?” Talbot continued. He had a point. Naiads liked to collect men’s teeth and wear them around their neck as pretty trinkets.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’ve had a few other things to worry about,” I said angrily. “Such as staying in one piece long enough to figure out who wants me dead.”

“This time,” Talbot added. I looked at him in inquiry and he clarified. “Who wants you dead
this time
.”

I barked out a laugh in spite of myself, then sobered.

Talbot was right. There was no sense in getting the naiads up in arms.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” I said. “I’ve got something to do.”

“Going to check up on your favorite naiad?” he asked.

“She did save my life,” I reminded him. “Alex’s, too.” Alex was Elizabeth’s brother and, through no fault of his own, nearly became Gaston’s victim.

I hadn’t seen Willow in a few weeks and I didn’t want to admit it, but I was worried about her. I was going to make sure she was okay, not sleep with her again. Aspen’s death had left me with a lingering sense that something wicked had arrived in Minneapolis.

After I left the Bardoff residence, I headed to the lake. Willow had been a good friend and I owed her an explanation. It was going to be humiliating, embarrassing, and probably physically painful.

I was right. When I found Willow, she was ready to strip the flesh from my bones with her teeth, but not because I never called.

I sat at my favorite bench and said her name. There wasn’t even a splash before she was standing next to me, her long hair streaming water and barely covering her interesting bits.

Her skin was pale blue, translucent, and she wore a necklace of river stone. She’d added bits of glass and driftwood since the last time I saw her.

“Tell me what’s been going on in your world,” I said.

“Death,” she said gravely.

“I am sorry, Willow,” I said, then remembered the formal words of mourning:
“Non est ad astra mollis e terris via.”
Which translated as “There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.” The saying was often attributed to Seneca, but I heard it first from a naiad. My mother and I had lived with a colony of naiads for a summer in Capri.

“Sorrow will not bring her back,” she said.

“Your human was here,” she said. “Crying loudly. Disturbing the birds. Tell her to stop. Go make her happy.”

“I can’t.” It was hard to explain my complicated relationship to a naiad. My words had a ring of truth that I’d been avoiding.

She gently touched the silver chain I wore and set the charms jingling. “What about you? Any luck?”

“Not at all,” I replied.

I’d gotten lucky when I arrived in Minneapolis and found several of the charms, but had hit a dry patch recently. Where were my mother’s remaining charms?

Lost in thought, I took the path back to the Caddy and sat in the driver’s seat. The night was as cold and dark as my thoughts.

The night of Elizabeth’s performance arrived. I put on my best shirt and tie and bought a bouquet of bright flowers. Talbot and Naomi had taken pity on me and were my dates for the evening.

Elizabeth attended Blake University, a posh private school. The college looked more like a country club than an institution of higher learning.

I parked the Caddy in the parking structure and then opened the door for Naomi. “Let’s do this.”

Talbot laughed.

I walked ahead of Naomi and Talbot, who were stopping to kiss every few feet.

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late,” I called out, but they didn’t hear me. I walked faster. They’d find me eventually.

Sawyer had been on some fund-raising board for Blake. I looked around for Aunt Nona, but she wasn’t in the audience.

The theater was state-of-the-art and the audience well dressed. I tugged on my tie. Someone mistook me for a stagehand, but she was being kind. Even the help was better dressed than I was.

There wasn’t any assigned seating, so I wasn’t surprised that Jenny had come early to get a good seat. She had been Elizabeth’s roommate when we’d first met, but she’d moved out after I killed her on-again, off-his-rocker-again boyfriend Gaston, aka the Fates’ Tracker.

Alex, Elizabeth’s brother, sat next to her. He was still pale and twitchy, but he’d lost the crazy glazed eyes and gained a few pounds. When I found him, after being left to the Fates and Gaston’s tender mercies, he’d been gaunt and raving.

“Nyx, Talbot, over here,” Alex said. “We saved seats for you.”

Jenny’s giant pocketbook took up almost all the space. I was touched that they’d saved us seats, but she soon disabused me of the notion that she’d done so willingly.

“I only saved you the seats because Alex begged me to,” she hissed. “Besides, this way I’ll have the perfect view. I can’t wait to see the expression on your face.”

I ignored her and slid into the seat next to Alex. “Looking good, Alex.”

“The professor says so, too,” he confided.

“The professor?”

