 
Eve

Book One: The Eternal Daughter Series

© Patti Larsen 2016

Smashwords Edition

Find out more at

www.pattilarsen.com

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Cover art copyright Valerie Bellamy

www.dog-earbookdesign.com

Editing by Annetta Ribken

www.wordwebbing.com

Copy edits by Jessica Bufkin

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# Chapter One

I felt him staring as I stood over the dying man, waiting for me to do something. Well, not something. What we came here to do. At least he didn't prod me immediately, standing with his dark hair hanging over his blue eyes. A frown made him look older than his early twenties, lips in a tight line I caught clearly out of the corner of my eye. Trying not to notice his judgment, he who judged me the least of my brothers.

My hand wanted to move, to rise and touch the cheek of the old, withered body decaying slowly in the bed before me. The soft, steady beep of the monitor he'd been hooked to, a literal lifeline, pulsed in time with his slowing heart. The sound of anticipation, of impending oblivion. A gift, or so I was told. The gift of passing from this realm to the next with the help of an angel of Death.

My job.

"Eve." I heard the huff of impatience in Nero's voice, knew I hesitated too long, even for him. My brother, despite the rest of my family's opinion of me, still held onto his kindness toward me, even if it was only a thread. "We need to move on."

Right. That meant I had to take this old mortal's soul exactly as a child of Death should. Take it and let it travel onward to the next realm and allow the physical body of the man to return to dust and earth. The circle of Creation complete and tidy, wrapped up in the way things were meant to be.

All I had to do was lift my hand and... and. Sweat broke out on my upper lip. This was the part I dreaded the most. Not the release of the soul. That I would welcome with a smile of relief and a hurried thanks to whatever power in the Pantheons might allow me to succeed for once. That ending, his ending, would be a blessing for sure. Except I had a terrible feeling this wasn't going to be one of those neatly boxed and bowed moments.

Precedent had been set in my case, after all. Far too many times.

Nero shifted beside me, his anxiety layering over mine. My brother was well aware of my history, of my previous failures and, I was certain, understood my lack of enthusiasm. But even he was at the end of his patience, irritation wavering like a heated mirage between us, burning me with its growing intensity. I hated how empathy seemed to haunt me, that whatever power I possessed drew on the stress and worry of others. I had my own cares, didn't I? My own needs and fears. Despite my brother's attempt to be even remotely supportive, he wasn't helping.

I caught a shaking breath and squared my shoulders while my brother whispered something at the doorway. The power of Death stilled the air, quieted the world, slowed things down. Nero's influence kept out the nurses, the family. Normally, this task I dragged out into infinity took a heartbeat, less than that. Loved ones lifted and freed in an instant of time split in two by the power of Death. But more and more often I found myself frozen, unable to act, emotions getting the better of me while I struggled to fulfill my task.

"Eve." The stress in Nero's voice hurt like a blade across my skin tied to the whip crack of frustration he released. I winced from him, shrank not out of fear but out of pain. "Now. Or step aside." We both knew I couldn't let him take my task. My name stood next to that of this old man in the Book of Death, inscribed there by the Reaper himself. I had to do this no matter my fears. Our father asked and I agreed. I had to make this work.

The instant I decided my hand lifted as if on its own, the thin, trembling fingers ending in sparkling nail polish chipped at the edges feeling foreign, detached from my body. What had I been thinking to wear bright pink paint like that? No, not my choice, but my best friend Tulip's. I'd have to make her change it. I liked my natural nails better anyway.

My mind sank deeper into minutia, anticipating her unhappiness with my request to remove the polish, hiding from my rapidly expanding stress. Stress that only increased as my hand descended, fingertips feeling the heat from the man's wrinkled skin, tiny hairs rising to greet my flesh. Overwhelming fear flared in my chest and the knowledge I was about to fail again hit me and hit me hard. From within and from the pulsing, worried aura of my brother.

Mist wavered at the edges of my vision, half blinding me, even as I made physical contact with the old man and gasped, a spark jumping between us.

His body arched, his eyes flying open, a moan escaping his lips while the heart rate monitor speeded before settling into a strong, healthy rhythm. I jerked my hand back, weight in my chest as the mist dissipated and left me to stare at the man in the bed.

His skin had filled out somewhat, still old but no longer carrying the pallor of Death. Pink now, warmed and puffed slightly from the shriveled wasteland he'd been only an instant before. And, even as Nero's hand grasped my arm and pulled me forcefully away, I knew the truth. The old man's eyes fluttered, opened. And he smiled at me.

Alive. Healthy. Full of Life when his fate was Death.

No. Not again.

I stumbled into the corridor, the dim light from the room behind me disorienting as the nighttime activity in the hospital ward finally reached us. Good thing Nero was paying attention, because I certainly wasn't. My brother's power encouraged the nurse and two family members hovering outside the door to ignore us, preventing them from noticing when we hurried past them and left them to discover their dying loved one, once poised on the brink of Death, had now fully recovered.

Nero's hand didn't loosen on my elbow as he guided me with firm agitation past the nurse's desk and out the large, swinging doors at the entry to the ward, stopping only when we reached the quiet common room on the other side. I inhaled the scent of industrial cleaner and I tried to hold back tears burning my throat and eyes, closing my chest in a tight fist of disgust at my own failure.

"I'm going home," Nero said, quiet and intense, his head low over mine, tall, slim body shaking with anger. It washed over me, though I wasn't sure he was aware of the impact of his emotions as it did. I liked to think he had no real clue what the power of his feelings did to beat me down while his fists sat tight at his thighs. No hitting required.

My eyes glazed over, unwilling to focus while I locked my gaze on the artful hole in the knee of his jeans. "I'm going to tell Dad what happened." He grumbled something unintelligible, stilled. "Just what we knew would happen, what always happens." An inhale as he pulled in his emotions at last, offering me some relief. "I don't know why we keep doing this, Eve." I shrugged when he fell silent, knowing he waited for a response, an answer I didn't have to give. How did I know? Because I'd been here before, so many times. This reaction, my reluctant acquiescence, all part of a sick, familiar dance I'd twirled to since I was eight years old. Half my life spent shaking with my head bowed under the anger or irritation or frustration of one brother or sister or another.

Nero didn't leave yet, though. He stayed long enough to reach out one hand, unclenching his fist, an offer of kindness more than I could bear. My eyes lifted, locked onto that gesture of remorse and compassion. I didn't deserve his pity, the waves of it lapping at the edges of my hurt. When I flinched from him Nero sighed and shrugged, the motion showing in the shifting of his feet when my gaze dropped again. That outstretched hand settled instead on my shoulder and squeezed ever so slightly, caring pouring out of him and into me through that contact for the briefest of instants. I choked on his warmth and the gentleness he shared, though likely without knowing he did it, pushing back as he did the darkness trying to eat me alive.

My brother and his huge heart, so much like Dad's I could barely stand it.

He turned and left me then though I longed to call him back, to wallow in his understanding, just one more moment of such generous support. I could face anything knowing Nero cared about me. But I let him go, my brother disappearing through a doorway on the other side of the room. I knew he was no longer in the hospital. That exit had taken him home, likely to Dad and a conversation he'd had with our father so often. Why then didn't those talks seem to matter to either of my parents, knowing as they did what a screw up I was?

***

# Chapter Two

It was just as well Nero was gone. His attempt at comfort would likely turn to disgust and he'd be unable to hide it. Disgust at my glazed over gaze, fluttering the distance to the blue carpet. Relief came with his departure, at least, no more heavy pressure from Nero's feelings—kind or judging—though I missed his presence all the same. Because sometimes it was easier to deal with the emotions of others than my own. Most times. Abandoned to the ache of yet another disaster I caused, I had no place to hide.

My feet carried me forward, arms circling myself in a protective hug. I'd have to go home soon, to see Dad and tell him personally I failed again rather than letting Nero's report stand. Not that my father would be angry or anything. I often wished he would get mad, lose it and tell me I was never again to return here to the mortal realm, that I was a failure as an angel of Death. But that never happened. Instead he kept trying, just like Mom kept trying, the two of them winding me up and sending me out in some futile attempt to make me like them.

It was Dad's disappointment that troubled me so much. He had to know how hard I was trying. But it wasn't enough. It hadn't been since the first time I joined my big brother Nero, my idol angel of Death then, on my very first task and, to the delight of the child I was, failed. Only to discover what I'd done—saving that girl's life in the instant of the car crash that was supposed to kill her—meant I wasn't like my brothers.

No surprise there, I suppose. I ran my hands brusquely over my upper arms as I strolled the corridors of the hospital and settled myself. There was something soothing about places like this, on the cusp of Life and Death. Which made sense, considering my parents and their particular jobs.

Just my luck, wasn't it? That Death fell in love with Life and I was the result?

I don't know how old I was when I realized I didn't fit in anywhere. I scooted sideways to avoid a crash cart and three scrub clad people who rushed by, feeling their fear, their adrenaline soaked passions passing over me on their way. How the man on the far side with the silver hair was tired and worn and the woman behind him excited for another challenge. No one else could feel what others felt, at least that I knew of. My childish inquiries ended when my sisters and brothers first grew angry then mocked me for my questions, calling me either weak or a freak.

Maybe I was both. I paused on a glass bridge suspended over the grounds of the facility, looking out into the night, the moon reflecting from the snow covered ground. Lights flashed in the distance, headlamps of cars moving in and out of the parking lot, lives ebbing and flowing, not knowing in their mortal realm just how much existed outside their little world.

I could have blamed Mom and Dad for having me, for choosing, for the first time in history, to have a kid together. But I knew my freakishness wasn't their fault. My nose was cold where I pressed it to the glass and exhaled mist onto the polished surface. A frown pulled at my forehead, the memory of that mist making me angry then sad. This was on me, this endless failure to do what I was born to do.

Which always led me to the same question. If I was an angel of Death like my brothers, I should have been able to send that man to his peace. So, I wasn't, right? On the other hand, when I was sent on task by Mom, as an angel of Life, I invariably killed those I was meant to grant first breath to. It made no sense to me, nor to my furious sisters who learned to hate being assigned to hold my hand.

So, not an angel of Life nor of Death, daughter to that last where he only had sons. As always in the last eight years, as time went on and my hurt grew, I found myself asking the quiet night outside the obvious question.

What was my purpose?

I'd asked this question so many times the words themselves blurred together into nonsense. Except tonight felt different to me, charged with more need than I'd ever felt. Standing there that night, on the cusp of my sixteenth birthday, I knew it was time I did. I couldn't go on like this anymore.

That reminder made me sigh and sag. My birthday was tomorrow, the turning of my year in a few hours. Which meant it was also a day I dreaded more than any other. Moving day. The day I left my father's realm and joined my mother in hers.

Typically I would have let that realization—one I carefully and conveniently forgot for as long as possible—bum me out sufficiently it would ruin the rest of my last night free of my mother's influence. But, now that my decision to do something about this mess had been made, I leaned away from the window and felt a smile lift my lips, my heart's ache easing, tension released. Wallowing wasn't really my thing, though I suppose most people wouldn't blame me. That is, most people who weren't my brothers, my sisters or my parents. So, reasonable people with hearts and souls and things.

Two more years of this. Until I was eighteen and able to decide which realm I wanted to live in forever. That was the promise they made me. Four more cycles back and forth, passed between them.

No. No more. Sixteen years had to be enough. Surely they would see that. I would talk to Dad. He would listen this time because I would refuse to act unless he did. And then, I would have that same conversation with Mom. This had to stop. I was done.

Well, we'd see about that.

Steps brisk and ready to go home, I spun to find the nearest door and go talk to Death. And almost ran into a familiar figure who hurried past me. How Daphne missed me standing there I don't know, but when she turned, two of our sisters hurrying past her, the look of utter fury that crossed her face made me step back.

She spun and jabbed a finger in my direction, her blonde hair spilling in ringlets over one narrow shoulder, perfect face pinched with rage. "Don't you dare," she snarled, pointing then at the sign over the door at the end of the hall behind us. "You come near my nursery tonight and I'll make sure you never, ever set foot in the Garden again."

Her two companions observed with mixed emotions. Brunette Cadence watched, wide-eyed, young enough at thirteen not to have become as harsh and jaded as my older sisters. But icy blonde Ophelia smirked, green eyes narrowing while her disgust hit me solidly in my empathy. Likely on purpose.

"Go back to Undertown where you belong, loser." She turned her slim, pale body, draped elegantly in a stunning pink sundress, until she'd cut me out of her view. "It's time, Daph." Reverence there, and respect for our oldest sister.

Daphne didn't comment to Ophelia, her determined fury still focused on me. While Ophelia's emotions did some damage, it was nothing compared to the full out attack on my psyche Life's successor-in-waiting slammed me with.

I shrank back from her, shook my head. Opened my mouth to tell her I had no intention when she crossed her arms over her chest, foot tapping in her expensive shoe on the carpet. "If you think what you did tonight went unnoticed, Eve," she made my name sound like it tasted awful in her mouth, "you can forget it. Everyone knows. Everyone." That meant Dad and Mom. And all my siblings. Well, not like there was far for me to fall, after all. No one would be shocked, would they? Small comfort, that. "There is something fundamentally wrong with you." Her words emerged in a hiss of fury, hateful and full of venom. I shriveled within despite my need to fight back, her powerful emotions sucking all the will out of me and crushing me under the weight of her rage. "I've told Mother you're trouble, that she should have put you down like the monster you are a long time ago." My cheeks heated, whole body shaking, my ears pounding and the mist moving in around the edges of my vision. Ophelia added her agreement in layers of pressure. Oddly, the young apprentice, Cadence, didn't join in the fun. She'd better hope Daphne didn't notice.

I wanted to run away from them, from my perfect, model sister who always got it right and was Mom's favorite, but I couldn't make my body move. This empathy of mine was a curse that held me in place, forcing me to take in all the vitriol and make it mine while the core of my soul screamed to fight back.

"Stay away from me, Eve." Daphne spun and stomped off at last, Ophelia waving at me with delighted spite.

Cadence followed after them, her eyes on me while the doors of the nursery swung shut behind the trio with a whoosh of air.

***

# Chapter Three

Finally able to move, I stumbled backward into the glass, tears burning tracks down my flaming cheeks, choking on more while I forced myself to turn slowly and walk away.

I didn't make it far. I chose the nearest ward and slipped inside. I needed to hide, to escape and probably should have done so in a realm where I couldn't hurt anyone. But the comforting peace of the hospital enveloped me, the soft emotions of the night mixing with the lingering limbo of health and illness drawing me deeper.

I sank at last onto a narrow, uncomfortable sofa under a big window at the end of a ward corridor and hugged my knees to my chest. I had just enough control left to hide myself from the mortals who patrolled the halls before sinking my forehead against the worn denim of my jeans and weeping as softly as I could, expelling the violent, poisoned emotions I'd gathered from Daphne and Ophelia into the fabric of my pants.

When I was finally done I sniffed a few times, wiped my nose on the cuff of my dark plaid shirt and collapsed back on the worn cushions. I always felt better when I let out the emotions I gathered, stronger somehow, more myself. I had to do it privately, though, or risk gathering even more feelings from others who either wanted to make me feel better or, more often, chose to tease me for my weakness. But I'd come to realize crying wasn't weak. If anything, it helped me. And while I didn't like having to go through five minutes of sobbing my heart out, the alternative was unimaginable.

My eight year old self learned early I either let the emotions out as fast as possible or I couldn't function. And while I struggled with offering myself compliments, my own resilience shocked me sometimes.

Weary and weak from the experience I examined my own aura, the empathetic layer surrounding it that seemed unable to do anything but absorb the feelings that battered me on a constant basis. I'd often wondered where it came from and why it troubled me so. It had grown denser over the years, taking on more than I'd ever thought anyone could handle. It was able to smother my aura so completely at times I could almost feel myself slipping away. And in those moments when I hovered on the edge of no longer being Eve, of falling into darkness and the stillness of release, there was the mist.

I dreamed about it my whole life. Felt it hiding within me like a wavering second soul. I was certain it was because of that odd presence I was able to bounce back over and over, find myself again, even dig up a bit of optimism when I needed it most. But neither my father nor my mother could tell me what it was for or about.

Dad would just look at me strangely and hug me. Mom, on the other hand, with her arrogant overbearingness that burned with the forward momentum of Life unyielding, wouldn't even listen.

I teased the edges of the mist, letting myself sink into it only to feel it retreat with what seemed to me like sadness. Some kind of hesitation, of waiting even. I sighed and shook off the questions this kind of exploration always raised. I was getting nowhere, as usual. Except to the place where I believed utterly I was just a freak.

"Eve." How had she snuck up on me like that? I jerked slightly in surprise to find Cadence standing a few feet away, hands clasped before her. She seemed nervous, glancing back over her shoulder, brown curls bouncing, before taking a hesitant step forward. "Are you okay?"

Why should she care? That bitter and instant reaction made me inhale and instantly reject such a response. "I'm fine." I wasn't, that much had to be obvious, but I would make a good show of things in front of my younger sister.

Cadence joined me, to my utter shock, sinking to the sofa next to me, hands still folded, now settled in her lap over the pattern of flowers printed on her full skirt. She cleared her throat, a small and delicate sound, dark hair scented with Mom's favorite roses. "I'm sorry." The words blurted from her, lower lip trembling slightly. "For not speaking up."

I gaped in shock, not sure what to make of this encounter, or of the sorrow in her aura now tinting my inner world with the need to hug her. "Against Daphne?"

Cadence nodded, swiped at one round cheek as a tear fell. She glanced at me quickly, large, brown eyes blinking, glistening with more moisture. She was crying? For me? "I wanted you to know," she said, "I hate how she treats you."

Despite the weight of her sorrow, I almost laughed. It was a gut reaction to such kindness, unfamiliar from one of my sisters. "That makes two of us." No, I wouldn't take this girl into my confidence. This had to be some kind of trick, a ploy of Daphne's to give me solace then use it against me. But Cadence's emotions were so raw, felt so real, I found myself softening toward her when she spoke again.

"I'm not strong enough to stand against her," Cadence said, the wisdom of Life in her young voice. "And I won't always be able to take your side. But I'm here for you, Eve." She smiled then, offering one hand which I took slowly, limply, feeling the gentle offer of friendship and sisterly love in her touch through our auras. "You might not know it, but you're the strongest of all of us. What you go through, how mean Daphne is to you." She sniffed subtly, stood after squeezing my hand, still clinging to my fingers. "You never say anything to hurt anyone." The wonder in her tone made me flinch from the truth of living in Life's realm. "You're my favorite sister. I just thought you should know."

Cadence hurried off, her skirt whispering in the quiet, feet carrying her away from me too quickly for me to react in my stunned silence.

The moment she was gone distrust woke, thoughts of Daphne again invading. Cadence was my sister's apprentice, shadowed her. She had to be behind this attempt to get into my heart. None of my sisters had ever tried such a thing before. Unlike Death's sons, it hadn't taken Life's daughters long to start their lifetime dance of one upping and spite against me. At least my brothers waited until I was eight and proved to be a disaster before shunning my presence.

But as I sat there and thought it through, the more I considered my younger sister's actions, the better I saw the truth.

Never once had Cadence treated me with disdain or spoken an unkind word. In fact, the opposite. She had always gone out of her way to avoid being mean or cruel. Still, it was hard to accept maybe, just maybe, I had a friend in Life after all. And, possibly more than one. What if there were those of my sisters without the courage to speak up as Cadence had? Surely all of Mom's daughters weren't like her. I was proof of that and, honestly, aside from Daphne and Ophelia, most of my sisters simply ignored me as unimportant and unable to assist them in their climb to favor with Life.

How many of them despised Mom's encouragement to competition as I did?

Regardless of the truth, Cadence's visit succeeded in releasing the last of my hurt. That and the time to myself granted me ease and relief. Enough so I finally felt up to facing my dad. I rose from the couch and stretched, vertebrae popping and muscles pulling. My black hair had escaped the messy bun I preferred, so I made busy with still shaky hands. The stretched out elastic barely contained the massive curly mess that fell to the small of my back when I let it. As I stepped past a partially open door, fumbling with the static laden stuff, I glanced inside, gaze caught by a flicker of light and my own reflection in the window.

I'd had better hair days, that much was obvious. Didn't help my looks my plaid button up sat askew, my messy bun more of a monstrosity of knots and twists sticking out behind my head than a hairdo. My already pale skin looked ghostly in the glass, eyes two sunken, black holes instead of the dark blue I knew they were. I jerked to a stop, fingers finding my sharp cheekbones, wondering if this was how mortals saw me when I was playing at being an angel of Death or if I just looked like crap in general.

The flickering light steadied to constant illumination, drawing my gaze down from my own appalling appearance and to a face turned up toward me. I froze in his doorway, realizing only then I'd drifted close enough I caught his attention. I had to have been in pediatrics I realized as I flushed at the sight of the handsome teenager in the bed. His dark hair, sheered short, showed a long, narrow scar at the base of his skull. But his high cheekbones and wide jaw made him classically good looking, as did the pale, gray eyes that caught the light from the screen of his laptop. Eerie, though, his face in that glow, his cheeks slightly sunken, teeth seeming transparent when he smiled and beckoned.

I'd let my glamour fail me, the masking of my presence clearly gone or he never would have seen me. How could I be so careless?

I glanced behind me, one hand going to my throat in surprise and embarrassment. Partially out of concern I'd let myself slip and partially because I'd never had a cute guy pay me the least attention. Never mind I rarely had the chance to encounter anything resembling a handsome boy my age outside my brothers. Which made me shudder slightly and ew in my head before I squeaked out a question.

"Me?"

***

# Chapter Four

He laughed, a nice sound, full of life even if maybe he wasn't. And he wasn't, not really. I could feel Death in him as I crossed the threshold of his room and paused there, hesitant and nervous. Consorting with mortals was against the rules, every angel of Life and Death knew that. We didn't visit this realm to make friends. We were here to do a job and that was it. I could get into some serious trouble just talking with him. Somehow, that made this brief moment of interaction all the more appealing. I blushed at my own tiny flare of rebellion as the young man pulled himself up higher, three pillows behind him, laptop sliding sideways from his long, lean fingers. Again he gestured.

"You," he said. "Unless you're a hallucination, then you can come in anyway."

I laughed, a half snort, half donkey braying kind of sound and fell silent, cheeks hot yet again. This was a disaster and I really had to go. Instead, I found myself shuffling my feet, hands diving into my back pockets while I struggled to not feel like an awkward loser. But holding my ground nonetheless. Where had this brave Eve come from?

"Hallucinations are allowed to sit down," he said with an air of authority. "But only for a minute."

I giggled that time and, despite knowing if Daphne or Ophelia saw me I'd be in for a huge dressing down, I slipped closer, sinking into the rigid armchair beside his bed. He grinned back at me, white teeth shining.

"I'm Adam Worth," he said.

"Eve," I whispered. Cleared my throat and tried again. "I'm Eve."

He waited but I didn't have a last name to give him and he was so cute and his smile was so sweet and friendly I couldn't make my brain function well enough to fake one without choosing something totally stupid. So I held still and quiet and smiled back weakly until he shrugged. He had no idea I just enjoyed this moment of being with someone who had no idea what a crash and burn I really was.

"Nice to meet you, Eve," he said. Then frowned, looking at me a little closer. "You okay?"

I nodded, fast and too eager. "Yeah," I said, both hands on my face, wiping away imaginary moisture as I realized I must have looked even worse than I thought from all the crying I'd done. "Just... rough night."

Adam set aside his computer, hands settling in his lap over the bleached white sheets. "Hear you," he said, only the faintest trace of hurt in his voice and his aura. Funny, his emotions touched my empathy but didn't assault it, just skimmed past as if unable to sink in. Either that or he had no desire to share, not really. He looked away, chin falling, lips tight before he exhaled and smiled at me again. "Need to talk about it?"

His offer caught my breath. I'd never had this much interaction with a mortal before, for obvious taboo reasons. Usually, my time with them consisted of either killing the ones who were meant to have life or saving those bound for death. Not exactly conversation evoking times. Let alone had a handsome guy my age ask me to tell him my troubles.

And his question was genuine. It came through clearly, his aura vibrating with his offer. He truly wanted to help.

In a rush of guilty need, I gulped and spoke. "Things just don't seem to go the way they're supposed to when I'm around." Vague enough for him?

Adam's lips were lovely, really, made the most delightful bow shape when he smiled. And those white teeth, utterly perfect. "At the risk of sounding cliché," he said, gray eyes smiling, too, "which is, in itself, a cliché," he winked, "that's life, chiquita."

"I suppose." I sighed, sagged in the chair, the plastic squirting air from small holes, making embarrassing noises. Adam smirked, but out of real amusement and not a trace of teasing so I smiled back despite my conscience whispering to me I really, really had to go. Just get up. Get out of there before someone caught me. So why then did my body remain where it was, heart sighing softly in response to his kindness? "I just wish for once I could have been able to do something right."

Adam's smile faded. "It's not your fault," he said. It could have sounded like a rote response, something lacking authenticity or truth. But, from him, it came out with so much insistence my empathy latched on with purpose and absorbed it of its own accord. First time for everything. I gasped softly at the change and almost missed his question when he spoke again. "Who's dying?"

I tensed when understanding woke, but his emotional support lingered, strengthened and I let it. Like I had a choice, or so I told myself, enjoying the moment immensely as it stretched out in delightful softness I'd never experienced before. "He's not," I said. "Not anymore." That came out as a whisper despite Adam's emotional contact.

"And you're upset about that?" Adam shook his head, but didn't judge, his aura warm and kind. "Grandfather?"

I didn't respond, let him assume. Because I couldn't tell him the truth.

"Is your family upset he's going to be okay?" Adam sounded totally confused now, though his faith in me didn't waver. Was this what it was like to be mortal? To believe utterly and wholly in things and never doubt? But no, my sisters and brothers had beliefs this strong.

So doubt was just me.

"In a way," I said, struggling to answer him. "It's been expected, you see." That sounded terrible, had to, to a mortal. Especially one who was sick. "It's complicated."

Adam chewed his lower lip a second, the warmth of his aura fading, leaving me, replaced by his own worries. I wished then the empathetic layer I carried was reversible, that I could comfort him with what had, until now, felt like a lifelong curse. "I guess so," he said. Then sighed, sorrow in his energy. "People are weird about dying."

"Tell me about it," I said. His aura shifted into pain, physical and emotional and I almost reached out with my hand to grasp his but held back, knowing better. I didn't dare touch him. For all I knew, doing so would trigger an ending I'd regret. I wasn't here for him, so who knew what contact would result in? Death or Life or nothing? Not worth the risk, not when I felt myself connect to this young man in a way that the rules demanded I shouldn't. "So, how about you? Did you want to talk?" I was a good listener. At least Tulip said so. My only real friend loved to chatter on and I preferred to let her so I guess it made sense.

Adam didn't look at me, staring out the window into the darkness. "I don't talk about it," he said.

I sat there a long moment, feeling the break in our connection and wishing I hadn't ruined this, too. Not that I could do anything to maintain our relationship, whatever it was in these few rebellious moments. I couldn't help wondering what I could do to help him though, secretly wishing I could find a way to start again. When he turned back to me, everything slid toward joy again. This guy had mercury in his blood or multiple personalities. Or maybe he'd come to terms with the thing that was killing him—his Death was written all over him when I allowed myself to look—and refused to feel badly for long.

"I like your attitude," I said, meaning it. And liking him far more than I knew was good for me. But as I sat there and smiled at him, I found I didn't care so much what anyone thought. About rules and mortals and angels. I wasn't a daughter of Life or Death, not in that way. I'd proved that often enough. So the rules didn't apply to me, did they?

Adam laughed. "You're the only one, then," he said. "Everyone else tells me I need to come to terms with what's happening to me. The tumor." He gestured at his head while his aura warmed up again and hope hugged me. "But there's still this new treatment they're trying. I'm not ready to give up yet."

I couldn't tell him what I saw. I was enough of Death's daughter I knew his end was coming. Then again, who knew? Not me, certainly. For all I understood he might make it. After all, I was the worst angel of Death ever.

Made me feel a little better for him and his chances.

Eve. His mind always felt soft and kind, but Dad's touch made me tense anyway. Partly because I sat where I did, consorting. I almost snorted at the word before sighing and answering him.

Coming. He didn't have to ask. I knew what Dad wanted. Time to face the music. Even though it was his orchestra and the score was created by my parents, not me.

I stood, hugging myself again. "I have to go, I guess."

"Hallucination over," Adam said. "Got it."

I turned toward the door, paused. "How's the game?" I'd have to tell Tulip I met a mortal who played. My best friend loved video games, made her own, in fact. She'd be gasping and shocked and jealous all at the same time.

Adam glanced at the screen. "Played one, killed everyone in sight, you've played them all." He sat back, waved. "By the way," he said. "Our name connection was not lost on me."

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "I was wondering." And forged ahead with a privately giddy thought even though the likelihood I'd ever see him again—should or would—was pretty slim. "Next time, I'll be sure to bring an apple."

His eyebrows rose, smile broadening. "Next time?"

I waved instead of answering and left him there, heart buzzing with something I'd never felt before. No, I couldn't have a relationship with a mortal. This was once and once only, right? A chance to clear my head and release the last of my hurt before facing Dad. An accident, a slip up from someone who constantly stumbled from one mistake to another.

At least I'd keep telling myself that while finding a way to return and see Adam. I wasn't hurting anyone, was I? The hospital corridor swallowed me while I clung to the feeling Adam left in my aura, not sure if I wanted to let that emotion out.

***

# Chapter Five

I found the closest door, a utility closet, the buckets and cleaners within vanishing as soon as I stepped past the threshold. A faint chill passed through me as it always did when I left the mortal realm behind for the Crosspath. The dim quiet enveloped me, dark green carpet soft under my shoes. The air here always smelled faintly of dust, though the large, circular space seemed immaculately clean for somewhere that saw so much varied traffic.

I had the hub to myself, the curve of velvet upholstered art deco sofas about as welcoming as any waiting room, the small fireplace in the center smoking faintly, the wisps of it disappearing into thin air. Someone had been here, perhaps held a meeting just recently, but for now I was alone.

This place often gave me shivers. The silence of it, though the times the Crosspath played Muzak of its own accord seemed even worse. Though we all took its existence for granted, I wondered at times just who designed this place that was nowhere with its walls of black stone that absorbed light, ceiling lost to the darkness overhead, pinpoints that looked like stars flickering far above. Not that it mattered, really. But it would have been nice to know.

My feet dragged as I turned away from the corridors leading off in arching spokes of halls branching away from the Crosspath hub. There were plenty of doors to choose from, though only one I really should have been heading for. Death's door, the entry to Undertown, loomed in its own special place between the branches. Dad's realm had enough standing to warrant a wall space instead of being relegated down some hallway or another. I purposely didn't turn around to look for the opposite. Life's entry was just as prominent, though Mom made sure her door was bigger, brighter, flashier. Which was typical of her, really. I wondered if she knew Dad didn't care if she thought she was better than him or not.

Somehow I doubt his attitude would have made a difference.

Two more large doors dominated the Crosspath. The one I'd just exited, to the mortal realm. And the fourth the looming, welcoming portal to the Repository of Creation.

I hesitated, knowing I should go see Dad as soon as possible. I'd already let Nero have plenty of time to break the news, though our father would have felt what happened the instant it occurred. He would have lived my failure, sensed the change in the Book as the name of the old man was erased. And, honestly, with my track record Dad shouldn't have been surprised. Probably wasn't. So, there was no hurry to go back, was there? Yes, he'd personally summoned me just a minute ago. But Death was patient.

Besides, I only had a few hours left before the night turned over into day and I wasn't Dad's problem anymore. At least for the next six months. Moving day, my birthday, meant leaving Undertown behind for the Garden and Mom's damaging attention. Or lack, thereof. Maybe if she'd taken the time to actually get to know me she would have stopped this silly back and forth long ago. Why my parents continued to pass me between them at times raised the anger I struggled to hold onto as a sign I had even a little control over my own life. It wasn't like they sent me willingly. For whatever reason, Mom fought Dad every time for my presence, only to treat me like I didn't exist. I know Dad would have kept me in Undertown with him if she hadn't been so stubborn about it.

Not like I had a say in the matter. Still, the way Mom treated failure in my sisters, even perceived failure, I would think she would have been happy to be rid of me. And yet, it was likely my continuing lack of success motivating her. Until I actually did the job she assigned me, Mom refused to let me go.

My failure was hers or some ridiculousness that made my life misery for six months of every year.

I stood there, fretting and trying to convince myself with layers of excuses Dad was a better choice at the moment. That maybe this time I'd be able to just put an end to the cycle of awful two years early. My stomach suddenly dropped, a dizzy spell washing over me while the mist drifted into the edges of my vision. I'd never felt it so powerfully before and pressed both hands to my stomach, lips clenching against bile burning the back of my throat. It took me a moment of gasping to bring my unhappy insides under control, time in which I gaped, shocked, at the sight of a fifth door.

Where had it come from? It seemed vague, wavering, made of the same ghostly mist that plagued my dreams since I was little. The same mist that appeared so frequently when I tried to fulfill my duties. It formed an entry, the Crosspath shifting before my eyes, disorienting and making my dizziness worse. I had to look away at last, staring at the carpet for a moment, breathing pants of air through my open mouth until the feeling subsided as quickly as it came.

When I looked up again, the misty doorway was gone, the Crosspath hub back to normal. I spun slowly on the toe of one shoe, looking down each of the multitude of hallways leading off like the spokes of a great wheel, but the wavering door had disappeared.

I had to have imagined it. Just a stress reaction to what happened with the old man. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to believe this was some kind of a hallucination. It happened, I was sure of it. But I had no idea why.

I stood there a long time, breathing in the quiet, dead air of the Crosspath, listening to the final crackles of the fire someone left behind and the sound of my own lungs drawing and expelling breath. I called on the mist, willing it forward, only to have it retreat as it always did. My body righted itself quickly enough, though it took a few minutes for my pulse to settle completely. By the time it had, I wound through enough paranoid scenarios to drive myself to distraction.

Maybe I was losing my mind? I didn't fit in with my brothers or my sisters, with Life or Death. It was quite possible that instead of the stable, sane and helpful angel of either I was supposed to be, I was instead some kind of anti-angel. The monster my eldest siblings always told me I was.

My jaw ached from clenching it and I finally shook off my frozen, self-conscious state of anxiety. Purposely, with effort, I forced myself into calm and composure. As usual I was turning something that likely wasn't anything into a gigantic problem that would just make my life more miserable. I shook my head, making my lips smile until I felt the shift in my emotions and relaxed at last. It was just some mist, just a door. It had nothing to do with me.

Feeling better, I threw my shoulders back and, still smiling, strode with fake confidence toward Undertown.

The tall, narrow way of dark stone waited for me, seeming to exhale outward as I drew near. The pale, gray skull carved into the surface grinned when I reached for the round, silver knob in the center and winked one gaping eye hole at me. When I was small, I always tried to talk to the bony guardian and though it never answered, Death's door had taken a liking to me. I waved and blew the skull a kiss before it swung open for me without my effort, allowing me inside.

