Twisted Games: The Fate Trilogy, #2

Prologue

All traces of my enemy’s blood washed off my skin when I dove underneath the ocean’s crest. I swam down until I couldn't see the moon’s glow. Eclipsed in darkness, my memory guided me to a labyrinth of caves—Niran Caverns. When I broke surface, I treaded water in a pool. Light shone through the cracks of the earthy ceiling. Dew collected on the iridescent rock walls. The rocks changed colors, depending on the season. In the summertime, they were dark violet, whereas they turned turquoise in the winter. They frequently altered hues since the seasons of Elysia could change in minutes rather than years. Currently, the rocks were lavender in color. It complimented the Prophet’s midnight-blue dress.

My sister, the Prophet, stood on the cave’s ledge. Her wavy, russet-colored hair spilled onto her narrow shoulders. Her willowy figure made her appear fragile, but she didn’t have a matching personality. Her delicate facial features were beautiful, except for the thread of life—symbolized as a scar—that twirled around the corner of her eye. Sometimes I pitied her for the facial deformity, but it caused her no concern. Only we goddesses, the Fate Sisters, could see the threads of life.

My younger sister, the Cutter, sat beside her. She kicked the water and giggled as the water splashed me. Even though it was annoying, I admired her ability to keep her childlike happiness. Her black hair fell haphazardly over her eyes, for it was chopped sporadically. She never could decide what length she wanted her hair to be, so she cut it every length.

Swimming to the edge, I complained for the umpteenth time about having to swim to the Niran Caverns. If we widened a gap on the stony surface we wouldn’t have to get wet every time we entered our underground home! I hated being wet and cold.

Mimicking our older sister’s response to my complaints, the Cutter said, One day, you’ll find comfort the remote entrance offers, as well as its isolated refuge.

I coughed to cover my chuckle. Encouraging the Cutter to taunt our older sister was not wise. The Prophet’s wrath rarely outshined mine, but she was fierce.  The Prophet grabbed my hand and helped me out of the water. When I was on dry land, she turned my wrist over and inspected it. She acted like she could still see the blood on my skin.

You cannot continue to fight them, Chronicler! It alters their destiny, the Prophet said, dropping my hand.

"It is my right to alter their destiny, especially when they challenge me, I said, squeezing my dress. Water dripped down my legs and pooled at my feet. The last fool blitz-attacked me with a three-pronged sword."

You wacked Poseidon? the Cutter asked, excitedly.

Shaking my head, "The infamous trident has influenced weaponry design, but it wasn’t Poseidon who challenged me." 

You egged on the less powerful gods when you vowed to grant their deepest desire if they were willing to kill you, the Prophet said, dismissively.

The Elysian flowing in my veins is the source of my crafts, or supernatural abilities. One of my crafts allows me to grant someone’s deepest desires. For this inane reason, I’ve fought countless melees.

It was also well known that I’d only grant their desires if they were willing to kill me. It’s not like I make it easy for them.

What happens if you die? the Prophet asked.

Then I’ll be dead and you’ll be in charge of everyone’s fate, I said, shivering as I stood in the puddle of water.

I rubbed my arms and hoped she got the hint that I was miserably cold. Turning away, the Prophet led us to our living quarters. The Cutter tagged long and jumped on every crack in the stones. She sang merrily about breaking backs.

Smoke rose from the blazing fire pit in the common area. It scudded along the ceiling and seeped into the cracks in the stone. On the surface above, the smoke mixed with ash and steam created from a nearby archaic volcano.

You can’t tell me I have to stop fighting, I said as I warmed my hands by the flames. This argument was far from over.

My older sister looked at me like I was a child, a look I reserved for humans and young deities. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when the light behind her eyes flashed, and I knew she was seeing into the future. A few seconds later, she rubbed her temple and frowned. The image must not have been a pleasant one.

She kneeled down beside me and held my hand. She traced my thread of life, a scar that wrapped around my smallest finger, went up my arm and my shoulder before it branched off into three distinct lines on my back.

If you swear to put down your weapons, I promise that you’ll find a new meaning to life. She spoke these words as if it were the deepest darkest secret she’d ever shared. You’ll learn what it really means to love another.

I’d fallen for others before, but it certainly hadn’t been life altering.

I wouldn’t agree to her proposition, Chronicler, the Cutter said in a singsong manner as she poked the fire with a stick.

