Fates 06 - Totally Spellbound Page 13

  The redhead said, “Sorry to bother you again. Chapeau Enterprises is inside?”

  Her voice was rich and beautiful. This one had incredible life force, and the most charming thing about her was that she didn’t know it.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It’s—”

  And then the Fates surrounded him, yammering all at once. The redhead stood back, looking amused. The boy stayed in the middle of it all, and it wasn’t until the Fates finished speaking (they were greeting John, which he was trying to ignore), that the boy actually spoke:

  “You know Robin Hood?”

  He sounded like a star-struck fan. John looked at the Fates in great surprise. Didn’t they know better than to talk like that? No one was supposed to know mages’ real identities. Even though Robin Hood was not Rob’s real name, it was close enough to get everyone in trouble.

  “What’s going on here?” John asked.

  Clotho slipped her arm through his. It startled him. He had never been touched by a Fate before.

  “We need Robin to do us a small favor,” she said.

  “A teensy-tiny favor,” Lachesis said, moving a little too close.

  “An itty-bitty favor,” Atropos said, flanking him on the other side.

  John was surrounded, and he didn’t want to be. He was too polite—damn his chivalric upbringing—to shove women aside, much as he wanted too.

  Besides, these three terrified him more than almost anyone else he had ever met.

  “I don’t think Rob is in a favorable mood,” John said.

  “Nonetheless,” Clotho said.

  “We do need to see him,” Lachesis said.

  “Then why not pop in and visit him yourselves?” John asked.

  Atropos sighed. “It’s so very complicated.”

  “Take us to him, would you, John?” Clotho asked, and now he wanted to sigh. But he didn’t.

  Instead, he did what they asked—and hoped he would survive the consequences.

  Ten

  The Mini Cooper caught his attention.

  Rob stood at the window with his hands clasped behind his back. He had felt the weird little car before he had seen it, drawn to the window as if he were going to see a party.

  And then the car had slowed and disappeared under an awning as it pulled up to the curb. For a brief moment—an hallucinatory moment—Rob thought he had seen that gorgeous woman from the night before, but of course he hadn’t.

  That was the effect of thinking about her all night and talking to John about her all day.

  Rob moved away from the window and sat in his chair, unable to look at the stock prices continually changing on his computer screen or to think about anything that had to do with work. Even after eight hundred years, thinking about another woman felt like he was betraying Marian.

  Maybe John was right. Maybe Rob was clinging too hard to the past. He certainly couldn’t change it.

  Imagine what the Fates would do to him if he tried.

  At that moment, his door burst open. John hurried in and tried to shove the door closed behind him. A slender female arm flailed against the wall, as if its owner were trying to force the door open.

  “Um, Rob,” John said, his face turning red from the effort of holding the door closed. “It’s not my fault.”

  Rob frowned. He hadn’t seen John like this in decades. His face was flushed and sweat covered, his eyes wild, and his shirt drenched. He’d lost his suit coat somewhere, and he looked almost feral.

  “Should I call security?” Rob asked.

  “No!” John sounded panicked. “I just want you to assure me that you won’t blame me when—”

  The door shoved open the rest of the way, and women piled into Rob’s office. But Rob wasn’t looking at them. In the middle of the reception area stood a small boy, and next to him was that woman.

  The beauty.

  He stood and started toward her. She hadn’t noticed him. Instead, she was holding the boy’s shoulders as if she were keeping him from something, and she was watching the scene before her with something like horror.

  Then the door slammed closed.

  “Really,” John said again, “I’m sorry.”

  And with that, he pulled the door open, let himself out, and slammed the door shut again.

  Rob blinked twice, trying to figure out what had happened. He had been looking at the beauty (was she real?) and then the door slammed, John left, and three women stood before him.

  Three very familiar women.

  Three very powerful women.

  The Fates.

  Rob had vowed he would never see them again.

  “Get the hell out of my office!” he snapped.

  “Robin,” Clotho said, “just hear us out.”

  She did seem unusually tiny—he remembered these women as being larger than the mountains themselves—and she looked a little too ordinary in her pink blouse and tight blue jeans.

  “The circumstances of our visit are quite unusual,” Lachesis said.

  She was a redhead. He had known that, but he hadn’t focused on it, not really. And she was a well-proportioned redhead who knew how to dress. That cream-colored blouse did wonders for her figure.

  But she wasn’t the redhead he was looking for. That redhead had been outside the office.

  Hadn’t she?

  “We want you to listen before you jump to any conclusions,” Atropos said.

  She seemed tiny, too, and a lot more exotic than he remembered, with the heavy dark eyebrows and black-black hair that was rare in this part of America.

  “I don’t want any of you in here,” he said. “I want you out this minute. I don’t care what you do to me. You can imprison me for the rest of my life, just get the hell out of my face.”

  “We know you’re angry,” Clotho said. “But—”

  “Anger doesn’t begin to cover it.” He couldn’t remain in the same room with these women. He pushed past them, afraid he was going to be turned into a toad as he did, and grabbed the door.