All I had to do now was hold onto the optimism and false confidence I'd wrapped around myself. I'd learned early on it was my only defense against falling into darkness and despair. Thankfully, I had those in my life who did their best to encourage my self-worth and, because of them and my stubborn refusal to allow the rest of my family to hurt me, I was able to enter Undertown with my head held high.

The door swung shut behind me, disappearing, taking the view of the Crosspath with it when it did. A mountain towered behind the place it had been, the etching of the exit just visible in the dark stone. I turned deliberately and firmly away from it and strode with heavy steps across the rock outcrop at the entry to Death's realm, pausing as I often did at the lip of the bridge into Undertown.

This view was part of the reason I didn't give up hope. Yes, it was the domain of Death, but it never failed to thrill me. The pale, gray sky arched over tall, stone buildings, dark green gardens lush with heavy foliage on every roof. Statues marched in stately columns down the broad promenade leading to the towering palace of Death.

***

# Chapter Six

It might have seemed gloomy to others, but I loved it so.

My shoes squelched softly on the stone of the open bridge arching across to the wide courtyard on the other side, heavy, rubber soles firm on the path. One of my hands slid across the moss crusted bricks, edges eroded over eons, carved faces and animals winding their way underfoot. I'd spent endless hours on this bridge as a small girl, following the carvings back and forth, listening to my father tell me about the march of life that ended here, in his realm.

I almost made it halfway before he caught up with me, the rustle of his broad wings dusty in the air. The great raven settled on the arch of the thin, iron railing, fluttering his feathers to settle them, beady, shining black eye fixed on me as his big head tilted sharply in my direction.

"Eve," he said, crisp British accent irritating me the instant he spoke, a learned reaction to the weight of his disapproval. "Your father has been waiting for you." A film of white rolled over the beaded black, the inner lid sliding forward in that creepy way the raven had of unsettling me.

"I'm coming, Corvus." It was happening despite everything I'd told myself. I felt it, the bowing of my chin, the rolling forward of my shoulders in response to his presence. It took a great deal of effort not to let him win immediately, though I'd be furious with myself later for even giving in this much to the grumpy old bird.

Corvus, Death's advisor and general pain in my behind, fluttered forward, settling ahead of me so he could glare as I walked by. "Your recent disaster has yet again caused your father difficulty." He preened a moment, the arrogant prat, claws clicking on the stone he clutched. "I really don't know what it is you're up to, child, but whatever game you're playing it's time to end it."

I halted instantly, anger rising, though it didn't emerge. It never came out, no matter how frustrated I felt. Instead I stood there and shook, lips glued together. As if this was my fault, by design, by choice.

Finally able to speak past my frustrating wall of anger, I continued on, hurrying now, needing to escape the nasty creature but knowing I never would. "Dad's in his throne room?"

"Where else would he be, you ridiculous girl." Corvus lifted off, hovering near me, keeping pace with his own power and the occasional flap of his wings. He intended to follow me all the way in. I could feel my skin tightening as it crawled with inexpressible emotion, my stomach forming a hard, hot ball in my gut, bubbling with acid. He knew exactly how to make me feel worse and, whether by design or just natural vindictiveness, Corvus never failed to do his best to make sure I was in the worst state possible when I talked to my dad.

My empathy betrayed me all over again to the point I wished it would just leave me to fall into darkness in peace.

There was no real relief on the other side of the bridge, either, the courtyard crisscrossed by my brothers, hurrying on their way to tasks of their own. Three of them stalked toward me, their thin bodies draped in fashionable clothing, taking to the bridge themselves, heading for the realm of mortals, more than likely. Angels of Death, stunning in their tall, slender maleness, eternally young, with dark hair and blue eyes just like my father. But without the kindness in their faces his always held.

Least of all Kael, my eldest brother, who—as luck would have it—led the small group of my most antagonistic brothers. I did duck my head then, feeling the need to be small and unnoticed take me over. His shoulder brushed me, knocked me off balance, the faint chuckle from his companions enough of an emotional strike to complete the hurt.

"Eve." Kael's heavy, silken voice pulled me to a halt like I wore a collar and leash. I turned slowly to find him watching me, body turned sideways, head tilted down as he smirked with cruelty in his aura.

He of all my brothers knew about my empathy, loved using it against me. He purposely, I now knew, spent enough time with me as a child he gleaned understanding of my pain and turned it into the means to amuse himself. Never mind I was sure he'd done the same to every single sibling of ours. And, I had no doubt, kept careful note what he could use against each one. Because that was Kael.

There was a time when his dislike and disdain could have been crippling. But it was partly because of Kael's deliberate attempt to break me I was able to learn to shed the excess negative emotions and come out the other side. Not that I'd ever thank him or anything.

"Kael." I managed his name at a reasonable volume and tone, voice steady enough.

He just stared and felt at me. My eldest brother didn't have to speak. All the words he'd needed to say had been spoken over the years. It had come to the point Kael only had to look at me and share that small, nasty smile and my aura crumpled in agony.

Not today. I wouldn't allow it in these last hours before my inevitable return to Life and my mother's Garden. I would not fumble and falter when I'd come through a barrage of pain already tonight. I think I surprised him when I succeed in staring back. I know I surprised me. And, to my shock, the source of my strength had buzzed dark hair and a kind, stunning smile, the embedded warmth of Adam's memory lingering.

I turned and walked away, breathing deep and fighting a grin of triumph, certain Kael would follow and shocked when he didn't. He would wait six months, gather his hate, use it against me when he saw me again. Many times in the past just knowing he waited for me, his abuse only building strength with the weeks passing, would have made me run for my room to weep. Not today.

Maybe things were looking up after all.

I wasn't pushing my luck with him though, forcing a quicker pace, carrying me away from him before his well-designed emotional attack could do further damage.

A glance behind me once I was out of his reach revealed Kael glaring still, motionless on the bridge as if uncertain of what to do. Oh yes, he'd make me pay for escaping his nasty attempt to ruin my day. Failure hurt, didn't it, brother? I almost laughed, more out of despair than humor, but I'd take the emotional perk where I could find it.

It was impossible to avoid all of my brothers, though there were no more concerted efforts to bring me low, at least. For the most part, as usual, they avoided me, and I hardly blamed them. The bulk of Death's angels weren't unkind to me so much as their collective decision to ignore me or treat me like a stranger hurt just as much. For the most part, my brothers shared Dad's kindness, his compassion. I suppose years of my constant failure led to this generalized agreement to simply pretend I wasn't there. Likely Kael's delight in my torment only added to the distance.

Thinking of Cadence made me wonder if there were those among them, like her and Nero, who might feel otherwise but lacked the courage to stand out. Heartening, that wistful longing.

Surprisingly, Corvus kept his beak shut after my encounter with my eldest brother, winging softly beside me, muttering occasionally but clearly distracted, his feelings not aimed in my direction. I wondered long ago why Dad's advisor didn't stand up for me. I'd learned to hate the raven for never interceding when Kael's abuse became heartbreaking. Until I'd simply chosen to avoid the large, black bird whenever possible.

By the time we reached the other end of the long parade to the stairs leading into the palace I managed to reassemble a bit of my optimism, enough my shoulders weren't bowed and my neck aching from staring at the ground.

Victories were small and far between in my life.

The main doors stood open above me, the climb to them feeling like it always did, as though I went to some great fate that would lead me where I'd always been meant to go. But instead I found myself inside the vast foyer of Death's palace. I crossed the center, past the bubbling fountain pouring rose scented water out the gaping eye, nose and cheek holes of a giant skull, the faint spray of its wash cool on my left cheek and the back of my hand. Corvus fluttered ahead, leaving me behind at last and I exhaled in relief, slowing my steps just a little so I could be alone a moment and gather my thoughts, what I was going to say to Dad when I spoke to him.

Because it was clear to me, had been for a long time, this wasn't working. That forcing me to try to be like my brothers—and, on the other side, like my sisters—only led to steady, undeniable disaster for the mortals with whom I interacted.

I glanced to the right, down the stone steps that led to the small Chamber of The Dead, where the great Book of pending death sat on its stone pedestal, pale parchment pages scrawled with the spider webbed names of those in line to die.

And looked away quickly, shivering, knowing yet again I'd made a mess of things. Well, I was done with that. No more. Even if my voice shook, even if I had to fight for words, even if I had to go against my own father, this was it.

I was done.

For the hundredth time making that decision and firmly deciding to stick to it despite knowing I would never follow through, I entered the throne room of Death and found him waiting for me.

***

# Chapter Seven

He wasn't alone, though it was hard to notice anyone but him. Towering in his darkness, his face a skull mask and body draped in shadows themselves, the fifty-foot tall presence of the Grim Reaper sat quietly on his massive throne, staring down at the angel of Death who spoke to him.

Nero was still here. Whatever he thought he had to say to Dad about me had taken a great deal of time. Either that or he'd dragged his feet coming home no matter what he'd said in the hospital. Dad's giant head lifted, skeletal hands settling on the wide, stone armrests of his hulking throne, the darkness swirling around his bony toes as he gestured for me to come forward with one long, stark finger.

Nero wouldn't meet my eyes, my brother's embarrassment obvious to me even without feeling his emotions through my empathy. I walked the black carpet past the arching gallery on either side of the throne room, knowing we were observed by my brothers hiding in the shadows behind the stone. Typical, really, of the sons of Death.

Corvus flapped heavily to Dad, settling on his gigantic knee as my father spoke.

"That will be all, my son." His voice boomed, hollow and empty of feeling, the skull showing no emotion. Nero bowed to Dad before turning away, his blue eyes flickering for just one instant to meet mine.

I smiled at him, to let him know I didn't blame him, but he frowned in return, almost angry by the feeling of him, and left without a word.

Dad waited until Nero had gone, Corvus muttering in his lap, before shooing the bird from the robes of darkness. He stood. The shadows of the gallery darkened, Death's command reaching all my brothers. As abruptly as the raven flew free my siblings scattered, leaving the throne room empty of all but me and my father, a small, handsome figure stepped out of the swirling black robe on the throne, smiling with his arms open. I stepped into that embrace as my father hugged me, his mortal form much more appealing than his official one.

"Eve." He kissed my temple before pushing me gently away from him. He appeared young, with the attractive face of my brothers, but older, kinder, softer around the edges. He could have been a supermodel if he were human with those perfect cheekbones and flawless black hair, the way his wide jaw joined in a cleft chin under a pink lipped mouth. Tall, narrow hipped and lean, my father didn't look a day over twenty-four. Didn't matter he was far older than that by about two millennia.

"Hi, Dad." I felt tension return, his kindness no help. Maybe if my father chose anger or blame over constant compassion I'd be able to stand against him. But this was always where I failed, where my resolve died, in the love and sweet loyalty of Samael, the master of Death.

He slipped one arm over my shoulder and sighed, kind smile sad. "Sweetie," he said. "I think it's time we had a long talk."

Dad didn't say another word while tension made my spine ache, leading me away from the dais of his throne, the form of his Grim Reaper persona silent and still on the stone perch, like a suit he wore though it was so much more than that. I was surprised when he cut off Corvus at the side exit.

"Just Eve," he said without malice or force, but the raven instantly backed off. Though I'm sure Dad caught his grumbling complaint as he went. Dad sighed while he opened the door to his private garden on the other side.

I loved it here, had since I was young, the winding paths of black stone, the towering rose bushes filled with lush, dark green leaves and heavy, black blossoms. So much more inviting than the mediaeval feel of the looming throne room and its dark quiet. Dad's flowers smelled like no roses a mortal would recognize, spicy and sweet at the same time without being overpowering or cloying. It was my favorite scent in the whole world.

Dad led me to a stone bench, sat me down next to him, crossing his denim clad legs and extending his arm over the back of the seat, smiling up at the gray sky. His black t-shirt tightened across his chest, showing muscles still taut and youthful. "I'll miss having you here, Eve. I think it's part of the reason I pushed you to take that last task. To be certain."

He had to remind me about Moving Day. The beginning of my exile from Undertown.

"I could stay here," I said as I'd planned, not ready to address the second part of his statement, though with less conviction than I'd intended. Partly because his statement carried information I wasn't sure I understood. Certain of what? I'd find out soon enough. Right now I needed to focus on standing up to him, especially his kindness.

Dad didn't even argue. We'd had this conversation too many times, I knew a fight would be weak and pathetic since neither of us seemed willing to carry the argument past sad acceptance of fate.

"Your mother's expecting you," he said before sighing softly. "I blame myself, you know."

For this ridiculous six month cycle of living with Life and Death? But no, he wasn't talking about my shared parenting arrangement that only made me feel more disconnected from my family, not less. Maybe if I'd been allowed to stay with him, or, despite how horrible it sounded, in Life's Garden, instead of being tossed back and forth between them, I could have found my own stability, made friends among my siblings. But neither my sisters in Life nor my brothers in Death could understand me. About as well as I understood myself. Being different, the only child of both, had only ever led me to hurt.

I'd had this talk with him before, if never my mother. Mom just didn't get it, wasn't willing to learn about my feelings. But since Dad agreed to the arrangement years ago, long before I had the chance to express my opinion about it, we continued on, year after year, six months of hell at a time.

Dad looked down at me, touched my cheek with one finger, cool skin pale and soft. "I've been trying so hard to help you find your way," he said, "and now that I've decided to stop being stubborn, I realize I've been forcing you to take on a role that's clearly not for you."

My jaw dropped, heart skipping impossible beats as excitement tried not to rise. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? Was he finally going to stop sending me out on tasks with my brothers? Tears leaped into my eyes, hot and tingling, stinging me as I blinked them away.

Dad's face fell, his hand, too as he stared down into his lap with guilt crossing his aura. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Forgive me, Eve."

I hugged him hard, laughter and relief bubbling in my chest. "I understand," I said, felt his mood rise again when I smiled at him and let him see just how grateful I was he'd finally seen the light.

Dad's gentle smile returned. "I'm going to talk to your mother," he said, crushing all hope and destroying the joy he'd created with those frustrating words.

"You haven't yet." I didn't mean to sound ungrateful, tone flat and empty, but this was a wasted conversation. Because I knew my mother. Mom would never, ever let me stop. And she'd convince him to send me out again, because she was like that.

Life was a bitch sometimes.

His fingers forced my face around with a gentle touch on my chin, firm determination on his face. "I won't let her bully me on this, Eve," he said. "Isis is accustomed to getting her own way in most things, and I'm happy to acquiesce to keep the peace. But it's time we both faced facts." He tossed his head, long, shining bangs falling over his eyes. "We've done everything we can to help you fit into the mold your brothers and sisters fill. But, it's obvious and has been for a while, that isn't your path." I couldn't believe I was finally hearing this from him. Even knowing he hadn't talked to Mom yet, hope woke again, unfolded from a damaged, crushed thing and tried to live. "You are unique. And I should have known better from the first time you tried to fulfill a task you weren't suited for you were meant for other things."

"Failed, you mean," I said, though without the disappointment that usually came with admitting defeat.

"No, not failure," he said, deep voice falling quiet and thoughtful. "Now that I'm ready to admit it. Something else." His lips pursed. "But I can no longer sit on my throne and accept my actions are damaging the calling of Death. I've been selfish toward you and my duties."

Maybe he could convince her. Mom hated to fail, Life needing to win. If he could show her the bigger picture was only perpetuating a dark mark against her reign we might end up convincing her after all. As for what I was, that remained to be seen.

"I don't know what else to call my failure," I said, "but what it is." I finally succumbed, at least a little, to feeling sorry for myself. "What kind of power do I possess that makes everything go so badly all the time?" Dad's sudden frown drove me onward into despair. "What tasks am I suited for that would require disaster over and over again?"

He didn't answer, not right away, but finally shook his head and sighed again, the chill of the grave in his breath. "I don't know, Eve," he said, sounding tired at last. "But you must have a purpose. Every being does. And I'm determined to help you find yours now that I've stopped being so bullheaded about it." Another smile, more kindness.

"What changed?" It occurred to me I should ask, maybe. That I should care why my father had a shift of heart.

Dad stroked a lock of hair out of my face, tucked it behind my ear. I'd have to redo my bun. It had to look even more a mess since my pathetic attempt to fix it earlier. "Nero," he said. "Your brother offered a compelling argument on this last task of your sixteenth cycle with me. The one I hadn't considered."

I'd hug my brother when I saw him again, regardless of what he thought about such a show of affection. "Thank you."

Dad laughed and hugged me to him, resting his cheek on my hair. "Death can be as stubborn as Life sometimes," he said, "but shouldn't be as foolish." He felt a bit guilty for saying so, that guilt touching my empathy.

"Nero used your position against you." I almost laughed, too.

"So he did." Dad released me and stood, offering his hand. "Now, off with you. I have work to do and you must report to your mother."

He had to remind me again. "Since we're standing up to her," I said.

"Eve." Dad shook his head. "One battle at a time.

Life. The Garden. My home for the next six months. I'd survive. I always did. And if Dad could actually convince Mom... well, maybe things would be better than I expected.

With a lighter heart than I'd had in a long time, I left him with his roses.

***

# Chapter Eight

The Crosspath welcomed me back, Life's shining doorway almost obscene compared to the dim quiet of Death's domain. Mom had made sure anyone who entered the space between realms was acutely aware of the fact she and she alone held the crown as the ruling queen of tacky. Lurid, golden cherubs softly stroked giant lyres, their music growing louder as I approached, turning their creepy heads my way and smiling in their yellow metallic awfulness. Even their teeth were gold, their overlarge eyes. And the door itself, all shining white marble and elaborate metal lacework and flowering vines of gems backlit from the edges so it glowed, cast shadows from the glare.

I paused, hesitating to rush to the Garden just yet, knowing what I was in for. The staring disdain or absent ignorance of my sisters, the arrogant demands of my mother, all that shimmering, golden perfection and excessive sparkliness I could do without just now.

I should have gone to Mom. I knew that was what Dad intended. But I couldn't bring myself to do it just yet. Instead, in a flare of defiance and the need to see another friendly face before my forced return to Life's Garden, I crossed the soft carpet to a more traditional wooden entry with two shining white pillars flanking the heavy, oak doors. The shining gold handles glistened in the low light, my hands loving the smooth, warm feel of the metal as I firmly pushed the right one open and stepped through.

The Repository of Creation welcomed me with its usual rush of delight, the hurry up and take your time mix of feeling always making me a little giddy. The archive of all knowledge in the Universe had felt more like my home than Life or Death's realms ever had and I felt a smile spread over my face, my own aura warming as the steady, welcoming presence of the Repository offered its own brand of hello.

Not that the realms had personalities, per se. But this one did if any of them could. And had the most understanding feeling about it I'd ever encountered.

Maybe I should have been asking Dad and Mom to let me move here. After all, my best friend was in the Repository and her family had always treated me kindly. I waved at a pair of passing pixies who barely noticed me, their high pitched voices sending glittering cascades to the ground, thin, colorful wings flapping so quickly they were almost invisible. I stepped aside and let them leave into the Crosspath, scanning the immediate area below the entry stairs for signs of a familiar face.

There were plenty of faces to choose from, the regular, busy activity of the Repository as much part of its charm as the way it felt to me emotionally. The centaurs and pixies who managed the vast library made up the bulk of those making their way down the massive center aisle or disappearing in the distance down one stack or another. The clomp of massive hooves and the swish of heavy tails added extra volume to the constant conversation, as people of all races it seemed milled about, asking questions, being directed and guided by the helpful pixies.

The whole place felt like one big part of me every time I came, and always improved my mood no matter what I'd been doing or gone through. But I was here when I was meant to be elsewhere and the guilt of my side trip was enough to keep me from rushing forward into the mayhem.

I paused one more moment, trying to decide if it was worth it to go hunting for Tulip when a small pixie, her bright pink eyes sparking with magic, long, purple hair glittering over her tight, white tunic fluttered to a halt before me, her wings fanning my face with the scent of cotton candy.

"Eve," Evanescence chirped, tiny clipboard in hand as she scanned the surface. "You're here for Tulip?"

I nodded. Like she had to ask. But that was her job, after all.

"Tulip is in the Recent History department, 60th stack, section 45-B." She tapped her clipboard with her pen, efficient smile on her tiny face. "Do you need a guide?"

"Thank you, I'm good." As if I hadn't been here before. Really, the pixies of the Repository were wonderful when needed, but I just wanted to see my friend and avoid running into anyone who might not agree this side trip was a good idea. Like one of my sisters or brothers, though they rarely visited the Repository so my concerns were likely unnecessary.

Still, hurry drove me. Mom would be calling me sooner rather than later, I was sure of that. And I wanted enough time to absorb some Tulipness before I had to face the Garden.

I stepped around Evanescence's hovering form, heading for the main floor. Tulip was close by, at least, only a few stacks away. So I wouldn't have to bum a ride from anyone to find her.

The moment my shoe met the shining white marble floor I realized my friend was closer even than the pixie spotter's notes told her. It wasn't like the Repository not to keep them up to date with its magical monitoring of everything going on in its realm. I forgot to wonder about that slip up almost immediately. "EVE!" The sound of my name shouted in a deep, feminine voice followed by the pounding of hooves was invariably met with folks scattering in either direction as my best friend, Tulip, barreled her way through the crowd, nearly taking out a pair of dwarves and a very anxious looking imp, and skidded to a halt in front of me.

"Sorry!" She cast that apology over her shoulder to everyone she'd inconvenienced in general before bending down to hug me. She towered over me, and always had since we were kids together, her shapely torso balanced on the gleaming golden body of a palomino. Her matching cascade of pale ivory curls hung down her arched back in a waterfall of froth, the full, fluffy feathers of her massive hooves and perky tail the same near-white. Tulip blinked her big, brown eyes at me, wide smile full of her natural enthusiasm as her big, strong hands swung me up on her broad back. I clung to her narrow waist as she reared and spun on her haunches, leaping into full gallop back the way she'd come down the main corridor.

"Tulip!" We pounded past her mother, Blossom, who frowned and shook her long, golden hair, stomping one back hoof. "Slow down." Her scowl turned to a smile as she waved at me, already behind us. "Hello, Eve!" I giggled into Tulip's back as terrified folks continued to leap out of her path, her mother's order forgotten while she almost continually shouted her jovial, "Sorry!" to everyone we passed.

By the time she pulled to a stop, her hooves thudding on the now wooden floor, we'd exited the main Repository and taken a hard left into the private quarters area of the realm, the smell of coffee driving me a bit mad. Just like her to head straight for the Repository Café. Tulip waited patiently for me to dismount before leading the way to a tall, wide table where she gestured to the pixie serving coffee.

"Two espressos," Tulip said, arching her eyebrows at me. I shrugged and smiled. "Make that three." No wonder she was wound up today. Her coffee addiction made normal people's look mild. It didn't help the giant cups the pixie returned with, her wings and magic straining with the effort to support her platter, were about five times the size of a mortal one. Tulip downed her first, ignoring the stares of the others in the café, pushing mine toward me while she cocked one back hoof and relaxed, exhaling in a big gust of happy to sip her second.

"I didn't think I'd see you today," she said. "Moving Day, right?"

She had to bring that up. "You're my excuse for not going right to the Garden," I said, hating that my voice sounded glum. It wasn't Tulip's fault and I didn't like dumping on her, didn't want to be that friend. Though, my beautiful centaur bestie never seemed to mind. Still, I never had good things to share with her, it seemed, so I did my best to just keep my stuff to myself.

Tulip wrinkled her nose, freckles over the bridge and scattered across her cheeks. She tossed her head and brayed a faintly horsey laugh, foam-like curls bouncing.

"You're sixteen now," she said. "You'll be able to tell your parents where you want to live before you know it." Sparkling brown eyes blinked slowly at me, her good humor fading while she reached out and engulfed my hand with one of hers. The matching pink polish flashed from her own fingers as she spoke, voice falling low and sad. "I heard about your last task."

No way was I going to cry on Tulip. I refused to meet her eyes, sipped my coffee instead. And reached for the hope Dad gave me.

I told her everything he'd said, and then rewound at her insistence. She muttered her condolences at my failure, her growling irritation at Daphne's normal bitchiness, and then squealed like a girl when I mentioned my encounter with the mortal, Adam.

"Tell me, tell me, tell me." Her tail swished in time with her excitement. "Is he cute?"

I laughed. "He's... delicious."

Tulip swooned, resting her chin on her fist, dreamy look on her face. "I bet." She'd always been so girly about these things. She had crushes on every available centaur male her age from the time we were twelve, and was an absolute romance novel addict. I rolled my eyes at her ridiculous reaction.

"It's not like anything can happen between us," I said. "You know the rules. He's mortal and I'm not."

"I know, silly," she said. "But still. Tell me every detail." She leaned toward me, broad shoulders straining against her crisp pink button up, Repository staff vest barely containing her full chest. "Don't you dare leave out a single thing."

***

# Chapter Nine

It was a wonderful way to pass time, giggling with my best friend over a boy I'd probably never see again no matter what I'd told him. Tulip grew most excited, as I knew she would, when I mentioned him playing video games. Her hand instantly went to her vest pocket and withdrew a thumb drive, hope on her face.

"Do you think...?" She handed it over after some trepidation. "I'd love a beta test on the new game and a mortal sounds like a good person to give it a try."

I smiled at her, but shook my head. "I won't see him again. Against the rules, remember?"

"Tell me you're not going to let an antiquated rule keep you from him." She feigned shock and horror before pushing the drive toward me. "This," Tulip said over the rim of her cup, "gives you an excuse. Please?" Her long, thick lashes, dark despite her fair hair, fluttered over her giant brown eyes. "Pretty please I'll never ask you to do anything ever again for as long as we both shal—"

I laughed, waved off her giddy delight. "I'll see what I can do." I slipped the drive into my jeans pocket and wondered at the feeling of excitement warming my insides. The thought of seeing Adam again gave me shivers like I'd never experienced before. Which meant I absolutely should not go see him. Attachments to mortals were forbidden. But I wasn't attached. I would just be giving him Tulip's latest game to try, right?

I was so good a lying to myself. "I saw the mist again." I hadn't meant to bring it up to her. The mention of it always made Tulip uncomfortable though she could never tell me exactly why.

Today was no exception. She squirmed, hooves stomping before she waved off her own reaction. "You dreamed about it?"

I shook my head, frowning into my coffee. "When I was at the task," I said. "It came over me, kind of." I was never very good at explaining how it felt. Never mind trying to tell her about my empathy. "And, when I was in the Crosspath, I saw it make a door." That made me sound looney and I was sure she'd change the subject. But Tulip scowled instead into the distance.

"That sounds so familiar," she whispered. And shook her head. "I have no idea why. But there has to be a reason talking about it makes me feel funny." Bless Tulip for not ever giving up on anything. "I could ask Mom and Dad?"

I didn't know how I felt about her mentioning the mist to her parents. I adored them and hated to think they might judge me or think less of me for being partially crazy. Because that had to be it.

"Let me look into it." Tulip sounded determined and I hid a smile behind my mug. When my centaur friend got it in her head to do something, she turned over entire realms to make it happen.

"Thank you," I said. "I don't deserve you."

Tulip snorted over her mug, frowning at me for real. "Don't be like that," she said. "We've been friends a long time, Eve. I've always trusted you, and I know you're meant for more than some random angel of life or death." Funny, Dad had kind of just said the same thing. "You're meant for bigger things." I just nodded. And left it at that. Because I honestly didn't know if it was my imagination or not. At least Tulip would answer that for me once and for all.

I spent the next half hour or so listening to Tulip talk about her job in the stacks, complaining about a family of banshees who made a terrible mess in one of the sections that she was left to clean up and blushing in between stories over the occasional centaur male who came in for coffee. At least she had good taste. I had to admit, as a race, the centaurs were some of the most attractive people I'd ever seen. Inside and out. For the most part, the guardians and managers of the Repository were positive, optimistic, upbeat and kind. I finally sighed into my empty cup, knowing I'd stretched my return to the Garden about as long as possible. I wished yet again the time for my choosing was here now, instead of two years from now.

The best part of our brief time together came with the arrival of Blossom and Oak. The Repository never slept, so neither, it seemed, did the two centaurs who ran the show. Tulip's parents settled at our table, her handsome, blue roan father and palomino mother both offering me a quick cheek peck before sighing over their own coffee.

This was my real family. Oak's big hand settled on my shoulder a moment, kind smile lighting his icy blue eyes and flavoring my empathy with fatherly kindness. "Moving Day?"

Blossom winced before reaching into the pocket of her white staff jacket. She slid a thin, gold bracelet toward me, the chain dangling with tiny, sparkling books carved from gemstones. It looked like gnome handiwork, very rare. I let Tulip clasp it around my wrist, blinking tears.

"Happy birthday, Eve," they said together.

"Thank you," I whispered, barely able to breathe as the stunning bracelet glittered on my skin. No one else had said a word, not even Dad. But I could always count on the centaurs to remember and to give me a beautiful gift I would treasure in the worst of times.

I couldn't stop staring, turning my hand back and forth to admire the way the tiny pages seemed to come to life when I did. Who knew? Maybe the kind centaurs who were my dream family were prophets and this birthday would be happy. If Dad could convince Mom of what he now believed. Otherwise? Two more years of bouncing back and forth between Life and Death. Well, I could manage it. Undertown especially. As long as I could avoid Mom as much as possible and spend more time here in the Repository with the centaurs I adored, two years would fly by.

"We'd love to have you for dinner tomorrow," Blossom said, her smile an older and softer version of Tulip's, her dark eyes flecked with gold. "Once you've settled in."

I nodded, smiling. "I'd love to."

"I'll tell you all about the new variation on the silver rose bushes I've uncovered." Oak's favorite topic made the other two centaurs groan, but I was all ears.

"Can't wait." Dad had to come here with me. To see this, to understand how I felt when I was here, normal and like I fit in, despite my physical differences. Maybe I was meant for the Repository? It was worth looking into, and even hoping over.

"Surely you can find something a little more interesting to share," Blossom said, swatting at her husband's big grin.

"What, like boys?" He leered at his daughter while Tulip neighed in teenaged girl protest.

"Dad!"

Laughter. It felt so good. Which meant, of course, it wasn't supposed to last.

Eve. And there it was, the call to action I'd been dreading in the deep, commanding voice of my mother. Perfect timing, just what I'd expect from her, right when I was actually feeling as if my life might have a purpose other than being at her beck and call.

Mom. I shoved my mug toward Tulip who grimaced in sympathy, Blossom and Oak nodding with sage kindness.

You're late. I wasn't, not really. Honestly, it was probably just dawn in the mortal realm. And besides, it wasn't like we'd established a particular time for me to— Home, Eve. Now.

Yes, Mom. I stood from the tall stool that managed to keep me on level with Tulip and her mother, Oak still a head taller than both, waiting for my friend to lift me onto her back while the pixie cleared our table. I blew a kiss to Tulip's parents before hanging on when my friend trotted for the main foyer of the Repository, slower this time, though just as thoughtless of those around her. Sometimes I wondered if she even knew how big she was compared to others the way she barreled her way through life.

Frankly, I could learn a thing or two from my friend and her lack of giving a crap what anyone thought.

"I could ask Mom and Dad to request you help me for a few days?" That had worked in the past and given me a chance to spend time with Tulip and learn about the inner workings of the Repository. I truly loved it here, dove deep into savoring the last few minutes as she came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs and waited for me to slip down.

"Thanks," I said, "but it won't work, not on Moving Day." I hugged my friend and then let her go. She smiled down at me with sadness in her eyes.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" I knew she was already thinking about what she had to do next. I envied her this life, surrounded by the constant evolution of Creation, wishing it was mine. Tulip loved the Repository even more than I did.

I nodded and waved goodbye, but she was already galloping off, shouts and cries of fear trailing in her wake. Giggling, embracing the happiness for as long as I could, fingers exploring the beautiful bracelet I would cherish forever, I turned and left the Repository for the Crosspath.

***

# Chapter Ten

So silent here after the hurried rush of the Repository's constantly busy foyer. I sighed into the quiet, feet slowing though I did my best to keep a steady pace, the rising song of the cherubs growing in volume until it rang its sickening tune into my very bones. The vines to the Garden parted, the door opening with a deep, musical chime that set my teeth on edge.

Life's realm. The last place I wanted to be.

At least there was no misty doorway this time, no disorientation. My imagination after all, since this was now my second foray into the Crosspath without seeing things. Thoughts to distract me as my shoulders grew heavier, my whole body now lined with lead while I forced myself to take that last step through the doorway and into the Garden.

Nothing had changed since I was here last, least of all the brilliantly blue sky, the disgustingly cheerful and colorful birds that swooped and sang in heartfelt abandon over the Garden. Sparkly water ran in a river through the middle of it, cutting a path across the over flowered greenery and lush grasses of the meadows and flowed off into the distance. The bridge entry stood much like Death's, only it towered over me, golden and shiny, all winding vines of precious metals and jewels to match the doorway entry. Even the cobbled stones that made up the path of the bridge were embedded with diamonds, emeralds, rubies. Mom spared no expense and not a scrap of self-respect in designing the Garden.

If tacky could be personified, she'd managed it. From the stench of too many flowers bearing constant perfume at war with each other to the frolicking deer and other woodland creatures who cavorted in joyfully dazed enthusiasm to the shining beacon on the other side of the bridge, the epicenter of all things Garden. The Tree of Life Palace and Casino.

I grumbled to myself about the casino comment, wishing there was maybe some kind of entertainment center so I could at least find occasional amusement in the cloying perfection of Life's Garden. But no, that would be too much to ask. Instead, I would be forced yet again, for six long and agonizing months, to live the equivalent of an annoyingly chirped children's song running over and over and over in my head, past my vision, and clogging up my sense of smell.

It was almost too much. I halted abruptly on the entry of the bridge, one hand clutching at the warm, metallic vines, heart pounding at the thought of crossing into the Garden. Gone would be my sensible black shoes and favorite dark jeans, my casual button ups and denim jackets. Replaced immediately by flowery sun dresses and impossible heels that made my feet ache and my embarrassingly ample bosom threaten near constant escape. At least my untamable hair would find some kind of magical order, though even Mom's attempts to control my curls fell short. Sometimes I thought my mother really had no clue, that her dominating and arrogant outlook on Life, literally, cast some kind of spell over her and held us all in its thrall while in her company. And, other times—like now, staring down my fate for the next six months, I figured she just hated me.

Eve. Her voice dug into my mind, part command and part alluring request. I'm waiting.

There was still time. I could turn around and go see Dad, beg him to hide me. Tulip would, I was sure of it. She could find me some hole and cover me in books and coffee and no one would ever find me and force me to live here ever again. I swatted at a cheerful purple butterfly that tried to settle on my nose. Possibly endearing if I wasn't ready to hurtle myself over the edge of the bridge.

Desperate times, desperate measures.

Darling. Her voice got me at last, softening, turning to that caring, mothering tone that tore at the little girl still inside me. Shredding me the way she had to know it did, her emotions flowing through that word. Come to Mother.

Knowing I was, once again, lost, I slunk my way across the bridge, head down, refusing to be cheerful despite the endless, demanding joy that existed all around me.