“He’s Elizabeth’s friend,” he continued. “He plays Scrabble with me.”

“He is?”

“So that’s the roommate, huh?” Naomi whispered. She sat between me and Talbot, but I realized that might not be far enough away from the girlfriend of her father’s killer. I squirmed, but Jenny and Naomi didn’t seem interested in conversing with each other.

I scanned the crowd and noticed a trio of familiar heads. The Fates had arrived. Morta’s silver hair stood out in the darkened theater.

“What are they doing here?” I hissed at Naomi. I had a good idea. Their presence at Elizabeth’s performance was meant as a warning.

“What?” She craned her head to see. “I have no idea.”

Alex shifted uneasily next to me. My aunts’ Tracker had terrorized him. I didn’t want him to have a full-blown freak-out. I changed the subject before he figured out who Naomi and I were talking about.

“Everyone misses you around Parsi,” I said. He jerked at the mention of his former place of employment and I realized I’d stepped in it. When Alex had been kidnapped, he and Sawyer had been working on a secret formula for ambrosia, a new and improved nectar of the gods.

Alex’s foot tapped continuously. He was more nervous than he’d first seemed. He didn’t answer me. His expression told me he’d checked out.

“Elizabeth said you wanted to talk to me about something?” I prodded, trying to bring him back.

His expression didn’t change, but he whispered. “Not here.” He was careful not to look in Jenny’s direction, but I got the hint. He didn’t trust her. I didn’t, either.

Before I could say anything else, the lights dimmed and the curtain rose.

It was a modern play, something written in the last fifty years or so, and I was bored. Until Elizabeth walked onstage.

The play was about a couple’s search for the fountain of youth. Elizabeth played the woman who drank the water and became young again.

What did Alex think of the subject matter? It was uncomfortably close to his own research at Parsi.

He seemed to understand my unspoken question. “I wish I’d never heard of ambrosia,” he said.

I changed the subject. “Elizabeth’s really good,” I told Alex.

“Yes, she’s quite the actress,” Jenny said, but it wasn’t a compliment. “She fooled you, didn’t she?”

I ignored her, but it took an effort.

I glanced over at my aunts. Morta and Nona had their attention on the stage, but Deci was watching me. I looked away, but I could still feel her staring. I was ready to shout at her to stop when heavy smoke filled the theater.

Some dumbass screamed, “Fire!” and jumped out of his seat. Other people followed suit, pushing and shoving anyone in their way, which started a full-on stampede for the exit. I looked over at Alex, who looked like he’d start screaming himself any second.

“Alex, keep it together,” I said. “Go with Talbot. Do exactly as he says and you’ll be fine.”

He took a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Talbot, get them out of here,” I said. “I’ll find Elizabeth and then try to put out the fire.”

He started toward the main exit, but there was no way he’d get through. “Not that way,” I said. I pointed to an alternate exit, to the right of the stage. “Go through there.”

The smoke was thick. I tried not to breathe, but my lungs filled anyway. “
Extinguere
,” I shouted, but it didn’t have any effect.

We found the exit and I shoved Naomi through, but Alex balked. “I’m not leaving without my sister,” he said.

“Get out of here,” I said. “I’ll find her. I promise.”

Jenny didn’t wait for more conversation. She gave him a shove of her own. “Let’s go!”

“You, too,” I said to Talbot.

He didn’t move. “I’m immortal, remember?” I said. “You’re not.”

He nodded and then exited the building.

I jumped onto the stage, but I didn’t see Elizabeth anywhere.

It was chaos backstage. I couldn’t see much through the smoke. “
Aqua
,” I said. The water quenched the flames in one part of the room, but roared to life in another.

“Elizabeth,” I shouted and inhaled a lungful of smoke. There was the unholy smell of scorched flesh in the air, the screams of the dead and dying, and everywhere I turned, flames. It was an inferno, what people quaintly described as a four-alarm fire, and I had no doubt who was behind it.

I tripped over something. Instinctively, I reached down to grab it. A metal lighter, already hot to the touch. Was it evidence of who had started the fire?

I shoved it into my pocket and crawled along the floor, which is how I finally found her. She was unconscious but, thankfully, breathing. When I rolled her over, at first she seemed unharmed, but then I brushed her hair away and saw it: The skin was already black and blistering. Fire had scorched half of her face.

The rest was a blur. I remember I carried her out of the building and into the arms of a firefighter. “Help her, please.”