Maybe Fate: A Novel (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (22 page)

I
only shook my head, hands clenched at my hips.

Mr.
Birch—Wallace—no, neither of those were his name—moved
forward on confident feet. Seeing him move my way, it gave me enough
energy to put another foot behind me.

Gently,
the tome was placed on the bench. In an easy dip, he bent low to the
ground; wide palms scooping up the body of the bird I'd accidentally
killed.

Around
him, the air shimmered. It was subtle, like heat waves, except we
were standing under the dark sky of chilly October.

The
pit in my stomach grew, my hair standing on end so fiercely it
ached. I didn't know what I expected, but when the sparrow shifted,
warbled, then sat up in his hands...

Gasping,
I covered my mouth, like I might speak and ruin the miracle.
Bristling its feathers, the bird chirped. Fast as a blink, it
flitted off into the air, vanishing into the trees.

Watching
me from his dark eyes, he stood with a level of self-possessed
dignity. Looking up at him, into that intense face, the set of his
jaw, I couldn't bite back the name bubbling up in me any longer.

I
knew who he was.

“
Corpse
King.” The title fell from my mouth, echoing in my ears.

He
flinched, smooth forehead turning to deep furrows. “A name
that implies unfortunate things. Please, call me Valenforth.”

So,
Wallace isn't good enough anymore,
I
thought in a moment of clear, surprising cynicism. I couldn't keep
myself steady enough to find much humor, though. “You're one
of the three sources.”

“
I
am,” he agreed, inclining his head. Cocking his head, he eyed
the black tome where it rested on the bench to our left. “So
you did figure out who I was.”

“
Only
now,” I admitted, voice hushed. “I—I knew there
were bigger twaelin, guys running things, but I didn't know you...
never suspected
you
were...”

That
last part wasn't entirely true. I had, after all, wondered why he
had given me the book. Why he'd known about the twaelin at all.

I'd
expected to have sensed he was one before, though. Seething with a
hunger for answers, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Why
did I only sense you now? Why never before?”

Shrugging,
he looked at me rather sympathetically. “I'm unsure. I
couldn't say what it even is about you that allows you to feel us
out at all.” Chuckling, he slid one foot closer. On reaction,
I took one step away. “You're a mystery, Gale Everette. One
that I admit I am very curious about.”

“
Stay
back,” I hissed, noticing how dead the park was with the
threatening rain clouds above.

Amazingly,
he stopped his pursuit. “I won't hurt you, Gale. Why would I?”

“
No
idea, do you need a reason?”

His
face lit up, like I'd made a joke. “I prefer to have a reason
for anything I do, in fact.” Squinting at me, he held up his
hands as a sign of peace. “I'm not trying to frighten you. I'm
only... excited. I already told you, you're a mystery to me. I can't
emphasize enough how strange that is.”

“
A
mystery,” I repeated, shaking my head in frustration. “You're
one of the top guys, right?”

“
Correct.”

“
Then,
how can even
you
not know why you're watching me? What are you expecting from me?”
My voice was getting louder, the bundled up distress at these
creatures forcing their way into my life finally hitting the
ceiling.

Here
was someone who was supposed to be the top of whatever hierarchy,
and even to him, I was just an anomaly?

Valenforth
looked pointedly into my eyes, anticipation building in the heat of
his words. “Gale, I'm expecting something amazing from you.
Whatever it is that makes you able to sense us, whatever energy or
power you have, I believe it's growing.”

“
Growing?”
I asked, hardly audible.

“
Yes,
or waking,” he said, eyes lighting with wild excitement, a
look that sent my anxiety soaring. “Whatever you wish to call
it, it's gaining momentum. You're going to do something fantastic,
Gale. I don't know what it is yet, but I have a feeling, a true
feeling, that it will change everything as we know it.”

Sweat
coated my palms, I didn't waste time wiping them on my pants. “Why,
why me? I'm just... I'm no one! Nothing about me is special!”

His
laugh sent chills straight to the base of my skull. “Something
about you is.” His tone rolled, smooth as silk as he leaned
in. “In the end, the why of it won't matter. The results will.
Aren't you curious to see what those will be?”

“
No,”
I said quickly.

He
bowed his head, empathy sinking into his voice. “That is very
unfortunate. I'm not sure it's something that can be stopped, now.
Not with someone like Canendore involved.”

“
Nethiun's
Mistress,” I said, watching him for a reaction. There wasn't
one. Pressing on, digging for what I could get, my jaw was set in a
hard line. “Ethlyn, he told me something similar. He said she
was bad news, that Nethiun was, too. Is that... is that all true?”