It wasn't as if I didn't know Mom was pulling my strings. She'd always been able to manipulate me, way more than Dad. Maybe that was where my excessive empathy came from. I was happy to blame it on her, anyway. Truth being, I was just more cynical about my mother's love. Probably because Dad had never really tried to bully me. Getting what she wanted was Life's favorite past time.

Made worse by the fact she insisted on results while Dad was understanding. Could I even hang on to hope he'd finally convince her to let me go my own way and figure out what I was meant to do? Or would I be spending six months with my sisters avoiding and/or hating me and my mother's disapproval growing heavier and heavier until I was able to run for Undertown once again?

The stones of the courtyard on the front side of the Tree chimed with each step. I gritted my teeth against the bright sound and wished I was dead. At least then I could stay in Undertown and not have to come here ever again.

I was ready for the change but it still took me by surprise, just like always. One step my foot was comfortable, hugged by nice black leather perfectly fitted to my toes. I'd spent six months breaking in a new pair of my favorite Mary Janes. How had I forgotten to change them before I came? My own fault, this loss. Kicking myself, I winced as they vanished between heartbeats, replaced by shining white high heels. I staggered, catching myself as the sudden height difference made me stumble, hands clasping the full, flowing skirt of my dress. I tugged at the off the shoulder affair, my black curls dangling free in spirals that didn't quite manage perfection, wincing at the corded gold crisscrossing my chest, making my boobs just look bigger. While most of my sisters were well-endowed, for some reason my chest seemed gargantuan in comparison. Especially in a sundress.

Self-conscious and walking on the balls of my feet so I wouldn't fall, I wobbled my way, beaten and defeated by my mother's control over me, up the wide, white marble steps and into the foyer.

I never told her how funny I thought it was her palace seemed designed exactly the same as Dad's, down to the fountain in the lobby and the side entry to the Chamber of The Living and the Book there. Only her fountain was a towering statue of her, naturally. I refused to look at it, finally getting my footing as my poor feet screamed their unhappiness inside the high heels while I tapped my way to the throne room entry.

I wasn't surprised to find Daphne with Mom, Ophelia and Cadence off to one side, her faithful posse. Daphne was the leading favorite and, if Mom ever decided to step down, would likely become the new Life. But Mom had been on that throne for over three thousand years, long gone from her days as the Egyptian goddess Isis, and I highly doubted she was going to unseal her butt cheeks from it any time soon.

My sister's full, pink lips pursed, large eyes glittering her dislike as she crossed her arms over her own chest. I caught her looking at my cleavage with what had to be jealousy and almost laughed. She could have it. But it was nice to know she at least worried I was better at her than something.

Leave it to my chest to show up my sister.

"Well," Daphne said, tossing her perfect hair back from her perfect skin, slight tan a precise accent to the pale green dress she wore. Jewels sparkled in her honey blonde hair, curls bouncing with life. "If it isn't the disaster. Back for another six months of failure, Eve?"

"Enough." We both stared up at Mom with shock. Unlike Dad, she didn't wear her gigantic persona, but instead opted to greet me as herself, in mortal form. As stunning as my mother was with her thick black hair and brilliant blue eyes, there was a lushness to her that screamed Life, a beauty surpassing even the Garden she'd created. Stunning, perfect, commanding. I caught myself hunching inward as she stood and came forward in a languid sway. I dropped my hand from my elbow and tried to stand up straight without sticking out my chest too much. From the scowl on Daphne's face, I failed.

"Mother." Daphne's coy tone didn't fool me and I highly doubt it fooled Life, either. But my mother was fond of being pandered to, maybe the reason we didn't really mesh much. "Allow me to find some other work for Eve this time around. Perhaps tending one of the flower beds." Her wicked snarl in my direction lit me up. If only she knew. Please, oh please, yes.

But Mom clearly had other ideas. "Eve, my darling." She came to me, took my hands in hers. Warmth spread between us, making me flush from the heat of her skin. "I'm so happy you're home." She kissed my cheek while I struggled for something to say, Daphne fish-lipping in our direction.

My mother was happy to see me. That I was home. Not irritated I was late by her estimation, that I'd failed my last task with Dad. Wait, had he talked to her already? I could be so fortunate, that she'd agreed. Almost giddy with the wonder of it, I smiled back at her, feeling shy, oddly, from the genuine greeting in her aura.

"Thanks," I managed. Movement on my right caught my attention, Ophelia and Cadence just two faces in a small crowd of my sisters who lounged by, watching with shocked expressions of their own. How had I not noticed others of my sisters were present? Too caught up in Mom and Daphne, I suppose. The only two that really mattered. I cleared my throat and bobbed a quick, wobbly curtsy. "Mom."

She laughed, the sound of spring rain and a child's burbling joy in a velvety smooth package of delight. Her fingers brushed my cheek where she'd kissed me. Daphne made a gargling sound behind her, Mom's brows drawing together the tiniest bit in response.

This could not be happening. Daphne was her favorite. From the way my sister gaped, she was thinking the exact same thing I was. What changed?

And what did it mean for me?

"I understand your father would like to talk to us." Not her. Us. Including me where she always ordered me, commanded me, one arm sliding through mine, hooked at the elbow like we were suddenly the best of friends and hadn't we always been this close? Overwhelming emotion hit me hard, her feelings focused and intense. Life loved me?

Life. Loved. Me. I had no idea. And spoke through my shock.

"Dad wants to give me a chance to figure out what I'm supposed to be doing. That sending me on tasks as an angel of Life or Death isn't working."

Mom tsked and smiled sideways as she guided me to sit next to her. On Daphne's mini-throne. She'd never forgive me, but at the moment I didn't care. "Samael has his own ideas for you," she said, stroking my hand with hers. I'd never really sat this close to her before, shaking a bit, overcome with emotions I could barely sort out. This was a huge day for change and I wasn't sure I could handle it. "But I'm not convinced." She paused. "Eve." She frowned again, booped me on the nose with one index finger. "You're sixteen today." She said it with a hint of hunger, like that meant something. But what? I had no idea. "Tell me," she went on. "Did something happen to you in the Crosspath?" Intensity burned in her eyes and I found myself nodding, overeager.

"I thought... I saw another door." Daphne snorted, some of my sisters, but Mom ignored them and nodded, her hunger gnawing at me with need.

"Go on, darling. What kind of door?"

"Made of mist." Another chuckle, this one of derision. Louder, too. Mom's sharp snap of her fingers silenced opposition. I flushed, knowing how it sounded. But my mother smiled at me, her eagerness flaring before it retreated fully and everything was okay.

"Well now," she said, sitting back in her throne, beaming. "How interesting for you." She didn't say anything else about it, and I didn't ask how she knew. That thought wouldn't occur to me until long after I left her. Instead, wound into her web like I'd never been before, I gazed up at her, wondering how I'd ever doubted she loved me. "Eve, it's time you committed yourself fully to being an angel of Life." She gestured to Daphne who paled and stilled while my heart stopped beating. "You will go with your sister and you will fulfill your duty to me."

"Mother!" Daphne gasped, eyes bulging, hands clasped to her throat in horror. "I told you I would never—"

"And you will succeed." Mom silenced Daphne with her stunning stare. "Because you are my daughter."

It was enough to break the emotional hold she had over me. But that freedom was already too late. Shoulders slumping, knowing I'd just been manipulated by the creator of manipulation, I bowed my head and sighed.

While Daphne glared at me with such hatred I knew even if I managed to find a way to win she would see me crash and burn for this.

***

# Chapter Eleven

The moment I was out of Mom's reach I kicked myself for even believing a word she'd said in her heavy handed and blunt manipulation. I had no idea if this empathy thing came from her or not, but whatever power gave it control over me could take it back and choke on it.

How could I ever believe Mom actually trusted in me or saw me as a favorite? After years of disappointment, frustration, hurt? I stomped my way through the side garden, carrying the hateful high heels in one hand. While I had enough rebellion in me to take them off I wished that courage went so far as to allow me to chuck them into the glistening river. Instead they swung from my numb fingers like spies lingering and lurking that I couldn't quite escape.

Leave it to Daphne to make my day worse. I was almost to the west wing staircase, winding upward into the Tree, just wanting my room and a place to hide for a while. I could close my door and maybe pretend I wasn't stuck in the Garden for the next six months, that Mom wasn't acting like a total freak and that no one would notice me if I just stayed quiet and out of the way.

My head down, chest aching with the need to scream, I almost collided with my sister. I gasped, pulled to a halt, my toes digging into the warm grass as I stared at her with unconcealed horror. This wasn't what I'd hoped for. Daphne's expression told me everything I needed to know. Gone were my chances of blending in and hiding out. The next six months were going to be the worst of my life.

"Eve." She ground her teeth together, beautiful face ugly with all that vitriol hiding behind her smooth cheeks and large, blue eyes. "I have no idea what Mother is up to, but you can forget the idea you matter." She likely meant her tone to be sweet and dripping sarcasm, but there was too much disdain in it for her to get away with fake niceties. "And as for our little assignment together," she shuddered visibly, pale skirt trembling in time with her motion, "if you think you will ever redeem yourself to anyone in Life, you will remember your place. As the loser you are."

I didn't speak, unable to from the pressure of her emotions feeding into my empathy. It was hard not to hate myself, to fall on my knees and allow her feelings to become my own. Beg her to release me from the horrible truth of my existence. If she knew how close I was to hurtling myself into the river she'd be thrilled, I was sure. My only defense, as it had always been, was to hold still and ride out the storm.

Daphne spun and left, her flock of matching sisters flouncing off after her. Cadence's concerned frown and little finger wave took the edge off, her support continuing, it seemed, if out of sight of Daphne. I let them go, breathing slowly and with precision, counting back from fifty and focusing on the numbers as best I could. When I was done, I sagged, the last of the dangerous emotion draining away, wishing for once instead of absorbing the feelings of others I could use my own as a weapon. Or, at the very least, get mad. Because when it was over and I was alone? Anger bubbled, boiled, frothed like frustrated magma buried beneath the crust of my empathy. Untapped, unusable in the face of others.

I had the worst life.

It was still early but I felt drained from the business of the day and just wanted to lie down. It meant no supper for me, but my stomach would survive missing a meal. I climbed the curved golden stairs up into the Tree, stepping off halfway to the top on my branch. The thick limb formed a large, airy cocoon of entwined twigs and leaves, punctuated by bubbled windows overlooking the Garden. I sank into my bed, the cup of a giant plant with soft, white sheets and a pillow of flowers making me gag just a little.

It was hard not to cry but I managed. It was my only rule, now. Crying happened when I lived in Death. Life didn't get to see me weep.

The shining shoes stared at me in silence from the floor as I sprawled down into the bed and closed my eyes.

***

It envelops me, welcomes me, whispers its secrets in my ear though I'm blinded by the mist that knows my name. Rising from within me and embracing me from without, it is to me as a second heartbeat, a soul I should know, should understand, its message lost in the whispering of its undulations.

A storm brews in the distance, the sound of thunder echoing back to me, lightning lighting the sky with flashes so bright I'm blinded over and over. The mist becomes the storm, absorbing it, speaking through its voice, booming at me though I don't understand what it's trying to say. A face appears, the head of a dragon, his gaze familiar, dark scales shining, bright, green eyes unblinking. I know him well, don't I?

Seth. First of my creatures.

And then I'm falling into the clouds that surround me, lost in the depths of the dark and light swirling coolness, feeling my emotions rise, a massive, uncontrollable surge of joy and fury singing in my soul, my turn to devour the storm and swallow it whole, filling me with more power than I ever imagined, renewed and ready to emerge at last—

***

I jerked upright. Well, I tried to, the slight panic and rush of emotion from the dream drawing a gasp from my lips. But the weight on my chest pinned me to the bed, smooth, rainbow scales and a blunt nose slithering sideways into my vision. Lilith's long, red tongue flickered outward, tickling my lips, her pale, pink eyes dead and dull. I fought for a full breath while my mother's advisor settled the rest of her weight over my legs and hissed softly.

"Welcome home, Eve," she said. "We've missed you in the Garden." She had the faintest of lisps, making "missed" sound like "mithed" but there was nothing amusing about Lilith. Her quiet, dusty voice always gave me the creeps, though her gorgeously patterned skin of writhing rainbow scales that seemed to reflect light from within had fascinated me since I was a baby.

"Thank you," I said. "Can you get off, please?" One never bossed Lilith around. Like Corvus in Dad's realm, she had been the advisor to Life since before Mom was on the throne. Eternal and elemental, the serpent was a force to be reckoned with. She'd never really shown much interest in me aside from the occasional stare and flat toned judgment of my failures. But I still respected her, had seen her strike at one of my errant sisters who thought talking back was a good idea.

I don't think Capricorn ever fully recovered the use of her right arm.

"You were dreaming." Lilith settled her head on my shoulder, humming softly in my ear. "Something delightful or fearful, I could not tell."

"Both," I said, bit my lip. No use lying to her. "Just an old dream." But not so much. Different this time. Richer and fuller though the details of it left me quickly. A face, there was a face and a name and a storm I'd never felt before. It left me as I tried too hard to hold onto it.

She didn't comment, sliding slowly free of me, coiling herself on the floor next to my bed. She held herself upright, her wide, blunt face at my chest height when I stood, body as thick as my thigh in places, easily twelve feet long.

"Your mother," Lilith said as I shook off the last of sleep, "seems to think pushing you to continue your tasks as an angel of Life will finally wake your ability to succeed." It was impossible to tell if the snake approved.

"She's sending me out with Daphne." I sank to the edge of the bed, the smell of flowers clinging to me from my pillow, the blossoms there renewing themselves even as I rubbed my arms with both hands. Bits of my hair clung to my cheek and I peeled the strands away with disgust. Had I been drooling? At least Mom's magic wouldn't let my messy mass of mayhem get too far out of control. Only benefit to Life I'd ever found.

"I see." Lilith paused, silent a long moment. I almost interrupted, wondering if the awkward silence was only something I felt when the snake sighed. "I worry." She... what? "For you, Eve. And for your mother." Not for the mortals whose lives I was about to screw up. Well, I suppose that made sense. Lilith was eternal and didn't think about the minor existence of those of the mortal realm the way we did. "I have been in the confidence of Life since Time began," she said. "But, when it comes to you, Isis refuses to share her thoughts. As it has been since she chose to break the law and mate with your father."

So that was the problem. Not that I might be in trouble or could be hurt but that the snake was feeling snubbed. "That's too bad," I said, looking away, not meaning it but unable to muster enough rebellion, as always, to talk back.

Lilith hissed again, her head settling on my shoulder. "There is something coming for you, Eve," she said. "Something I can't foresee or guess. Only that your mother is pleased and that worries me more than you know."

"She's changed," I said. Why was I telling her closest advisor anything Mom could use against me? Maybe Lilith was just here to spy on me. But no, it felt different, like she was right. I was coming to some sort of crosspath of my own. And the eagerness that met that thought excited me. "She's treating me like one of her favorites even though I've always been her biggest disappointment."

Lilith lifted her head, tongue tasting the air, pink eyes expressionless. Not a single emotion passed between us, and that was the most unnerving of all. I had no idea what the snake was feeling, her entire aura a dead zone of stillness. "What changed?"

I shrugged, thought of the hallucination I'd had. "It's my birthday," I said. "And I saw a door."

The serpent hissed, though in irritation at my lack of details or out of her own frustration I wasn't sure. "Isis's motivations are her own," she said at last. "And, I fear, her ambitions have grown larger over the years, not smaller." She sighed. "It's been overlong since she took her throne but any attempt to convince her to retire, to pass on the realm to a successor, has fallen on angry ears."

Interesting and scary all at the same time. The very fact Lilith was having this conversation with me sent a sudden thrill of fear into my heart. "You don't think I'm—"

The snake laughed, a soft, whispering sound, like sand tossed against a window pane. "No," she said. "The throne will go to another." Probably Daphne. I couldn't imagine a bigger disaster, aside from my own stumbling messes. And yet, my sister had been training for it her entire life, centuries now to my sixteen turns of the wheel. It was easy to forget most of my siblings were far older than me, some by decades, others by hundreds of years.

"For now," Lilith said, sliding toward the doorway, her coils rubbing together, iridescence filling the room with sparkles, "know that I am on your side, Eve." She paused, tongue flickering, flickering. "And have always been. Come to me at any time for counsel. I am at your service."

"Thank you." I didn't know what else to say.

Lilith paused one last time, rearing up until she filled most of the doorway with her height. "A suggestion for your sister. That she take on the tasks your mother sets and the two of you agree to subterfuge in that action."

"You want me to lie to Mom." She might as well have slapped me with her tail or bitten me with those big, white fangs.

"A deception of protection," Lilith said. "Think on it. I will mention it to Daphne." She left, the tip of her tail twitching as she disappeared out my door and from my sight.

I sat on my bed a long time, wondering what happened to my life. Mom pretending I was her pet, Lilith offering to help, Dad taking my side at last...

One thing was certain. Something had shifted. And I didn't know if it was a good thing or not.

***

# Chapter Twelve

I was on time to catch Daphne on her way to breakfast, surprised how early it still was. The dream of the mist had woken me well before my usual rising and thanks to falling asleep shortly after keeling over into bed I felt rested and prepared to give Lilith's suggestion a shot.

"Daphne." I tripped over my heels, determined to wear them in Mom's presence, to at least put on appearances in an effort to make this work. The more I thought about Lilith's suggestion, the more sense it made to me. If I could get Mom off my back, even for a little while, maybe I could figure things out on my own. Or give Dad the chance to convince her sending me out on fruitless, unhappy tasks that led to heartache was a terrible idea.

On the other hand, accepting this alternative might be shooting myself in the foot. If Mom thought I was suddenly useful she might never let me go. Still, I had to have some breathing room and Daphne's participation was the only way I was going to get it.

Fooling Mom, however, might be harder than Lilith thought.

My sister turned at the sound of her name, though didn't face me fully. Daphne waved off our other siblings who went on without her through the canopy of leaves and flowers, waiting for me to catch up. My heel caught on the bark again and sent me forward, but I caught myself before I fell into her arms.

Daphne's disgust wasn't hard to recognize, even without my talent for empathy. "Lilith spoke to me already," she said, sounding bored but at least vaguely positive so I could hope, at least. "Why should I ever consider making you look good?"

I hadn't thought of that and had to scramble for an answer. "My success," I said, "will be your success. Imagine being the daughter who was able to help the screw up finish her tasks as they were meant."

Daphne tapped one toe on the branch beneath her, the breeze up here wafting over both of us. She finally wrinkled her perky nose and waved me away like an irritating fly. "Fine," she said, walking away, hips sashaying alluringly, her favorite strut. "But." Daphne spun back toward me, scowl returned. "Stay out of the way. Do as you're told. And don't say a word."

I nodded, followed her as she returned to her aggressive forward walk, keeping my distance and trying not to worry I'd just agreed to some kind of pact with a demon I would never free myself from.

The branch ended in a set of winding stairs, so delicately woven from shining silver I always worried I'd put my foot through the steps. The scent of breakfast made my stomach growl loudly. I clutched at it in surprise, stumbling the final two stairs to the ground, the last to join the table for our morning meal.

Daphne seemed to revel in being late, making her way with commanding presence to sit next to Mom. I hurried to an empty seat at the far end of the curved semicircle, over a hundred of my sisters already seated, doing their best to look like angels as they chatted and preened.

"Eve." Mom's voice carried. I looked up, half in the small seat, two of my youngest sisters barely old enough for the big table sliding sideways to avoid contact with me. Eight years old or so and already aware of my status as the family leper. "Come here."

Only then did I notice the seat on her other side was empty. Daphne's furious scowl did nothing to make me feel better and I was so shocked by the offer I almost protested.

"Now." Mom smiled, but the command in that word was unmistakable and I simply didn't have it in me to refuse.

Everyone stared, from the slim, silent serving fauns to my sisters and even the birds overhead, who settled on the branches of the vines circling the broad, white table, while I made my awkward and uncomfortable way to the tall, marble chair waiting for me.

It felt like that walk took three years, but I was sure when I looked back on it maybe half a minute passed. Still, by the time I sank into the cold and unyielding stone seat next to my mother, I'd aged a million days.

The moment I was seated the chatter began again, birds returning to their singing, the serving fauns clip-clopping their way to the table to deliver our breakfast. Mom accepted hers with a kind smile for our server. I caught the shock in the girl's wide, brown eyes, the curl of her lightly furred muzzle, the way she tried to hide this change in my status. I knew exactly how she felt.

The whole feeling at the table had altered from the usual spark of disdain fading to purposeful ignoring into surprise and jealousy. Just what I needed the next six months.

"You have four tasks today," Mom said, taking a delicate bite from a slim slice of orange. Juice glittered in tiny droplets on her fingertips as she smiled at me. Four, that wasn't so bad. Daphne could handle four without chipping her manicure or mussing her skirt. This was doable, possible. There was hope yet. "And, so I'm sure you're trying your very best," Mom said, "I've decided I'm going to accompany you and your sister on your journey to better observe those tasks."

My mouth dried up instantly, any desire to eat dust in my gut as my stomach shriveled and the clever plan Lilith suggested died with it.

"Mother," Daphne said from her other side, ingratiating but with a hint of complaint in her voice. "Surely you're too busy for such a simplistic task. I'm pleased to—"

Mom's head turned slowly and silently. Daphne stopped speaking, ending in a soft squeak without our mother having to say a word.

"We depart in a half hour," Mom said. And continued eating her orange like she hadn't just ruined my life. Again.

I lingered over breakfast even when most of the others had gone, Mom departing shortly after her little announcement. Daphne didn't speak to me, not a word, her fury glared into her plate which she attacked with her golden knife and fork as though the contents were my soul. I let Daphne leave when she was done without comment, trembling inside, wanting to run away. I could, might make it to the Crosspath and Dad, maybe. Mom would come after me, but surely my father would protect me.

Inevitability finally drove me up and out of my new seat, carried me, unwilling and afraid, to the bridge where Mom and Daphne waited. My mother had donned a thin wrap over her bare shoulders and the long, embroidered dress hugging her flawless body in pure white silk etched with roses. She observed my approach without expression. My sister, on the other hand, had no trouble showing me just how she felt. I fell in behind Mom who led the way even as Daphne's hate slammed into me.

Anxiety formed a wall of protection around me, but did little to keep her anger out. By the time we exited into the Crosspath, Mom's swaying, steady gait leading the way, I was so wound up I was positive I would expire from sheer terror. Bad enough I had to fail at all at something I knew in my heart I wasn't meant to do. But to have my mother witness it firsthand... unbearable.

On the other side of the looming mess, maybe this was exactly what I needed. I looked up at that surprising thought, half expecting to see the doorway of mist appear. When it didn't, I retreated back into my thoughts while Mom crossed to the mortal realm portal. How plain it seemed, the ordinary metal door dented slightly on the bottom right corner, a bit of rust around the burnished steel knob, light gray/blue paint peeling. I'd always wondered why it seemed so tired and without much purpose compared to the other main doors. It was the entry to the mortal realm, the reason we were all here, after all. So many unanswered questions even Tulip couldn't find reason for. I held myself in that line of mental inquiry as a means of distraction while Mom gestured and the door opened at her command.

But no attempt to keep my mind from what was about to come could hold me for long. Though I clung to the fact if Mom saw just how inept I was, how big a failure for herself, maybe she would finally relent and let me go.

Heart lifting a little, not sure if I could handle the waffling emotions warring inside me or not, I followed my mother and my sister into the mortal realm and hoped for the best.

I wasn't expecting the busy street, the stench of human waste and excessive body odor, nor the cacophony of sound that assaulted us as we emerged into heat and bright sunlight. I knew where we were, recognizing India easily, felt Mom shielding our presence from the hurrying populace. A small boy with a pinched face, his brown skin scarred beneath his sightless, empty sockets, bumped into me with a small exclamation of surprise. I hurried past him, head down, hurting for him as much as for the rest of this poor part of the city. Poverty caused me near physical pain, the endless sorrow of those who had nothing as sharp as any knife. I had to hurry to keep up with Mom and Daphne, neither of whom seemed affected by the poor souls who called this part of the mortal realm their home.

Any time I felt sorry for myself, all I had to do was remember how horribly some humans lived.

The journey was short, but by the time Mom stopped outside a small hovel, the doorway a filthy sheet over muddy ground, I was numb and panting from the overflow of emotion around me. Daphne pinched my upper arm hard, in the soft skin above the bend of my elbow, jaw jutting when she caught my attention with cruel intent.

I stepped through the sheet and looked down at the girl, barely old enough to be a mother, who panted and screamed while the baby inside her tried to emerge.

"Eve." Mom's blue eyes watched me with more intensity than I'd ever felt from her before. "The task."

It might be a blessing to have me come to her, to do the opposite of what Life intended. The girl didn't know we were there, her family huddled in the corner of the hut, an older woman between her legs calling out in her native language. I blocked out the words, tried to focus while Mom gestured, impatient suddenly.

No time to think about what I was doing, not like with Nero and the old man in the hospital. The pressure from Mom's presence forced me to bend quickly at the waist and touch the girl's shoulder while she threw her head back and screamed.

The baby emerged an instant later, into the waiting hands of the old woman. I held my breath while she wiped his mouth and nose, tried not to mourn his poor, lost soul, waiting for one of my brothers to show and take him away.

Instead, the baby cried, loud and lusty, while the girl whose hot skin I still touched fell back and wept.

Wait. Did I...? I turned, caught Daphne's surprise, and, in that instant of success, Mom's disappointment.

I didn't have time to process the fact my mother wasn't happy I'd managed to do my job. Yes, it happened sometimes, but rarely. I had a terrible track record. Still, it boded well maybe. I'd given life as expected instead of the opposite.

Mom stared down at the baby with a pinched, disgusted look on her face before spinning and leaving the hovel. I followed hurriedly, Daphne next to me. Mom was already heading for a big, wooden door. I drew a careful breath on my own way through, preparing for what lay on the other side. Not more of this sad place, but instead a cool, bright and cheerful room. Some kind of maternity ward, in an unknown city, though from the smooth, almond eyed features of the three nurses who appeared and their quick, nasal language we were somewhere in Asia.

This time it was twins, two boys whose perfection shocked me, especially when both lived. I staggered from the room as the mother embraced her new babies with joy and excitement, wondering what was happening to me. Once, yes. Success once I'd experienced before, rare and selective as it seemed to be. But twice in a row? Maybe Mom was a good influence on me? Or she was right and this truly was my calling. Dad's release of his expectations could have jostled my angel of Life free. Or it was true I just hadn't given it the commitment it required.

I just wished Mom didn't look so irritated by the success or that Daphne seemed to take my ability to fulfill my tasks at last so personally.

Two down, two to go, the twins counting as one, much to my disappointment. When I saved an ailing mare from death, her foal delivered safely and happily in a fragrant barn somewhere in North America, Mom's grunt of disapproval almost made me protest. For the first time ever I was doing it, succeeding where I'd always failed before. And she was disappointed? This was her idea. I waffled between giddy excitement I wasn't making a mess and wondering with more hurt what I could possibly do to ever win her favor.

Mom stopped outside the doors of the barn and turned her back on me. "Daphne, darling," she said, voice smiling even if her aura pulsed with frustration. "See to it your sister completes her last task. I must go." She left us without another word, certainly without even a nod for me and I found myself staring after her with anguish in my heart, wishing I could go after her and demand from her what it was she wanted from me.

I'd tasted the barest delight of my mother's approval and attention and realized I'd longed for it my entire life.

Daphne snapped her fingers in my face, snarling. "Let's go," she said, spinning from me with her long, honey hair swinging. "I don't know what you think you're doing, Eve. But I'm sick to death of you." She slammed open a small door, bags of feed showing on the other side. "And your screw ups. Because now I know you've been faking it all along."

My mouth dropped open, protest on my lips, but she disappeared through the door and I had to follow her or get lost. She knew my last task's location, I didn't. I hurried after her, struggling with despair, realizing now no matter what I did I'd created a new hell for myself. The angel of life and death who succeeded after failing her whole life and proving she was a bigger disaster than anyone thought.

Nighttime enveloped me, the familiar hospital where I'd saved the old man a reminder of my failures and driving me deeper into floundering around in a pit of despair. Daphne hesitated at the doorway of a room, spinning to glare at me.

"Don't," she said, "screw this up." And stormed inside. I followed her, shoulders bowed, anxiety rising, fed by the fear of the parents inside. Something was wrong with the baby, mention of cords and necks though I wasn't here for those details. I had one job. As I approached the mother, my hand outstretched, I whispered my own hope for her and her unborn child.

Even as the mist rose in my vision and staggered me forward, my hand clutching convulsively on hers.

I knew the instant it happened, the moment death came where life was meant to thrive. And, despite my promise to myself, kept these sixteen years, I wept for this ultimate failure.

***

# Chapter Thirteen

Nero appeared at my side, surprise on his face until he saw me. He wasted no time, though, the perfect angel of Death that he was, that I would never be. My brother acted, scooping up the tiny soul pulled free of the small, crumpled body as the family before me erupted in denial and anger and grief in the flare of time it took for the doctor to pronounce the baby dead.

Nero left with the infant soul in his arms, without a word to me. There was nothing to say, no things to be spoken that hadn't been said many, many times before. I'd failed at last, as I always did. And nothing would ever make me one of them.

I turned, found Daphne glaring. Of course my sister seemed far more pleased in her furious and judgmental way than she should considering a baby just died. And she wasn't alone. Where Kael had come from I had no idea, though my brother had obviously been lurking. From the closeness he shared physically with my sister, they were better friends than I'd known. "I hope you're happy," she said.

"Little Evie." Kael's cruel nickname always made me shudder, the bile and vitriol he coveted just for me oozing out to lick at the edges of my empathy. While Daphne lacked subtlety with her attacks, Kael was a master of emotional abuse. Between the two of them, I wouldn't stand a chance. I had to get out of there. I just couldn't manage to make myself move.

"I don't know what happened." My hands shook before me, reaction to the blunt force of Daphne's mingling disgust and delight at my failure and the slowly building venom from Kael. "It was working. Why did it stop working?" It wasn't fair. I tried so hard and still, in the end, I failed.

Kael's laugh did its job, crumbling me further, the load of hatred he lowered around me taking my breath away. "You disgusting, pathetic loser," he said, voice light compared to what he hit me with. Daphne grinned at him, enjoying the show, obviously. I would not bend before them, wouldn't fall to my knees. He of all people would not have that from me.

I would not break.

He held silent, pressure never easing, the weeping mother and father filling the quiet with the shell of the child that should have breathed and cried and begun his new life with them held in their shaking hands.

Failing at death was bad enough. But failing at life made me a murderer. And it was that message Kael finally left me with, chuckling when he stepped through the door, Daphne following behind him.

It took everything I had to leave though I was finally able to move again, knowing I would likely run into resistance and more attacks. But I was surprised to stumble into Nero standing toe-to-toe with the two eldest. It was clear from the hissing argument my brother had stayed to defend me. Daphne jabbed a finger at me as I joined them in time to hear.

"She's not my responsibility," she said. "This was Mother's terrible idea."

"She's in your charge, is she not?" Nero patted the back of the infant's rescued soul as he hiccupped and stared at me with big, wise eyes beyond his years. Souls were ageless, endless. This one would go on to be born again to someone else, grow up, grow old and die. But the life he was meant to live was over too soon and I knew firsthand how much trouble it would be for Dad to sort out a new path for him.

Daphne muttered something under her breath then shrugged. "I knew this was a terrible idea." She glanced up first at Kael who didn't comment, arms crossed over his wide chest, smirk intact before she refocused on me like it was my fault. And it was, so I didn't fight her aura's rage.

"Take her home," Nero said, not meeting my eyes, not even acknowledging me or the fact our oldest brother should have been the one giving the orders. "I'll deal with Dad." He left then, abandoning me to my angry sister and smiling brother, both of whom turned their backs on me for the second time.

"We're done," Daphne snapped. "That was the last task assigned. Get lost." She left me then, stormed out the doors at the end of the ward, probably heading home to the Garden to tattle to Mom. Then again, it was a very good bet Mom already knew.

Kael lingered, gaze traveling over me, smile never wavering, letting me feel enough of his utter contempt I couldn't recover completely. "I'll see you, Evie," he said and left me there at last.

I stewed after Daphne and Kael had gone, trying to find anger, to fuel myself forward with some kind of self-supporting emotion. And found nothing.

It was obvious to me now I was as big a disaster as everyone thought. Worse. They should just lock me up and not let me anywhere near anything resembling Life and Death until the end of time.

I finally moved only because I had to. I couldn't stand there in the middle of the corridor anymore with nurses nudging past me, doctors hurrying by. I needed a nice, quiet place to hide, to retreat from everything and sort myself out. If I could.

The hospital. This place, it held one soul who would understand even if he could never know who I was. I could go to Adam, draw on his kindness, sit in the quiet of his room and let his mortal generosity of spirit give me some semblance of peace.

I was already through the door and out of the mortal realm before I allowed myself to finish that thought. No rest for the monster.

The moment I entered the Crosspath I felt it. The shift, the disorientation. And the doorway appeared again, the wavering entry to a realm unknown. Only this time the mist was real, pouring from me, leaving me weak and dizzy, staring, unable to move. It rose and formed an arch, an endless black hole wafted over by rising white puffs of what seemed like smoke but carried no scent. Calling to me. Thin, transparent, without depth but with the promise of more, it begged me to join it. I drifted toward it, allowing its lure to bring me closer, knowing in my soul it would devour me if I let it despite feeling it came from inside me. And at that moment I wanted the mist to do its worst, to eat me alive and swallow what remained. I paused a few feet from it, the mist licking at my toes. Numbing the flesh inside my hurtful shoes. I could go inside, disappear forever and no one would ever find me...

My hand reached out, grasped for the door handle, a shape that formed as I searched for it, made of mist and tingling under my palm. But when I pulled it remained closed, shut off from me and in that moment despair won.

It was locked.

In a flash the door vanished, the mist it was made of slamming back into me. The entire Crosspath skimmed sideways, vibrating back into its original formation while I fell to my knees on the carpet. Both skinned, stinging and burning as I lay there for a long time, trying to muster the courage to rise and go on.

I felt others moving through the Crosspath, ignoring them, as they ignored me. Finally, I pushed my feet beneath me and stood, shaking on weak and wobbly legs, defeated and lost.

Impulse roused anger at last. I turned my back on the place where the door had been, jaw aching from clenching my teeth against the return of my will and stomped with lack of caring for the door back to the mortal realm.

***

# Chapter Fourteen

My retreat wasn't to be just yet. Nero stood staring at me, my brother's kindness penetrating my aura at last. I jerked to a halt with barely a step of progress made. Had he not seen what I'd seen? Did he know the mist now seemed able to emerge and act, that I was glad of such a thing? But no, not from his expression. So, what I'd just lived, the door that felt so real, was all in my mind.

I was going mad, apparently.

Nero came to me, one hand taking mine, face showing concern a moment before his normally stoic calm returned. He led me in silence to one of the sofas and sat me down beside him, hand still holding mine. His seemed reluctant, as if he would pull free at any moment, but he held on anyway, his emotions swirling between compassion and disappointment.

"Are you all right?" His deep voice helped calm me, the familiar cadence Dad's timbre in many ways, and that of the brother who had always seemed to care despite himself.