Coals tumbled out of the fire pit. The Prophet grabbed the Cutter’s stick and scowled at her. The Cutter rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. Not discouraged from playing, the Cutter held up her fingers beside the fire. The light cast shadows onto the walls. The Cutter giggled with delight when she made a shadow-bunny hop.

You’ll find a new meaning to life, but I must warn you—there will come a time you regret feeling an ounce of love, the Prophet said. It will blind you, making you susceptible to foolish decisions. Your enemies will use it against you.

Love is foolish, I agreed. But certainly it couldn’t have repercussions as devastating as my sister predicted.

Love makes you blind, she said.

She had no idea what I saw with my eyes. As Chronicler, I saw into people’s past. Their history predicted untold futures. As a Fate Sister, I could meddle with anyone’s destiny. I laughed, "Fine, I’ll lay down my sword, as it were, if you show me a meaningful life."

CHAPTER ONE

If I closed my eyes and listened to Jace’s heartbeat, I could pretend that I wasn’t trapped in an icy prison. I could pretend that I hadn’t been betrayed. I could hold onto the hope that my crown would be waiting for me when I returned to Elysia. But, I couldn’t escape my reality, no matter how hard I tried.

Fantasy would have to wait, for even with closed eyes I saw the painful truth. I’d been banished to the Bastille Island—a remote, snow-capped, mountainous prison.

Just a little longer, dearest, Jace whispered, sensing my distress. He rubbed his thumb over my little finger as he walked me to the mountain’s edge. Icebergs floated in the bitter cold water fifty feet below us. When the sun meets the sea, you’ll see a flash. That is when you’ll need to jump. The current will bring you back to Elysia, if you survive the fall.

Then you’ll be trapped in this arctic hell!

In order for me to be free, someone had to take my place on the Bastille Island. There was only one code here: someone must stay to pay the price for the crime.

Your sister promised to wait for your arrival, Jace said. Before I could argue, he told me his decision was non-negotiable. I would die if I stayed on the island much longer. I’m immortal. I’ll survive. You won’t, not anymore. It’s that simple.

You’re immortal, not invincible.

What I am is in love with you, Jace said. I’d die a thousand deaths if it meant you didn’t have to suffer.

Unable to bear the sorrow in his chocolate brown eyes, I looked at the horizon. Faint blues and a splash of lavender were the only colors decorating the skyline. White snowflakes twirled around the glaciers, shimmering in the falling sun’s light. The frosty air froze me from the inside out with each breath. I clutched Jace’s shirt and cherished the warmth from his body heat. I memorized the way he felt in my arms. Nevertheless, our time was ticking away. The sun was only seconds from kissing the horizon.

If you’ll still have me after you get the answers to all the questions you didn’t ask last night, I’ll watch over you until the end of time. Jace said.

I might have only shared one year with him, but it’d been the greatest year of my life. He lifted my chin. My frosty lips instantly warmed when I tasted his affection. The good-bye kiss rendered me defenseless. He could ask anything of me and I’d give it to him.

I wanted to promise him my heart; I wanted to tell him how I felt. However, when I took a breath of air, all the poetry vanished from my tongue. How could I explain how deeply I cared for him in a few, short words?

A sunburst flashed. Heaven kissed Hades. Our time had run out. Before I jumped, I told him that I would find a way to free him.

When suppressed memories like this arctic one surfaced, I was left jaded. Overcome with a falling sensation, the strength in my legs dissipated. I collapsed onto my bedroom floor. Until I met Jace Eatros, a healing god amongst unaware mortals, I thought the segmented memories were prescient. It was only recently that I found out they are recollections from my past life—a life I had as a Fate Sister. Centuries ago, I was a powerful deity—a goddess.

Through a series of unfortunate events, I’d become ‘immortal-impaired.’ I grew old. However, Jace’s deepest desire was that I would be reborn as I once was—a goddess. I could only alter fate if he was willing to kill me. He was, but only because he loved me. Our past was a little twisted.

Picking me up from behind, Jace wrapped his arms around my waist and helped me stand. I covered my face with my hands. I was supposed to be this goddess who chronicled the past, yet I couldn’t recall my own.

What did you remember, Gwyneth?

My memories are like shattered glass. I can only see pieces, I said. The divine sound that reverberated from my voice now compared to the other deities. My proverbial voice was unfamiliar, yet still sounded vaguely familiar. Since Jace returned my Elysian, I’d undergone many physical and chimerical changes.

Like my voice, my sight was restored...sort of. Deities were vibrant colors, whereas the humans and inanimate objects were still dull gray. I couldn’t distinguish hues, unless the person was of supernatural origin. Even Hunters—a descendant of a deity and a human—were colored in pastels.

