Seducing Destiny (Brothers of Fate Book 2) (5 page)

“And?” It took effort for Blake to form the single word.

“Look at the birth dates on them.” Marley prompted.

Nothing stood out, except that they’d all been born during harvest season. A whisper of memory tickled his thoughts. A notion from decades ago tensed through his muscles and throbbed in his head. There was a reason he’d shoved that bit of his past aside, though he couldn’t recall what that reason was. He didn’t have the patience for this. If his past insisted on haunting him so completely, he’d like to know why sooner rather than later. “Just tell me what I’m supposed to be seeing.”

She twisted her mouth and raised her brows. “Fine. They were all born on their calendar’s fall solstice. They’ve got other similarities. They were born in foreign countries—to their parents anyway—but raised back home. They were all still single, disgracefully so I’d assume, when they turned thirty. And they all had birthmarks on their hips. Apparently at one point you or someone you knew thought that was relevant, because since Grace, you’ve been keeping a list of everyone who met those specific criteria.”

“It sounds vaguely familiar.” It sounded intensely familiar. A ghost he’d chased almost a century ago. An obsession he’d forced himself to abandon, when he realized he could spend the rest of eternity chasing the phantom, and it still wouldn’t change the past. A grief-induced dream he’d walked away from, in order to carry on. “But we gave that up.”

“You may have, but someone kept searching.” Marley’s voice dropped in volume. “Look at the last document in there.”

He flipped to the photocopy of a more recent birth certificate. From Canada.

Lucinda Beth Tansey.

Born September 23, 1985.

Distinguishing marks: oddly shaped birthmark on the left hip.

He looked back at Marley.

“That’s why her name is on a list,” Marley said. “And she’s the only person in almost seventy years.”

Fuck. Damn it. “Fuck it all to Hel”. He didn’t know how to process the information, but that didn’t stop dread and undirected fury from spilling through him.

“There’s more.” Marley pulled her phone from her back pocket and swiped the screen to unlock it. A paused video waited, and she clicked it to start it playing.

Blake watched, rage growing, as images of Luci’s apartment burning played behind a reporter’s head. The man droned on about how an explosion had rocked the building early that evening, and while the police weren’t releasing any information at this time, there were rumors of a terrorist attack. He said their sources inside the Salt Lake Sheriff’s department were certain nothing but a bomb could have caused that level of destruction.

A bomb or a pissed off god. The thought bounced in Blake’s head.

The office door creaked open, and Marley’s spun on her toe at the same time Blake’s head shot up. Luci stood in the doorway, his shirt hanging halfway down her thighs, over her ripped jeans. She looked gorgeous and concerned and so very fragile. How was he going to explain this?

*

Luci hovered outside the door. From the tour Blake gave her earlier, she knew it led to his office. Two voices floated out—she assumed the two she’d heard through the vents upstairs. Blake, and if she was hearing right, Marley. There was also a muffled noise she couldn’t make out, like conversation coming through a tiny speaker.

“That’s why her name is on a list. And she’s the only person in almost seventy years.”

“Fuck it all to hell.” That would be Blake. Even muffled, his voice was distinct.

Should she knock? Walk away? She definitely shouldn’t eavesdrop.

“There’s more,” Marley said.

And then silence. Awkward curiosity trickled through Luci, until she couldn’t sit still anymore. She knocked, but there was no answer. She turned the knob and pushed gently.

Blake and Marley both twisted toward her, tearing their attention from a phone in Marley’s hand. Marley turned her gaze to the carpet, and a scowl marred Blake’s expression.

“Did I miss something?” Luci asked. What was meant to be a light-hearted question, came out as a soft, cautious squeak.

Marley looked at her, brow furrowed and eyes turned down at the corners. “I’m sorry.”

“We should do this somewhere else.” Blake stepped around her and rested a hand at Luci’s elbow.

Luci stepped away from his touch, hating her body for betraying her by reacting to the gentle warmth. “Where?”

“The den.”