I nodded, my free hand shaking while it rose to push back hair from my face, my curls falling loose over one shoulder. Impossible hair. The fingers in his felt warm and I hoped he wouldn't let me go, though I wouldn't fight him if he decided to release me.

Nero sighed, looked down at the carpet, shoulders rounded forward, lips tight. His aura pulsed with empathy of his own and with need. "Eve." He inhaled and exhaled deeply, audibly before looking at me with those eyes, our father's eyes. "It's never been easy for you." His voice warbled slightly and I remembered the brother who had loved me when I was small, who carried me on his hip and smiled at me, who showed me Undertown and was my friend before the tasks began and my failures hurt him, too. "I'm sorry for that. You must know..."

I nodded again, unable to speak, wishing I could change things, make him understand how much I felt his agony. I knew now, had never known until this moment, he blamed himself in a way for my lacking. How hadn't I seen—felt—that this brother who cared for me drew away not out of judgment of me but out of his own regret he wasn't able to help me?

If he'd been trying to break my heart he wouldn't have succeeded better.

Nero's fingers twitched around mine. "I don't know what to do."

"Same here." I was able to speak, a miracle.

When he met my eyes, his were full of pain. "I know," he said. "That's the hardest part, really. I understand how hard you try. And it's so difficult to see you fail." He shivered a little, his knee bumping mine, this intimate moment giving me more solace than he would ever know. "I used to think if you could just do things differently, if you would just pay attention or focus better. But it's not about that, Eve. You're not one of us. Are you?"

I couldn't help the tears that tracked down my cheeks, tickling my skin as they fell. "I guess not."

Nero nodded, sighed, his aura softening. Like accepting I wasn't an angel of Death made him feel better. "Then we figure out who you are," he said. And squeezed my hand.

I hugged him on impulse, sobbing softly against his shoulder while my brother awkwardly patted my back a moment. When he finally embraced me, relenting in the face of my grief, I cried harder, feeling the last bits of his resistance to the girl he adored when I was small fade away and vanish.

I pulled back and wiped at my cheeks, laughing and crying in a soft sound of apology. "Thank you for that," I said, voice cracking.

Nero's aura had altered completely, his hurt gone. He'd relieved himself of blame, just like that. To have such an ability...

My brother stood, helped me to my feet and smiled at me, though grim and still the steadfast angel of Death I'd come to know as a teenager. "I'll talk to Dad again," he said. "Your mother will have to listen."

He didn't say more, turned and headed for Death's doorway, his tall, lean body full of confidence. I watched Nero go, hugging myself instead, imagining my brother's arms around me, supporting me again. And allowing hope this wasn't some passing moment of promise that I'd manage to crush with more failure.

I couldn't go back to Life, not yet. I needed time, space to process. Not just the conversation with Nero. His departure and loss of aura pressure returned the memory of the mist door and my struggle with reality. My feet moved before I could think and, in moments, I found myself once again in the hospital. The place I'd so recently denied myself. Outside a door I knew already. Memory tingling, I felt in my pocket, realizing I still possessed the gift from Tulip. Despite the Mom created costume change, I learned early in the six month switch off I at least got to keep personal items when these alterations in clothing happened to me. Thumb drive safely tucked away, my fingers traced over the bracelet my friend and her parents gave me and I thought of my centaur family. But they understood too much, had too much knowledge. I couldn't bear their empathy just now.

Needing a friend who knew nothing of who I was and not caring he was mortal, I pulled myself together and peeked into Adam's open door.

I had second thoughts as soon as I looked inside and found Adam sleeping. Time was so flexible when Life and Death were concerned. I hesitated, my fingers exploring the edges of the thumb drive while I talked myself out of the terrible idea I had to just barge in and make a friend of a mortal.

Why not, though? I'd screwed up the rest of my life, no matter Nero's sudden understanding. Why not this part, too?

Adam didn't give me a choice, in the end. His head turned on his pillow while I hovered and fretted over my own indecision. His instant smile and wakeful state told me he'd been lying there, likely in his own head as much as I was in mine. His closest hand lifted and gestured for me to come in.

It was nice to sink into the chair next to him, to smile at him as he half turned over, not trying to sit up. I would have loved to squeeze his fingers in support but there was no way I was touching him. Too risky as delightful as that contact might have been. A thrilling moment of mortal warmth after a terrible, hurtful day.

"Hi, Eve," he said. "Where's my apple?"

I choked a laugh, shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said. "I forgot."

"Too busy to remember little old me, huh?" He winked, finally did struggle to sit up. I held still, wishing I could help him, staring at his knees instead as they rose under the sheet. It took him an awkward thirty seconds or so to position himself, but when he spoke again, he sounded happy. "Thanks for the help." I looked up, to apologize, no idea how I was going to explain to him I couldn't touch him when I realized he was teasing me. "Honestly," he said. "Thanks. Everyone else treats me like I can't do anything for myself. I appreciate you holding off on the irritating dive for assistance."

I shrugged, grinned weakly. "You're welcome."

He tilted his head, cheeks slightly more sunken than I remembered. It was just yesterday we met, wasn't it? "You look different."

The dress. I ran my hands over my skirt and made an unhappy face. "My mother has certain ideas about what her daughters should look like." I flushed, embarrassed suddenly. The revealing bodice wasn't exactly hospital wear. But Adam didn't seem concerned.

"I like it." He ran a shaking hand over his short hair before clearing his throat. This time I did rush to help, pouring him a glass of water from the pitcher by his bed. I was careful to extend the small, plastic table toward him, rolling it on its wobbly wheels with the cup bouncing on its surface until he could reach it. Adam saluted me with it and sipped a little before setting it aside. "How's your grandfather?"

I stared in blank confusion before remembering the conversation we'd had the day before. "Alive," I said, not meaning to sound so mournful.

Adam chuckled. "You have the worst habit of making good things sound awful."

"Sorry." I sank back, clutching the thin material of my dress in both hands, knowing I had to look as hurt as I felt. "It's just been another long day."

"So, tell me." He adjusted himself a little so he was partially turned toward me then waited, expectant. When I didn't say anything—what could I say?—he gestured for me to hurry up. "Eve," he said, "go ahead. Unload. I won't judge and it's not like I'm going to tell anybody." He motioned around himself. "Unless you have a magic pill to get me out of this place. In which case, I'll owe you so much your secrets will always be safe with me."

I almost didn't, was so close to holding my tongue, changing the subject. But I needed to talk to him and, from the hunger in his emotions, the desire for distraction palpable in his aura, I knew he needed it, too.

I dumped as much as I could manage without actually telling him who I was. About Mom, about Dad, our broken family and being co-parented and having two homes. The fact my siblings on both sides hated me and that I was being pushed into being someone I wasn't because my parents had been too stubborn to admit I didn't fit their mold.

It was frustrating at times to keep things so vague but the further into the story I dove, the more Adam nodded and commiserated.

"I hear you," he groaned at one point. "The only reason Mom and Dad are even talking right now is because I'm sick. And my little brother Danny blames me for them not paying any attention to him. Poor kid."

It felt so good to share. "Do you see him much?"

Adam shook his head. "Not anymore," he said. "I asked them to keep him away. Just in case."

In case he died.

That hit me hard, the truth of what he faced. Here I was dumping all over him when he had troubles of his own. Mortals had so little to look forward to. Having their lives cut short by illness had to be devastating.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm whining over nothing and you're..."

Adam looked away. "Eve? It helps. Honest." When he turned to look at me again, his eyes glistened with moisture. Then he smirked at me and jabbed a finger in my direction. "Tell me something," he said. "Why do you let them bully you like that?"

I gaped, stuttered, stopped. "I don't have a choice." He didn't understand. Too mortal.

But Adam wasn't about to let it go. "Time to stand up for yourself, don't you think?" He arched an eyebrow at me. "Especially to your mother. And that nasty ass sister of yours." I giggled guiltily at the description of Daphne. "Saying no doesn't mean you don't love them. It just means you have a life and they'd damned well better get to a place they accept you're going to live it." He nodded once, official and decisive. "Take it from me, kid," he said. "Life's too short not to take charge."

If only he knew how ironic that statement was.

Rather than try to explain further, knowing it would get me nowhere, I smiled back and reached into my pocket. "A friend of mine designs games." He didn't say anything about the obvious change of subject, shaking his head before looking curious. "She was wondering if you'd be willing to test one. I told her you liked to play." I blushed then, realizing he now knew I was talking about him with Tulip. Then wondered why I cared.

He took the jump drive from me with a grin. "I'd love to," he said. I didn't stop him when he reached for his laptop and opened the lid, plugging in the drive and booting up the game.

Tulip was brilliant, no question, and her games beyond me. Adam's curiosity turned to delight and then excessive enthusiasm as he fell into the stunning visuals and in depth storyline. I left him shortly thereafter, knowing Tulip would be delighted by his grunting acknowledgment of my departure, so caught up in the gameplay he barely knew I was gone.

At least someone would get some good news out of today. I was two steps from the utility closet and the Crosspath when the inevitable hit.

Eve.

Mom. Any joy I'd gathered around me like a shield vanished at the sound of her voice. I didn't wait for her to order me home, volunteering my own return. I'm on my way.

***

# Chapter Fifteen

I was sure she was going to be furious with me. So, when I entered the throne room with my head artificially raised and my shoulders shaking from forcing them back, I was shocked to find my mother not only smiling but hurrying toward me. She embraced me with so much warmth I hugged her in return, too surprised and overcome with relief to do anything else.

"My darling," she whispered in my ear. "You're home." Her hands stroked my hair, eyes exploring my face as she beamed at me. "Come, come." She led me toward her throne dais, where Daphne gaped in horrified fury and her other favorite sisters tittered their disbelief at this odd turn of events. I sank into the smaller chair that was usually Daphne's with great trepidation but it was hard to hold onto my nerves when my mother drenched me in her love.

She was manipulating me again, yes. But I'd been so long outside her confidence and lacking in my own sense of worth I figured it couldn't hurt to lap it up a bit. Savor it even and squirrel some away for later. Because I was certain everything would collapse around me again, no question. It was only a matter of time. Having this feeling to look back on would either keep me from falling apart or just make things ten times more dreadful.

I was willing to risk it to spend actual time with my mother.

All my sarcastic, cynical beliefs about her faded away in the face of her adoration. She refused to release my hand, strong fingers clasping mine as she leaned in, perfumed hair brushing my knees, head tilted toward me, her entire focus on my face while she shut out everyone else. I'd been on the other side of her pleasure, had stood by pretending it didn't hurt when she ignored me in favor of Daphne or one of my other sisters. Though it felt amazing to be here, in this seat for once, it did help me sober slightly.

Why? I didn't get to ask, not when Mom's breathy question beat me to it.

"What happened with the infant?" She didn't sound upset in the least, more so curious to the point of glee. I stammered my apologies but she waved them off, nodding for me to tell her what happened. I did, as much as I knew. The moment I mentioned the mist, Mom hissed and sat back. But she wasn't angry. If anything she seemed satisfied by something. Did she know then what I was, what I was meant to be?

"Eve," Mom said, smiling openly, "my dearest child, you have no idea, do you, the momentousness of your words?" I shook my head, opened my mouth to ask her. Mom swept to her feet and pulled me up with her, hugging me around the shoulders with one arm. "I've worried for you, darling," she said, walking me down the steps, past the flabbergasted and hurt Daphne who glared murder in my direction, "all these years. Feared for you." Her emotions stirred tears in my eyes. She certainly felt things deeply and shared that well. "I had terrible concern you were broken, through no fault of your own." She paused, turning me to face her. "Your father and I." Mom stopped briefly, wistful smile crossing her face. "Well. He'd loved me for so long and I was lonely, you see. For someone beyond the mortal souls we use for procreation." Awkward. I cleared my throat, blushing, but Mom didn't seem to notice. "We both feared having you would mean some terrible result, being Life and Death after all." They did? I had no idea. "And when you seemed unable to fulfill the simple tasks of your siblings." She seemed to swoon, emotions rippling from anguish to despair to fear and back again, leaving me dizzy. "You can imagine how much we blamed ourselves for your troubles."

They did? The last eight years of whining seemed petty and wasteful now. My parents did love me. And I'd just been hiding in my self-pity.

Mom went on while I spiraled into blame. Her lips brushed my forehead, her hands squeezing my bare shoulders. "Darling," she said. "My very dear Evie, I've only now realized how wrong we both were. And how important you are to all of us."

My mind glossed over the fact she'd used Kael's hated nickname in favor of more shock. Me? My mind squeaked that word to the deep, booming chime of Death calling. I jumped at the sound, though Mom didn't seem startled, just irritated in a flare of pique. But when Dad appeared in his full Grim Reaper attire, or his projection anyway, she had regained her composure and practically glowed with power and Life.

"Samael," she said. "We were just talking about you."

"Isis." Dad bowed his grinning skull head at her. "I would speak to you in private."

Mom clapped her hands, sending Daphne and the others scurrying from the throne room. But when I tried to leave she clasped my elbow and held me. Daphne's scowl was all the notice I needed she planned to punish me as soon as she caught me alone. Frankly I wasn't all that concerned, despite our history. I had Mom's attention for the first time in my life. Her love. And I was about to find out what I was meant to do.

This day couldn't get any better considering how badly it had been going.

"Speak, Samael," Mom said.

"Eve." Dad's heavy tone told me he wished I'd go, but Mom didn't release me.

"You are here to talk about our daughter," she said. "The least you can do is speak in front of her. For once." That last tag of condemnation hurt if only because I didn't realize they'd been discussing me behind my back. Which was silly, really. Of course they had. I was their errant kid who couldn't do anything right. They probably only talked about me. Still, the fact Dad confided in Mom about me didn't sit well.

Not well at all.

"As you wish." Dad's smoky robes rustled, shed as his human form appeared in its stead, shrinking to our size, though he remained a projection. "I wanted to talk to you about releasing Eve from the tasks of an angel of Life."

"Already done." Mom waved him off like he was behind the times by about a year. Dad seemed startled, but smiled at me.

"Excellent," he said. "I'd also request Eve return to Undertown then so we can begin testing to see what it is she's meant to do, if not the tasks of our children." Like I wasn't really his child now? He didn't mean it that way, but Mom's resistance affected me, I admit it.

"How dare you try to steal my beautiful darling from me only a day after she's come home?" Mom's arm returned around my shoulders. "I am perfectly capable of assisting her in finding her calling, Samael. I, at least, have never doubted her. Unlike her father."

Dad? I didn't have to speak, to ask the question, even though I wanted to deny her words. The instant she spoke the guilt on his face flared to life and told me what I needed to know.

Was I that big of a fool? Had I misread his kindness for trust and her distraction for disappointment? It was certainly starting to look that way.

"Eve." Dad sighed. "I only want what's best for you."

I nodded, biting my bottom lip to keep from asking him to please tell me he hadn't been lying to me all this time.

"As do I." Mom's gaze turned stern. "Tell me, Samael. Have I ever once questioned Eve's sanity, ability or birth?"

He shook his head, pale face even more washed out than usual. "Never," he said. Paused a long moment before meeting my eyes, sorrow there. "But I have. Is that what you're getting at, Isis?"

I would have sunk to the floor in utter broken shock if Mom hadn't had her arm around me.

"It is," she said. "Now, if you're done, Eve and I have work to do. And a life's purpose to discover." Mom waved him off, though Dad took longer than she would have liked from the growing frown on her face to vanish. Time that he used to try to speak to me, his mouth opening and closing before he finally nodded and disappeared.

The chime of his departure sounded, Mom ignoring it as she spun me to face her and shook me just a little.

"No despair," she said. "I've learned men aren't worth it, darling. And we have so much excitement to explore." Mom didn't wait, her enthusiasm returning while I stumbled next to her in numb pain at the fact my father, the only person I ever really trusted, never felt the same for me.

Thank you, Creation, for shaking the snow globe of my life repeatedly and in short order.

The doors to the exit swung open at Mom's gesturing command and it wasn't until she hurried me toward the bridge I jerked back to myself and thought to ask a question.

"Where are we going?" Obvious and a little trite, but I needed something to hold onto while my aching feet moved faster to keep up with her.

"The one place I know of," she said with a wink, "we might get answers. Time to pay a call on your Auntie Fates."

***

# Chapter Sixteen

We were into the Crosspath before I actually managed to understand what Mom had just said. And gulped out of nervousness at the idea of coming face to face with the three sisters of Fate. Mom paused when we entered the hub, face expectant as if she waited for something to happen. I stared at her, a deer in headlights certain of my doom while she smiled at me.

"Eve." She looked around. "Do you feel... anything?"

Like what? I shook my head, mute, but not in denial, in confusion. What was she expecting from me? It was only after her smile took on a hard edge and she started moving again I realized she was waiting for the door to appear. The mist door. Did she know about it, past the fact she'd asked me for details earlier? Instead of pursing that line of query though, seeing the door she marched toward looming, I squeaked out another question.

"Why them?" The Fates of all people. All my whininess seemed to be coming out now, in front of her, instead of staying where it was supposed to, deep inside my own head.

Mom didn't seem to care about my attitude, not slowing even a little as she hustled me deeper into the Greek Pantheon arm of the Crosspath. I'd only been down here once, when I was twelve, on a trip with Dad to see Zeus. He'd thought the journey would be good for me but I just spent the entire time with my head down and in the presence of the Greek god's lackeys. While the fauns had been nice for the most part, the strident shouting from his wife, Hera, gave me a headache, her harsh jealousy at his frequent infidelity painfully apparent, even to a child.

There was nothing I could do aside from outright rebellion at this point to prevent our journey, so I did my best to keep up and try not to worry too much about meeting the Fates. I'd heard rumors from my siblings about how horrible they were, and even Tulip and her centaur parents didn't like to talk about the three female entities that filled the roles. Their doorway appeared far too soon, unmistakable as the chattering, whispering entry looked like a constantly weaving loom.

It opened for Mom, though I heard a soft hiccup from the threads as I passed through and wondered if that boded ill. I have no idea what I was expecting from the Loom realm, but the amazing tapestry of reality woven from visible threads wasn't it. This time I did resist, not out of concern but shock and awe and delight.

Every single thing, from the soft grass to the sky and clouds, to the tweeting birds and trees and water, all of it was woven from multihued string, connected together by thin filaments that seemed to wind and turn and twist together, the whole of the realm one long, powerful thread. My eyes struggled to focus past the woven appearance of a soft, white rabbit that bounded past, dragging a string behind him, the way the sky appeared so close I could touch it, almost like a linen canvas, but impossible to reach. I turned on my heel, following Mom who didn't look around or appear to even notice how incredible this place was. Likely because she'd been here before.

As fearful as people were of the Fates, their realm was amazing.

The entry to the Loom realm followed a wooded path, shaded from the sun created from sparkling threads. Even the shadows under my feet, cast by the trees and my own passage, had that tidy hatching of stitches that baffled my vision with its impossibility. I was so intent on observing my surroundings, taking in the incredible nature of the Loom, I didn't have time to be afraid or allow my anxiety to reappear, not before Mom pulled me to a halt in a shadowed grove and spoke.

"Moirai," she said, "sisters Fate. I come for audience." She sounded like saying those words pained her, and from the faint crumpling around her lips, the way her eyes tightened, Mom had a serious issue with asking anyone for anything, let alone for an appointment. I winced and wondered if this was a good idea.

The glade had been hemmed in by trees so thick, their boughs so deep not a trace of light entered from above. Only the flickering fire, dancing with the weaving and unweaving of threads to make the flames, cast any illumination. A giant loom, its wooden structure carved with creatures and people and nature scenes so detailed I found myself lost in its story towered over us. The constant click, click, click of the flying shuttle moving of its own accord across the warp and weft of the tapestry unfolding. I looked closer, peering into the cloth and saw, in an instant, the entirety of Creation being born before my eyes.

I almost missed them because of my attention, drifting closer to the edge of the massive structure. The flicker of their appearance was ample distraction I paused and looked away long enough to realize we were no longer alone.

They stared at my mother with furious eyes, hunched and bitter, elderly women in wrinkled robes of linen. In the presence of their anger I found myself hurrying further to the side of the glade, preferring to stare into the constantly moving cloth of the Loom rather than giving them any focus. It was so much easier to pretend the Creation being woven was our reason for being here, not the conversation I was forced to overhear as the Fates spoke.

"Isis." The first Fate's voice rang with her unhappiness, rich and deep but with the promise of youth and spirit. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Clotho," Mom said, matching the Fate's vibrancy with her own. "Thread spinner."

The second snarled her frustration, her voice deeper yet, more aged and filled with wisdom. "You intrude where you are not welcome," she said, her wizened hands waving at Mom as if to shoo her off. None of them seemed to have noticed me yet, much to my relief.

"Dear Lachesis," Mom said without an ounce of her own welcoming perfection lifted from her tone. "Thread measurer."

The final one sighed in frustration, turning her back. When she spoke, hers was the graveled voice of an ancient woman long past patience. "Leave," she said. "Life is not welcome in the Loom."

"And yet, beloved Atropos," Mom said without a hint of irritation, "thread cutter, without Life, the Loom would cease to weave."

The third Fate grunted. "What do you want, then, Isis? What trouble do you bring to the door of Fate?"

I had a feeling things were about to get messy and, quite likely, would involve me. After all, why else would Mom bring me here? I eased closer to the tall, thick stand of the Loom, tucking into its shadow, almost touching the tapestry emerging and doing my best to keep my focus there and my fingers to myself. Even I knew better than to mess with the Loom. I might have been a disaster, but who knew what interfering with the clattering shuttle would do to Creation? I shuddered and held very still, now afraid to breathe. Still, maybe I could hide here long enough for Mom to get what she wanted and escape without catching the attention of the Fates.

"I'm here about Eve." Mom didn't move, gesture for me, nothing. But from the way the Fates reacted she might as well have dropped a bomb in the middle of the Loom and walked away.

"Do not speak her name to us." Lachesis hissed at Mom, flapping her old hands in my mother's direction. "You know better than to bring mention of that abomination here."

Abomin... I swallowed the hurt down and stared harder at Creation's threads weaving, weaving. I'd been called worse by my siblings, hadn't I? But never by total strangers. Any anger I might feel, however, was crushed by their overwhelming disgust and horror.

"Eve is sixteen," Mom said.

"She should have been drowned the moment she emerged," Atropos growled. "Or, better yet, never conceived." Did she not care I was standing right here? My jaw tightened no matter my own empathetic reaction to their violent revulsion. For the first time I registered my own feelings bubble up in retaliation. I inched closer to the Loom, cheeks on fire, hands in fists at my sides and stared deep into the worlds and lives unfolding there so I wouldn't do or say something I'd regret.

"You warned me," Mom said. They had? "I chose not to listen, to birth the child of Life and Death's union despite the old laws against it. I need to know her Fate."

Laws against... me?

Clotho spit on the ground at her feet, stringers of thread forming the mucus stain. "Fate," she said in a voice that warbled, beautiful and hateful at the same time. "You know better, Isis."

Mom's voice held a smile when she spoke and I turned at last, startled at her tone. "She has no Fate."

The three snarled suddenly, like cornered cats full of fury at being trapped.

"Nothing good can come of her existence," Atropos said. "Nothing."

"Death and destruction follow in her path, surely," Clotho said.

"Creation's foul seed long ago meant to be crushed from existence," Lachesis finished.

"So you say," Mom said, sly and clever. "But do you know for sure?"

They wailed then, agony in their feelings, so powerful it staggered me, drove away my anger reaction to them. I stumbled back from them, tripping over the high heels I wore, hand reaching out to save me from falling.

And touched the edge of the Loom.

Tulip's hands release the scroll she clutches, a giant wave of mist rising overhead as Blossom screams in silent protest and Oak cries out, his power hitting the wall of shimmering black and white. The centaurs run, the massive darkness around them flooding with mist, giant doors of stone booming shut behind them—

I staggered from the vision, terror for my centaur friends hitting me like a fist in my chest. Only then did the Fates seem to realize I was there, the scream of pain cutting off as the three women spun in my direction. Not that I noticed. The Loom's power rippled up my fingertips and into my soul, waking something inside me, a heat I'd never felt before, an utter joy as the mist I'd been seeing my entire life burst a bubble deep within and roared its wakefulness.

My hand slipped free of the wood, body shaking with reaction, the mist's appearance dying off as I did. My heart palpitated, skipping errant beats while I gasped for breath and struggled with the wash of emotion that overwhelmed and devoured me.

Fury, passion, joy, rage, power, seduction, ecstasy. Waves crashed into me over and over, drenching me in the heat and cold, the roar and whisper of every single feeling so quickly, in such rapid succession I was certain I would explode outward from the pressure.

And then silence, the numb quiet of emptiness. I bent in half, hands on my knees, ears pounding, drowning out exterior sound for a long moment while I existed in a single heartbeat, between one da-dum and the next.

The mist sighed, retreated, promised to return. I clung to it, tried to bring it back. But it was gone and someone was screaming.

Three someones, surrounding me. The Fates, their wrinkled faces full of terror, circled me and shrieked their horror.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Was it Atropos who spoke or Clotho or Lachesis? Impossible to tell. Their voices sounded the same, strident and broken, as Mom shouldered them aside and grasped my hand. The same hand that touched the Loom.

"Come, Eve," Mom said with a smile, as if the three Fates weren't still shouting their fury and fear into the woven air. "It's time to go."

I stumbled after her, the Fates following us to the edge of the glade, but allowing us to leave.

"Mark us, Isis!" That was Lachesis. I glanced back over my shoulder at her, saw Clotho embracing the weeping Atropos. "You have woken something even you can't control! Life has given birth to that which should never have returned to Creation!"

I wanted to stop Mom, to ask her what the Fate was talking about, but we were moving too fast and Mom seemed eager to get out of there. And, since I was too, I figured there would be time later to ask her the questions that now burned in my mind.

Who was I? Had Mom known all along? And what did touching the Loom mean?

What did I awaken?

I hadn't meant any harm, had only stumbled. But the understanding I could, in touching the actual Loom of Creation, have made the biggest mess of my entire life wasn't lost on me. Dread filled me, though Mom's delight didn't waver. Instead of helping, it only made things worse.

She didn't notice the three figures standing near the exit. Or if she did Mom didn't react to them. I couldn't help staring in dumb horror, though, mind racing as the three watched me go. Not the Fates, nor people I knew. The little girl, the Goth teenager and the woman in the full, black robes waved at me as I passed out of the Loom realm and into the Crosspath.

The moment we entered the hub I jerked my hand free of Mom's, shocked at my own audacity, at my ability to resist her. I'd never been able to do that before and I stood there a long moment, staring down at my hand like it belonged to someone else.

Mom finally showed something other than excitement, a small flare of irritated need touching her aura. "Come, Eve," she said.

"What am I?" My hands trembled, tears stinging my eyes. I had to know. Beyond being an abomination the Fates thought should die, should never have been born. "What were they talking about?" Tulip. Her parents. The mist. I had to get to the Repository. But I couldn't move, frozen in helplessness, held in place by what had just happened.

Mom tsked and shook her head. "They are fools," she said. "Eve, darling. You are a great power, greater than I first thought. I was remiss in my teaching. But now that I understand..." she shuddered, as if with pleasure, and an instant later I felt it. Excitement and passion and a thrill of victory. "Trust me, please. We have much work to do before you can claim your birthright."

It felt wrong, all of it. I knew it, intimately, as I'd never known anything in my life before. Mom was wrong, didn't have my best interest at heart. No one did. There was something fundamentally damaged about me. The mist, the raging emotions that tried now to escape. Whatever the Loom did, whatever touching it shifted, all I could process was the horror of becoming something I didn't recognize.

I backed away from her, my own terror growing. The mist called, rising to greet me but now I feared it. I needed to flee from its call and the wild disaster of emotion trying to take over my being.

I spun and ran, the door to the Repository in my mind, the long passage of the Greek Pantheon flashing past, doorways flickering in my peripheral vision. Panic gripped my chest, making it hard to breathe, though the mist retreated from me.

Mom let me go, didn't even call after me as I kicked off my shoes at the hub of the Crosspath and dove for the Repository door.

***

# Chapter Seventeen

I found Tulip myself, ignoring the fluttering sprite who tried to guide me, running through the stacks to her favorite place in the entire Repository. The vision from the Loom realm clung to me like the mist itself, overlaying that terror with the reality that everything seemed perfectly normal here. I skidded through the elegant and stately stone corridors with their towering wooden shelves full of books and scrolls, past the café and the wooden floors and racks packed with all the amazing artwork of Creation climbing high toward the towering ceiling. The Menagerie would have lured me any other day, the collection of all the creatures that ever existed a common place for Tulip and myself to wander. But I was too worked up to think of such delights.

Tulip. I had to make sure she was okay.

I found her at last, buried in the back stacks of the halls of technology, the metal cabinets and giant stands packed with every invention imagined or made over the course of Creation. She looked up in surprise, her face lit by the glow of the banks of computer monitors she'd linked together, her latest video game design running as she tweaked the code.

Tulip hugged me tight, didn't ask questions as I fell into her arms and cried. Wept and shook and emptied my fear into my best friend's kindness and compassion, falling deep into the empathy—the true meaning of that word—that she'd always offered, guilt and cost free.

When I finally calmed enough to speak, I told her in halting words and bits of hiccupping hurt what had happened, including the vision I had. Since I'd broken my eight year promise to never cry when I was living in Life already, I figured a few more tears wouldn't hurt. They didn't seem to want to stop, though I wiped at them with the hem of my dress until it was soaked.

Tulip listened, her beautiful face creased in concern and sorrow, patting my back and nodding in all the right places, acutely attentive to my story. Bless her, the longer she focused on me the calmer I became, the mist retreating and, along with it, the bubbling emotion that threatened to take over.

"You touched the Loom?" It was the first thing Tulip said and I didn't miss the concern in her voice.

"I didn't hurt it." Hard not to sniffle and feel sorry for myself.

"Of course you didn't." Tulip's hasty words didn't make me feel any better. Nor did her hesitation or the heavy sigh that expanded her two sets of lungs, human and equine. That meant she was really worried. "Eve, I've been doing some research."

The vision returned, her and the scroll, the mist rising, her terrified parents... was it a foretelling then? Something to come? I waited, misery unending. She was going to tell me I was some kind of monster for sure, a giant disaster walking. Like I didn't know that already.

But Tulip didn't, not in so many words. Instead she frowned, frustrated. "I don't have answers for you," she said. "Yet. But I found enough it worries me. I asked Mom and Dad for help." She winced. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind?"

Maybe under normal circumstances. But this wasn't normal and I needed all the assistance I could muster. Still, could her digging result in the horrifying vision I had becoming reality? I almost told her to stop, to let it go. But I needed to know. And she was forewarned now, wasn't she?

Besides, I trusted Oak and Blossom. Far more, at this moment, than my own parents.

"I'm sure everything is going to be fine," Tulip said, doing her best to return to her natural optimism. "And the vision was nothing." I doubted that was true, but Tulip rushed on before I could argue. "Your mother seems excited. That's a good thing, right?"

I wasn't so sure, and, in fact, was almost positive the opposite was correct. But Mom was Life. Surely she meant well? And, if she had answers, I should go ask her directly. So why then did I hesitate with fear clenching my throat shut?

"Promise me you'll be careful." I should have told her to stop. I knew that in my heart. But I had to know.

Tulip sat with me for a long time, the two of us silent. I stayed well after I should have left her alone to work, watching her tap at her keyboard, listening absently and without really hearing as she explained what she was doing.

But sitting there, watching the game scroll through the screens, I found myself thinking of Adam. I had to go home, to talk to Mom. I just couldn't bring myself to face her yet.

I finally left Tulip deep in her coding, slinking away on bare feet through the Repository. I did my best to avoid everyone, staying clear, head down in my customary shuffle of doom. The Crosspath held welcome quiet and I huddled on one of the central sofas for a few minutes, longing for peace but not finding it there. Not when my insides churned with new emotions I'd never had access to before.

It was like a caldera of lava had been exposed, the crust broken, shattered, allowing the bubbling heat to rise. I gulped down the urge to laugh hysterically and lurched to my feet, startling a pair of dryads who hurried away from me and to their hub corridor, looking back and whispering in their shrill voices, long green hair trailing behind them.

The mortal realm door stood closest. That was the excuse I used, anyway. And the hospital was easy enough to tune into, the utility closet outside Adam's room a simple exit. The need to see him felt so powerful, so insistent I welcomed it because it seemed to smother the rest of the burbling feelings I now fought with.

Daylight poured into the corridor, the bustle of late afternoon activity a surprise. I halted outside his door, hearing laughter and chatter from within and, for the first time, felt a giant stab of jealousy as I peeked within and saw he wasn't alone.

They were dressed in gorgeous gowns and tuxedos, five young men and women, about Adam's age—and mine—wearing flowers and with their hair in elaborate designs, both the girls and guys. The room smelled of mortal perfume, the click of phone cameras going off almost as frequent as the giggling.

Adam seemed paler in the daylight, less real, almost transparent, his skin sunken, eyes trying to be happy. But the instant he saw me I registered his despair and, with my heart aching for him, I stood and bore witness to the agony their presence caused him.

It was the least I could do—as Tulip had done for me—for the mortal young man who, despite the rules, was my friend.

I didn't have long to wait, hugging myself in the corner of the doorway, before Adam spoke up. His voice sounded tired, cold. "Thanks for coming, guys. Have a good time tonight."

Even I knew a dismissal when I heard it, though one of the girls, her blonde hair over dyed and curled into a pile on the top of her head, bent to kiss him. Adam turned his head away, the jealousy spark brighter as I looked off and tried not to hate her for that familiar intimacy. Even if he rejected it, seeing her expectation told me she had experienced with him what I never would.

Breaking the rules by befriending him was one thing. Kissing him? Touching was out of the question.

"We wish you could be there." The girl sounded petulant, like this was his fault, his illness. She reminded me of my sisters so much my hands clenched into protective fists, wanting to drive her from his side.

Adam had it handled though. Nodding, staring at his hands. "See you."  
They shuffled out, disappointment dying as they reached the hall and their young exuberance returned. I watched them go, saw them forget about him, maybe as he'd wanted, though I blamed them in that moment for their callousness. Despite Adam's need for them to leave I sent a blast of rage in their direction, unfamiliar and burning hot.

The girl who'd tried to kiss him stumbled and fell into one of the boys, grasping at her foot, crying out in pain. She stumbled onto the elevator before I could find out if she'd tripped. Or if I was responsible.

I shouldn't have felt vindication or that tiny seed of satisfaction maybe I'd hurt her on purpose. But I did, Creation help me.

Adam didn't speak when I entered the room, closed the door over, settled into the chair next to him. Slowly, like he fought them, his hands rose and covered his face and, a moment later, his shaking shoulders the only evidence, he began to weep.

I couldn't touch him, this mortal suffering in illness. I just couldn't risk it, had no idea what contact would do. And so, unable to help him, I sat next to him and waited, lending what strength I could to him from merely being there to witness his hurt.

Adam finally stopped shaking, looked up, snuffling. I handed him a box of tissues, silent and with as little emotion as I could show. He helped himself to a few, blew his nose. Shrugged.

