Free Novel Read

Fates 06 - Totally Spellbound Page 14


  More likely, some wag had decided to use the legend of Robin Hood to get the important parts exactly backward. He was probably opening a casino that would rob from the poor to give to the rich.

  After all, slots were called one-armed bandits.

  She let out a small growl just as John Little slipped outside the door. He rubbed his hands over the edges of the door, and a light glowed around the frame.

  Then he pulled away, put his face in his hands, and muttered, “May God forgive me.”

  “For what?” Megan asked.

  He looked up as if he had forgotten all about her. He blinked once, then sighed. “Rob really doesn’t like those women.”

  “I don’t blame him,” Megan said.

  “They’re nice.” Kyle sounded defensive.

  “I’m sure they are, kid,” John Little said, “but they’ve been hellacious on Rob over the years.”

  Megan wasn’t sure Travers would approve of the word “hellacious.” She wasn’t sure if he would approve of them being here.

  She wasn’t sure if he would approve of this place with its myriad secretaries, blond wood, and air of wealth.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on here?” she asked.

  “You want to tell me how you got tied up with the Fates?” The door shuddered slightly. John Little glanced at it, then put his hands on his hips and looked at her. “Is it because the kid—what is your name, son?”

  “Kyle,” Kyle said about as sullenly as a boy could say his own name.

  “Young Kyle there has enough magic for you, me, and the entire building combined—or he will when he comes into it. What’re you now, youngling? Psychic?”

  “Yeah.” Kyle leaned against Megan.

  She frowned. Was everyone in this city crazy? Or had she gone into an alternate world when she saw that man with the falcon last night?

  Maybe she was dreaming and still driving. Maybe she was dreaming about being psychic and hoping she would wake up before she crashed into anything. Maybe she was about to die—

  “You’re awake, Aunt Megan.” Kyle sounded tired. “And everybody knows about the magic because everybody we’ve seen has a little bit. It’s because of the Fates. If you just went to one of the casinos, no one’d be talking about magic at all.”

  Megan wasn’t sure she could get used to Kyle repeating her thoughts out loud.

  John Little frowned at Kyle, his mouth slightly open. Then he looked up at Megan. “You’re new to all this?”

  She nodded wearily.

  “And you’re ferrying the Fates around?”

  She was about to ask why that was a problem, when the air around John Little shimmered. For a moment, it looked like a heat mirage in the desert or like a pool of particularly leaden water. And then the image coalesced into her falconer.

  Only he wasn’t wearing medieval hunting clothes. He wore a bespoke suit that fit him so perfectly it looked like he’d been sewn into it. The brown material matched the brown of his eyes. Only his hair, which was still tied back with a strip of leather, looked the same.

  He was even more handsome up close—or he would have been if he weren’t scowling worse than she’d ever seen anyone scowl. He didn’t seem to see her at all. He whirled slightly and pointed at John Little.

  “You let them into my office.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “They say they don’t have magic anymore.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “I don’t want them around me.”

  Kyle cleared his throat.

  The man turned, his cheeks slightly ruddy—maybe from yelling at John Little—and his brown eyes widened. He stared at Megan as if he’d seen her before.

  As if he’d seen her before, and remembered her vividly.

  As if she were the only woman on the entire planet.

  The only person on the entire planet.

  “You,” he whispered.

  “They really have lost their magic,” Kyle said. “Honest. And that’s my Aunt Megan. She is real.”

  Megan felt her cheeks flare so that their redness probably matched her hair. His cheeks had gone pale in the few seconds he had stared at her.

  “You really are real,” he said.

  “I just told you she was,” Kyle said.

  But the man didn’t seem to hear Kyle. He took half a step toward her, and stopped.

  “This is the bubble woman?” John Little asked. “She’s perfect.”

  Megan felt her cheeks heat even more. Bubble woman? What were they talking about?

  Behind them, the door banged against its frame but didn’t open. The man blinked, frowned, looked at her, looked at the door, and then tilted his head.

  “You know the Fates?” he asked.

  “She brought them here,” John Little said.

  “Really?” the man said.

  “I asked her too.” Kyle sounded nervous. What was with this guy? How come he was upsetting her nephew?

  “You did?” the man asked. “Are her son?”

  “Nephew,” Kyle said. “I told you that. You have to start paying attention.”

  He sounded so much like a miniature Travers, that Megan let out a small laugh. Which seemed to break the spell she was under.

  “What is this all about?” she asked the man, just like she had asked John Little.

  “Betrayal,” the man said, “and the fulfillment of a debt.”

  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.

  More likely, some wag had decided to use the legend of Robin Hood to get the important parts exactly backward. He was probably opening a casino that would rob from the poor to give to the rich.

  After all, slots were called one-armed bandits.