There’s no need to worry about your past life. Not tonight, Jace said, sympathetically. One day you’ll see everything clearly, but first you have to open your eyes.

He took my hands and lowered them. Our reflection showed in the mirror above my dresser. Captivated by the god holding me, I didn’t bother to look at myself. The golden hue in his hair shimmered. If it were possible to harness the sun’s glow and melt its radiance, Jace’s dark hair would highlight like that. His hair fell over his chocolate-brown eyes. A jagged scar cut into his otherwise perfectly tanned skin below his left eye. His lips—oh, his lips beckoned me in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. I lost all ability to complete a thought when I fantasized about his kiss.

My pale complex looked even lighter compared to his tanned skin. His form-fitting clothes accentuated his muscular physique. However, the most enchanting part of his chiseled body was the thin, string-like scar that twisted around his thumb and up his arm—his thread of life. When I traced it, I felt less broken.

Similar to his thread of life, mine wrapped around my pinky finger and continued up my arm. Instead of stopping on my forearm like his, it went up my shoulder, branched down my back, and split into three lines on my back.

Jace once told me that I see what others couldn’t. At the time I didn’t know what he’d been hinting about. Now, I understood. I could watch their past, if I touched their thread of life with mine.

You’re not here in this moment with me, are you? Jace asked, studying my reflection in the mirror.

Guilty, I said, smiling apologetically.

Then I need to try harder to gain your attention.

A moan slipped from his throat after he took a deep breath and smelled my hair. He spoke in a telepathic dialect that only deities could hear and speak, which I had yet to comprehend how to do. As he rattled off a sting of soundless words, his grin deepened.

What did you say? I asked.

Your beauty could end wars, he said. His gaze flickered to the door. His demeanor changed from romantic to solicitous. Your foster father is getting impatient. Perhaps we should grab that blanket you wanted and get back downstairs before John suspects us of more intimate activity, shall we?

His smirk widened when I blushed. Intimate activity was exactly what I had in mind when I suggested that we grab the extra blanket from my bed. Jace wasn’t naive. He could sense my emotions. When deities have strong feelings, the object of their desire feels it. Towering over me, his influence washed over me. I welcomed being overshadowed if I meant I got to taste his kiss.

I’d hate to get in trouble, I said.

Trouble finds us because we’re foolish, Gwyneth, he said, but made no attempt for the door.

I’ve never claimed to be wise.

My body rocked as a tidal wave of his craze was released and washed over me. His need burned with mine like a violent eruption. I wanted him in ways I imagined at night when I couldn’t fall asleep. I wanted him in the ways I assumed I once had, in my former life. I wanted him so desperately. I thought I might go insane if I was forced to look at him and not touch. He was meant to be touched—everywhere.

In my mind, he whispered words that I couldn’t understand, but they tasted like syrup on my tongue. It was smoother than the French words I tried to learn; it was sexier than an Australian accent; it was more compelling than a British intonation. It was  as bewitching as listening to a Spaniard roll their R’s. His voice was romantically deafening, for everything fell silent when he spoke. It might have been the mystery of what he was saying, or that his deep, alluring voice drowned out the rest of the world, but I’d be happy to listen to him for the rest of my life. A sound came from my throat that I hadn’t known I could make.

When you whimper, I’m tempted to lock us in your bedroom and not come out for days, Jace said in a strained voice.

I stood on my tip-toes, hoping to close the impossibly long distance between our lips. Listening to my body language, he slid his nose along my cheek. Our lips were so unbearably close, but he refused to close the gap. I couldn’t stand it. I reached up and yanked down on his hair so there would be nothing separating us. 

He pulled away before our lips met. Coldness eclipsed me since I was no longer in his embrace. He looked me up and down before releasing a forced breath.

Kiss me, I said. My voice was rough and desperate.

And, ruin your New Year’s Kiss? He asked, and then smirked in the infuriating way only he could pull off and still look undeniably risqué.

The clock doesn’t have to strike midnight for me to see the fireworks. I see them when I look into your eyes.

You once spoke like words were meant to be sung, not spoken, he said, and walked backwards. Your poetry is returning.

I thought I was this big, bad god-queen and you had to do what I asked, I said, reaching for his shirt. I bunched it up in my hand and pulled down so we were eye level.

Aye, you are many things, ocean eyes, but, I cannot ruin the New Year’s Kiss. I have something special planned.