"Sorry," he said.

"Don't ever," I said. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Adam didn't argue. "They don't understand," he said, voice trembling, thick and deep. His fingers shredded the corner of a tissue as he spoke. "They aren't really my friends anymore."

There wasn't anything I could say to that. Because he was right. Adam's circumstances forced him into a brand new kind of role his healthy classmates could never understand.

I opened my mouth to try to offering some kind of encouragement. After all, I'd been the outsider for a long time and might be able to comfort him—or make things worse by stumbling through a litany of clichés that would only make him want me to leave, too.

But I didn't get a chance to say anything, to embarrass myself or him. Not when the door pushed open and Daphne and Kael stepped through.

My sister was smiling. My brother, too. Which meant I wasn't going to be happy with what they had in store.

***

# Chapter Eighteen

Daphne's smile did nothing to make her more attractive and I could tell from Adam's uncomfortable reaction her arrival and immediate focus on me had his back up. Kael lurked by the door while my sister took a step into the room, sweeping it with judgmental eyes.

"Well, well," she said in her irritatingly sweet voice. "Eve and a mortal boy." She made a moue with her full lips while the young man in the bed looked briefly startled, then blank. I knew that look. Kael or Daphne—or both—made sure Adam heard but ignored the term "mortal". Though I had no doubt the emotion behind the insult was allowed to remain. "Dying, no less. How tragic."

Kael laughed, low and cruel. Adam's face tightened but Daphne ignored him. He might as well have been a plant or a piece of furniture as she stabbed a finger in my direction with obvious enthusiasm, my oldest brother's presence pushing her onward from the touch of his aura.

"You just wait," she hissed, "until Mother finds out you're consorting." She tossed her curls, turned to smile coyly at Kael. My stomach twisted with disgust at the idea these two might be more than just partners in crime against me. "And your father, Kael? What will he think of his precious daughter breaking one of our most important rules?"

My brother just shrugged, smirk so familiar my own face ached at the tight expression.

Daphne didn't wait for an answer, flouncing toward the door. "Thanks for giving me what I need, Eve," she said over her shoulder. "Way to fall on your face. Again." With that, she left the room.

Adam looked uncomfortable but remained silent, hands clenched in his lap, staring at my brother. When he spoke at last, his voice hummed with anger. "You're welcome to leave."

Kael took a long time obeying, uncoiling from his casual lean against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world, his usual damaging poison washing over my empathy. Did he realize he wasn't hurting me the way he used to? Doubtful. And I wasn't about to tell him his regular ammunition had lost its power.

He finally sauntered out with a mock salute for Adam and a wink for me while this new access to emotion touching the Loom woke within burst into life. Those two purposely let Adam see them, ignored him, treated him like garbage. Fury rose to the surface of the lava inside me and pushed hard against my gut. Unable to let them just leave like that, knowing I was abandoning Adam with a million questions and hating both my siblings for leaving me to either answer them later or never come back here, I chased them out Adam's door and into the corridor.

It wasn't until I had my hand on Daphne's arm and was pulling her forcefully around to face me I felt the shock of what I'd just done. I glared into her surprised blue eyes but couldn't yet speak.

She did that for me. "Let go of me." She shook off my hand with a flare of rage before her smile came back. Daphne leaned close, nose almost touching mine, the scent of her rosy perfume making me gag while Kael observed, quiet now, no longer smiling. "Finally," she said, "I have what I need to make Mother kick your sorry ass out of the Garden once and for all." She giggled, clearly enjoying this moment of supposed triumph. "And don't go crawling to dear Daddy," she said. "Consorting with mortals is a punishable offense, Eve. You'll be heading to one of the prison realms if I have anything to say about it." The likelihood of such a result was pretty remote. The logical part of myself knew I'd just end up with a slap on the wrist, considering how powerful my parents were. But it was the threat that hit, the fact she hated me so much that drove me deep inside and tapped into whatever it was touching the Loom had done.

For the first time in my entire life my temper snapped. I don't remember grabbing her again, nor do I recall how she came to be standing almost against me, with her hair shivering along with her fearful trembling while I leaned into her ear and whispered.

"Don't ever," I said, "threaten me again."

What was in my eyes, on my face, that made her gasp in terror when I leaned away? The mist crowded forward, the burning, swirling mix of emotions bumping into each other, fighting for possession as hysterical ecstasy and volcanic fury butted heads so hard I stepped back.

No, it wasn't me retreating. It was Daphne. She shrank from me, sagging and weak in my presence, her fear palpable, a being of such intensity it cowered at my feet and begged for me to let it go.

I couldn't speak, could barely move, the mist and my warring emotions too much in control for anything outside the rigid stillness I managed. Just managed. My own fear peaked, pinching me internally as I realized how close I was to exploding outward and killing Daphne.

Killing her. And I'd laugh while I did it, I was sure of that.

Did she see her fate in my gaze, know her life was at risk? I can only believe that was true, because she stumbled away, hands raised before her as if to ward off whatever it was she saw in my eyes. Ophelia and Cadence waited for her not so far away, the first time I'd noticed their presence. Was that a flicker of guilt in my younger sister's eyes? A quick, regretful glance at Adam's door? Did the girl who had come to me to offer solace truly alert Daphne to my mortal friend? That seemed likely. And only fed the fury and the joy of the mist within.

With a squeak quite uncharacteristic of my normally poised sister, Daphne turned tail and ran for the nearest door, slamming her way through it, the closing portal catching the tips of her golden hair and leaving a few honey strands behind.

Ophelia and Cadence fled behind her. I should have felt embarrassed by what just happened, maybe tried to go after Daphne and make amends. She could turn my life into an even bigger cesspool of torture than it was already. Instead I turned, feeling my own lips lift in a smile, and spotted Kael watching me. The heavy, dark scowl pulled at his face, the normally painful smirk long gone. I'd shown him my hand, drew my line with Daphne and, without trying, did the same for my oldest brother. I felt him push, shove, hit me with the old hurts and hate that used to lay me low. Instead of fighting back I stood there, head high and, slowly, as true understanding dawned on my miserable excuse for a brother, I smirked back at him.

He'd never been all that clever outside his need to cause harm to those he saw as weaker than him. And while I had no doubt Kael would find the means to come at me again, would refine his means of attacking me until he figured out a way to win, for now I came out the victor. I almost laughed out loud when he slunk away, looking back at me with sneaking, hate filled eyes.

Let him. I was done being bullied.

I headed for Adam's room without a flicker of remorse while the mist and the wrangling powers that were my emotions faded and retreated again.

I paused at the door, trying not to show the excitement remaining behind with the thrill of fear. Whatever happened, whatever I'd done when my hand touched the Loom, I opened a doorway to something I never knew existed within me. Or did I? I shivered, thinking about the empathy that seemed to rule me my entire life. How it kept me from expressing myself, absorbing the needs and desires of others. Until only their feelings mattered.

All of a sudden that changed. I knew it, felt it, the fundamental alteration of my makeup. My hands shook as I balled them at my sides and drew breath after shaking breath, knowing if I let go the mist would come back, those massive feelings that fought for dominance could very easily take me over. A hysterical bubble of giggles did form and I had to clamp both hands, cramped from the fists they'd made, over my mouth to hide the sound.

A nurse glanced at me sideways, noticing me. Immediately I squashed down this odd release of my own emotions and guarded myself against her. She shrugged and moved off, head down over her clipboard while I sagged against the door frame and watched her go.

He was waiting for me when I returned, confused and hurt from the look on his face. What could I possibly tell him? The truth, or at least a version of it.

"My sister," I said, the giggle still there, tickling the back of my throat, making my voice shake, "is a bitch." I said it out loud, I spoke what I was feeling about Daphne out loud. To another person. Clearly and without guilt or any kind of empathic reaction.

Could I get used to this?

"No kidding," he said, though there was humor in his tone and a smile returned to his face. "And your brother?" I nodded at the question. "He's not much better." He could say that again. "You seem happy for just being in an argument."

"Do I?" Relief never felt so fresh and free. "I guess I am. I... had an epiphany about myself just now. It shifted a few things." He had no idea.

Adam grinned, nodded, sat back with his arms crossed over his chest. "Nice," he said. "You're not going to let them push you around anymore, are you?"

As a matter of fact, that thought crossed my mind about a fraction of a breath before he brought it up.

"I have to go, I'm sorry." I was sorry, too. Being with Adam felt fantastic at last, like freedom from something that held me back far too long. Rebellion, it seemed, was going to become common place. For as long as this new outlook lasted, that was.

"Go get 'em, Eve," he said. "And tell your sister and brother to piss off for me."

I left him in the sunlight streaming through his windows, grateful he hadn't mentioned anything about what she'd said, knowing I'd see him again, and soon. Because I wanted to. And no one would stop me.

Heady with the kind of power that came from within, I left the mortal realm and entered the Crosspath with one destination in mind.

I had to talk to my father.

***

# Chapter Nineteen

Death's realm felt different. Everything felt different. It was going to take some time to adjust to the fact I wasn't walking around in a cloud anymore. That was the shift, the best I could explain it. As I set foot on the bridge to the courtyard, the gray sky overhead its same, colorless self, the dark stone arching beneath me, I realized just how clear everything seemed suddenly.

That lilt in my gait, despite my bare feet, gave me wings like I'd never known, carried me forward, fast and light, as I imagined my sisters in Life often felt. This joy encompassed me, growing steadily by the moment and, by the time I reached the other side, I was practically skipping.

Corvus soared toward me, landing with a rustle on a slim statue of a young man in sorrowful repose. "Eve," he said, as nastily British as ever. "Your father is in no mood to speak to you right now." He sniffed, beak clicking as he rose and flew forward, struggling to keep up with my brusque stride. "In fact, you're not meant for this realm for six months, in case you've forgotten."

I grinned at him. "Corvus," I said. "Go choke yourself."

His squawk of surprise made me laugh. I left him behind to sort out his poor, hurt feelings, taking the steps to the palace at a run. My bare feet slapped on the stone as I bounded up the steps and flashed the huge skull fountain in the foyer a wave on the way by.

Never had I felt so optimistic, so full of the feeling of rightness and perfection. This had to mean I found who I was meant to be! The doors to the throne room stood open, though I honestly think if they'd been closed I would have walked right through them anyway.

Dad perched on his throne in full Grim Reaper persona, not speaking or moving as I approached. I should have felt uncomfortable, small and fragile, maybe even tried for head down and subservient daughter. But the Eve he knew didn't live here anymore, quite literally.

"Dad." I came to a halt at the bottom of the dais, the four steps to his throne all the distance there was between us. "We have to talk."

His giant shape shifted, shuddered slightly. "Eve," he said in his booming Reaper voice. "What has happened?"

I could try to explain it to him and wanted to. That was the whole reason I came here. But he continued to sit there on his throne, treating me like I was some stranger or stray soul looking for a handout instead of his supposed beloved daughter. The joy I felt morphed, the rage rising and I tapped into it, feeling myself fill with the power of anger. And I liked it.

"The least you could do," I snapped, "is come down here and ask me like a real dad instead of being a bossy creep who won't even show his daughter a little respect." Breathless from the rebellion, excitement took over again, the joy returning while Dad stared at me out of the giant skull he wore.

I could still feel his emotions, knew I'd shocked him and couldn't help but toss my dark hair and laugh. He did as he was told, imagine that? Dad detached from the shadows of his giant body and descended the steps, frowning and concerned when he held out his hands to me.

"Something's wrong." He shook his head while my anger flared again. I really needed to find a way to create balance in these new emotions I actually had access to for once. "Eve, tell me what's going on."

"A little trip to see the Fates," I said, knowing I came across wild around the edges, arrogant even. But I'd spent my entire life being kicked and stepped on and doing my best to stay out of the way. This confidence brought on by my freedom from other people's feelings roared like a freight train of power I'd ride as long as I could. "Thanks to Mom and a brush up against the Loom of Creation." Dad tried to take my hand but I stepped away, shook my head. "You wanted me to find out what my purpose was," I said. "That's what I'm doing. And now you say something's wrong?" How could this be wrong? This unlocking of who I was meant to be? "Thanks for the help and support, Dad." The thought crossed my mind, bitter with the truth of it. "And for talking to Mom about me. I always thought you had my back. I guess I was naïve to think you cared."

Why had I come here again? What a waste of time. I turned to go, knowing this was a mistake now, that Dad betrayed me. Had admitted as much in front of Mom. Old habits led me to the place I considered home. Now I knew better.

"Eve, wait. Please?" Dad was asking? I turned back toward him, hesitated. The boiling emotions within subsided, the mist stirring and sinking while I exhaled and shook my head to clear it. This was Dad. Maybe he had some kind of doubts about me, but that seemed fair considering, right? He approached, hands out again and this time I let him hold mine, my fingers shaking a bit, cold and clammy. What was happening to me?

I just wasn't used to the new way of things, that was all. I'd figure it out. Even as fear whispered to me maybe I was destined to be a freak forever.

"Listen to me," Dad said, voice soft and anxious. "No matter what the Fates said to you, no matter what your mother might say, I love you, Eve. I chose to have you with Isis. Chose you." Why did it seem so important to him that I know such a thing?

"Okay," I said. And remembered more. "I wasn't supposed to be born." The Fates said as much. All the confidence crumbled under me, the old me returning, the mist falling away while I shuddered and my shoulders sagged forward. Abomination.

"Technically," Dad said. Then sighed. "Your mother and I were never supposed to mate, Eve. Why, I don't know. But it's been in the rules for as long as Life and Death have existed."

"But you did." Thanks a lot. His fault, then. I shivered inside.

He nodded like that might help, pulling me against him, hugging me. I felt small again, a little girl needing comfort and felt his emotions embrace me, too. Part of me wanted to fight this, the new part of me. But I didn't have the strength just yet.

"We did," he said. "You are the most precious thing, Eve. Believe it." His hand stroked my hair. "We've tried so hard to integrate you, partially because we both knew you weren't supposed to happen. Finding your path would validate your birth." He laughed, dark and angry. "Or so your mother said. And I agreed with her, believed her for a long time."

I pulled away from him, feeling the mist shift and turn. "They said I was an abomination."

Dad's anger hit me hard, feeding my empathy and I did nothing to shake it loose. It capped the mist and sent it swirling away.

"The Fates," he said through clenched teeth, "hate anything they can't control. And they can mind their old witch business."

The sudden need to hurt him was so powerful I had no control over it. Where it came from I had no idea, except perhaps I spent my entire life being a good girl, his good girl and needed him to see me for who I was becoming.

"You are aware," I said, "I've been consorting with a mortal."

His pale face darkened slightly, as if I'd hit him. No longer did his emotion affect me, though his own answering anger came through loud and clear. "Eve, what were you thinking?"

I shrugged and smiled, knowing it caused him pain. I spun, skirt flaring, the crushing desire to go further, to damage him if I could goading me on. How fun. "I was thinking he was cute and maybe for once someone would be kind to me." Dad flinched from that. It made me laugh. "Are you going to try to stop me?"

Was that a helpless expression? Yes, it was. It washed over his face and into his emotions as he sagged, his turn to fail. "I won't be able to protect you."

"That's all right," I said, turning my back on him with a thrill of joy. "I don't need your protection anymore."

I think I'd come there with hope. To ask him if I could stay, leave the Garden forever. To beg, yet again, to be free of Mom. Only to realize as I strode out of the palace and toward the bridge, Undertown wasn't home, either.

That meant something bigger and better waited for me. The mist whispered a promise I couldn't wait to explore.

***

# Chapter Twenty

I was so deep in this new experience, when I flung open the door to Death and entered the Crosspath it took me a moment to realize I wasn't in the quiet, carpeted hub of the realms. Instead, my bare feet sank into warm, gritty sand, the soft and fragrant breeze blowing salty air over my cheek. I turned, confused, the mist gone, emotions settling again and regret flaring.

What was I thinking? I had to go back and apologize to Dad for being so cruel. But instead, when I turned to look for a doorway, there was nothing. Just the beach and the breeze and, to my surprise, three faces I knew.

Waiting for me over a picnic.

I recognized them instantly, the trio from Fate's realm of the Loom, but not those horrible women themselves. Instead, the girl waved to me, her flouncy pink dress pooled around her where she sat on the red check gingham blanket, wicker basket beside her. A wide, satin ribbon pulled back her frothing black curls, eyes so pale, as I approached with trepidation and rising anxiety, they seemed translucently blue in the sunlight overhead.

Her companions didn't acknowledge me. The Goth teen sprawled next to her, black hair shorn short save for a long, greasy lock over one eye, keeping her gaze downcast to where she picked at her red cuticles. Her torn black jeans showed pink knees, though the rest of her exposed skin seemed pale, almost washed out, in the light of the sun.

As for the third, nothing could be seen of her past the heavy black robes she wore, only her eyes visible and those appeared ghostly white, blind and staring while she—and I assumed it was a she under the hood and face scarf—sat as still as a statue on the far side of the blanket.

"You made it!" The little girl's voice eased my tension, despite the fact her greeting did nothing really to ease my mind. If anything I was more curious about this mysterious threesome and paused at the edge of the spread, my bare feet digging into the sand while one hand rose in a weak wave of greeting.

"Hi," I said, not sure what else to say, though a million questions hovered on the tip of my tongue. For some reason I was unable to voice any of them while the beautiful little girl, her round cheeks rosy, perfect bow lips curved up into a smile, gestured for me to join them.

I sank down onto the blanket feeling dazed suddenly, a bit dizzy even. The girl didn't seem to notice when I pressed one shaking hand to my forehead and had a wash of regret grip me so fiercely I didn't know how to deal with it.

What happened to me the last little while? It was as if the emotions I'd always bottled up inside, that had been bottled for me perhaps, had suddenly found their way to freedom. Instead of the feelings of others dominating and controlling me, my own decided to take a massive leap forward and join the party. Not that I was against such an occurrence. But the way I'd been acting, the odd and surreal memories I'd created so far outside my norm, drove a long, shaking breath out of my lungs as if I'd never take another out of sheer surprise.

The little girl, tiny fingernails painted coral pink with sparkles to match mine, handed me a cup. "Lemonade?" I accepted without thinking, taking a sip of the tart yet sweet drink, icy cold and refreshing. It was as if that taste slapped me firmly across the face and I inhaled, again in shock while she laughed a tiny bell laugh of delight.

"Oh, Eve," she said, patting my knee, "it's so lovely to finally meet you."

The Goth girl grunted as if in agreement, though the black robed woman made no motion to indicate she shared their opinion.

"I'm sorry," I said, barely past a whisper. "It's been an odd day and things have been happening I don't understand, rather quickly, too." I stared down into the pale yellow liquid in my plastic cup, ice cubes bobbing. "Am I supposed to know who you are?"

The girl shook her head, curls shimmering in the sunlight as if oiled while she passed out two more cups of lemonade. The Goth girl took hers but didn't taste it, staring off into the distance with a bored and slightly angry expression while the woman in the robe finally moved, long, slim fingers the color of well creamed coffee accepting the glass.

"No, I'm sorry," the girl said, saluting with her own. They all drank, the robed woman's glass slipping beneath her veil so quickly and deftly I almost missed the motion. I followed suit because it seemed the right thing to do. The surreal feeling stretched outward like a rubber band, taut and vibrating, surely to snap at any second and wake me from this strange encounter. "We know you so well," the girl went on. "We've been waiting for you for just ages." Delight sparkled in her pale eyes, along her emotions. "I'm just excited the time has come at last." She sighed happily, hands folded around her glass in her lap, head tilting to one side. Thick, black lashes rimmed her large eyes, brushing her cheeks when she blinked. Her pert, upturned nose was turning slightly pink in the sunlight. I had no idea who she was, but I liked her, liked all three of them despite their oddities and silence on the part of the other two. With no evidence as to why that should be.

"May I ask," I said, "who you are?"

She laughed, peals of tinkling laughter, while Goth girl grunted again, the tiniest of lip raises her version of a smile, I suppose, black eyes expressionless. The woman in the robe shifted forward slightly, eyes tightening a moment around the edges and I guessed she, too, was smiling.

"Dear, dear Eve," the girl said. "Of course you can ask." She winked, paused. Then laughed again. "I'm Destiny."

Not a name, not the way she said it, but actual Destiny itself? Herself? I shook my head. "I had no idea you were a person." That sounded hideously wretched in my ears and I blushed deeply at the rudeness of it. Of course she was a person. My mother was Life and my father was Death. This wasn't exactly a stretch.

But she giggled instead of being offended, sipped her lemonade, eyes twinkling. "No one really talks about us," she said, "not like we're real, not anymore. Not since those Fate sisters decided to commandeer the whole future gig like they created it." She sighed and sagged slightly. "I blame Zeus. He gave them all that press back when the Greek Pantheon was in power. We haven't been able to shake so much influence."

The Goth girl snarled something and looked away. Destiny reached over and patted her bare knee.

"I know, dear," she said. "It's going to be all right though, isn't it? Now that Eve is awake at last." Destiny beamed at me. "This is Karma." She shrugged delicately, lips twisting as she lowered her voice. "Forgive her, she's a bit jaded these days, what with the way the mortal realm is evolving."

Karma shrugged and crossed her thin arms over her chest, heavy silver jewelry sparkling in the sunlight.

"And Kismet." Destiny gestured to the woman in the robe. Those blind eyes seemed to see me, her head bobbing slowly and only once in my direction in acknowledgement. I nodded back despite her blindness.

"I don't understand." I hated to sound so petulant, to turn to Destiny with my forehead creasing in confusion. "You've nothing to do with Fate? I thought you were all connected?"

"Connected, yes," Destiny said, sounding a little testy now, though her irritation didn't seem pointed at me. She lifted a small container out of the basket and opened the top, her glass balanced between her knees and offered me small chocolate squares that smelled like heaven. "Brownies?"

I helped myself to one, bit into the sugary perfection and let it dissolve a second as I processed what she'd said. "But not part of the Loom."

"The Loom," she said, setting aside the dish when the other two declined, her own piece in her small fingers, "is a construct of the Fates. They seem to think the entirety of Creation is in their control and they are the rulers of what comes next." She snorted, a soft and feminine sound, nibbling the corner of her brownie. "They have no idea."

I'd been led to believe the Fates were the be all and end all of the past, present and future. How interesting. Despite the revelation and how oddly I was feeling, I couldn't help but grow excited about what she said. Too much time spent with Tulip in the Repository. Wait until I told my friend what I was hearing. She'd be off on a research hunt in an instant.

"Allow me to explain," Destiny said. "The Fates see the future as something unavoidable, inevitable as created by the Loom. Once it's woven, it's truth." This time Karma snorted. Destiny smiled at the grim Goth before going on. "And when they decide the threads need to be changed, they do so. But they've forgotten there are much older beings who once ruled Time."

I looked around at the three before me. "You?"

Destiny didn't answer, a tiny smile on her lips. "My job," she said instead, "is to provide alternatives depending on the path chosen. Make sense?"

It did. "So the future isn't set in stone," I said. "But the ultimate path is decided depending on which thread you follow."

Destiny clapped her hands together with a squeal of delight, cheek bulging with the bulk of the brownie she'd shoved into her mouth a moment before. Adorable didn't begin to describe her and yet she was a massive, powerful being likely a match to my mother and father.

"Excellent," she said. "You do understand. As I knew you would." She seemed to aim that caveat at her two companions.

I did, to the core of my being, though I had no idea why it made sense to me. Something was coming clear, like the mist I carried around with me washed confusion away, blown free by the breeze on the beach. "And Karma?"

The Goth girl twitched, dropped her arms, finally taking a brownie of her own from the discarded container.

"Karma," Destiny said, "struggles with the fact mortals seem to have no sense of right and wrong. She's been working overtime, poor dear, on payback. But I blame the Pantheons for their slacking guidance and not the mortals themselves."

Common teaching I'd learned as a child said the Pantheons of all beliefs had their own realms, their own doorways in the Crosspath. Some were as bright and shining as Life, others as dark and foreboding as Death. And others had fallen silent, as though the gods and powers within retreated so far from the beliefs of morals they no longer had the ability or the strength to maintain their realms.

"And darling Kismet here," Destiny said, nodding toward the blind woman, "her type of pre-destiny is more spiritual than physical. She sees better within than without, don't you, dear?"

Kismet nodded once more, slow and silent.

Perhaps I should have found her creepy, but instead she felt comforting to me, her calm like the peace of the moment before sleep.

"The Fates think they control us now," Destiny said, "but they forget they came after us, not before. And that there are forces at work beyond their ken." She paused, frowned adorably as if considering her next words carefully. I found myself leaning closer to listen while wondering what all of this had to do with me. "They have become closed minded, set in their ways. Cruel and bitter. There was a time we welcomed them in our realm, that we all worked together. But their greed and need to force time into their image has created difficulty for all of us." She wrinkled her nose. "They're so doom and gloom, the sillies. I'm a bit more... loosey goosey." Destiny giggled then, sat back and sighed happily.

"I don't mean to ask a stupid question," I said, angry with myself for falling back into my old habit of people pleasing but not sure how else to address this remarkable entity.

Destiny leaned ahead and patted my cheek, but her jaw tightened as she spoke, fire burning in the depths of her pale blue eyes. "You," she said, "have been silent too long, Eve. Far longer than you can even imagine." What did she mean by that? "Ask."

"Why am I here?" I blurted the question. "While I find this fascinating and I'm thrilled to meet you... what does this have to do with me?"

She gaped at me in shock before bursting into more laughter. "Oh, Eve," she said like that should answer my question. And then, without saying anything further, she took my cup and dumped the remaining contents into the sand before tucking it away in the basket.

Wait, that was it? Karma stood, brushing imaginary sand from her black jeans while Kismet rose in a smooth, flowing motion, standing above me like a silent statue when upright. Destiny continued packing the basket, not looking at me, shooing me at last to fold up the blanket.

I stood on the sand, gaping at her, waiting for more. When she finally tucked the red gingham into the top and folded down the lid, she turned to me with a smile and arched eyebrows.

"Was there something?" I swear her eyes twinkled.

I shrugged, shook my head. "I'm so confused." Back here again in the realm of the dazed and lost.

She nodded. "Yes, I know," she said. "But we can't influence you past this point, Eve. I would think that much would be obvious." Her blue eyes sparked with magic. "The path you take next is up to you."

"Something's happening to me." I whispered it, hugged myself despite the fact doing so showed weakness.

But Destiny didn't seem to be upset by my worry. If anything her compassion made me feel better, lapping against me like the waves did the nearby shore.

"Things will work out, Eve," she said. "I know it." She was Destiny, so she had to be right, didn't she? "Oh, there is one more thing." She slipped her hand into the pocket of her pretty dress, pulling free something that glittered in the sunlight. I reached for it without thinking, the warm, heavy key landing in my palm, pitted silver catching the rays in the few spots where damage and what looked like some kind of black corrosion didn't blemish it. When I looked up, Karma was gone, Kismet with her and only Destiny remained.

"What is it for?" I clutched it to my chest, the rightness of it calling to me even as the beach vanished between one eye blink and the next, Destiny gone, too.

You'll figure it out, she sent in my mind while I turned slowly, the Crosspath around me, the silent emptiness of it feeling off compared to the warmth of the beach. And we'll be there when you do.

I felt her go from my mind, heart pounding but in an excited and happy way, fear gone even as something whispered behind me. This time the distortion didn't trouble me, the mist door appearing faintly, a mirage yet as it had been the first time it appeared to me, while the walls shifted, calling to me. I strode toward it, the key in my hand, knowing in that moment exactly what it was for.

***

# Chapter Twenty One

The door's transparency drew me on, the proverbial moth circling a flame. Only it was simply me being pulled by the mist lingering inside me for as long as I could remember. No more did it hover without power, now surging its excitement as if it had a life of its own. The key felt lighter and lighter while I drew closer, the silver seeming to meld itself to my hand as though my skin itself were the same material and it would dissolve at any moment.

Once again the mist emerged from me, though this time I didn't falter, stronger for its departure, caldera of emotions vibrating. The mist within gushed forward in a wall of joyful coils and filled in the place where the door should be.

It solidified, a curved entry of coiling white and black smoke swirling together with mesmerizing grace, dancing as one around the framework of the dark center, the depth there so black I couldn't see through. The closer I came, the more density seemed to settle in the mist, until I was certain it would feel as solid as any wood or metal were I to touch it.

The door handle appeared on a tendril, decaying silver like the key, but amorphous and undulating, that metal made of the same mist creating the portal. Even the keyhole beneath, beckoning to the tip of the key I held, appeared made of the same swaying, entrancing stuff.

All the answers to all the questions I'd ever had, including the new ones raised by Destiny and my touching of the Loom, waited for me on the other side of that door. I was certain of it, could feel my soul calling out while the mist connected me to it, crying in joy and anticipation for what waited for me beyond.

My hand rose on its own accord, the key singing to the lock as my bare feet carried me in shuffling steps closer and closer to my path.

A hand grasped my shoulder, spun me around, my mother's face for a moment appearing aged and furious, lines furrowing deep, wrinkles around her thinned out lips leaking lip color into the grooves. Her eyes had sunken far within, creating a skull like appearance closer to Dad's realm than that of Life. Her thick, black hair shone steel gray, the grasping hand clawed and withered but still strong, still powerful. I blinked, shaking free the hold the mist had over me. It rushed back inside my body, rocking me in place with the impact of its return. The Crosspath shifted back to its original configuration as my mother—frightening in her aged appearance—flashed from one blink to the next into her normal, stunning self.

I imagined it, imagined all of it, sure that had to be the case. Until her free hand reached out and eased the silver key from my now loose and stunned grasp. She tucked it into the pocket of her skirt, smile wide and endearing, her love pouring over me through my empathy overwhelming and devouring me with her adoration.

"My dear Eve," she said, bright and cheerful, hand still on my shoulder now sliding down to hook through my unresisting elbow. She drew me along, my feet stuttering over the carpet while the stunned understanding something massive just happened eased and went away. I shook my head, the aching behind my eyes growing more powerful as I glanced back over my shoulder, looking for the mist now hovering within, for the door. Finding nothing.

"Mom, wait." I pulled to a halt, resisting her despite her attempt to retain forward motion. "Something's happening to me."

"You're totally fine," Mom said, getting me moving again. "Nothing a good meal and some rest won't fix." Her fingers flexed on my arm. "Eve." So much caring in her voice, in her emotions, absolutely throbbing with it. "My darling, you've been under so much strain the last little while. You must forgive yourself for feeling out of sorts."

Maybe she was right. But Destiny, Karma, Kismet... the Loom?

The key. Mom had my key. Irrational anger woke, the need to retrieve it sparking. Why did I feel so disoriented, so shaken up and like the truth waited for me if I could just have a second to work things out?

The Garden door swept open to Mom's gesture and, before I could stop her again, we were through and striding over the bridge toward the Tree. I had to get the key back, I knew that much. Whatever clarity I'd felt when I stood before the Mist door with that key in my hand was gone, but I knew how to get it back. Before I could demand—well, ask for—it back, we were interrupted.

"There you are." Daphne emerged in a huff from one of the side paths in the Garden, her honey hair shining around her, vindictive expression on her face. "Mother, I need to talk to you."

Mom actually huffed at her. "What is it, Daphne?"

I'd never heard her use that tone toward my sister before. And, from the shocked and hurt look on Daphne's face, neither had she.

"It's about Eve." She stressed my name like that might make Mom listen closer. "And what she's been up to in the mortal realm." This time Daphne shot me a cruel smirk. "Consorting, Mother. With a mortal."

I fully expected Mom to drop her hold on me and spin to confront me with demands for explanation at the very least. Instead, to my utter shock, she stared down my sister until Daphne's confidently accusatory face turned to further hurt and confusion.

"Are you through maligning your sister, Daphne?" The chill in Mom's voice would have made me cheer any other time. But I was still trying to sort out the newfound feelings bubbling around inside me, and could only manage widening my eyes and further gaping.

"But, Mother." Daphne's petulant tone cut the confusion in my mind and stirred my contempt in a sudden sharpening of everything around me. Really. The girl needed to pull herself together. "Eve's been consorting."

"Perhaps your time would be better spent focusing on your own work," Mom said, brushing past Daphne, "rather than being a horrid little tattle tale."

I couldn't help the smile of triumph I flashed Daphne on the way by, nor the middle finger raise I offered over my shoulder. Because seriously. Time for her to grow up already.

Mom's tugging was no longer necessary. Why had she thought I needed encouragement? I shrugged off her hand and made sure my expression told her I no longer required her assistance. Mom grunted softly and continued on while I wondered at the fine lines around her eyes and mouth. If I looked closely enough would I again see all the years Isis carried with her? That thought brought hideous glee.

I strode into the Tree's throne room, ignoring the whispers of my sisters—the losers, the backstabbing vipers, let them have their petty jealousies—and marched to the throne. It wasn't until I stumbled over the bottom step on my way to the second seat at Mom's feet my world shifted sideways and I caught myself shocked at my own behavior.

Now I had absolute confirmation something was going on inside me, some massive alteration that seemed to be taking me over. And I wasn't sure I was okay with it. But in the instant I remembered myself, the old me who blushed at the thought of the girl who just gave her dominant sister the finger, I also recalled the precious thing Mom had in her pocket.

"The key." More blurting, something I wondered if I'd ever get over. Surely the new me trying to take over was far more suave and less awkward. Too late now. And it wasn't important, not in the face of what Mom took from me. "Can I have my key, please?"

Mom blinked at me with a faint, distracted smile. "Whatever do you mean, darling?"

She had it. I remembered her taking it, just before I could use it. Her love swallowed me whole, filling my empathetic nature with all the kindness, warmth and adoration I'd always longed for from her. And more. So much more. Yet, while the old me would have longed for such attention, I shook off what now felt like pressure, weight instead of true caring and, frowning, I shook my head.

"My key, Mom." Was that surprise on her face? If so, it was gone quickly, replaced by bored indifference.

"I really don't know what you're talking about, Eve," she said, disapproval far more familiar and, while uncomfortable, didn't bother me the way it used to. "I have business to attend to. I'll see you at dinner."

They why did she drag me in here with her? I knew she had it, could see the slight bulge of the silver key in her pocket.

Mom didn't let me argue. "Eve," she said, angry now, the Garden's power pushing against me. "You may go, Eve."

Frustrated, knowing I wouldn't win in a direct confrontation with Life, I nodded and left, head down, shoulders bowed. But this physical retreat was an act for the first time in my life. While the new me that didn't seem to care what people thought and had her own agenda didn't surface, enough of her remained with me I felt, at last, like I might actually have found my backbone.

Mom had my key, sure. But I'd be back for it. Once I did a little research.

I stopped off in my room long enough to shower and change. The fragrant waters of the falls washed away a great deal of my stress, the warm weight of the water pounding against my back and shoulders while I thought things through. Waist high in the pool below the falls, the entire grotto to myself while scented trees and shrubs covered in multihued blossoms swayed gently around me, I closed my eyes and took a few minutes to actually think rather than panic.

The Loom. Touching the Loom changed me, I was sure of that now. The talk I had with Destiny told me as much. While she hadn't exactly been forthcoming either, at least she seemed more willing to help me and less to control me, unlike Mom and Dad. And those hideous Fates who called me an abomination.

