Strange Fates (Nyx Fortuna) (18 page)

“Can we take a break from all this Naomi worship?” I asked.

He looked around at the bare walls, the pile of stuff Ambrose had given me that I still hadn’t organized, and my packed duffel in the corner. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“You’re a funny guy,” I said.

“It wouldn’t take much to make it into something cool,” he said.

“I’m not big on interior design,” I said. I was trying to joke, but something in me resisted the idea of trying to make the apartment into anything besides a place to crash at night.

“No, I’m serious,” he said. “Let’s paint this place.”

I gave him a friendly shove. “Better than listening to you yammer on about young love.”

He finally convinced me. A trip to the hardware store later, I had picked out an ocean blue for my bedroom walls.

A couple of hours later, we had finished painting.

“It looks good,” Talbot said.

I stood back to get a better look. “It reminds me of Capri.” The thought sobered me. “Let’s get out of here,” I added. “Go do something.”

Talbot surveyed at our paint-splattered clothes and grimaced. “Mind if I clean up first? I’ll meet you back here in half an hour.”

We spent the evening at the Red Dragon, playing pool and drinking beer. It was around midnight when Talbot sank the last shot and won. Again.

“You know what you are?” Talbot asked. “A bad influence.”

“Me?” I repsonded with pretended outrage. “You just cleaned me out.”

“You know what we need? Eggs and bacon. Let’s go to Belle’s.”

“I could use some coffee,” I said. “And some food. Maybe it will help me sober up.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

Hell’s Belles was empty, but there were lights on. We slid into a booth, exchanging a look. It was a twenty-four-hour joint and there was usually someone around.

Bernie finally came out of the back. “What would you like?” she asked. She fidgeted with the ties of her apron.

“He needs about a gallon of coffee,” Talbot said.

Her smile was noticeably absent. “Anything else?”

“We need a few minutes,” Talbot said. He didn’t seem to notice Bernie’s odd behavior.

She came back with two cups and a carafe of coffee and put it on the table.

“What’s the deal with all the horseshoes?”

“What do ya have against horseshoes?” Bernie asked.

“Nothing,” I said mildly. “Just wondering why so many.”

“I like ’em,” the demon in woman’s clothing said. “Got a problem with that?”

The old Nyx would have been up and behind the counter, fists swinging. Instead, I shook my head. “Nope.”

Her face softened. “A horseshoe is a symbol of luck. There was a time I was sorely in need of some.”

“Luck? Sounds good.” Was she one of the few remaining Lady Fortuna worshippers or just superstitious?

“Now, what can I get you?”

I looked at Talbot in inquiry. “What do you recommend?” I’d been there before, but it was a habit not to reveal anything about myself.

He handed me an oversize paper menu that looked like a fifth grader had drawn the illustrations. “Work your way through the specials.”

I took his advice and ordered the blue plate special and another pot of coffee.

Bernie came back with my order, which turned out to be one perfect egg, crisp bacon, and buttery toast. But the unusual part was that the egg was served in its own brightly decorated shell.

“It’s too pretty to break.” I marveled at the delicately painted animals, gilded with touches of gold. “It reminds me of a Russian glass egg my mother used to have. She loved that egg.”

He gestured to my breakfast. “Eat your egg. It opens just there.”

I spooned some of the scrambled egg onto my plate, careful not to ruin the fragile shell. I asked Talbot, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

He avoided my eyes. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure? You always bring me here when you want to talk without being overheard.”

He shrugged. “It’s not important,” he said casually. “I was just wondering about your family.”

“I don’t have any.”

Talbot grabbed a pen and began to doodle on the paper place mat in front of him.

“Nobody? Where are you from anyway?”

Before I could answer, something lurched into the room. It was a thing of nightmares, rotting flesh, and graveyard stench. It moved swiftly for a dead thing and managed to wrap its corpse-cold hands around my neck.

Talbot broke a ketchup bottle over its skull, but it didn’t even slow it down. It swatted him away and he flew across the room.

Its grip was relentless and black spots swarmed in front of me, like pesky flies. I fumbled for the knife I kept in my boot.