  She let out a small growl just as John Little slipped outside the door. He rubbed his hands over the edges of the door, and a light glowed around the frame.

  Then he pulled away, put his face in his hands, and muttered, “May God forgive me.”

  “For what?” Megan asked.

  He looked up as if he had forgotten all about her. He blinked once, then sighed. “Rob really doesn’t like those women.”

  “I don’t blame him,” Megan said.

  “They’re nice.” Kyle sounded defensive.

  “I’m sure they are, kid,” John Little said, “but they’ve been hellacious on Rob over the years.”

  Megan wasn’t sure Travers would approve of the word “hellacious.” She wasn’t sure if he would approve of them being here.

  She wasn’t sure if he would approve of this place with its myriad secretaries, blond wood, and air of wealth.

  “You want to tell
me what’s going on here?” she asked.

  “You want to tell me how you got tied up with the Fates?” The door shuddered slightly. John Little glanced at it, then put his hands on his hips and looked at her. “Is it because the kid—what is your name, son?”

  “Kyle,” Kyle said about as sullenly as a boy could say his own name.

  “Young Kyle there has enough magic for you, me, and the entire building combined—or he will when he comes into it. What’re you now, youngling? Psychic?”

  “Yeah.” Kyle leaned against Megan.

  She frowned. Was everyone in this city crazy? Or had she gone into an alternate world when she saw that man with the falcon last night?

  Maybe she was dreaming and still driving. Maybe she was dreaming about being psychic and hoping she would wake up before she crashed into anything. Maybe she was about to die—

  “You’re awake, Aunt Megan.” Kyle sounded tired. “And everybody knows about the magic because everybody we’ve seen has a little bit. It’s because of the Fates. If you just went to one of the casinos, no one’d be talking about magic at all.”

  Megan wasn’t sure she could get used to Kyle repeating her thoughts out loud.

  John Little frowned at Kyle, his mouth slightly open. Then he looked up at Megan. “You’re new to all this?”

  She nodded wearily.

  “And you’re ferrying the Fates around?”

  She was about to ask why that was a problem, when the air around John Little shimmered. For a moment, it looked like a heat mirage in the desert or like a pool of particularly leaden water. And then the image coalesced into her falconer.

  Only he wasn’t wearing medieval hunting clothes. He wore a bespoke suit that fit him so perfectly it looked like he’d been sewn into it. The brown material matched the brown of his eyes. Only his hair, which was still tied back with a strip of leather, looked the same.

  He was even more handsome up close—or he would have been if he weren’t scowling worse than she’d ever seen anyone scowl. He didn’t seem to see her at all. He whirled slightly and pointed at John Little.

  “You let them into my office.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “They say they don’t have magic anymore.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “I don’t want them around me.”

  Kyle cleared his throat.

  The man turned, his cheeks slightly ruddy—maybe from yelling at John Little—and his brown eyes widened. He stared at Megan as if he’d seen her before.

  As if he’d seen her before, and remembered her vividly.

  As if she were the only woman on the entire planet.

  The only person on the entire planet.

  “You,” he whispered.

  “They really have lost their magic,” Kyle said. “Honest. And that’s my Aunt Megan. She is real.”

  Megan felt her cheeks flare so that their redness probably matched her hair. His cheeks had gone pale in the few seconds he had stared at her.

  “You really are real,” he said.

  “I just told you she was,” Kyle said.

  But the man didn’t seem to hear Kyle. He took half a step toward her, and stopped.

  “This is the bubble woman?” John Little asked. “She’s perfect.”

  Megan felt her cheeks heat even more. Bubble woman? What were they talking about?

  Behind them, the door banged against its frame but didn’t open. The man blinked, frowned, looked at her, looked at the door, and then tilted his head.

  “You know the Fates?” he asked.

  “She brought them here,” John Little said.

  “Really?” the man said.

  “I asked her too.” Kyle sounded nervous. What was with this guy? How come he was upsetting her nephew?

  “You did?” the man asked. “Are her son?”

  “Nephew,” Kyle said. “I told you that. You have to start paying attention.”

  He sounded so much like a miniature Travers, that Megan let out a small laugh. Which seemed to break the spell she was under.

  “What is this all about?” she asked the man, just like she had asked John Little.

  “Betrayal,” the man said, “and the fulfillment of a debt.”

  Twelve

  Rob regretted those words the moment he said them. He didn’t know this woman. It didn’t matter that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen (and then he felt a momentary pang of guilt: Sorry, Marian). It didn’t matter that she left him feeling only 250 years old.

  All that mattered was getting the Fates out of his office and getting his life back in order.

  “They want you to settle a debt?” asked the World’s Most Beautiful Woman—whose name was, apparently, Megan. (A good, old-fashioned name for a woman of a type that should never have gone out of fashion.)