The mist... connected to me, somehow. Well, Duh, Eve. I'd only been seeing it forever. But this was important, things had changed to the point the mist was a part of me, not just on the periphery. It sat inside me right now, waiting. What did that mean, though? I had no idea, though the key was, the obvious aside, the key to that particular question.

The fact remained I was still in the dark. Who was I? What was I? I now firmly believed I had a different path ahead than any of my siblings. I wasn't just some screw up mixture of Life and Death who couldn't handle the simple job she was given, the tasks assigned. I wasn't meant to be either an angel of Life or Death, that much was sure. I was something else.

Destiny knew. So why didn't she just tell me? Because the path that led to that answer, she said, was up to me.

I really, really needed that key.

Clean—and my mind sorted enough I didn't feel stunned and lost any longer—I stepped from the pool, drying off on the soft, fluffy towels the faun servants left behind. Without another option, I pulled on the sundress left for me, the pale lavender complementing my skin tone, at least. Though I left the high heels behind, preferring bare feet to any kind of shoe torture my mother designed.

Feeling fresh in body and in mind, I bypassed the dining glade and headed for the bridge, knowing the family would be sitting down to dinner. Which meant finding and talking to my friend, Tulip, would be much simpler as all realms were on the same timeline as Life. Naturally.

But the moment I stepped through the doorway into the foyer of the Repository, I was greeted by a familiar sprite, now shaking and nervous. Her little hands trembled around her tight grip on her clip board and she refused to meet my gaze when she spoke.

"Sorry, Eve," she said in her squeaking voice. "The Repository is off limits."

Closed? Creation's library was never closed. I tried to push past her but her magic formed a shimmering wall of sparkles in my way. Astonished by this act, I stumbled to a halt.

"Please," Evanescence whispered to me, pink eyes blinking rapidly. "Just go." Tears hung suspended in her gaze and only then did I realize the foyer and the long, wide corridor beyond stood empty. I'd never seen it like this before and hesitated.

"Is everything okay?" It seemed a foolish question, considering the shift in the normally bustling activity to absolutely nothing. Silence. Echoing and still.

And terror, suddenly. Clenching fear sucking all the air from my chest, almost driving me to my knees with the knowing.

The vision surged and I gasped.

Tulip's hands release the scroll, the giant wave of mist looming overhead, Blossom screaming as Oak cries out. His power hits the wall of twisting, hungry black and white. The centaurs run, the massive darkness around them flooding with mist, giant doors of stone booming shut behind them, the wave slamming against the barrier so hard tendrils escape through the cracks—

She glanced over her shoulder then back to me while I reeled from the replay and added information. The mist. My fault. And mine. "Please," Evanescence repeated, startling me. The sound of pounding hooves made her flinch and spun though I eagerly looked down the long corridor, expecting my friend while the undulating mass of need inside me longed for what I knew now had been released. At long last, it whispered.

But it wasn't Tulip. Instead, Blossom appeared, scowling and angry, scared. She thundered to a halt at the base of the stairs and would not look at me.

"The Repository," she said in her deep, lovely voice, cold and harsh as if she didn't know me, "is closed."

"Blossom." I choked on her name, fingers on the bracelet she'd just given me while Tulip's mother—my centaur surrogate mom—stomped her hooves on the floor so hard she scarred the stone. All longing for the mist in my vision, all excitement from the same inside me, disappeared as I absorbed her emotions. "What's going on?" But I already knew.

"If you do not leave," she said, "I will have your parents come and remove you by force." She turned her back on me, rounded rump shivering, tail thrashing her flanks. "Now, Eve."

Still I hesitated, unable to believe how she was treating me. "Please. Tell me." It was true, what I saw, I read it in her terror, in the feel of the Repository, in the gurgle of the mist inside. Tulip triggered the release and the three of them galloped from it, slamming those giant, stone doors on the rising tide.

I must have reached her because Blossom relented somewhat, glancing back at me over her shoulder. Her face had filled with horror mixed with compassion that broke my heart.

"I can't..." she stopped, head snapping around. "Just go. I beg you. And do not return."

The clasp on the bracelet she'd given me, perhaps defective or by design, let go at that exact moment. I looked down as it tickled my wrist when it fell, tinkling to the stone where it sparkled like the teardrops I couldn't seem to shed.

"Is Tulip..." Was she okay? Surely she was. Blossom wouldn't be here if my friend was harmed. "Can you tell Tulip I was here to see her?" How pathetic, unable to admit I might have been the cause of harm to my friend. Pretending I didn't know what was wrong. But Tulip had to be okay. And I could at least let my friend know I hadn't forgotten her. While it happened rarely, my centaur friend did leave the Repository from time to time. Maybe we could meet in the Crosspath and she could tell me what was going on. If what I knew, what I had seen, had come to pass. And what it meant.

Evanescence spoke up. "I'm sorry," she said. "Goodbye, Eve." And then, barely visible, a nod. As if she spoke for the benefit of the centaur at the bottom of the stairs but wanted me to know she would do as I asked.

I could have forced the issue and, perhaps, the new me would have. The mist waited for me, I was sure of that. The bulk of it, not the small, burbling mass hiding inside. I should go, free it, embrace it. My path, surely? But instead I turned and exited back into the hub of the worlds, leaving the bracelet behind, hearing the Repository door slam shut with a booming thud behind me.

***

# Chapter Twenty Two

I paced my room, confused and frustrated. Half tempted to ask Dad about the Repository, even to approach Mom about it. Something was going on and it had to do with me, I was sure of it. I'd brought conflict to the centaurs who managed Creation's library, that much was clear. And perhaps unknowingly threw things off kilter by touching the Loom. I wanted to know the truth. And make things right if I could.

Of course, there was a chance I was overreacting and blaming myself for something that had nothing to do with me. Except for the vision I'd now had twice, a vision that could easily explain the closure of the Repository. I couldn't get the pixie's reaction out of my head, her fear and anxiety, the way she acted. And Blossom, treating me like I wasn't welcome... though could I blame her if the vision had come to pass? Not that my reasoning helped. Her rejection hurt so deeply I shied from it, unable and unwilling to accept what it might mean.

The more I let it fester and grow in my mind, the bigger it became until finally, well after dark, I crept out of my room and down the Tree, heading for Mom's throne room. And, behind it, her private sanctum. My goal was twofold. To confirm the closing of the Repository was the mist rising as I'd foreseen and, if possible to retrieve the silver key from Mom's possession. Frankly, the second goal was the most important though loyalty to Tulip made me feel guilt over the choice. My friend could be in trouble, in danger, and all I could really think about was the key Destiny gave me.

But she gave it to me. It was mine. And I wanted it back so badly I could feel the mist rising, demanding its retrieval.

The Garden seemed quiet this time of night, my sisters out on tasks or gathered in their happy, chattering packs doing dubious sister things I'd never been part of. I knew most of it involved some kind of giggling and even sighing over my brothers, which only made me shudder at the thought. And there was generally singing and other girly things going on that really didn't interest me. Mostly because it was my sisters. Tulip, on the other hand, could talk me into pretty much anything.

Heart again heavy over my friend, I snuck around the base of the Tree to the side entry of the throne room, bypassing the chamber of the Book of Life on my way to Mom's fountain. I skirted the edges, staying in the shadows fallen over the foyer as the faint moonlight cast its silvery beams across the white stone. It was pretty and there were nights I admired it—the moon always shone at night, just as the sun did during the day, in the Garden—but tonight I had a different focus.

The throne room stood empty, echoing in its vastness. I never came here after dark, finding it creepier than Undertown if that made sense. All that Life at rest. I often wondered why Mom bothered with nighttime. She was Life. She could have had perpetual day if she felt like it. But I suppose the natural rhythmic turn of her power was that of the cycle of day and night.

I crept to the throne dais, worrying more and more as I drew closer this had been a terrible idea. Mom was likely gone home to her own quarters by now and had taken the key with her. If so, I wouldn't find it, would have no excuse to invade her space beyond asking about the Repository. And the more I thought about it there in the dark, alone and letting my imagination run away with me, the less I wanted to know if I was to blame. Because I knew I was.

The sound of her voice made me pause while I hovered, undecided and ready to flee. So, she hadn't gone to bed yet after all, ensconced in her private grotto behind the throne room. And from the sound of things she wasn't alone.

The door to the chamber was well hidden but I'd known of its existence since I was a child and had no problem sneaking to the heavy crimson curtain and around its edge to the carved stone panel that was the entry. A soft touch on the centaur in the center clicked the latch and the door opened just a crack, enough I could peek inside.

Mom stood facing the holographic projections of two familiar figures. I gasped softly and clutched both hands to my mouth to silence any other outburst. Oak and Blossom looked tired, worried, afraid, his big, powerful arm around her shoulders. Tulip's parents were the kindest people I'd ever met. Seeing them upset hurt me like nothing else.

"—contained it for now," Blossom was saying, her deep, wise voice slightly higher pitched than usual. Tulip looked like her with those wide, brown eyes and tanned skin. I reached for my wrist and the missing bracelet, wishing suddenly I hadn't left it behind.

"Indeed," Oak said, rumbling tone far deeper than his wife's, the looming centaur's normally towering body shrunk to more human proportions by the projection. He barely stood as tall as Mom in the image while in real life he would have had almost two feet on her. "But neither of us know how long it will remain so. The doors aren't meant to hold it in."

This was it. Confirmation of what I already knew in my heart, in my soul and the emotions swirling deep inside. The vision was real. But what did it mean?

"You're both blowing this completely past any kind of common sense," Mom said, her own voice that soothing resonance I was used to hearing from her. She stood at ease, the power of Life glowing around her. "Honestly, we know these two girls and their curiosity. They can do no real harm."

Blossom choked, paling visibly even in the projection, clutching at her throat with one big hand. "All due respect, Isis," she said, sounding panicked. "We had to close the Repository this evening. Close it." She stressed that last repeat like it was unheard of. "And that section locked away." She shuddered. "That's not some playful mishap. Tulip's digging put everything at risk."

Tulip was okay after all. I bit my lower lip to keep from sobbing in relief.

"Honestly you two," Mom said, laughing softly at their fear. "You've both been in the Repository far too long. The worlds are changing, the Pantheon's shifting, the realms moving past our old fears and foibles." What she said, how she said it, sounded so reasonable to me I found myself nodding even though I had no idea what they were really talking about.

Even Oak and Blossom seemed to relax a little as she spoke. But when she finished Tulip's father shook his big head, ponytail of steel gray hair falling forward over one bulky shoulder as his fore hooves stomped the floor twice in agitation. His tail swished sideways, slapping his dappled flank before he stilled again.

"Regardless your belittling of our concerns," he said, gruff and formal, "it is Blossom and myself who are responsible for the Repository." Blossom looked up at him and nodded with her own firm determination. "Perhaps it will be best if Eve remains in the Life realm for now and abstains from contacting Tulip or returning to the Repository for the time being."

I choked on instant grief, heart aching. No Tulip? No Repository? What threat did the mist pose and what did it mean?

"Please," Blossom said, reaching out one hand that flickered as the image wavered. "Believe us, we adore Eve. But in view of what's come to light..."

"Fine." Mom's disapproval buoyed my own pain a bit, so much I wanted to hug her and stand next to her against the judgment of the two centaurs I thought my extended family. I was learning a lot about who really cared about me the last few days. First Dad, then Mom, now the centaurs I'd known and trusted my whole life? "Shame on you," Mom said then. "My daughter will no longer slum in the Repository. Satisfied?"

I wasn't. The centaur couple bristled, though Oak seemed far more angry than his wife.

"Not satisfied, Life," he rumbled while Blossom seemed to waffle in response. "But it will have to do." His brilliantly blue eyes, pale to almost white, blinked slowly, deliberately. "Good evening."

They flickered out and vanished, leaving me bereft and on the edge of tears.

"Eve." Mom's voice caught me off guard, the surprise of it having a happy side effect. I lost my need to weep like a baby over my lost friend, flinching guiltily, though her tone wasn't angry. "Come here."

I slipped into her sanctum, the stone floor giving way to plush, white fur soft underfoot, walls draped in pale silk. The far wall was covered in a spill of the deepest yellow roses I'd ever seen, the source of my mother's personal scent. She turned to me as I drew near, sitting on a long, low divan and gesturing for me to settle next to her. I did, looking up through the skylight to the moon directly overhead while the candles in the wall sconces shone bright points of light against the brilliant white décor.

Mom's hand stroked my hair back from my cheek, catching my attention and making my throat tight. I cleared it, looking down again at my hands clenched in my lap. Something moved to my right, the long, serpentine form of Lilith appearing out of the thick rug to wind her way up onto the divan behind me.

"Tell me," Mom said, voice soft and kind, "about Adam."

That wasn't what I wanted to talk about. I needed answers about the mist and the vision I'd had. The return of my key. But Mom's question startled me and drew my focus. "How much did Daphne tell you?" How much did Daphne know?

Mom smiled, shrugged. "That he's handsome. And very ill. Likely dying." She touched my cheek with her warm fingertips. "You know, your father and I typically take our mates from mortals."

"After they've died," I said. "Then Dad lets you choose from the dead." Once a year, every year. Like herding cattle. I'd only witnessed it twice and the selection process made me sick.

"Sophistry." Mom laughed, deep and low, voice vibrating with mirth. "Rules are made to be broken, Eve. Especially for people like us."

Lilith hissed softly behind me, likely too low for Mom to hear, but she was almost in my ear making the sound hard to miss. So she disagreed with Life?

"Perhaps I could talk to Samael for you," Mom said. "If you'd like me to? The boy could be a good partner for you, if you enjoy him."

I hadn't even thought that far. "But he'd have to die." Which meant he'd go to Dad first.

"Not necessarily," Mom said. "If he can be convinced to give the boy up, I could have one of your sisters claim him and bring him here." I didn't know she could do that. The idea of saving Adam from more pain, from his illness, appealed. But he had a life in the mortal realm. Did I have the right to take him from it?

"I'd rather save him," I said, not meaning to speak out loud.

Mom nodded like I'd placed an order. "Then let's see what we can do."

There was no way. Well, not no way. I could go touch him and roll the dice. But for Dad to give him up? If Adam's name was in the Book of Death, Mom couldn't save him. No one could. Except me, maybe.

Maybe. Just my luck, he'd be one of my successes and pass on into Dad's realm. But wait, I had more important things to worry about than Adam.

"Mom," I said. "Tulip. The Repository." I had to tell her about the vision. And hesitated, breath caught in my lungs, the mist grasping me tightly and holding me closed and silent. Forcing me to stop.

Mom stood, sweeping me to my feet with her hands holding mine. "The centaurs are overreacting to something that is none of your concern or fault, my dear." She smiled at me, perfectly reasonable, while the mist unclenched slowly, as if testing its trust. Not knowing why it was important to remain silent, I relented to it while Mom spoke again. "Let's go ask your father," she said, eyes twinkling. Why did I suddenly get the feeling she was up to something?

No hologram this time, no image projected into another realm. With me in tow, Mom pulled me, not out into the throne room, but to the rose wall which she stroked with one hand, whispering something I missed. Lilith hissed again, this time louder, more insistent, but Mom ignored her as the vines began to move.

I held tight to Mom's hand when they shifted, the roses sliding sideways, almost like snakes themselves, parting and opening a doorway I'd never seen before. The skull carved into the surface told me what I needed to know, the surprised look on its bony face and the way its empty sockets rolled darkness toward me, then Mom, before its jaw clicked together and the door opened.

Dad stood on the other side, looking about as shocked as I felt at the sight of the two of us passing through the archway. I glanced sideways at the skull on the door, saw its disapproval and wondered where this way had come from.

And then it struck me—Mom and Dad had me, didn't they? This shortcut must have been for more personal purposes. Now I was blushing all over again.

"Ah, Samael," Mom said, sweeping toward him and kissing his pale cheek. Dad's sanctum was draped in black, the opposite of Mom's, a giant skull—his favorite motif—in the center of the room ringed with plush seating in that dark shade. I slunk after Mom, feeling like we were breaking all kinds of rules being here, wondering why Mom felt this was important when I really wanted to ask her about Tulip and my key. The dark green grass covering the floor felt cold under my feet but I barely noticed as I shifted from one to the other, not meeting Dad's eyes.

I didn't have to, could feel the unhappiness in his aura as he held his temper in check. "Isis," he said. "Eve. What a surprise."

"My love," Mom said, "we had a favor to ask. Oh, hello, Corvus." She sounded like she'd smelled something bad and was only being polite out of necessity. The giant raven squawked at her, shuffling his wings back where he perched on the skull.

"Isis," he said, even more British with her than me. "What do you want?"

"Are you going to let that disgusting creature talk to me like that, Samael?" Mom's tone was so reasonable and even I wondered.

Dad just shrugged. "I'll repeat the question." I caught him staring at me out of the corner of my eye, frowning. "What's the favor?"

From his tone he knew he wasn't going to be very happy with the request. This was a terrible idea and I really didn't know how I ended up here like this, with Mom and Dad in this ridiculous situation with a foolhardy request that would never be granted. In fact, it was more than likely going to make Dad furious. Especially when I really needed to talk to him about the vision of the mist and the closing of the Repository. That had to take precedence over Adam's condition.

How had I gotten into this?

Before I could shush Mom, drag her back through the still open door, she spoke and sealed the doom I only really now understood I faced.

"Eve's fallen for a mortal boy," she said, so offhand I gaped at her in shock. "He's dying. We want you to save him."

***

# Chapter Twenty Three

There was a moment of utter silence after Mom's casual pronouncement that sounded far too much like a command for my comfort. And then Dad lost it. I'd never seen him angry, not really. Irritated, frustrated, worried, all of those things. But full out furious? Dad was far too compassionate and levelheaded to lose it. At least, from what I knew of him.

Turned out dealing with Mom was a trigger of his.

The death mask of the Grim Reaper persona appeared over his face, only this wasn't some false image he wore, a costume for the masses. I watched his skin shrivel and retreat, the bones of his cheeks and jaw and eye sockets suddenly white as the flesh withered and peeled away in a grotesque show of power. His hands rose, bone and tendon, clenching before him while two white flames flared in the pits of his black sockets, his voice dropping from its normal soft almost bass to a deep, threatening boom.

"HOW DARE YOU." This was Death, not the sweet man I thought I knew. This entity who needed no costume, who loomed larger than life without having to take on the mantle of his role, who personified the very essence of what it meant to reach the end of life. I quivered as he went on, not in fear but in regret I'd permitted this to go so far. Though I knew intellectually it would have been impossible to stop my mother, I still felt responsible for this shift in my father's normally calm and gentle being. "LEAVE MY REALM AT ONCE."

Mom didn't seem impressed. If anything she appeared bored, waving off the threat and his power with a flick of her fingertips. "Really, Samael," she said with enough disdain I flinched, "enough with the melodramatics, if you please."

"You aren't welcome here, Isis." His voice still held the echo of the power he held, his face a skull. But I could feel Dad returning and the power of Death retreating. Turned out he had as much trouble standing up to Mom as I did. Or so it seemed to me in that moment. "And I won't have you filling our daughter's head with false hopes about mortals she shouldn't be consorting with in the first place."

Mom snorted. "Like you haven't handpicked a few mates of your own from the dying, my love." She stressed the last two words with enough sarcasm Dad's skin returned and his eyes gave away the fact she was right. He didn't look at me, enough of a show of guilt I wondered if I ever really knew him at all.

"That's different," he said, sounding like an excuse before he squared his shoulders, scowling at her. "I never once circumvented the end, Isis. Or my ultimate job. And neither have you. So stop twisting the truth for once."

"The truth?" Mom's eyebrows arched, a smile on her full lips. "Oh, dear. I don't think you want to mention that word in my presence. Or in your daughter's." She rolled her eyes at me. "Maybe you'd like to tell Eve whose idea exactly it was we break the rules and create such a lovely young woman between us."

Another flinch from Dad. This time he did look at me, sadness behind his gaze. "Mine," he said.

"Yes, my love. Yours. And I agreed to it only if we gave Eve the very best chance to become who she was meant to be." Dad frowned as if trying to find something wrong with what she said before Mom went on. "It was your idea to force our darling girl into a mold she never fit." Her arm slid around my shoulders while Dad shook his head.

"That's not true." He paused, guilt returning as he sagged a little. "Not completely."

Mom's arm tightened as she leaned into me. "Really," she said. "That's not the conversation I recall, Samael. I wanted to present her to the Pantheons and offer her a chance to explore them and even perhaps set her up in the Repository."

Dad blinked, shook his head. "But." He met my eyes. "Wait, that's not..." And then, he blanched, hand falling. "I never wanted to hurt you, Eve. I've only ever wanted what's best for you."

And yet he'd held me back all these years.

"As I recall," Corvus interrupted, "your manipulation of the conversation led Samael to make certain decisions and choices." The raven's fury came through in his heavier than usual accent and the way his wings and tail fluttered over and over. "Don't let her twist this in her favor any further, master."

But Dad seemed to have lost his willingness to argue. That told me far more than even what Mom's attempt to discredit him succeeded to do. I pulled away from my mother, finally seeing Dad for who he really was. Yes, her initial exposure of his desire to control me was hurtful. However, it was nothing compared to this ultimate betrayal.

Trapped my whole life in a hateful cycle of crushing torment because my father made a mistake, broke the rules, seduced my mother into conceiving and having me and then forced me to be something I wasn't knowing how much it was damaging me. And refusing to allow me to be who I really was.

Any plan to confide in my father about the vision and the mist vanished. I ran from them, out the door of the grotto and into Mom's throne room, away from the lies and the old pain and both of my parents, neither of whom I trusted right now. Mom's little show did nothing to endear her to me. It was so clear to me how I was a game between them, that she was simply using me against Dad for whatever reason she saw fit.

Their fight, this confrontation, it had nothing to do with me. And everything to do with Mom wanting to hurt Dad.

Fine. Let them have their eternal argument and do their best to cause each other pain. I was no longer willing to be part of that conversation.

The Crosspath waited, a little crowded tonight, oddly, but I ignored the stares and whispers of those who used the hub as I did, pushing past a trio of dwarves on my way to the mortal realm. I passed through the door, knowing exactly where I was heading, the broom closet in the hospital hallway discharging me outside Adam's door.

I could tell the instant I emerged something had changed. Two people huddled at the end of the hall on the uncomfortable sofas, talking quietly with a man and woman, both in white coats. Doctors, obviously. The couple wept. She looked enough like Adam I assumed they were his parents and the fact they were both crying, hugging each other while the doctors whispered to them couldn't mean anything good.

My feet dragged, bare on the cold floor, but I couldn't help myself, stopping outside his door and peeking within. It was dark, but a single light shone from the screen of his laptop, Tulip's game frozen, illumination showing his further deterioration. He looked more like Dad's physical Death persona than ever, the bones of his skull showing through his thin skin, eyes sunken and downcast.

I hated the defeat in his body, how he slumped, hands silent and still on the keyboard. When I eased inside, took a seat next to him, he didn't acknowledge me physically, but he did speak. His voice cracked, horrible sounding in the dark of his room, like he played his own death march with the words he spoke.

"The treatment failed." Silence again as the air absorbed those words. "There's nothing more they can do." Adam didn't speak again for a long moment and I held still, held my breath, not knowing how to feel. "It'll be over soon. They think any time, actually." His fingers twitched, the thumb drive containing Tulip's game falling to the bedclothes as he pulled it free, laptop protesting the separation with a flash before going black. "The tumor in my brain could take me at any second."

I have no idea what drove me at that moment. I'd seen more than enough death, hadn't I? Knew the outcome wasn't the fearful thing mortals dreaded or feared. That Undertown was a good place, just a place to pass the time before Life called him up again. But in that instant rebellion hit me hard in the stomach and wouldn't let me leave him here to suffer.

The urge to touch him was so powerful I almost did. But I wouldn't take his life, not on purpose, and considering my track record there was an excellent chance I'd get the opposite of what I wanted. And I had to be sure, though in my heart I knew what his outcome would be if I did nothing.

"Take it." He pushed the drive toward me. I almost didn't, wanting that connection between him, my centaur friend and myself to remain, as tenuous as that imagined contact might be. But, finally, I closed my hand around it and tucked it into my pocket before turning to go.

I left him there, returned to the Crosspath and passed through the Death realm door, purpose driving me, pushing my feet. It was as quiet here as it had been in Life, though day and night seemed the same in Dad's realm. I encountered no one as I crossed the bridge and entered the palace, circling the fountain with one destination in mind.

I'd never entered the Chamber of The Dead on my own before. It was pretty much forbidden to all but Dad, or at least without his permission and presence. But I'd broken a bunch of rules already, just by being born it turned out, so I didn't stop when I reached the entry.

It was cold in the room, three steps carrying me down into the round chamber, archways open to the foyer and the palace beyond. Like an internal gazebo with a plain stone pedestal in the center. And, on it, the open Book of Death.

The page turned as I approached, flipping over on its own while time marched on. I knew from peeking with Dad present it only showed the deaths of those over the next twenty four hours on two pages, but that I could look ahead if I needed to. I had a feeling I wouldn't.

And I was right. My eyes scanned the thin, small writing, scrolling black ink naming the coming dead and, beside those names, the identities of the angels of Death, my brothers, assigned to bring them home to Undertown. Kael's name showed often, my oldest brother and Dad's obvious successor, the most prolific of the angels. But Nero's appeared equally as frequently. My other brothers, their names running together with the mortal assignments they waited on, seemed like ink blots compared to the one that stood out the most to me.

Adam's. It was there, all right. Slated for just a few hours from now. And, to my bitter agony, it wasn't Kael's name next to his, or any of my other siblings. But the one who actually might give a crap about me.

Nero.

The mist rose, pushed against my normal reticence and, to my deep internal shock I found myself hurtling out of the chamber, circling the foyer and heading for the personal quarters. And ran right into the very brother I searched for.

Nero grasped my shoulders in his hands while two of our siblings, both frowning at the interruption, continued on past him. He let them go, staring down at me with his own flare of annoyance but releasing me and pausing, waiting and patient while I panted and tried to speak. This fresh connection between us wasn't so new, but renewed. And I was about to damage it irreparably.

"Eve," he said, far more gently than usual. "I have to go."

I nodded. "You can't take Adam."

He frowned then, head tilting to the side like he hadn't heard me correctly. "What are you talking about?"

It came out in blurted words and commands mixed with powerful emotions rising in swells of a storm brewing deep within. "Adam Worth." I gestured back the way I'd come. "You must not take him. Let him live." That last came out as an order, the faint booming of the maelstrom I felt rippling in my voice.

Nero took a half step back, concern and a flare of fear on his face. "I have a job to do." But he sounded nervous, indecisive. "I have to go." He tried to push past me even as I grabbed his arm and jerked him back.

"Don't touch Adam." The mist devoured me and I jabbed my brother with it, hitting him hard, so hard he staggered and jerked free of me, terror no longer brief but sustained. I grinned at that fear, liking the look of it. About time someone realized just how scary I really was.

"Get a grip, Eve," Nero said, voice shaking slightly. "And leave me alone."

He stomped away, leaving me there in the aftermath of the mist as it drained free, shivering with the reaction, my heart shriveling while I realized whatever was happening to me just alienated the one sibling I had who actually liked me.

I ran after Nero, tears burning my eyes, wishing I could say something, anything, to stop him only to have him turn back suddenly and face me down.

"I have no idea what the hell is wrong with you," he said, frustration and worry clear in his voice, in his blue eyes. "But I've had it, Eve. I can't help you anymore." He swallowed hard, shook his head. "You're not the girl I remember, as much as I wish otherwise. Something's changed you. The Eve I loved would never ask me to do anything like this." He shivered a little, looked away. "I've been fooling myself, I guess, that you aren't who Kael thinks you are. Manipulating me on purpose." Kael said that? Had he been working on Nero, turning him against me. And I'd finally given my eldest brother what he needed to succeed. "Like Life does to our father." I couldn't argue there, could I? "I have to tell Dad you asked me to interfere with a mortal."

I shrugged, sagged before him, letting the tears out. "I know," I said. "Never mind."

Nero paused another moment, looked like he was going to speak again. Oddly, I couldn't feel what he was thinking, I had to read it on his face. That was a surprise, the empathy I was so accustomed to, the tie to others that overrode my own emotions with theirs gone so abruptly it threw me and made me afraid.

He finally turned again and stalked away, joining our brothers who waited for him at the bridge. I could hear them ask him a question and his low reply before they laughed and left. It hurt to imagine what he might have said, that I'd lost my only ally to whatever was happening to me.

Well, if that was the case I'd just have to make sure it was for good reason. I looked down at my hands, at my trembling fingers. And just couldn't leave well enough alone. Adam. Why was he so important to me? The first person outside Tulip who actually treated me like a person, maybe. Or was there something else?

It didn't matter. He deserved a chance to live. I couldn't believe what I was saying to myself but the further down the hole I went, the more I accepted it. I'd screwed up before, yes and failed in my tasks. Never had I ever purposely tried to circumvent Death or Life.

Until now.

Dad would never forgive me. But if I let Adam die without trying to save him, I'd never forgive myself.

***

# Chapter Twenty Four

I was already in the Crosspath and heading for the mortal realm door when Lilith's mind touched mine.

We must talk. I don't know what it was about her tone that stopped me in my tracks and turned me toward the Garden, but I soon found myself in the foyer of the Tree's palace where the rainbow serpent waited. I slowed my steps as I approached, my resolve to save Adam fading at the sight of her.

Lilith rose, her head wavering side to side slightly while she swayed before me, matching my height. Her pink eyes stared with such intensity I rubbed at goosebumps on my arms.

"Where were you going in such a hurry, child?" She said it like she already knew the answer. But how? Perhaps she and Corvus had words?

I looked away, dropped my useless hands to my sides so they wouldn't wring together in agitation. "To save him." To do something, anything that was for me, about me and what I wanted for once.

"You know you can't do that." Lilith sounded like Dad suddenly. The mist tried to rise against her but I held it off this time, head down, feeling terrible about the whole thing. Yes, I'd been a screw up and a mess for as long as I could remember. But was I seriously considering going against my father and mother's very natures out of spite?

I shrugged in answer instead of speaking, unable to explain to her how oddly I was feeling and not even sure I was willing to share the sensations, emotions and lack of empathy that was my new normal.

"Listen to me, Eve," Lilith said, hissing lisp growing more pronounced as she leaned close to me, the hues of her scales crawling over her faster and faster. "Whatever Isis is planning, it's not for your benefit." She seemed anxious, and with good reason. She was Mom's closest advisor, supposedly had the ear and heart of Life on her side. She'd been here in the Garden since time began and had served Life before Mom ascended the throne. "She no longer has this realm's best interests at heart."

I gaped at the serpent, unable to comprehend what she was saying. "She's Life."

Lilith nodded, tongue flickering, flickering in agitation, the end of her tail twitching endlessly. "Too long in that role, I fear," she whispered.

"Ah, Lilith, my most faithful one." Mom seemed to appear from nowhere, sweeping her way toward me, one arm draping around my waist. The serpent retreated, sinking down into her coils, though she didn't slither away just yet.

"Isis." Her tone emerged troubled, weighted with worry. "You know what your daughter considers."

"I believe I do." Mom's moue of concern turned to me. "And yet, can we stop her from following her nature?" She touched my hair, smiled then. "Can we ask her to go against her heart?"

Lilith sighed. "The Pantheons may not have taken notice of Eve until now," she said, "but the closing of the Repository and her premeditated and blatant plan to circumvent the rules—"

Mom shushed her with a gesture. "Maybe it's time the Pantheons did pay attention." Mom's voice hardened. "And learned a thing or two about disregarding the true power of Life and Death."

I had no idea what that meant, but Lilith seemed to, inhaling sharply, tongue twitching at the tip.

"What are you planning, Isis?" The serpent shifted forward, undulating as she came. But, before she could reach us, Mom turned me away and began marching me toward the exit.

"Mind your own business, snake," she said over her shoulder. "Or be relegated to a swamp somewhere in the realm until you know better than to challenge your mistress."

I glanced back at Lilith, her agitation clear, only to have Mom squeeze my arm and smile all over again. But her influence, the empathy control I realized now she normally exerted, no longer touched me. At least not in the way it used to. Her smile faltered as she visibly recognized she'd lost that influence, but she hugged my arm to her nonetheless and kept us moving.

"You're growing up, my darling Eve," she murmured then flashed me a brilliant smile. I caught myself smiling back. So, she still had sway over me, if limited to longing for my mother's love and approval. I swallowed my self-disgust at the truth and nodded to her, only beginning to recognize my own strength. "It's time for both of us to accept that. And for you to embrace your true nature."

"Which is?" I never would have considered asking her a question in that tone before. As if I addressed an equal, a partner, not my powerful and controlling mother.

Mom's smile didn't waver when she stopped me outside the exit to the Garden, the door swinging toward us, Crosspath beckoning on the other side.

"That's for you to find out, my darling." She kissed my cheek, squeezed my hand then let me go. "Save your Adam. And to hell with the rules."

The mist woke with her words and filled me up before I could consider what its appearance meant. I smiled back at Mom, never more sure of anything in my life. And left her there, heading for the mortal realm door.

Adam slept, the last of the darkness like a weight on his diminished form. He'd faded so much since we'd first met only a short time ago, as if the news of his cancer's strength stripped his away. Maybe I'd simply missed how thin he was, how pale and sunken. He seemed much more robust when awake.

Or, with the approach of death, he'd given in.

Nero would be there any minute, I was sure of it. I was out of time if I planned to try to help. The fact I might send him to Dad early, if only by a tiny span of time, crossed my mind again, but the mist carried that fear off. I sank to the edge of the bed and leaned in, murmuring Adam's name into his ear.

He woke instantly, though groggy, looking up at me with watering eyes. "Eve."

I wasn't expecting his tears and felt my own flow, a single drop landing on his lip. He licked it away, tried to shift, to sit up but I shook my head and smiled, tremulous and afraid despite the mist's influence.

"Listen to me," I whispered over his mouth. "There's little time and a choice to be made. I can offer you a chance to live, Adam. But if I fail it will kill you early. Do you understand?"

He shook his head. "I don't," he said. "What are you talking about?"

I sat back and looked down at my hands. "I'm not like you," I said. "And I can't explain much. But if you are willing to risk dying right now, I can try to save you."

He inhaled, exhaled. "You're the strangest girl I've ever met," he said. "Eve, I trust you. And I'm ready to go."

I paused, the mist retreating while doubt took me over. "Do you want to die?" I hadn't considered that might be the case, that saving him might go against his wishes.

But Adam laughed, dry and harsh. "No," he said. "But I'm ready, just in case."

"The question is, then," I said, "are you ready to live?"

Adam's eyes seemed to grow wider, hope rising and I had my answer even as I leaned in again. I could have just touched him, taken his thin hand in mine. But that wouldn't do. I needed more from him, in case I failed as I'd always seemed to fail.

My breath warming his lips, I kissed him.

As soon as our mouths met I felt the spark between us, the leap of life from my body to his and knew, knew with soaring joy it worked. Adam gasped, body arching into mine and he kissed me firmly, hands trying to catch and hold me. But I was out of time, had to go quickly before it was too late.