Planned? I asked at the same moment Martha, my foster-mother, called up the stairs. She wanted to know what was taking so long.

Jace pried my fingers from his shirt. I knew I should let him go, but I just couldn’t. I never wanted to be apart from him again. He had protected me for centuries, and then he waited for my return. He groaned when I thought about the strength that had to take. Centuries passed and yet his disposition never faltered. He never stopped loving me. Centuries lapsed since I’d been his, but it wasn’t taking nearly that long for me to fall for him...again.

You make it difficult for me to leave, when you look at me like that, Jace said, closing his eyes. But you’ll ruin your surprise if you insist that I show you just how bad I want you right now.

Show me how much you love me, Jace.

Soon, he said, forcefully.

He turned and walked out of my room and down the stairs. I grabbed the blanket and ran after him. Martha met me at the steps. She looked like I’d always envisioned. She was a tall, slender woman who wore cat glasses. I could also see her thread of life. It was a faint mark on her wrist, which was the same spot for every human.

"John got tired of waiting. He took your hot chocolate and your boyfriend outside to cool off," Martha said.

Jace might not like being called a boyfriend, but I like the sound of being his girl. I understood how juvenile it sounded to him, since he was like a million years old—well, not quite, but he was old...and experienced.

Martha blocked me. That was an awful long time it took you two to retrieve the blanket. Do I have to sit down and have ‘the talk’ with you?

I blushed. The talk? It was as if she could read my mind! I wanted to do exactly what the talk entailed, but Jace and I weren’t there—yet. My face warmed at the thought of being with Jace that way. But so much remained to be said and done, I doubt we’d ever get there before we found the Fates and... I cleared my mind. I refused to think about the Butcher or my plan for tonight.

I focused on Martha and blissfully ignored all the hurdles I had yet to overcome. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to have the talk—not now, not tonight, and not ever.

Jace refused to even kiss me up there, I said, looking everywhere but her eyes.

Boys are not allowed in your bedroom.

I know, but it’s not like anything happened. Besides, Jace said he didn’t want to ruin our New Year’s Kiss, I said, and then immediately wished I hadn’t spoken. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized I’d be kissing a boy in front of my foster parents! I buried my face in my hands.

Embarrassed? Martha asked, knowingly.

Incredibly.

She leaned in closer to whisper in my ear. Good. I want you to imagine how horrible a ‘teen pregnancy talk’ would be, Winnie. And, know that I never what to have that conversation with you either. But, I will if it means you’ll be —

I’ll hang onto my v-card until I’m an old cat lady, I interrupted, desperately not wanting her to say the word that made every warm-bodied teenager cringe: virgin. It’d only been a year since Bree watched a YouTube video on how to ‘Kiss like a Rock-star’ and forced me to listen. Even then, I’d been mortified, and that was with my best friend, not my would-be mother!

No boys in your bedroom—ever, Martha said. Do we understand each other?

Perfectly.

She stepped back so I could walk around her. I raced over to the deck but stopped at the glass door. Standing next to Jace was the man who should have the honor of being called ‘dad,’ yet, I couldn’t ever bring myself to say it. He wasn’t my father, but the shoes sure fit. His peppered gray hair was cut short, which suited his profession of being in a courtroom for hours on end. His laugh lines framed his eyes. His trim stature kept him approachable, but the depth in his eyes made me second guess him letting anyone take advantage of him. 

From the comments coming through the door, John was debating who’d make it to the Super Bowl. I couldn’t be more pleased that they were talking casually and not discussing an intense topic like Martha and I had been. Jace met my gaze through the glass door, and for a second I swore he actually blushed. I didn’t have to ask if he heard the conversation Martha and I just had, I knew he had. Deities’ senses were freakishly better than humans.

Grateful that I had the blanket, I wrapped it around me before stepping onto the snow dusted deck. John had built a fire in his stone pit and was stoking it with his log turner. Bree, my best friend, once told me that John looked like a stuffy, old lawyer from Law and Order but had a smile to die for. I couldn’t disagree. Nonetheless, tonight he wore a frown.

Martha followed me outside. She and John exchanged a look that I could only assume meant they both were aware with how serious my relationship with Jace had become. I fought the urge to bury my face in my hands. When John and Martha engaged in a delightful conversation about who had to shovel the driveway in the morning, Jace walked up next to me. He pointed to the sky.

Throughout the neighborhood, people lit off fireworks. Even though I couldn’t see their brilliant colors, it was beautiful to watch them explode in the air. Less than a few months ago, I couldn’t distinguish shapes and contours. Now, I was watching fireworks light up the sky.