  “No,” he said. “They apparently didn’t realize I had a debt to settle with them.”

  “Because they betrayed you.”

  “Because they betrayed my wife!”

  Megan took a slight step backward, pulling the young boy with her. The boy looked like the movement choked him slightly, then she loosened her grip on him as if she had known that, too.

  “You can’t lust after my Aunt Megan if you have a wife.” The boy looked like a fierce warrior himself, albeit of the modern kind—most of his battles probably happened on computer rather than on the battlefield.

  “I don’t lust after…” Rob let his voice trail off when he saw Megan’s face. She had the kind of face that carried every emotion she felt, and at the moment, she felt disappointment. “I mean, I don’t have a wife. Anymore. She died.”

  “Oh,” the boy said, and he bowed his head. “I didn’t know.”

  The last three words he said with surprise. Apparently, he had never met anyone who could block a psychic, even though it was easy, particularly with a young one.

  Although maybe not as easy as it seemed. The boy had, after all, caught Rob’s attraction to that woman across the room.

  “They betrayed your wife?” Megan asked with that sexy, throaty voice of hers.

  His gaze met hers. She had such stunning green eyes—the color was as deep as a perfect emerald—but more than that, he could see deep inside her, as if he could see her very soul.

  He wanted to break eye contact, but couldn’t. He also couldn’t lie to her. He wanted her to know.

  So he settled on, “It’s a long story.”

  She gave him a small smile, as if she had heard that before, and knew it for the evasion it was.

  The door rattled again.

  “We have to do something about them,” John said. “You can’t just leave them in there, Rob.”

  “Have security escort them off the premises.”

  “Rob!” John’s entire face became the picture of shock. “Do you know what’s going on?”

  “No,” he said, “and I don’t particularly care to.”

  “Zeus is making a power play.”

  “So?” Rob asked, then mentally kicked himself. He really didn’t want to know.

  “He’s trying to get rid of true love.”

  “So they say, right? Those lying Fates?”

  “They’re not lying.” The boy shook off his aunt. “My dad’s been fighting for them all along. My dad and my Aunt Viv and my Uncle Dex. And now the Fates say they need you. So you should help them.”

  “I should, huh?” Rob asked. He’d never been comfortable around children, especially precocious ones.

  “Yeah, you should.”

  Megan reached for her nephew, but he slipped away from her, walked up to Robin, and mimicked his posture, putting his hands on his hips and standing with his legs slightly apart.

  “I never took Robin Hood for a coward,” the boy said.

  John gasped.

  Megan said, “Kyle!” apparently in an attempt to admonish the boy.

  But Rob just narrowed his eyes, feeling the anger flare. The boy wanted him to get angry. The bo
y was psychic and knew how to make him angry — so Rob’s shields weren’t working as well as he thought.

  Still, he loathed it when someone called him a coward, particularly someone who didn’t know his history.

  Although this little boy had just called him Robin Hood. So the boy did know, and the boy still used the word.

  “I’m not a coward,” Rob said.

  “You are too,” the boy said.

  “Because I won’t help three women who let my wife die? You have a lot of living to do, boy, before you understand that.” Rob crossed his arms, and rocked back on his heels. “In fact, I hope you never do understand it.”

  “They were just following the rules!” the boy said.

  “Yeah, I’ve followed rules,” Rob said. “Just because the rules exist doesn’t make them right.”

  “The Fates hurt your wife?” Megan asked.

  “Eight hundred years ago, Aunt Meg,” the boy said with deep sarcasm.

  The anger Rob had only barely controlled flared again. What did that child know about pain, anyway?

  “So you’ve told everyone that you’re Robin Hood?” Megan asked.

  “I haven’t told anyone,” Rob said. “You people have been calling me that.”

  “Please.” Megan shook her head slightly. “Give me a little respect. This is Chapeau Enterprises, and ‘chapeau’ means hood or hat in French. Your friend is named Little John. I wouldn’t be surprised if you called your secretary Maid Marian—”

  “That’s enough!” Rob was shouting before he realized he had opened his mouth. He couldn’t take this lack of respect any more. “Get them out of here, John, or I will.”

  “They came with the Fates,” John said, unfazed by Rob’s anger. John had seen it too many times before. “If you let the Fates out of your office, I’m sure everyone will leave happily.”

  They wouldn’t, of course. The Fates wanted something from him, and the woman, with her blazing green eyes, hadn’t stepped back at all. She seemed as angry as he felt.

  “You have no right to yell at me or Kyle,” she said. “You don’t know us. We’re not here to bother you. I drove the Fates here to discuss their contract dispute with you. I was only doing it as a favor to Kyle. I hadn’t expected to walk into a place filled with angry people and a lot of blame. Had that been the case, I wouldn’t have brought along a sensitive eleven-year-old—”