Not that Dad wouldn't know what happened, what I'd done. I pushed away from Adam, caught a glimpse of his smiling face, his skin filling out, his return of robust health and smiled back before spinning and bolting for the door.

Running, for the second time, into Nero.

My brother gaped over my shoulder at the healthy young man he'd come to take to Undertown, then down at me as if he'd never seen me before in his life. I couldn't help but grin up at him, the mist pouring through me in excited fury.

"Tell Dad he can suck it," I said. Laughed. And fled.

I dove for the broom closet, emerging into the Crosspath in breathless joy, doing a dance of happiness before dashing for the Garden. The buildup of power from Death's entry told me how much trouble I was in but I didn't care, not with the mist in full bloom. I embraced it, hugging myself as I ran, laughing with hysterical glee and a surge of rage so strong the door to the Garden slammed open in response to my emotion. I wasn't running out of fear but out of the sheer need to express these violent feelings somehow.

Mom waited for me in the throne room, beaming at me, and I'd almost reached her, my bare feet slapping on white marble, when he appeared in a flood of darkness. Dad loomed over me, the Grim Reaper in his full rage and strength, even the sky overhead graying a moment before Mom's power reasserted her control and pushed his fury back.

"EVE!" Death's denial hit me like a blow. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

"Nothing more," Mom said, her mild tone a shock after his massive volume, "than we've both forced her to do so many times before."

"NO." Dad spun on Mom. "THIS TIME WAS WITH PURPOSE. SHE CHOSE TO CIRCUMVENT DEATH. I WILL NOT ALLOW IT."

Adam. He was going to kill Adam anyway. Panic bloomed, fed the mist. Darkness washed over me, pushed my fear down, woke a terrible anger like I'd never known and drove me forward.

"You touch him," I said, "and I'll kill you."

Even Mom seemed shocked, her eyes fixing on me a moment, huge and near bulging. But it was Dad I glared at, focusing the mist's rage. And he actually shifted back a fraction in response.

"Now then," Mom said, mild tone returned. "Samael, do calm down. How do you know Eve didn't feel sorry for the poor boy and try to send him on, only to fail again as she often does?" She didn't look at me, all reasonable though we knew, the three of us, she was full of crap. "You have no proof she did this on purpose, aside from her feelings for the young man."

Dad didn't argue or speak, just stared at me with the white flames guttering in the black gaping nothing of his eye sockets.

"Am I correct, Eve?" Mom circled him, came to my side, took my hand. "His name was in the book, obviously. Did you go to set him free?"

I didn't respond, let it hang there. Dad knew the truth. Let him try to punish me. I was beyond him now, beyond Mom. They felt small to me, petty and weak compared to the endless power of the swirling mist and my own emotions.

Remorseless and cold. That was all I felt toward my father. Shouldn't I regret breaking his rules? Going against Death? The girl I'd been would have, would never have even tried. And I had a moment of realization as I understood.

I succeeded. On purpose. I went there to save Adam and I saved him. No more screw ups.

"Isis." Dad's tone had fallen quiet, cold and flat. "This cannot be borne. Your support of this action constitutes an attack on my realm."

That sent the mist scattering, my former fears returning in response. What did that mean? How could Life and Death be at odds?

Mom sighed and rolled her eyes with so much drama I wondered at her courage. "You really do need to go cool off, Samael," she said. "Before you do something ridiculous you'll regret." Life shone from her, the last few words harsher than normal, flooded with the power of her realm. "Be a dear," she said, waving him off. "Pull yourself together and stop being so dramatic."

Dad vanished suddenly, though I knew this was far from over. But Mom seemed thrilled by the result, spinning me toward her and kissing my cheek with great enthusiasm.

"My darling Eve," she whispered in my ear. "How wonderful you are. So special. And he has no idea why."

Neither did I. But now I was free of her emotional control, it was time to find out.

***

# Chapter Twenty Five

Easier said than done. Going against Dad had been assisted by the mist's control and influence, but as soon as Mom released me and I returned to my room, it faded away and left me bereft and feeling like I'd caused irreparable harm to everyone I cared about, including Adam.

It was clear to me Mom really did have some kind of agenda of her own just in the way she'd seemed to delight in Dad's discomfort, but I couldn't bring myself to judge her for it, or wonder what was behind it. Especially since she'd really had my back the last little while, a huge shift from the rest of my life. Whatever was happening to me, Mom approved. Maybe that alone should have made me worry.

I couldn't stay in the Garden, that much was clear to me as dawn broke and my sisters became more active. I listened to the sound of birds waking, of my siblings as they drifted past my door on their way to breakfast and, in a rush of need as powerful as anything I'd ever felt, slunk like someone no longer welcome in her own home across the bridge and into the Crosspath.

Being there amid early morning traffic just reminded me how lost I really was. And perked my desire to reclaim my key. But returning to the Garden just now wasn't appealing. Instead, needing space and a chance to think somewhere that had little emotional attachment, I headed down one of the spoke-like corridors and chose a cheerful door at random.

I stepped out into a bright, sunny day with a path stretching out before me paved with what looked like peppermint candies, the air itself heavy with the scent of sugar. Tiny pixies with fluttering wings hurried past, ignoring me when I slipped my hands in my pockets and, head down in my more typical stance, slumped forward as my mind spun, bare feet sticking to the sweet road.

No one bothered me in the realm of the Sweet Fairy Queen, though I did catch the odd startled look from a passing elf laden down with a basket of fresh picked cupcakes or a gnome digging industriously in the chocolate cake soil. I used to love it here when I was little and Tulip and I would often stop by for a snack and a sugar rush like no other. But I hadn't visited in years, not since my centaur friend took on her responsibilities in the Repository and I was pressed into angel of Life and Death service.

It seemed like so long ago, and had I ever really been carefree? No, not really. Even then I was treated differently than my siblings, always felt off, uncomfortable and was acutely aware of just what others felt about me.

So strange to not carry the full weight of that burden anymore. I stopped on the path, feeling the warmth of the soles of my feet bond to the peppermints. I hadn't really taken the time to appreciate the freedom of only feeling my own emotions, though a tiny, sad part of me wished things could just go back to normal.

I shook my head at that, laughed. Honestly, was I longing for the days when I knew nothing and hurt all the time? No, whatever happened from here on in, I was grateful for the change. Amazing to me as I walked ahead again—if only to keep my feet from sticking further—how quickly this new me could feel like normal.

And yet, the longer I wandered, over a small bridge edged in giant, chocolate covered pretzels, spanning a stream of burbling honey and deeper into the forest of gumdrop trees and candy floss bushes, the worse I felt. What had I been thinking allowing myself to just leap into disaster? The mist was obviously a bad influence. Yes, that was it. Whatever control it had over me, whatever the change the Loom made in its freedom, I had to do something about it. Take it back, reverse it.

But that would mean returning to the way things were. I'd been over that idea already with resounding rejection. No matter how bad I felt, the idea of reverting to the old Eve made my stomach knot and my heart speed up in anxiety. Not the answer, then. Going back never was. I paused again, sinking down into the soft, green moss on the side of the path, releasing the scent of vanilla from the thick, warm patch of spun sugar.

On the other hand, Adam was alive and I saved him on purpose. Literally wanted him to live and he lived. Not accidentally, not against my wishes, not because I screwed up. Though that was debatable, of course. My rebellion was likely the biggest screw up of all from Dad's perspective. I allowed myself a moment of joy over Adam's survival and my actions before I firmly set aside my pride in doing something right for a change—and no one would ever convince me otherwise—before sighing and hugging my knees to my chest, staring down the path toward the exit and wondering what to do now.

The key. And the mist door. They held the answers I needed. Why had Mom taken the key from me? Was it simply a way to control me still? Or did she have another motive to keep me from finding out what was on the other side? The longer I sat there thinking about it, the more anxious I became until the pounding in my head grew loud enough I worried I was getting a headache. But there was no pain involved and, when I finally realized the sound was external, the ground under me shook to the point I looked up in surprise.

Tulip galloped toward me, almost on top of me, skidding to a halt on the peppermint path, sending shards of red and white flying out from under hoof. A pair of elves and three gnomes scurried close, grumbling and squeaking in their frustration at the damage. Tulip ignored them, throwing herself down beside me, hugging me hard, panting and shaking. I embraced her back, so happy to see her I burst into tears and was shocked to find, when we pulled away at the same time, she was crying, too.

"I've been looking everywhere for you." She dashed at the wetness on her wide cheeks, brown eyes brimming with more moisture. "I had to escape just to come find you."

"Escape?" I was just happy to have visual proof she was okay. Her parents were keeping her prisoner? "What's going on?" The vision swam in my memory, her waking the mist, the centaurs galloping from it—

She shook her head, golden curls tossing, face troubled. "I don't know, Eve," she said, scooting close, leaning her big torso on me, cheek on my hair, "but it's bad. And it's terrifying my parents." She hesitated then sighed. "It happened."

"The vision." As if I didn't know that already.

"Exactly as you said it would." She rubbed her big hands over my back, brisk and fiercely comforting. "I thought I was ready for it, but it happened anyway. Back in the first chamber, Eve." Awe entered her voice. "In the Dawn of Creation stacks. I'd never been so deep before." I could almost see her creeping forward, braver than me. "A single scroll on a stone pedestal." I remembered how it looked from the vision, the reflection of the memory in her brown eyes. "I didn't get a chance to read it. As soon as I touched it, the mist came. Like touching the parchment set it free."

I already knew what came next. "Your parents saved you."

She snorted in anger. "They followed me, you mean. And refused to tell me anything about what happened after. Only that the Repository had to be closed until they were sure it was contained." Tulip's cheeks pinked. "I fought them so hard, Eve. They were furious with me when I told them about your vision. Said I was irresponsible." She looked away, tail thrashing. I could feel her embarrassment, her frustration. "I wasn't."

I shook my head, but not in denial. "I'm so sorry, Tulip. This is all my fault."

No denial from her either, though I didn't take it personally.

I should have been afraid. The mist attack had been horrible, terrifying. Instead, excitement burst the bubble of shame and I pushed back from her, looked up at her.

"We have to go see it." I tried to rise but she was physically stronger than me, big hands holding me down.

"We can't." She whispered the last word. "I tried. It's totally sealed, Eve." She hesitated. "Who am I kidding? You and everyone else might get that opportunity before long." Her cheeks pinked, blotchy redness appearing on her neck as she flinched. "It's still advancing. They had to cut off three more corridors since." Even she sounded afraid now.

Frustration woke the mist inside me and I scowled at her. "They won't keep it from me."

She winced, paused. "Are you... Eve, are you all right?"

So what I was feeling showed on my face? Or did it affect my aura? Either way, I was glad.

"I'm better than I've ever been," I said, not meaning to sound so harsh and biting and quickly calmed, the mist sighing as it left. "Tulip, everything's changed."

"I heard." She bit her big lower lip, eyes sad. "You broke the law?"

I shrugged that off. "I met the most amazing people," I said instead and told her all about Destiny, Karma and Kismet. It was hard not to feel a bit irritated by their appearance and then abandonment of me, but Tulip seemed interested and then excited by the meeting.

"Where's the key?" She looked down at my hands as if it would appear out of nowhere.

I sagged at last. "Mom took it," I said, "before I could open the door." The remains of the story I skimmed over, from the confrontation with Dad to the salvation of Adam.

I retrieved the thumb drive with her game and pressed it into one of her big hands. She closed her fingers around it, sighed before picking a handful of moss and absently sticking it in her mouth, sucking on the sweetness, the scent of vanilla intensifying as her massive white teeth ground the sugar shoots to powder.

"We need to get that key," she said.

"We?" I didn't want to get her into deeper trouble. I'd already unwittingly embroiled her in my mess by inciting her to research the mist. And now she'd escaped her parents against their wishes and orders to come see me. If she came with me to try to retrieve the key she would be in even deeper trouble than she was now. But I so much wanted her help. I felt confident and supported in her company. The good friend in me rebelled, however. "You can't come, Tulip."

She scowled, hands fisting on her hips, her tail swishing in irritation, knocking over one of the gnomes who carried a new peppermint toward the path she'd massacred in her hasty arrival.

"Just try and stop me." She heaved to her feet, hands taking mine and pulling me up, swinging me sideways and onto her smooth, broad back.

I hugged her around the waist, cheek on her shoulder blade. "Thank you," I whispered.

"Any time." Tulip spun and galloped back the way we'd come, scattering elves and gnomes as they leaped off the path to avoid her.

It would have been funny if I wasn't so worried.

"Whatever is going on," Tulip shouted over her shoulder, the door to the exit appearing over the bridge, "the other Pantheons are taking note, Eve. And it's definitely about you."

"Nice of them to finally notice me." My weak attempt at humor fell flat, Tulip slowing to a bumpy trot and then a sauntering walk as the door opened and let us out. Neither of us touched it, curious it opened on its own. I only noticed as we passed through the annoyed elf hanging from the handle, making rude gestures in our direction.

I guess we weren't wanted.

Tulip, as usual, seemed oblivious to the world around her and crossed the hub toward the door to Life. She stopped, humanlike ears perking, body tensing about halfway across, staring like she was ready to bolt at the door to the Repository. But it remained closed and, a moment later, she raced for the door to the Garden and jerked it open, leaping through to the other side.

I'd been gone long enough breakfast was over. Still, I wondered how I was going to sneak my big centaur friend into the Tree without Mom noticing, steal the key and escape again all in secret. Bringing Tulip along suddenly felt like a terrible idea and, as her hooves rang on the bridge, I half considered sending her home after all.

Until Lilith dropped from the canopy overhead, coiling in front of us on the shining stone. Tulip reared, almost unseating me, before settling her front hooves again.

"Sorry," she muttered to me. "Snakes."

"I beg your pardon," Lilith said, both sounding offended and apologetic at the same time. "I know why you're here, Eve."

I flinched, guilt I'm certain written all over my face. Where was the support of the mist when I needed it? "You do?"

She undulated, sliding forward until Tulip snorted out her widened nostrils in nervousness, one front hoof stomping protest. "The key," she said. "The one Isis stole from you."

I didn't say anything, wishing I could just turn around and get out of here and forget any of this happened.

Lilith rose until her eyes were on level with mine, a massive feat of musculature for such a huge serpent. "Come," she said. "I know where it is."

***

# Chapter Twenty Six

Never mind the shock I felt that Lilith continued to help me or the soft exhale of Tulip's relief when the rainbow serpent dropped to the ground and slithered away without waiting for us. I was certain the oddness of my life since touching the Loom couldn't get any stranger until this moment.

"Should we follow?" Tulip's hesitation sounded biased, her body still tense with nerves. "I don't trust her."

"I never used to," I said. "But she's been trying to help. So maybe we let her and see what happens."

Tulip snorted, tossed her head. And followed the retreating serpent tail with reluctance.

None of my siblings seemed willing to interfere with Lilith leading us, though we did garner enough sideways looks I knew if we did retrieve the key Mom would know about it. But hopefully not before I had a chance to finally use it and find out what was behind the mist door.

It wasn't long before the undulating serpent paused in the foyer of the Tree's palace and waited for us to catch up. "Stay here," she lisped before slithering off. I held tight to Tulip's waist, my hands sweating so much I had to take turns wiping them on my sun dress, knowing how short my skirt hiked from sitting like this but not really caring how much leg I showed off. It felt like forever we stood there, Tulip huffing softly out her expanding nostrils, shifting her position from hoof to hoof occasionally but remaining quiet, a real feat for her. My normally chatty friend seemed uncomfortable and I hardly blamed her. Mom could appear at any moment and I was sure if she asked me I'd tell her what we were up to.

And then Lilith reappeared, her rainbow body sliding over the marble floor, pooling at last at Tulip's hooves. When she rose this time the centaur held her ground and, despite the fear in her body, didn't move while the serpent leaned toward me and extended her tongue. And, in doing so, deposited the slightly damp silver key in my hand. I quelled the internal gross that flashed through my mind as Lilith spoke.

"Hurry," she hissed. "Your mother will notice it missing as soon as she returns from the bath. Whatever its purpose, it's meant for your hands, Eve." She paused, sinking to the floor. "I have never been close with you, child. But I wish you well."

She left us then, returning the way she'd come while I held the key tight in my fist and tried to breathe.

Tulip started as if she'd been spellbound before spinning on her haunches and trotting out of the Tree, heading for the bridge again, snorting softly. "That was odd."

She could say that again. I held my breath until we exited the Garden, the darkness and quiet of the Crosspath embracing us, fully expecting my mother to appear out of nowhere and seize the silver key from my possession again. I told myself over and over no matter what she tried, no matter what Mom did, I would never relinquish it to her even while my frenzied mind spun in growing anxiety she wouldn't give me an option if she caught us.

I slipped free of Tulip's back, lurching toward the place I'd seen the strange mist door appear and, the key in my hands held so tight I worried I'd bend it, I willed the portal to return. And felt a rather unpleasant shock when it didn't.

"Eve." Tulip cleared her throat, eyebrows raised. "Any time now?"

"I'm trying." I grit my teeth against the need to swear and focused. But the mist had retreated again, left me alone to deal with this mess and, despite my wish to raise my newfound anger, I was left with nothing and just the ordinary old hub before me.

Tulip stomped softly before apologizing. "I'm sorry," she said. "I have to get back. If they haven't realized I'm gone yet I might be able to escape again." She turned and trotted toward the Repository door before spinning and returning to hug me awkwardly. Without another word but with tears in her eyes my friend then raced to her door and left me there to hug the key to my chest and wonder what was wrong with me.

Eve. I knew his voice immediately, reached back for Nero with a sense of relief he was still talking to me. His mind felt cold, impassive and, maybe just a little angry. I flinched from his emotions though was grateful at last to not have to feel them so intensely. I need to see you.

I'm coming. I followed his touch, not to Undertown as I expected, but to the mortal realm. Odd for him to summon me there. Unless he was trying to avoid running into Dad while we were together. That made enough sense to me I stepped out of the realm door and into the place he guided me without a second thought.

The air hung chill and damp, smelling of dust and mildew and it was obvious as soon as I appeared in the dull light coming through the broken windows of the massive, abandoned warehouse, we weren't alone, my brother and me. It took me a moment of gullible curiosity to understand and by then it was too late to find a door, to escape what was coming as the space flooded with my siblings. Both sisters and brothers, their faces contorted in anger and resentment, their emotions strong enough even without my old ability I could feel the palpable rage in the massive space.

Thank Creation I'd shed that empathetic weakness. Had it still controlled me I would have been crippled by the focus of their feelings. As it was I felt myself retreat out of sudden fear and, in doing so, stirred at last the mist that was my only friend outside the centaur girl I'd just sent away.

Because Nero wasn't my friend, my brother I'd once thought at least a kind of ally. I'd just recently seen the heart of him, the old kindness returned. The brother I'd hurt with my demand to save Adam. He'd betrayed me to the gathering that was the collective of my siblings. They surrounded me, loomed inward until only a small circle of pressure remained around me and Nero. But no, I'd misread him. I saw his unhappiness as Kael and the wretched Daphne pushed forward and joined us in the circle.

What was this? An attack? Surely they wouldn't risk harming me. We were brothers and sisters and I'd done nothing to hurt them. This was all Mom and Dad. They had to see that.

Daphne's bitter expression and the cruel smile on Kael's dark, handsome face spoke another story as the mist swelled and surged and filled me with contempt.

How dare they? Dad asked me that question. I'd dared because to hell with his rules and those that held me so long. But this? This was pathetic.

"Eve." Nero glanced at Kael who scowled at him, a sharp and furious look. "This wasn't my idea."

I shook my head, didn't bother soothing his conscience. "I take it there's a good reason you're all wasting my time?" I crossed my arms over my chest, the key held tightly in my right hand. I had better things to do, a mist door to open, answers to uncover. Their childish attempt to what, intimidate me? I could laugh in their faces before destroying them all. The sky outside the warehouse windows grew darker, the rumble of thunder in the distance welcome to me. Yes, they'd suffer for this. Just as soon as I made them regret ever knowing Eve.

No one else seemed to notice the shift in the weather and I wasn't about to warn them as rage and mirth swirling and melded, feeding the storm outside and my own hunger for their hurt. Instead, Daphne stepped forward, hands on her hips like her body position could protect her or make me feel small in her presence ever again and tossed her honey hair over one shoulder.

"We've had enough of you," she said. "All of us. And it's time you knew it."

I didn't say anything, though I did smile. Not a nice smile, but a hungry one, an angry and delicious smile more suited to the sharp toothed jaws of a crocodile. Did I reach her at last with my lack of concern? Was that a return of fear in her face?

Kael, the barbaric miscreant, pushed Nero aside and thrust out his narrow chest, dark eyes dull and lacking wit. "You're not wanted in Undertown," he grunted like the Neanderthal he was. Had I ever really been afraid of him? Allowed his pathetic attempts to crush me do damage once upon a time? He really was a weakling excuse for a bully.

He had no idea what being a bully could really look like.

"Or in the Garden," Daphne said, her bravery buoyed by his lack of awareness they were both putting themselves exactly where I wanted them. Lightning lit the sky outside, struck close by, the thunder making some of my sisters jump.

"Poor babies," I said, laughing at their arrogance and petty, small minded weakness. "How you fear what you don't understand."

"Fear?" Kael seemed truly shocked by my pronouncement. "You're nothing, worm. Less than nothing." He battered me with useless emotion, unable even now to give up on the failed weapons he used to use so well.

I winked at him, the mist feeding my need to hurt him. To squash him and see what came out when a bolt of fire hit him and the thunder of it crushed him under the weight of its expended energy. "You," I said, "have no idea, brother."

This time the warehouse shook from the force of the storm, wind rising. Perhaps it might have ended there, the siblings scattering but for one of my sisters, likely trying for Daphne's affection and approval, stepping into the circle and striking me across the face.

Perhaps. Or, maybe it would have been Kael or Daphne who suffered the consequences of such an act. As it was, I'd never know. Because instead of the two leaders, it was Ophelia, her pale perfection wound up tight, who touched me first.

And the mist just couldn't have that.

***

# Chapter Twenty Seven

I didn't mean for her to die. I never wanted Ophelia to perish. For her body, made mortal by the touch of her hand to the mist within me, crumbled like a toppling doll emptied to a shell as her soul rose in soft, golden light.

She hovered there a moment while everyone gaped at her in surprise, myself included, before she flashed out of sight, appearing yet again, but this time with her hand holding Nero's. It was her soft, thin wail, rising in volume and terror, that finally broke the silence, even the storm hovering overhead fallen still in the wake of her death.

My sisters fled first, running in large groups, screaming in fear from me. Cadence was the last to go, her own fear clear, her stare directly into my soul that of a stricken child with her innocence destroyed. And then my brothers, though not as fast, disappearing into the gloom of the empty warehouse until only Daphne, Kael, Nero and I remained, the still weeping soul of Ophelia clinging to my brother with desperate despair.

Nero vanished with her at last while I choked on what I'd done. The storm dissipated as quickly as it had risen, disappearing into the gray sky while the mist, ever fickle, abandoned me to what happened. To the murder I'd committed at the single touch of my sister's hand on my cheek.

Yes, she'd attacked me. Yes, I was surrounded and under threat of who knew what. But I honestly had no intent to kill anyone.

But the mist. Ah, the mist, it did. Didn't it?

I hated it suddenly, longed to throw the key from my grip and lose it in the dim light of the warehouse, but I couldn't seem to release it, finding my hand stealing into my pocket and hiding it there. Nothing was worse than the appearance of my parents in their Life and Death full personas, suddenly towering over us in a blaze of light met by a crushing wall of shadow.

EVE. That was Dad, furious and cold. RETURN AT ONCE TO UNDERTOWN AND REMAIN THERE UNTIL I COME TO YOU.

I wouldn't have argued, though it hurt to hear him speak to me that way. But not as much as it hurt to acknowledge I'd killed one of my sisters. Killed her. Ophelia was gone, dead, and it was my fault.

Mom, however, had other ideas. EVE. Life wasn't backing down, her power pushing against Dad's with relentless, brilliant force. YOU WILL GO HOME TO THE GARDEN AND WAIT FOR ME THERE. No doubt she chose the word home on purpose. And though I knew I had to face Dad, that I should go to Undertown because I'd killed my sister, I wanted to hide. And the Garden, once a hated place I could barely imagine spending any time in, had become a haven.

YOU WILL RETURN TO UNDERTOWN. Dad wasn't giving in.

EVE. Mom's power opened a direct door beside me, the Garden appearing on the other side. HOME. NOW.

I meeped in surprise, hesitated one more instant. But Daphne dove through, leaving Kael behind and I had run out of nerve. Knowing it meant irreparable harm to my relationship with Dad—forgetting in the moment how much he'd betrayed me and maybe didn't deserve such consideration—I stepped through the doorway and felt it shut behind me. But the breath of relief I'd hoped to exhale didn't come, the air choking me while I struggled with what I'd done.

Dear Creation. Did I really just kill an angel of Life?

***

My room had always felt small, but today it tightened by the instant, the boughs of the walls bending inward around me, the space beside my bed seeming too tiny to even get in a good three steps before I had to turn around and pace back the other way. I would have preferred to do my worrisome walking getting lost on the endless paths of the Garden, but everywhere I went outside my quarters my sisters found me and stared at me with hate and horror, driving me into privacy with my head hanging in shame.

I didn't like Ophelia. She'd been one of Daphne's eager participants in teasing and alienating me, had done nothing in the sixteen years I'd known her to endear herself to me. The opposite in fact. And yet, she was my sister. And her petty dislike hadn't hurt me, not really, aside from the usual I was already accustomed to from the rest of my family. Her arrogant spite hadn't earned her the fate she'd been handed.

Fate. That word made me pause midstride, stop and ponder the key in my pocket. I needed to talk to Destiny and the others. To give back the length of pitted silver and beg them to help me reverse whatever it was that changed me so much. Because the person I'd been in the instant of Ophelia's death, the girl who cared nothing for others, whose emotions were so gigantic and overwhelming? She I didn't like, either.

My doorway rustled while I stood frozen there, hating myself. I turned, ready to beg forgiveness, only to find Mom smiling at me. Smiling like I'd done nothing wrong, like I hadn't killed one of her beloved daughters. My apology choked off in my throat, my vocal chords unable to unclench as she crossed to me and embraced me, pulling me to her and rubbing my back while murmuring in my ear.

"My darling Eve," she said with great joy. "You did perfectly."

I did what? I jerked free of her, staring at her while loathing rose inside me and threatened to devour me. "I killed her."

Mom patted my cheek, shaking her head. "She is of no consequence, Eve. And never has been. But you, my dear." She laughed, deep and rich and full of delight. "You have faced this test and passed it beyond my wildest hopes."

Test? What was she talking about?

"I'm a murderer." She didn't understand, obviously, missed the whole point. Somehow she'd misunderstood what happened and I had to fill her in on the truth.

Mom sighed with great contentment. "Not a murderer," she said, light in her eyes I'd never seen before, "no, my love. A weapon."

She said it so reasonably, like I was the one who didn't understand. That much was true, I didn't. And couldn't fathom anything about this conversation while she drifted to my bed and sat, crossing one long leg over the other and bobbing her high heel in agitated delight.

"It's been so long coming," she said. "So much research and careful planning. Did you know I tried countless partners before I realized just who it was I needed to mate with to create you?" I gaped at her, words lost, mist long vanished, not even that support to guide me. "I worried, Eve. I have to admit it." She chuckled, throaty and secretive, just between us. "When you seemed such a failure, I was sure I'd have to try again, that my research led me astray. Until." She winked, standing up, coming to me, to grip my arms in her hands and beam her joyful smile while I struggled to comprehend. "That moment I realized you needed a shove in the right direction." A shove? "That coming into contact with the Fates might trigger your true calling." She shook her head. "It was risky, I knew so. They could ruin everything, and they still might try. But you're close, aren't you?" She squinted at me faintly, faltering for the first time. "You're almost there."

I had no idea what to say. Mom left me, going to my door. Her hands drifted over the exit, the rustling of the branches of my room making my head turn while I finally realized what she was doing. The twigs and leaves wove tighter, all light disappearing, only the luminescence of the flowers casting a glow over my quarters.

Mom stood silhouetted in my doorway another moment. "All will be made clear, Eve," she said. "To you and the entirety of Creation. When the time is right." And then, blowing me a kiss, she locked me in my room and left me there.

***

# Chapter Twenty Eight

I barely acknowledged the fact that not only had my mother locked me in my room, she'd done so after telling me some very frightening and horrible sounding things that made me wonder if maybe she'd started to lose it. Had Life gone crazy? Could being the mistress of all things in Creation somehow make one snap like a twig under too much pressure? I say barely acknowledged because I'd just started to put all the pieces into some kind of order in my head when movement under my bed made me jump and shriek like a terrified little girl.

Considering the day I'd had, a bit of girlish shrieking wasn't all that farfetched and anyone who chose to judge me for it could just take a flying leap from the Tree. As it was, I clutched at my chest, panting and gasping for breath while Lilith eased her way out from under the woven frame and deposited herself on my mattress.

Immense relief enveloped me like the coils of her muscular body and I sank to my knees next to the bed, reaching out to touch her. Lilith flinched from me, the barest of motions, but enough to warn me off and bring sorrow back in a flood of threatening tears.

"Sorry," I whispered, hoarse, crackling with emotion. "Bad idea."

"No," Lilith said, blunt nose bumping my cheek. "I'm sorry. You're no threat to me, child. Just as I'm no threat to you." She sighed, coils rasping as she adjusted her massive bulk. "We need to talk. Tell me everything that's happened and don't leave anything out."

For the second time I told my story, right down to the new parts like the storm and the arrogant feeling I had when the mist rose. Lilith didn't comment, simply observing with her flat reptile stare, though she did flicker her tongue at me in enough agitation I knew she was far more concerned than her serpent appearance showed.

"Child," Lilith said at last, sounding sad, "I fear I understand now what your mother is doing. What she's attempted to create in you." I wanted to ask, had the question on the tip of my tongue, but Lilith was on the move and I followed her to the door. Her power parted the branches, freed the entry and swung it wide, allowing her to exit. "I must be sure of my fears before I tell you more." She paused. "Perhaps it would be best if you remained here. Until I return."

I hated to stay, but my only other option was putting people at risk, so I nodded, slinking back into my quarters while she left me there to beat myself up over things I couldn't change.

I wasn't alone long, though, and when I heard a sound at my door I looked up, hoping Lilith had returned with answers, knowing however it was far too soon as only a moment had passed. Maybe she changed her mind? But no, when I saw who stood there, glaring and full of terror and hate mixed together, I felt my own fear rise. Not for myself. Daphne could do what she wanted to me. But for her.

"You didn't have to kill her." She didn't sound so choked up about Ophelia's loss, not like I felt. More put out than upset, and hating being afraid of me.

"I didn't mean to." Not that my answer mattered one whit to my dominating sister.

Daphne made a small sound in the back of her throat, her face twisted into someone horrible and judging. "I've always wanted you to know what legacy you've left behind," she said. "The reason we all despise you so much. But I never thought you had the courage to face it."

Legacy? What was she talking about? Like it or not, my curiosity was piqued, if in part because I was already neck deep in self-loathing.

"If you think you can handle it," she said, "come with me." And, with that, she left, not trying to hurt me or even seeming to care if I followed. Which, of course, I did.

A terrible idea, of course it was, but I had no choice. I went with her as if compelled, keeping my hands tucked in my pockets, right fist around the heavy silver key, down the side of the Tree and across the bridge to the door. She didn't pause, didn't look back, my sister sashaying into the Crosspath like she owned it and to the mortal realm entry. I almost hesitated, not trusting her but sensing no threat from her. And she was alone this time without the hordes of our sisters to surround me or my brothers and their leader to offer me harm. Just my sister and me, passing into the mortal realm where Daphne paused and waited for me to catch up.

I didn't know this rundown space, a single room with a filthy kitchenette stinking of rot and neglect, a filthy window covered in the tattered remains of a blanket. I almost didn't realize there was a woman huddled in the corner on the disgustingly stained mattress, her greasy hair hanging over her face, track marks climbing her arms and making her feet swell from the constant needle pricks.

"You know her?" Daphne snorted like I made some mistake in my answer though I hadn't time to respond yet. "Of course you don't recognize her. She looks nothing like the woman whose life you ruined a year ago. When your bumbling touch sent the soul of the baby she was meant to raise back to your father."

I flinched and would have run except the woman wept suddenly, perhaps triggered on purpose by Daphne. Her sobs emerged softly, apologetic, as though she begged Creation to forgive her for her misery and the collapse of her existence. Her face fell into her shaking, filthy hands, near silent as her thin body shook and shook from grief.

"Just one of many," Daphne said, "over the years. I thought you should see the impact you make on those whose lives you ruin with your failures."

I deserved this, to stand here and absorb the woman's drug enhanced pain. Wished then my empathetic reaction hadn't left me, that I could feel what she felt if only to punish myself for destroying her life and that of her stillborn child. Daphne stood there in silence, letting me take on as much as she thought I should—not nearly as much as I could take, she'd be angry to know—before she turned and left the room. I followed, numb, tired, knowing when I glanced back over my shoulder, seeing Nero standing next to the woman while she shoved one last needle in her arm I had done this. I had ended her life, too. I was a murderer long before Ophelia.

Nero wouldn't meet my eyes. I didn't blame him.

The door morphed, sent me elsewhere, staggering to a dread filled and expectant halt next to Daphne. This time in a clean, white room with a crisp, white bed and a young woman with dark hair shorn almost to a buzz cut perched with crossed legs on the sheets. Her body was trapped, wrapped in more white, tied behind her as the straightjacket pinned her down and kept her rigidly upright. From her expression she was miles away, a thin line of drool trickling from the corner of her narrow mouth, small scabs on her cheeks evidence she'd been practicing self-harm.

"You know her, of course." Daphne crossed her arms over her chest, honey hair's scent carrying to me when I stopped next to her, staring and hurting.

I did. Daphne didn't have to tell me who this broken soul was. The girl from the accident. My very first assignment. She'd been marked to die, I'd been on the side of Death that night when I was sent, at eight years old, to collect her soul while my brothers took her parents home to Undertown.

But she lived. I saved her. The girl survived. "A miracle." I didn't mean to whisper that word out loud.

Daphne snorted. "Yes, a miracle," she said with so much sarcasm I winced. "The miracle girl who was meant to die with her family, who lived and has suffered for it for eight long years. Who tries to kill herself so frequently now they have to drug her to keep her from succeeding. You know what the worst part is, Eve?" Daphne turned her back on the girl like she didn't matter really, leaning in to whisper in my ear with her harsh, clipped voice. "You gave her Life. Which means she'll live out this wretched, horrid existence until she dies of natural causes. At a ripe, old age." She barked a laugh of bitter fury. "All this suffering, decades of agony, because you screwed up."

I shivered, heart quavering, knowing this had nothing to do with the poor, crumbling mortal on the bed. Daphne didn't care about her. She only cared about making sure I saw how deeply the flaws inside me ran.