I took aim at its upper arms, hacking away until its arm fell away and I could breathe again.

The thing slithered away, but trailed a dark noxious liquid as it went. Corroded blood.

The only sound I heard was my own wheezing. “What the hell was that thing?” I finally got out, but I knew what it was. A wraith, called by a necromancer to do his or her dirty work.

Talbot grabbed a hold of a bar stool and pulled himself up from the floor. “Bernie!” he bellowed, but there was no sign of her. We searched the entire restaurant, including the basement and the walk-in freezers, but she’d vanished.

After we’d cleaned up the blood, I sat in the booth, willing my legs to stop shaking.

“I thought you said you knew nothing of necromancy,” Talbot said.

“What are you talking about?”

“That’s an athame,” he said. “From the House of Hades.”

“A what?”

“A necromancer’s knife,” he replied. “Athames are used in rituals, but yours belonged to a necromancer.”

“How can you tell?”

“The obsidian handle, the engraving on the blade.”

“My mother gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday,” I said. “In a carved wooden box.”

His gaze sharpened. “Necromancers receive their first athame on their thirteenth birthday. It’s tradition.”

“My mother was not a necromancer,” I said.

“Do you have the box?”

“No, why do you ask?” I reached for my coffee, but it had gone cold. Some of the liquid sloshed from the cup. My mother had taught me much about magic, but she had brushed over the House of Hades and had never even mentioned necromancy. Or my father’s name. She’d always said I was better off not knowing, but now I had to know.

“I need to talk to your dad,” I said. I didn’t want to wait until morning.

Talbot trailed behind me as I left the diner and went straight for Eternity Road. Their apartment was dark, but I pounded on the door anyway. Talbot shoved me aside and unlocked it. Ambrose was in the hallway wearing pajamas and a scowl.

“I’m going to bed,” Talbot said tersely.

Ambrose was pissed off at me, but I had other things on my mind. “Do you know anything about my father?”

I watched him closely, looking for a reaction. A bland mask slipped over his face.

“Your father?”

“Yes, my father,” I replied. “Do you have any idea who he was?”

There was a telling silence while he struggled to think of something to say. Something I would believe. “Why do you ask?”

“I think you know something about him.”

“I know nothing,” he said.

“I read the book,” I said flatly. “Your novel.” I didn’t know who my father was. My mother had never told me his name, only that she loved him, but it wasn’t meant to be. Ambrose’s book told another story.

He flinched, but his face didn’t reveal his thoughts. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Right up until it disappeared,” I said. I’d torn the apartment apart looking for it, but it was gone. Ambrose had keys to my place, but why would he take it?

“That’s unfortunate,” he replied.

“Cut the bullshit,” I said. “You wrote a thinly veiled story of my family. So which one were you? The dumped fiancé or the one who got her?”

He met my gaze. “The dumped fiancé,” he said. “So you’ll understand why I’m reluctant to discuss your father, since he betrayed me and stole the woman I loved.”

“Is that why you’ve been so nice to me? To get your revenge?”

My question enraged him. I could see it in his eyes, but he only gave me a tight smile. “I befriended you because you are the son of the woman I loved. You look so much like her that it hurts. You remind me of all that I have lost and why.”

What could I say to his controlled summary of a lifetime of pain? I should have dropped it, let him lick his wounds in private.

My throat closed, but I pressed on. “He sounds like a monster,” I finally said.

Ambrose shook his head. “He wasn’t,” he said simply. “That made it all the worse. Didn’t your mother ever speak of him?”

“Only to say that he had abandoned us,” I told him.

“There is more to him than that.”

“Is?” I’d never in a million years thought that my father might be alive.

“I have every reason to believe that he is in this world somewhere,” he replied.

“Back up a minute,” I said. “You and my dad knew my mother and you’re both still alive?”

“Did you think you were the only one who has lived a long life?”