  Someone was holding it closed.

  Damn Little John.

  “We asked him to spell the door,” Lachesis said.

  “We knew you’d be difficult,” Atropos said.

  “We know you’ve never understood our position on the mortality of mortals,” Clotho said.

  “Or on the necessity of death,” Lachesis said.

  “But we believe we can overcome that little difference,” Atropos said.

  “And make an agreement that suits us all,” Clotho said.

  Rob focused on them again, mostly because he had no choice. “Little difference?” he asked. “Little difference? You let the only woman I’ve ever loved die.”

  “We didn’t let anything,” Lachesis said. “We just had to stop you from making a horrible mistake.”

  “Horrible mistake.” His hands clenched. “I’ve seen so much death over the years, and I’ve never understood it. We have the power to reverse it, and you always get in the way.”

  “If we still had magic, then we’d show you why this is necessary,” Atropos said. “We’ve learned a lot in the past few months.”

  “Months?” he repeated.

  “Yes. We learned about how difficult it is to understand things you’ve never experienced,” Clotho said.

  “I’ve experience more death than I ever wanted to,” Rob said.

  “That’s not what we mean,” Lachesis said. “We mean a lack of death. It’s happened before. Everything gets out of whack.”

  “In fact,” Atropos said, “if I remember right, you lived through one of the back-in-whack moments. That plague?”

  “The Black Plague?” His head was spinning. He was so angry. He hadn’t been this angry in centuries.

  “Yes. Too many mortals surreptitiously saved by mages, and then what did what did we have? Necrotic tissue that had to escape somewhere, creating pustules…”

  He didn’t need this discussion. He didn’t need these three creepy, controlling women in his offi
ce, ruining his day. And no matter what John said, it was his fault.

  John knew how Rob felt about these three.

  “…hideous boils,” Lachesis was saying. “…which wasn’t as bad as the first time. The first time, an entire city was destroyed just to maintain the balance.”

  “That wasn’t the first time,” Atropos said. “The first time was before our time.”

  Rob focused back into the conversation. Really focused. And frowned.

  The Fates were disagreeing with each other. They never did that. They always finished each other’s sentences.

  What had Atropos said earlier? If we still had magic…

  “You don’t have magic anymore?” he asked, interrupting an argument of Biblical proportions.

  “That’s why we’re here,” Clotho said.

  “We need your help,” Lachesis said.

  “Everything we care about is at stake,” Atropos said.

  “How very ironic,” Rob said. “I remember having the same discussion with you eight hundred years ago.”

  The women bit their lower lips in unison. Their eyes grew wide.

  “And let me tell you what you told me. I’m not going to help you. I don’t care what’s at stake.”

  Then he clapped his hands together, and used his magic to get out of the room.

  Ten

  The Mini Cooper caught his attention.

  Rob stood at the window with his hands clasped behind his back. He had felt the weird little car before he had seen it, drawn to the window as if he were going to see a party.

  And then the car had slowed and disappeared under an awning as it pulled up to the curb. For a brief moment—an hallucinatory moment—Rob thought he had seen that gorgeous woman from the night before, but of course he hadn’t.

  That was the effect of thinking about her all night and talking to John about her all day.

  Rob moved away from the window and sat in his chair, unable to look at the stock prices continually changing on his computer screen or to think about anything that had to do with work. Even after eight hundred years, thinking about another woman felt like he was betraying Marian.

  Maybe John was right. Maybe Rob was clinging too hard to the past. He certainly couldn’t change it.

  Imagine what the Fates would do to him if he tried.

  At that moment, his door burst open. John hurried in and tried to shove the door closed behind him. A slender female arm flailed against the wall, as if its owner were trying to force the door open.

  “Um, Rob,” John said, his face turning red from the effort of holding the door closed. “It’s not my fault.”

  Rob frowned. He hadn’t seen John like this in decades. His face was flushed and sweat covered, his eyes wild, and his shirt drenched. He’d lost his suit coat somewhere, and he looked almost feral.

  “Should I call security?” Rob asked.

  “No!” John sounded panicked. “I just want you to assure me that you won’t blame me when—”

  The door shoved open the rest of the way, and women piled into Rob’s office. But Rob wasn’t looking at them. In the middle of the reception area stood a small boy, and next to him was that woman.

  The beauty.

  He stood and started toward her. She hadn’t noticed him. Instead, she was holding the boy’s shoulders as if she were keeping him from something, and she was watching the scene before her with something like horror.

  Then the door slammed closed.

  “Really,” John said again, “I’m sorry.”

  And with that, he pulled the door open, let himself out, and slammed the door shut again.

  Rob blinked twice, trying to figure out what had happened. He had been looking at the beauty (was she real?) and then the door slammed, John left, and three women stood before him.

  Three very familiar women.

  Three very powerful women.

  The Fates.

  Rob had vowed he would never see them again.

  “Get the hell out of my office!” he snapped.