Considering
me a moment, he glanced back at the book. “You read what was
in there, about the twaelin. Yes?”

My
mind flashed with the imagery of the dark, ink-washed drawing of the
demonic visage attacking the human. “I did.”

“
Then,”
he said quietly, turning away in one smooth motion, “use that
information. It exists for a reason. The Queen of Dreams is a wicked
woman, and Nethiun lacks the moral compass you might think is
natural, being a human. But they are not human, remember that.”

My
intuition buzzed, warning me he was leaving. “Wait! Hold on, I
still have questions! If you're telling me to look out for
Canendore, are you on Ethlyn's side?”

To
his credit, Valenforth paused, looking back at me with a mild smile.
“I don't mind answering questions. I told you, I don't want
harm to come to you. I'm on your side, and yes, Ethlyn and I are
working together.”

Thinking
about what the gold-eyed twaelin had told me earlier, I felt a
flicker of suspicion. “Does that mean he's your slave?”

The
Corpse King chuckled, enough that I found myself turning beet red
under his amused stare. “My slave? In a sense, he is...
However, the ones created by source twaelin are called 'servants,'
if you must call them anything.”

“
Servants,”
I mused, making sure to remember that.

“
Anything
else?” he asked, tilting his head back to observe the clouds.
“I'm afraid to say I have some things to attend to, so—”

“
Can
you tell me who the other one is,” I said, desperate to put
the last piece into my puzzle. “The Duke of Creation? I know
you, and the Queen of Dreams.”
I
haven't met the Queen of Dreams in person, at least, not that I know
of.
“He's
all that's left.”

Valenforth
was quiet, hard eyes stuck on me, unblinking for an uncomfortable
length of time. I resisted cracking the silence, forcing myself to
be patient.

Opening
his mouth, the corners digging down into a frown, he spoke. “On
that, I can't help you. The Duke of Creation, like all of us source
twaelin, has always kept to himself. I haven't seen him in many,
many years.”

“
Well,
then tell me what he looks like, at least?”

“
Twaelin
are changelings,” he murmured, gesturing again at the book.

Petulant
shame tugged at me, making me want to defend myself, how I'd
actually read that in the book. Instead, I just kicked at the
ground.

“
Whatever
he looked like in the past would be useless to know, now.” he
said, peeking back at me. “We can alter our appearance if we
must.”

There,
I spotted a flicker of something, as if he wanted to expand on that.
Instead, he showed me his back. “We'll talk again, soon. For
now, be careful. Remember what Ethlyn and myself have said about
Nethiun and his Mistress.” In a flash of rippling lines, the
walls of reality itself seeming to split before me, he was gone.

Waiting
for him to return, not convinced he wasn't about to, I stood there
for uncountable minutes. Eventually, I let myself breathe easier.

That
really just happened.

He'd
appeared, a vision from a nightmare, then given me some answers I'd
been craving.

Also
answers I wanted to wash away.
Nethiun,
lacking morals? I know he isn't human, but Valenforth and Ethlyn
have now both made it clear I should avoid him entirely.

Who
do I believe?

I
quickly snatched the thick book off the bench. Digging out the
notebook paper I'd scribbled the seals of the twaelin on, I sat down
and hurried to write some notes.

Before
I forget, before I can't make sense of this.

When
I was done, I'd added some names to my drawing. It now had a line
branching off of the Queen of Dreams tree with the name 'Nethiun' at
the end of it. I did the same for Valenforth's, writing down
'Ethlyn' with a frown.

Now,
if I just knew who the Duke of Creation was, and if they have a
servant, too.

Nodding
to myself, determined to figure this mystery out, I folded the paper
into a nice square. Then, assuming the book would be mine for as
long as I wished to keep it, I stuck my notes between the old pages.

If
he wanted it back, he wouldn't have left it with me.

Burying
it in my backpack, I hooked it over my shoulder and set off with a
resolute skip in my stride.

If
I could find out this much, the real answer at the end of this
quagmire couldn't be impossible to grasp.

Nethiun

I
wasn't okay with having left Gale alone for so long. Especially not
after seeing how bold the Corpse King was getting by sending Ethlyn
straight into the fold.

However,
when I'd returned to talk to my Mistress, she had instructed me to
tell her in detail the entire course of the evening at that club.

When
I'd finished, she'd made me kneel as she mulled over the information
for hours. Hours had turned into an entire day, a thing that, in the
past, might have flown by for me.

Now,
I had a hard time not fidgeting.

Finally,
she had waved me off and told me to continue on as I had been.