She followed him down the hall to a room at the back of the house. Unlike the sitting room, which felt sterile and ancient, this entire place radiated Blake’s presence. A single recliner sat near the doorway, remotes on the table next to it, and a large screen TV covered most of the far wall. “Have a seat,” he said.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “I’m fine here.” If she didn’t feel the cold, she was afraid the heat from her dream might consume her. That, and despite her brain’s attempts to sabotage her, she wasn’t forgetting why she needed to keep her distance from Blake. Secrets. She wouldn’t live with secrets.

“Suit yourself.” The strain in his voice defied the casual words. He grabbed a remote, and seconds later the TV flickered on. Channels surfed past, until he landed on a news station. The video to the side of the anchorman showed her apartment building, burning bright and spewing smoke into the night sky.

Acid surged in her throat, as the man on TV rambled on about what little they knew. She hugged herself tighter, and her legs wobbled before she gave up trying to support herself and sank to the ground.

“Luci?” Blake’s concern barely nudged the edges of her clouded nausea.

“Why is this happening?” She heard her own voice, though she didn’t remember saying the words.

Blake crouched in front of her, his face distinct despite the disorientation jumbling her thoughts. His expression conveyed concern, and his tone was sympathetic. “I think a better question is, who are you?”

“I’m nobody.” Luci’s voice barely reached her own ears. She didn’t mean it in a self-effacing way. She honestly didn’t understand why any of these people—creatures?—were interested in her at all. “I’m just a computer programmer, who needs work.” In the background, the newscaster droned on about how the blast had been localized but the fire spread quickly. Some tenants were successfully evacuated, but they didn’t have a death count yet.

Death count. People had lost their lives because of her? She was going to be sick. She swallowed back the bile and tried to breathe deeply. It didn’t work. Her pulse hammered in her chest. What if she’d been there still? At least she wouldn’t have to deal with this guilt. What if they—whoever they were—came after her here or wherever she went next? Was this the rest of her life? She gasped, unable to get enough oxygen. She didn’t know what to do.

“Luci, stop.” Blake’s firm words shattered her welling panic. He rested a hand on her arm. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Bullshit, it’s not,” she said. He didn’t know what he was talking about. He was one of them, and when someone had immortality, how could they care for a human life? The thought added more guilt to the pile growing inside her. That wasn’t fair, and thinking it didn’t help her feel any better, but she wanted it to.

Marley knelt next to her and draped an arm around her shoulders. “Hey. What can I do?”

“Bring them back. Make that not happen.” Luci nodded at the TV. “You’re a god, right? Give those people their lives back.”

“I’m sorry, that’s not something I can do. I’m one now. I wasn’t a year ago.” The gentleness in Marley’s tone overlapped the concern on Blake’s face, as he watched, silent. “So I know what you’re going through.”

She had no idea what Luci was going through, unless she’d watched random people die because of her. Luci swallowed the bitter retort. Reason was slinking past the grief, and pointing this out wasn’t going to accomplish anything. “Then no. There’s nothing you can do.”

“If you’re sure…”

Blake stood and offered Marley a hand up. “Thanks for the information. I’ve got the rest handled.”

Marley stepped from the room but returned seconds later. She handed Luci a piece of paper with a phone number on it. “If you need someone to talk to, who understands what it’s like to be mortal”—Marley cast a glare at Blake—“call me. Wake me up. I don’t care when it is.”

“Thank you.” Luci forced a smile onto her lips.

*

Blake didn’t like Marley’s implication he was incapable of understanding, but he knew why she’d thought it. He let her see herself to the door, knowing she wouldn’t be offended. His priority right now was Luci. Except, as with so many times in the last twenty-four hours, he wasn’t sure what to say. Luci’s grief combined with Marley’s revelation—the reminder of what he’d discovered almost a century ago.

When he met Grace, things were too similar to this. Too many pieces clicked into place. He’d figured out before Morrigan got to her that she was a reincarnation of Sayuri, just as Elizabeth had been. His knowledge hadn’t been enough to save her, though. When he’d lost Grace, the spiral he slid into almost destroyed him. He’d forced himself to lock away the notion of ever seeing her in another body again, mostly so he could move on with eternity.

This couldn’t be her, though. Fate wouldn’t give him back the woman he loved a fourth time. He’d lost his chance a little more each time he tried to protect her. Even only knowing Luci for a day, he couldn’t imagine giving her up, despite the past, or the logic he tried to force on himself.