  “Robin,” Clotho said, “just hear us out.”

  She did seem unusually tiny—he remembered these women as being larger than the mountains themselves—and she looked a little too ordinary in her pink blouse and tight blue jeans.

  “The circumstances of our visit are quite unusual,” Lachesis said.

  She was a redhead. He had known that, but he hadn’t focused on it, not really. And she was a well-proportioned redhead who knew how to dress. That cream-colored blouse did wonders for her figure.

  But she wasn’t the redhead he was looking for. That redhead had been outside the office.

  Hadn’t she?

  “We want you to listen before you jump to any conclusions,” Atropos said.

  She seemed tiny, too, and a lot more exotic than he remembered, with the heavy dark eyebrows and black-black hair that was rare in this part of America.

  “I don’t want any of you in here,” he said. “I want you out this minute. I don’t care what you do to me. You can imprison me for the rest of my life, just get the hell out of my face.”

  “We know you’re angry,” Clotho said. “But—”

  “Anger doesn’t begin to cover it.” He couldn’t remain in the same room with these women. He pushed past them, afraid he was going to be turned into a toad as he did, and grabbed the door.

  Someone was holding it closed.

  Damn Little John.

  “We asked him to spell the door,” Lachesis said.

  “We knew you’d be difficult,” Atropos said.

  “We know you’ve never understood our position on the mortality of mortals,” Clotho said.

  “Or on the necessity of death,” Lachesis said.

  “But we believe we can overcome that little difference,” Atropos said.

  “And make an agreement that suits us all,” Clotho said.

  Rob focused on them again, mostly because he had no choice. “Little difference?” he asked. “Little difference? You let the only woman I’ve ever loved die.”

  “We didn’t let anything,” Lachesis said. “We just had to stop you from making a horrible mistake.”

  “Horrible mistake.” His hands clenched. “I’ve seen so much death over the years, and I’ve never understood it. We have the power to reverse it, and you always get in the way.”

  “If we still had magic, then we’d show you why this is necessary,” Atropos said. “We’ve learned a lot in the past few months.”

  “Months?” he repeated.

  “Yes. We learned about how difficult it is to understand things you’ve never experienced,” Clotho said.

  “I’ve experience more death than I ever wanted to,” Rob said.

  “That’s not what we mean,” Lachesis said. “We mean a lack of death. It’s happened before. Everything gets out of whack.”

  “In fact,” Atropos said, “if I remember right, you lived through one of the back-in-whack moments. That plague?”

  “The Black Plague?” His head was spinning. He was so angry. He hadn’t been this angry in centuries.

  “Yes. Too many mortals surreptitiously saved by mages, and then what did what did we have? Necrotic tissue that had to escape somewhere, creating pustules…”

  He didn’t need this discussion. He didn’t need these three creepy, controlling women in his office, ruining his day. And no matter what John said, it was his fault.

  John knew how Rob felt about these three.

  “…hideous boils,” Lachesis was saying. “…which wasn’t as bad as the first time. The first time, an entire city was destroyed just to maintain the balance.”

  “That wasn’t the first time,” Atropos said. “The first time was before our time.”

  Rob focused back into the conversation. Really focused. And frowned.

  The Fates were disagreeing with each other. They never did that. They always finished each other’s sentences.

  What had Atropos said earlier? If we still had magic…
/>   “You don’t have magic anymore?” he asked, interrupting an argument of Biblical proportions.

  “That’s why we’re here,” Clotho said.

  “We need your help,” Lachesis said.

  “Everything we care about is at stake,” Atropos said.

  “How very ironic,” Rob said. “I remember having the same discussion with you eight hundred years ago.”

  The women bit their lower lips in unison. Their eyes grew wide.

  “And let me tell you what you told me. I’m not going to help you. I don’t care what’s at stake.”

  Then he clapped his hands together, and used his magic to get out of the room.

  Eleven

  Robin Hood. A big, bulky man with a classically English face named John Little. In the middle of downtown Las Vegas. With the Greek Fates and one psychic child.

  Megan wrapped her arms around Kyle’s chest and held him against her. They stood in the reception area of Chapeau Enterprises, whatever that was, and watched as the Fates made fools of themselves trying to get into the door that Little John or John Little or whatever he was called tried to keep closed.

  She was becoming more and more convinced that the Fates belonged to some very bad Vegas lounge act, and that John Little or Little John or whoever he was fronted for some other organization, one that hired entertainers.

  Although for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out how the Robin Hood of medieval legend and the Greek Fates had hooked up in the first place.

  The Fates managed to shove the door open and get inside.

  She held Kyle tighter. She could feel him strain against her. He wanted to go in there too, almost as if this concerned him.

  It did not. None of it did.

  He was a good boy, and she really believed the psychic child bit, she really did.

  But the existence of the real Robin Hood and the Greek Fates was a bit too much for her.

  Besides, what was Robin Hood doing in a nice office building in Vegas? Planning to rob every casino in sight? They were what passed for the rich these days.