What was he getting at? “You’re immortal?” I asked, stunned. I thought I was the only immortal on the planet. The Wyrd Sisters served as Fates for around five hundred years, but I knew they died. My mother was proof of that. Aunt Decima, for example, seemed to be perilously close to death, and she hadn’t even finished her time as a Fate. Fates, like other magical creatures, could be killed. Who would take over for Decima if she died? Naomi had only mentioned one cousin, but shouldn’t there be three of them waiting in the wings to take over the family business?

He surveyed me for a long moment. “My poor Nyx,” he finally said. “I am not immortal. Only the gods are immortal. But those who are descendants of the gods, basically anyone with an ounce of magical blood, live much longer than regular mortals.”

I digested the information.

“What happened after you and my mom broke up?”

“She married your father and I never heard from her again.”

“Never?”

“Never.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “But I recognized you the minute you walked into my store. You have her eyes.”

He was the only other person I’d ever met who had loved my mother as much as I did. I could see it in his face. But she hadn’t loved him back.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Talbot and I had quickly developed a ritual. I’d walk the five blocks to Hell’s Belles to get two large black coffees, which were served in Styrofoam cups. My boss would be expecting his coffee before work, no matter how poorly I’d slept the night before.

Bernie would always see me coming and have my order ready by the time I walked through the door. The coffee was so hot that it was like drinking lava.

But today, there was no sign of Bernie. Had the wraith attacked her or was Bernie in on it? A woman I’d never seen working there took my order. She brought back my coffee, but seemed slow to actually hand it over.

I took out my wallet. “Where’s Bernie today?” I hoped that the thing that had tried to strangle me hadn’t eaten her.

A little coffee sloshed out and splashed her hand, but she didn’t even wince. “She took a vacation day.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” I said.

“It’s nothing,” she replied, but I could see her hand was red and sore looking.

I took the coffee from her and set it down. “Here, let me have a look.”

The pain radiated from her eyes, but she refused to admit it. A simple spell relieved the worst of the pain and she didn’t even notice that I’d done it. At least that’s what I assumed.

“It feels better now,” she said. “Thank you.”

I paid for the coffee and left. I had dismissed the incident from my mind by the time I got to Eternity Road and handed Talbot his coffee.

He started to bring it to his lips, but his hand stopped halfway there. He sniffed it delicately and frowned. “Did you drink this?”

“Why would I drink your coffee?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass,” he replied. “Did you drink your coffee?” He snatched the cup out of my hand.

“No, I was kind of lost in thought and forgot,” I told him. “Besides, you know how Bernie’s coffee is, hotter than hell.”

“Bernie was there?”

His questions were oddly specific and I realized something was up. “No,” I said. “She wasn’t. What’s going on, Talbot?”

“The coffee has been poisoned,” he replied flatly.

“You’re joking,” I said. I held up my cup and took a cautious sniff. “It smells okay to me.”

“Careful!” The look on his face convinced me.

“Is everyone in Minneapolis trying to kill me?” I put the coffee down very carefully. “There was this new server there,” I told Talbot. “She burned her hand. I’d recognize her if I saw her again.”

“Let’s go,” he said. He carried the cups of the tainted brew to his office and then we walked to Hell’s Belles.

“Nyx, we missed you this morning,” Bernie greeted me. “You didn’t come in at your usual time this morning.”

“Bernie, you’re okay!” I said.

She shot me a puzzled look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Nothing unusual happened to you the other night?” I pursued.

“Not a thing,” she said. She didn’t meet my eyes, though.

“Any new hires?” Something was definitely up.

Bernie shook her head. “I’ve had the same workers for years. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” I replied. “Could we get the usual to go?”

She nodded and went to get our drinks.

I scanned the waitstaff, but I didn’t see the server who’d poisoned our coffee.

Talbot gave me an inquiring look. I shook my head. “No sign of her.”

“How did she manage to slip the poison into the coffee?” A cute server walked by and Talbot lost his train of thought.

We took the second order and departed. As soon as we were out of sight, I held up the cup. “Do you think it’s safe to drink?”

He shrugged. “Probably.” He sniffed the coffee, then took a sip, so I thought it was safe.

By the time we made it back to the Eternity Road, Talbot had finished his coffee, but I hadn’t touched mine. He gave me an amused glance. “Feeling a bit skittish?”