So he was either looking at destiny again, or his obsession had reached new, insane levels. Not reassuring, either way.

Luci met his gaze, and her laugh sounded forced. “Do I have something on my face?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have stared so long. “No.” He helped her to her feet. “Just grief.” If it was her, how was he supposed to tell her? And what if he told her, and it wasn’t true—or worse, she decided she was done with this insanity and left? That might be for the best. At least she could get out before she lost her life again. “Come on.” He guided her toward the recliner, sat in the chair, and tugged her to him.

She hesitated for the briefest moment, then slid into his lap and buried her head in his chest. “This doesn’t change
anything
.” Her words were muffled by his shirt.

“I know.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her. Silence settled in, and they sat like that as the minutes ticked toward an hour. Her weight, her warmth—it all felt so right. “You wanted to know about my past. About the women I’ve loved before.”

Her bitter chuckle shook her entire frame, but she didn’t pull away. “I’m responsible for an entire apartment building of people being exploded. They don’t even have a body count yet. That happened because of me, and you think telling me about your ex-girlfriends is the best way to take this conversation?”

She had a point, but he was running on instinct, and that rarely failed him. “First of all, what happened to your apartment isn’t because of you. You couldn’t have predicted or prevented it. Someone else made that decision. Don’t let the guilt destroy you. And second, they’re not ex-girlfriends; they’re wives.”

Her entire body froze in his arms. “Excuse me?”

If he overthought this, he’d talk himself out of it. Very little coming out of his mouth sounded rational, but he knew it was the right way to go. “I was married to each of them.”

“Oh, of course. That makes it all better. Awesome.” She sat up and shifted her weight.

He grabbed her wrist before she could leave, loosely enough she could break free if she wanted, but he hoped with enough force to convince her to stay. “I have a past. Everyone does. Pretending it doesn’t exist won’t make it go away.” She might just be proof of that. He didn’t want to hope, but couldn’t help himself. “Besides, you wanted to know who I am and who I’ve loved.”

She clenched her jaw and started at the floor, but she didn’t stand.

“You don’t have to listen,” he said. “But you should know, even though I remember them, they’re in my past.” Mostly. Was he stretching the truth too thin? “I’m here now, not there.”

She finally met his gaze. Red rimmed her eyes, though she hadn’t been crying, and dark circles lingered underneath. “What were their names? It had to hurt, watching them grow old and die. Except you didn’t. Did you?”

Was she guessing or...? “All three of them died within weeks of marrying me.” He didn’t talk about this with anyone. Even giving her the vaguest information unlocked more of himself than he liked to acknowledged. “Sayuri, Elizabeth, and Grace.”

“Beth,” she whispered. “That’s what you called her.”

A jolt ran through him. “Yes.” He summoned his restraint and pushed down the surging reaction. It could be a lucky guess. “Beth died because of me—they all did—so I know how you feel right now.” That was enough sharing. He needed to close the door on those thoughts before they consumed him with guilt and hope.

“How do you deal with it?” she asked.

Not very well. “I change the subject a lot.”

She leaned into him, head on his shoulder and fingers splayed over his heart. “In that case, tell me how Marley ascended. You’ve both said more than once she used to be human.”

He could do that. It might give him the segue he needed to tell her his theory about who she was. It might not, but it was a starting point and a distraction. “I told you there are all sorts of poems out there about the future of the world and the gods’ place in it. There’s one about my brothers and me, as well.”

“What does it say?”

“Eli’s stanza comes last, since he’s the youngest, but it played out first.” He recited the lines with little thought. “As you are, for all of time, to taste neither love nor death. When you find the one worth more than life, she’ll draw her last mortal breath.”

Luci shivered in his arms. “Creepy.”

“Not as much as it sounds, apparently. Marley died and then ascended. She’s immortal now. One of the first of the new gods.”

“You said brothers. How many of you are there?”

“Three.” And he really didn’t want to talk about the other one. At times it seemed as if saying Loki’s name summoned the asshole, and that was the last thing they needed. What were the odds she’d just gloss over it?

She traced lines over his chest, touch so light he barely felt it. “When do I get to meet the third?”

“I’m sure he’ll find a way to introduce himself.”