I wonder what this year will bring, Jace pondered, as if reading my thoughts.

My death, I thought. I wanted to slap myself. I wasn’t going to think about my plan for tonight—to remember! I wasn’t going to think about the Hunters, deities, or the other supernatural people in my life.

It’s a mystery, I said, trying to sound casual.

Jace gave me a questioning look. Just as he could feel desire, Jace had the ability to sense my other feelings as well. Since my fear and resolute accompanied each other, I wonder what he assumed from those mixed emotions. I wondered if he knew what I had planned.

As we counted down the final seconds of the year, Jace’s hand slid next to mine. He tugged on my hand and then led me out of my foster’s line of sight.

Ten, Jace said, as the final seconds of the year tickled away.

Nine, I said next, following the descent.

The moment we said ‘eight’, something remarkable happened; time slowed. I spoke the seventh second and then the sixth, still counting down. However, time wasn’t moving as quickly as it should have been. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of light, hidden by the burst of fireworks. The strong scent of sulfur filled the air as a girl about my age emerged from the flash. Wearing a black cloak, she was easily concealed in the shadows. She walked with a grace I would never master. It was as if she floated, yet her feet made contact with the ground. I strained my ears, but I couldn’t hear the snow crunch under her body weight. The closer she came the more apparent her beauty, even though she shielded her face with the cloak’s hood. Her chocolate skin and ebony hair made her almost invisible in the dark. Red lowlights were woven throughout her hair, resembling volcanic ember. Crimson colors circled the black irises of her eyes. Her lips naturally formed a pout, making her all the more stunning.

She batted her long, dark eyelashes when she glanced at Jace. A flame of resentment sparked in my soul. It shouldn’t have been there in the first place, but my heart hadn’t gotten the memo. I didn’t trust her—or the sense of longing in her gaze. She looked at Jace like he was hers.

Her cloak blew, revealing a two prong blade that hung from a golden chain around her waist. It was the very dagger that Jace had used to kill me. Her dainty little smile changed into an evil grin.

CHAPTER TWO

The gray world I saw crackled, like glass shattering. The cracked pieces exploded. Darkness engulfed my sight. A slow trickle of colors formed into a stream of colors. The colors collected together like a bead of rain grouping together. It took a few moments until the colors formed shapes.

Trees and bushes of a tropical paradise shot up around me. I marveled at the jet-black sand beneath me. Instead of being grainy, it felt like gel on my feet. Waves slapped the shore. The warm air was thick, as if it had the density of water, and it moved in a current. I swayed as if I was standing waist deep in the water.

This place carried the scent of ‘home,’ but not of the Thompson’s house. It smelled of a place I could no longer remember, but I still connected to it. There was something significant about this particular place. Even the air became a cerulean color that a human couldn’t comprehend. It changed, like the blue hues of the water changed lighter or darker at different points in a wave.

The smells and sounds of the tropics bombarded my senses. I could smell every single flower without being overwhelmed. I could enjoy each fragrance while smelling them all. I could hear every song the birds sang. They made a choir of melodies, but it came together as a beautiful orchestra.

I looked at Jace and then to the girl. They watched me with curious eyes. Standing beside the most attractive god and goddess, I felt ugly. I took a deep breath and briefly closed my eyes.

I can see color here. My voice wavered. I wanted to cry. I’d seen the world as if looking at a black and white television for so long, I marveled at the color. Where are we?

Elysia.

At the center of Elysia, to be exact, Kali, Jace said, glancing at the deity.

The sound of his voice besieged me. Instead of merely answering my question, it was as if he was whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Every ounce of the adoration he had for me resonated from his voice. I couldn’t speak. I’d never heard anything more beautiful than he.

Jace watched me as I marveled at the magical land. The girl groaned, as if annoyed that we’d ignored her.

She lowered the hood of her cloak, revealing all of her lush hair. It spilled over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back. My breath caught at the sight of her beauty. Even Jace held his breath. It would have been impossible not to feel that they were old friends—at a minimum. She batted her long eyelashes. She let her cloak drop to the ground, revealing her shimmering emerald dress. The dagger hung from a golden chain, but that wasn’t the most eye catching thing I noticed. When she twirled around in a circle, the plunging waistline of her dress caught my attention. Her scar looked like a tan colored tattoo drawn on the small of her back rather than a scar. Jace’s gaze dropped low at her little performance.

She smiled