I didn't mean to hurt this girl. I did care about her, that was the difference, wasn't it? I cared about the mortals. They weren't just souls to me. They were people. That was the greatest flaw of all.

This wasn't my fault. And yet, it was. It really was.

"There's more," Daphne said, "if you think you can hold yourself together."

A challenge, but one I refused to back down from. Not because it came from Daphne but because, in that moment, I truly believed I owed it to the people I hurt. And drew strength from knowing just how grateful I was to be neither an angel of Life or Death if it meant giving up the capacity to care for the ones we were responsible for.

The door beckoned and we exited together while my sister's tone turned chipper, if still edged with anger.

"How about one of the lifers this time?" She stomped through the door and into a large room, tall windows casting light over a collection of tables, where huddled old people muttered to each other or sat in easy chairs staring vacantly at a small television. I didn't flinch at the dusty smell of slow decay, at the motes floating in the barest sunbeam bravely attempting to light a patch of the worn, torn carpet. Or at the sight of his bowed head where he huddled in private misery.

He sat in a wheelchair in the far corner, staring out one of the windows into the yard, tears leaking down his face. I recognized him instantly, the old man from just a few nights ago. The one I'd saved from Death while Nero did his best to help me one last time.

Daphne didn't need to speak, not when a young woman in a nursing uniform stopped to pat his shoulder with an absent gesture of one far too busy to take the time she needed for someone like him.

"No visitors today, James?" She sounded bored, distracted. Didn't she care if he answered or not? Obviously not. She kept moving, turning to the next lost and muttering soul trapped in this place that felt like punishment for those waiting for Undertown.

But the old man did answer, whispering into the dead, dull air long after she'd gone.

"Why did I live?" His voice quavered with sorrow. "I wish I'd just died."

"He was supposed to be gone." Daphne shrugged, casually cruel, tone still bright and jarring after the quiet of his miserable protest at Life. "Instead, his family resents his health, dumped him here to rot when he should have moved on. All because of you."

I nodded, unable to speak, mouth flooding with saliva when my stomach flipped and begged to empty itself. I turned instead and followed my sister as she led me away again.

It went on and on, those meant for Death still lingering in half-lives they didn't understand and those meant for Life who left behind loved ones unable to cope with their unnatural loss.

Daphne finally paused at a doorway and fixed me with her angry eyes. "One last treat," she said. "I'm tired of this and you seem suitably aware now of what you've done. But I think you should see this one, Eve. Just so you know how much of a monster you really are."

Nothing she could do or say would make me feel worse, I was positive of it. Until that door opened and we entered a suburban street and I knew.

I knew where she'd brought me.

I heard his voice, saw him in the driveway across the way with a basketball in his hands. Laughing, dribbling the reddish rubber, leaping as if he'd never been sick, like he was meant to survive after all. Hope leaped with him, warmed me and I stepped away from my sister, crossed to his house, smiling in a daze and raising one hand to wave to him.

She'd made a mistake, my sister. Bringing me to him. Seeing him erased all the weight and punishment of what came before, made the journey with her worth it. This act I performed on purpose and would never regret.

He smiled back, though with a frown creasing his brow and, before he reached me, I understood at last why she chose to show me this, to make him her end game.

I saw in his confused gaze what I gave up when I saved him.

"Hi," Adam said, balancing the ball in one hand. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

***

# Chapter Twenty Nine

I gaped at him a long moment, long enough for his friends to stare and start to laugh while he gave me a lopsided grin. There was enough curiosity in him it tempered the arrogance I felt from his aura. Not my Adam, this young man with the cocky attitude and the way he looked me up and down. A stranger. Who didn't remember me.

"Sorry," I muttered, backing away, knowing I looked like an awkward loser in a sundress and bare feet and not caring. "I thought you were someone else."

He tossed the ball from one hand to the other. "What's your name?"

"Eve." I shared without thinking and flinched when he laughed, his friends, too.

"No kidding," he said. "I'm Adam. Where's your apple, Eve?"

They weren't laughing because it was funny. They were teasing me. And it hurt.

I fled while Daphne, clearly enjoying this final visit with her own sick amusement clear on her face, followed me. It wasn't fair and I didn't care if she knew how much pain she'd caused me. How deeply it hurt seeing Adam safe and sound and whole. And not my Adam at all.

"Sucks to be you," she giggled over my shoulder. Had I been in a more gathered state of mind I would have turned on the spot and punched her in the face. As it was, I slogged forward instead through the garage door on the other side of the street, heart broken in two.

I don't know if Daphne noticed Mom first or if I did, not that it mattered. We were already back in the Crosspath by then, ready to part ways. My sister seemed content to let me wallow in my failures at this point, the layers of damage I'd done seeming worse now I knew about Adam. All of it came flooding back, each and every reveal she'd shared. The mist was nowhere to be found, traitorous stuff. Of course it would fail me when I needed it most, just like everyone else in my life. Including me.

Mom's crackling anger pulled us both to a halt, stirring the normally still air of the hub between realms as her power sizzled toward us. No, toward Daphne. My sister seemed shocked to find our mother wasn't keen on the education she just handed me.

"You." Life's essence hit my sister hard, driving her back, making Daphne gasp and wither. I knew my sister was older than me—quite a bit older, in fact—but never really thought about her age. But when Mom's source withdrew support, even for an instant, Daphne's entire body shriveled so quickly before returning to her original beautiful self I was almost sure I imagined it. And yet, she seemed staggered, her confidence gone, breathing heavily and weak at the knees. "You've interfered for the last time."

"Mother." Daphne's hurt rivaled my own, at least from the sound of her voice. "I've always been your faithful daughter, your right hand. How have I failed you that would make you turn to this wretched waste of Life?"

Mom hit her again, and this time the withering lasted longer, long enough I looked away out of my own horror as my sister turned to a shrunken mummy before my eyes.

"Get thee gone, meddler," Mom snarled. "And stay out of my way."

Daphne, a lovely young woman again, sobbed and ran for the door to the Garden, not looking back while I shook and tried to gather myself. Mom had no idea what a monster I was, what Daphne had shown me. She couldn't know or she never would defend me against my sister.

Before I could speak, Mom came to me, shushing me, taking my face in her hands and kissing my forehead. "There, there, Eve, sweet girl," she said in a singsong voice. "It's all right then. Daphne won't come near you again, you have my word."

"She showed me—" I couldn't get the words out, couldn't make myself speak them and felt weaker for it.

"Silly, jealous bitch." Mom's eyes crackled with anger. "She has no idea just how special you are. None of them do. But I do." Her arm went through mine, elbows linked. "And soon they will see just what Life is capable of."

I pulled back as she tried to guide me, forced myself to speak. "I've done so many horrible things, Mom."

She smiled like I'd confessed to sneaking sweets. "Precious," she said. "You'll understand soon enough."

And no amount of tugging would stop her. When we approached the door to Death, I shook my head and tried again. I was done with Dad. This time when Mom spun on me, her joy was gone, her kindness, revealing rage and a hint of madness in her face.

"You must come," she snarled. "I won't let anyone or anything stop me, Eve. Not even you."

"Why are we going back to Undertown?" I felt proud of my calm and level voice, my lack of volume, the way I faced her down with enough reasonableness in my face and attitude she smoothed out and cleared her throat, seemingly embarrassed by her outburst.

"I'm tired of the way they treat you," she said. "It's time to deal with your future, Eve. And to do that we must first talk to your father. All right?"

My future. "You'll tell me everything?"

She nodded, smile returned. "And Samael both. You are the most important thing that has ever happened to Creation, Eve." Her eyes brightened again. "When your father understands we'll all talk about what to do next. But you have to trust me."

While she'd never really given me a reason to believe in her, she'd truly seemed to care about me in the last few days and, honestly, I needed to know what was going on. If sharing with Dad was her requirement, I was all for that. I had some apologizing to do to him anyway.

Heart hurting but resolved to see this through, I walked through the doorway to Death with Life on my arm.

It felt like the walk of shame despite Mom's presence, how my brothers avoided us but stared all the same, as if every single one of them despised me for what I'd done. And who was I to argue with their assessment? I'd not only killed my sister, I'd ruined countless lives over the last eight years. Of course, part of the blame lay on Mom and Dad, I was willing to give that credence. But I could have done more to stop it. Refused to participate, thrown a fit, hid in my room no matter which realm I lived in at the time. Instead, I did what was expected, played the good girl who hated rocking the boat and could seem to do nothing but.

My step hastened as we neared the palace and Mom's words finally sank in past the misery in my heart. If she was right, if she knew what she was talking about—and she was Life, wasn't she? She had to have the facts—I was about to discover who I was and why.

That kind of information was worth my staring, angry brothers.

Dad wasn't alone when we entered the throne room, sitting on his massive seat, though he left his hulking persona and descended to join us, human form rigid and anger obvious even without the ability any longer to feel his emotions. At least he was willing to talk, though. Otherwise he would have just remained on his throne, right?

I could hope so. Dad didn't meet my eyes, focusing his quiet rage on Mom. "I'm done playing games, Isis," he said. "We need to figure out what's going on with Eve."

Mom tsked. "You mean what's wrong with her, don't you, Samael?" She met my eyes, shook her head. "Say what you believe or don't speak, Death."

Dad hesitated while my heart plummeted to my feet. I'd trusted him too long. Despite the recent truths Mom revealed to me about how he really felt, I still found myself embedded in hope maybe she was wrong. But things weren't looking good, not when he scowled and stared at the floor.

"Something is wrong," he said, voice now soft and caring as he finally looked at me. "Can you feel it, Eve?"

Was it wrong, though? I mean, I totally understood what he meant. Things had changed since I touched the Loom, big things shifting me toward something I didn't quite grasp just yet. I wasn't the girl I'd been just a few short days ago. And yet, would I classify myself as wrong?

Well, I'd killed my sister without thinking about it. I shuddered at the memory and started to nod at Dad. Maybe he was correct and wrong was the perfect word.

But Mom wasn't willing to let him win that easily. "Honestly, Samael," she said, huffing in frustration, arm around me again. "Our daughter is remarkable, even you must acknowledge that. She isn't like our other children. And we need to accept her and help her, not judge and condemn."

Mom was right, too. Instead? Could they both speak truth so contrary to one another? My backbone tightened, my shoulders aching from sudden tension while Dad hesitated one more time. And told me with his pause and worry what I needed to know.

"You never really cared about me." I didn't mean to speak, but the words came out anyway, pouring from me now that I'd spoken, a fountain of anger growing and feeding the mist now rising once more within. There it was, returned at last. Dad's worry turned to concern and then to fearful anxiety when I let the mist rise, pulling away from Mom at the same moment she released me, taking a step closer to Dad and willingly, deliberately, letting the mist take me over.

Fully this time, no half measures. My body filled with it, chest tight, skin tingling while the bubbling magma of emotions buried within burst the last brick of the dam holding them back and rose to the surface. I laughed as the air around me crackled, rage and joy and sorrow and ecstasy mingling, dividing, melding, clashing all around me. Flickers of lightning tripped from my fingertips, hitting the stone floor with soft pops of electricity while the ceiling filled with inky clouds swirling and humming with the growing force of pent up energy. The scent of ozone burned my nostrils but I didn't care, not while Dad backed away from me, gaping like the fool he was, judging me even now when I showed him the truth.

How powerful his daughter had become. He had no idea what I was capable of. For that matter, neither was I. Maybe it was time to find out.

"Eve." His voice cracked, handsome face creased in what, disgust? Let him loathe and fear me if he chose. Death had no hold over me. I knew it then as clearly as anything I'd ever understood, even as I realized the same was true of Life.

She stood behind me, her power tingling with excitement. I could feel their emotions again, the sizzle and pop of their feelings zinging over their auras. Only now they didn't weigh on me, not like they used to. Instead, I felt the threads of those feelings as if they were tangible to me and, reaching out with casual curiosity, I pulled on those threads and let the mist feed from my father's growing fear and my mother's surging joy.

I'd grown physically somehow, though I wasn't aware I'd done it, the clouds overhead stirring my hair. I absently brushed at it, grinning tight, cheeks aching from the expression, sparks falling from my hand when I lowered it, cascading over the stone floor. My brothers ran, for the most part, though I noted the presence of Nero by Dad's throne, pale and staring and my hateful brother, Kael, cowering in a corner behind a skull statue. How easy to remove the both of them, to snuff out the animation death granted them. All of Creation, in fact. I certainly wasn't contained here, in Undertown. As I looked outward, my awareness growing with the spreading of the mist, I saw the Crosspath before me, the doorways and knew there was nothing and no one who could stand in my way.

The call of answering mist behind the Repository's entry made my soul sing.

"You see!" Mom had to shout to be heard. Only then did I realize the storm that surged around my ears roared, the sound of the wind echoing in the vast space. Dad staggered as a bolt of lightning hit near his feet, staring up at me with both hands holding his dark hair back from whipping his face. "You see how perfect she is?"

"EVE!" Dad called to me with anguish in his voice, more fear. "Please, Evie, stop!"

But I didn't want to stop. This felt amazing, freedom and power in the palms of my hands. I pulled more clouds around me, cloaking myself in the mist and the fury of the storm while Mom laughed hysterically.

"You can't control her," she screamed. "You never could, Samael!"

"Neither can you!" He forgot about me then, yelling back at her. "Isis, what have you unleashed?"

Not who. What. As though I were some thing, some creature he laid no claim to. Well, Mom called me a weapon. And I knew very well what I was capable of now, that Death was mine to command, as was Life. Time for my father to take a taste of his own realm.

The lighting hit him an instant after that thought crossed my mind, the exact same instant the girl I was sat up and shrieked, "NO!" Too late, the power struck Dad in the chest, carrying him backward to crash into the foot of his throne, his mortal body lost in the swirling shadows that made the cloak of his vast persona. I stumbled forward, suddenly small again, the storm winking out and vanishing so fast it made my head ache, only the last rumble of thunder left behind as I ran toward Dad's fallen body.

Nero knelt next to him. He had gone immediately to his aid. I let Kael creep for the exit unchallenged, falling to my knees next to my brother and father. Tears erupted, pouring down my cheeks, the mist grumbling and fighting me but even it couldn't wrest control back, not while I grasped for my father's hand, feeling his cold, dead flesh and begged Creation to save him.

I couldn't be responsible for Dad's death. I wouldn't be my father's murderer. No matter what he thought of me, no matter if he'd manipulated and tried to control me my whole life like Mom convinced me he had, I loved him. I couldn't help loving him.

He was my dad.

A tingle passed between us, the faintest of sparks, the same feeling I had when I'd kissed Adam not so long ago. Dad inhaled, gasped for air, sitting up suddenly, coughing out a soft puff of smoke before leaning on Nero a moment.

I shrank back from him, hands shaking, knowing he hated me now and not sure what to do. One thing was true, though. Dad was spot on. Wrong was the perfect term for what was happening to me. But as I tried to rise and run he grasped for me and tugged me against his chest, holding me tightly to him.

"Eve," he whispered, hoarse and harsh but full of love that made me weep harder. "It's okay, sweetie. I'm sorry. I know you didn't mean it. We'll figure it out." So many layers of apology and support and comfort, too many in his feelings and his jumbled words and the way he held me close. I would burst from the pressure of it and the fact I'd never hated myself this much before. Not until this very moment.

"Darling." Mom's voice held an edge, anger. "Come away from him and his lies."

I looked up into Dad's face, saw the pain there, the open honesty. Fear for me, of me, worry and strain. Anxious concern and confusion. But no deceit.

I should have known better. When I turned to face my mother, she flinched from my expression, though I didn't get to tell her exactly what I thought of her. Not when the air between us parted and three furious old women lumbered through the torn edge of the realm's fabric.

"Evil one." Was it Clotho or Atropos or Lachesis who spoke? I'd lost track of who they were and didn't care as the one in the front jabbed a finger at me. "Life! Death! If there was ever proof of it, this attack is it! The abomination must die!"

***

# Chapter Thirty

I'd had about enough of that term aimed in my direction and was about to abandon my grief over Dad to show them how much by calling on the waiting mist, when we were interrupted by the giggling of a little girl. I didn't have to wonder who she might be as Destiny, Karma and Kismet in tow, materialized out of nothing to pirouette in front of the three Fates before batting her impressive eyelashes at them.

"Now, now," she said. "Let's not be hasty."

The Fates hissed as one, reminding me of Lilith and not the three women in charge of the future. "Foolish child," Clotho said, more recognizable by her voice now that she wasn't yelling. "Stand aside and allow us to do what should have been done before this thing could be conceived."

I had the impression the Fates weren't used to being challenged, especially not by the perky and adorable form of Destiny. But, when they tried to advance on me, everything froze.

All but me and the smirking little girl, that was. She turned toward me, curtsied with her hands clutching at her skirt. "Sorry about that," she said. "Is your dad okay?"

I nodded, swallowed. She'd stopped time. Not even the Fates were moving. How could that be?

"I'm glad," she said. "Your mother can be a real bitch, in case you missed it." She tilted her head at me, pale eyes wise despite her youthful appearance. "It's time, Eve," she said. "To use the key I gave you."

The key. I reached in my pocket, found its warm weight waiting for me. The mist stirred, begged me to pull it free but fear held me still as I turned and looked down at Dad.

"I almost killed Death," I whispered. "What am I?"

"Your mother knows," Destiny said. "Want to ask her?" And, in that instant, Mom was free, lurching toward me as if she'd already been in motion.

"Eve, my darling, come. Let these fools worry about their paths and their rules. We have more important things to do." She looked around as she finished, surprise arching her eyebrows, leaving her breathless a moment until she finally stopped, hand falling to her side. "Destiny." Something cold crossed her face. "Mind your own business."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Destiny said in her piping voice. "You opened this box of problems, Life. I'm here to make sure the one who rules the first realm has all the choices at her disposal." She winked at me. "Not just the singular one her mother seems to think will win Life the most power."

The first realm? Which realm? Tulip's mention of the far off chamber in the Repository where she'd uncovered the singular scroll made sense in combination with Destiny's words. And this was about power? Of course it was. I'd been naive long enough. It wasn't as if Mom's emotions affected me anymore. I knew better. And now, at last, facing the fact I'd almost killed Dad thanks to her and the manipulations she adored, it was time to shed the need I had to win Mom's favor.

I didn't need it. I had the mist.

"Eve." Mom seemed to think she could still push me around. I let the mist rise again, though this time I was careful, controlling though it fought me. I welcomed the loss of childish need for the love of my parents, for the approval of those around me. The giant storm brewing again I bottled and contained as best I could, though I wasn't sure, exactly, how long I could continue to do so.

The time was now. I needed to know. "What am I?"

Destiny's humor faded, face serious while Mom spluttered and snapped her fingers at me. I waved in turn and felt her stagger back, her body electrified a moment. A hysterical giggle backed by rage that surely wasn't mine struggled to escape at her shocked expression while the girl before me nodded once.

"A point of choice, Eve," Destiny said. Karma and Kismet joined her, not frozen as I'd first assumed but merely silent and watching. "A path never travelled, not since time began. One not meant to be taken but destined all the same."

I shook my head, still confused, the mist biting me with irritated humor. "That makes no sense."

"Silence, terrible child!" Clotho had broken free of the time freeze, staggering one step closer while her sisters wailed their fury. I could feel the Loom around them, see the threads pulling against their hands, the way the air itself took on the warp and weft I'd seen in their realm as if they brought it here, to Death's door.

"I will not," Destiny said, flickering her fingers at them. "It's far too late to cork the bottle, dears. Eve's future is in her hands, no matter what you try to do."

Atropos snatched at the air before her, tugging a thread from the fabric of the realm. Shocked to feel myself jerked forward, I looked down to find it tied into my chest, linked to me. Mom had said I was outside Fate, but clearly a part of me remained attached, if only a single thread. A pair of dull, gray shears appeared in the old Fate's hand, massive and sharp despite the pits of decay along the backs of the blades. Ancient, as old as their Pantheon, perhaps. She raised the razor edges and held them against the thread that was me, an evil grin on her weathered face.

"We'll see about that," she snarled. And closed the shears.

It hurt, though the pain was less than I expected, the mist bubbling up to fill in the gap the severed thread left behind while my mother screamed her rage and Dad cried out my name.

Both denying my death for different reasons. And I saw more clearly than I ever had in the instant of my complete removal from the Loom which of the two truly loved me. How had I ever doubted him? And trusted her? The lines of the webbed network that made up the past, present and future shone so clearly in them, in everything around me. The world began to spin again, time turned back on while the mist devoured the last of who I was and left me panting over my shaking hands, staring down into the swirling mass living beneath my skin.

Only for a moment and then it was gone, but not far. And this time there was no chasing it off, pushing it down, hiding it away.

"What have you done?" Mom staggered back, hand clutching her chest, shock on her face.

Only Destiny and her friends seemed pleased by what happened. "Exactly as they were Fated," the girl said. And laughed in peals of joyful sound.

Clotho shook, hands grasping for threads but there was nothing to take hold of. I felt her try to reach me, only to fail over and over, her sisters as well, until the three of them howled as one.

"She should be dead!" Atropos spun on Dad. "Take her!"

My father shrugged, looking dazed but pleased. "There's nothing of her to take."

The Fate snarled and turned then to Destiny. "You did this!"

"No," the girl said, still snickering behind her little hands. "You did. By cutting the thread that was Eve, you finally finished what her parents started." Destiny's eyes met mine. "Had you left well enough alone, had you let her thread remain, she would have slowly lost what was happening to her. The change in her would never have survived and Eve would remain Eve forever."

I stared at her, knowing that would never be again.

"Instead," Destiny said, blowing the three horrified Fates a kiss, "you released her to be who she was always meant to be." She sighed in pure joy. "That which was hidden and imprisoned and never allowed release, not since time began. Though it was that very thing which allowed Creation to begin."

The Fates didn't seem to agree with Destiny's happy assessment. Still screaming at each other, wordless and full of despair, they vanished, taking the feeling of the Loom with them. But it was still there. I could sense it around me, running parallel to me but unable to touch me. I was outside it now, for good.

"Now then," Destiny said, turning to Mom. "You, young lady, have been very, very bad. And very, very good." She giggled. "Thank you for Eve. But did you really think you could control her, Isis? Really? Maybe if the Fates hadn't cut her thread. Maybe." She stressed that word heavily, tsking her disappointment. "You should have known better, Life."

Mom shook her head, mouth hanging open, silent and utterly stunned.

"And Samael." Destiny sighed, shaking a finger at him. "There are times to be honest and times to lie to your beloved daughter so she doesn't think you've been deceiving her since she was little."

He smiled at the girl, shrugged. Nero helped him to his feet, supported him while my father steadied himself. "Noted," he said.

Mom suddenly regained her poise, pulling herself together, hurrying toward me. But I turned to her and met her eyes, and her feet fell still again. Standing a few feet from me with her hands outstretched, she implored me with her entire body and the trembling emotions in her aura.

You can see through her, now, Destiny said in my mind.

I could, as sad as it made me for a moment. I was only ever a tool to her.

But not to Death. Destiny sighed. I'm sorry, Eve. You do know none of this really matters right now? You have a door to open and bigger truth to discover. Are you ready?

I looked down at her, realized she'd come to my side. Her little hand slid into mine. I realized only then I no longer wore Mom's sundress, that my body was clothed in a dark gray robe cross tied over my ribs, the tips of the sleeves covering my fingers, my feet still bare. The fabric felt like it had been woven from the mist within.

"Is it okay to be scared?" I could admit it to her.

Destiny smiled. "Of course," she said. "I am, too. But we've been waiting for you, Eve. And you're going to find out who you are sooner or later. It's inevitable thanks to the Fates. So it might as well be now, under your own terms."

I looked down at the key still clutched in my hand. It shone at me where the blackness had rubbed free, twinkling like it had a life of its own despite its pitted and ancient appearance. And then, without warning, it dissolved into a puff of smoke and vanished. "It's gone." Those words were a gasp of shock.

"Not gone," Destiny said. "You didn't need the key in the first place, Eve. You are the key. And the doorway."

I was. I'd felt it all along, the mist that was the key still here, invisible, wanting to be part of me. I welcomed it, absorbed it, became it. There, before me, all around me, the amorphous mist beckoning me home. Deep within, far past the hurricane of shrieking protest and emotions so powerful they threatened to knock me back, on the other side of the storm lay everything I'd ever longed for.

"No!" That was Dad, though I had no idea what he shouted for, why he protested until I found Mom before me, fury on her face, Life burning around her.

"If I can't control you," she snarled, "I'll end you myself."

Did she know she had no chance to succeed? Was Mom aware that even Life couldn't stand against what I'd become? In retrospect, I think she knew. And couldn't help herself.

I didn't want to kill her despite her machinations and deceits. She was still my mother. Instead, I drained some of her Life and Isis, the ancient Egyptian goddess who had sat on that throne for millennia, fell back from me with a horrified cry, her shriveled hands going to her sunken cheeks.

"Life no longer," I said. "Go now. Return to the Pantheon you were created for. In peace."

Mom screamed, long and horrified and full of anguish. "What have you done?" She shook as though palsied by age, eyes still the huge blues they'd always been. "What have you done?"

The old me would have felt sorry for her. Instead, I sighed in faint regret and shrugged. "What had to be done," I said. "Go, Isis. You're no longer needed here."

Her snarl of fury was nothing compared to the raging emotions within me. I saw her for the weakling she was, how ineffectual, how much of her existence she wasted as a child attempting to use emotions as weapons she didn't understand. "You will pay for this."

"I'm sure I will," I said.

She ran then, slinking for the exit to the throne room, her howls still audible for almost a minute after she'd gone from my sight.

Dad sighed. "That was cruel, Eve."

Destiny shook her head, but it was Karma who shocked me by speaking.

"She earned it." The Goth girl grinned at me like it was funny.

Perhaps she had. I pondered that possibility a moment while I reached out and summoned the only one I could think of who could take Mom's place. The mist carried Daphne to me, her shock registering though she stood her ground, to her credit, staring at me with sudden respect.

"Our mother is no longer Life," I said, holding out my hand so the shining, sparkling star of light that was the persona she'd worn cast its rays over Daphne's suddenly hungry face. "Will you carry the burden now?"

She didn't hesitate, leaping on the power, absorbing it with a hiccup of shock. Her entire being rippled with it and, when it finally settled around her, Daphne nodded to me.

The sound of clopping hooves turned me around again, three familiar centaur faces joining us. Tulip led her parents forward, though Oak and Blossom stopped partway to the throne while my friend joined us. Her hand reached out fearlessly, grasped mine, something small and cold coiling in my palm when she did.

"The Repository," she said. "It's full of mist."

Of course it was. "The doorway," I said, turning to Destiny.

She shrugged at the centaurs at the exit. "Your mistake was trying to stop it," she said. "Just let it out, would you? It has a job to do and you're making things worse."

Blossom twitched, shook her head, tail thrashing against first her then her husband. "You know what it's for." She gulped, guilty when she looked at me then away again as though terrified of what she saw on my face.

"Of course," Karma sighed like this was the most ridiculous conversation ever. I bit a smile away from my lips at her sudden vocal proclivity. "Just do it, there's a good horsey."

Oak muttered something that sounded like a neigh laden swear word and stomped his hooves.

Tulip held my hand still, smiling down at me, sorrow mixed with fear. "I figured out what you are," she said.

I nodded, glad she was there. I wasn't done. I still had my own truths to uncover, and I could ask her for confirmation. Though, the longer I stood outside Fate and the Loom, the more the mist consumed me from the inside out, the surer I became as to who I really was. And, when I sighed, my power reaching back to the beginning of Creation and I saw the storm begin, I turned at last to Destiny again, sorrow and hate and burning joy in my heart.

"I see it now," I said.

She nodded, sad but smiling. "I thought you would."

Dad hesitated but came to me, shaking his head. "I don't understand."

"It's okay," I said before addressing Oak and Blossom. "Please, go let the mist out. I'm going to need it soon."

They left at last, heads down, though Tulip stayed with me.

"Death and Life had a daughter," I said, smiling at my dad. "And, in doing so, they recreated something that was never meant to be given form again." I turned to go to the Crosspath, to the mist being released from the Repository, finally allowed to form the doorway that had been sealed at the beginning of Creation.

Destiny skipped along beside me. "Welcome home, Chaos," she said. "We've missed you."

***

# Chapter Thirty One

I stood in the Crosspath, listening to the quiet, doing my best to stay focused despite the raging emotions simmering at the edges of my mind. Empathy made sense to me now. Being connected to the Loom had held me hostage, kept Chaos in check.

"You don't have to do this, Eve." Dad stood next to me, face creased in worry, though I know he was only being kind.

"Yes, I do." I stared at the place where the door to the Mist realm—it deserved to be named at last—had appeared to me but didn't call it, not yet. They were watching me. Inside the Loom, woven in to the past, present and future. All the Pantheons, even the ones time and mortals forgot. Waiting, breathless, for Chaos to destroy everything they'd built.

That's what Tulip told me, anyway, as we walked that seemingly endless way to the Crosspath, her whispering to me everything she'd learned. Her parents might have been horrified by my alteration, but my friend seemed nonchalant about discovering her bestie was the destructive force of Creation. I wasn't controlled by the rules that bound the centaurs or the realms or the Loom. It did hurt me, however, Oak and Blossom held their distance when we reached the hub as Tulip kept whispering.

Destiny and her friends lingered, though I had no doubt they'd stay out of the way for now. Dad walked on my other side, not touching me but his aura full of love. I didn't care even a little what Daphne's day was going like, though I hoped I made the right choice for Life now that Mom was deposed. Would my mother ever forgive me? I couldn't bring myself to care as the centaur girl who had always been my friend pulled me along toward the Repository door where a long, low column of mist drifted out the opening into the Crosspath to pool on the floor like fog.

"When Creation began," she said, more excited than scared, bless her, "the first powers—Life and Death—knew that while Chaos had been the reason for that Creation, if they allowed it to continue everything would be destroyed."

"So they locked it away," I said, a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach I was the biggest disaster Creation had ever seen, even though the mist within rejected such fatality. "To protect Creation."

She nodded, pushing hair back away from her cheeks pinked by enthusiasm. "And only Life and Death could return Chaos to Creation." She rubbed her hands together as though concocting some thrilling plan. "But that knowledge was lost over time, the edict that Life and Death should never mate becoming a rule they followed instead of a necessity."

"Mom found out." That had to be it.

Tulip's beautiful face crumpled in sorrow. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm only discovering all of this after the fact. You're already Chaos, aren't you?" I nodded. "I mean, fully Chaos?" She sounded hopeful she might be wrong. But, Tulip didn't seem any further let down when I agreed. "Well, good news and bad news, then," she said. "Which do you want first?"

I couldn't imagine Destiny would be so supportive if I really was meant to be the wrecking ball of Creation. So I steeled myself and sighed. "Bad news, please."

Tulip's wry grin told me she approved. "No one is going to like you, trust you or think this is a good idea," she said. "Besides me, of course." Of course. Her faith and loyalty made me smile. "The Pantheons will probably come after you and now that you're outside the Loom, if they try to kill you they could do themselves a great deal of damage." She shrugged. "That's kind of tied to the good news. Which is you're pretty much invincible and anything anyone does against you will create a backlash that will cause, well." She grinned weakly. "Chaos."

"What about the Fates?" There was no way the horrible sisters would let well enough alone. But what could they do to me they hadn't already done? My thread was cut, I was outside the Loom.

"I don't know." Tulip's hooves made soft thudding sounds on the carpeted floor as she shifted positions. "But now we know what you are. So that's a good thing, right?"

Her optimism was a friendly and welcome distraction, though I knew better. There was nothing really good about any of this. I was Chaos. Meant to bring strife and change to Creation. I was sure when Tulip dug deeper she'd uncover more bad news than good. Still, there was nothing to be done for it now. Not while the Pantheons and the powers that be hovered in the ether and waited to see what I'd do.

This could get frustrating and more than a little irritating after a while. Being watched over my shoulder by countless immortals and their powers might just set me off without further provocation. It was sad if familiar to know, however, my siblings had retreated from me, though Dad was there.

Had always been there, I now knew. I treasured that as I contemplated sealing this deal by opening the door to the Chaos realm.

Until I did, I could keep pretending I was Eve. Despite the loss of the thread, despite my separation from Creation and my awakening, the mist itself inside me. I could stand here and stare at the wall of the Crosspath, the familiar quiet and stillness surrounding me and imagine for as long as I wished I hadn't changed.

The mist rose from underfoot without my bidding, the entirety of the hub shifting sideways, shunting Life and Death and the mortal realm doors to the side, the Repository staying where it was. Before it had felt almost illusionary, dreamlike and surreal. But this time it was tangible and felt intimately permanent.

Dad didn't comment but I could feel his fear. I devoured it for him, funneled it into the column of writhing emotion inside me, consumed by the mist. He glanced at me in surprise, then nodded, stepping away as the door solidified as much as it could. The mist took on a hard edged appearance, towering columns of nothing filled with swirling patterns of light and dark. The door itself was hollowly black, the handle appearing as it had before, but without a key hole this time.

I didn't need one anymore. While Destiny gave me the symbolic key to my realm, the Fates handed me what I really needed when they severed the thread that bound me to Time.

"What does being Chaos mean?" Surely he didn't know, either.

But Dad seemed willing to take a stab at it. "There will be those who think you're a mistake, Eve," he said. "I disagree. We've been too long without the unknown, complacent and on a path perhaps not best suited to Creation. After all, Chaos made us. Who were we to lock away our own source of being?"

That did make me feel a little better. "It's not like I'm going to run around destroying stuff at random," I said, the joke coming out as weak as my sarcastic laugh.

Dad's eyes twinkled. "I'm sure," he said.

"No wonder I didn't fit." I took his hand, hesitated before doing so, though the mist didn't react badly to him at all.

Dad squeezed my fingers. "You've always been my favorite daughter," he said with a straight face while I giggled and felt like I was a little girl again. "Anything you need," he said, serious once more, turning to face the door waiting for me. "The other Pantheons won't be happy about this, Eve. But Death stands with Chaos."

Good of him, and good to know. But I had my own path to walk. I dropped his hand, kissed his cheek and strode forward, ready.

I paused at the entry, one hand rising, stroking over the silver handle. It whispered to me, its excitement and joy I'd finally come home, its voice all at once that of a small child and an ancient woman, filled with anger and delight and every emotion Chaos created.

The door swung wide and I entered, the mist washing over me, damp and cold at first, the scent of Death mixed with the freshness of new Life. Mingling together, all the facets of Creation.

I passed through the curtain of swirling moisture, eyes closing against the tiniest of droplets wetting my skin. And felt myself emerge on the other side in a whip of wind that stilled as suddenly as it came. I opened my eyes in the darkness of my throne room, the open air ceiling showing me the raging storm above. The eye of the hurricane was my palace, the dark stone cold and damp with rain, raw rock as ancient as time itself. Not pretty, nor decorative this palace of mine. But ready and waiting for me.

"Well finally," a voice said. My head snapped around, fear my impulse reaction as figures emerged from the shadows, hunched, frightening forms better suited to nightmares, with eyes on fire and misshapen bodies twisted and cruel.

Monsters surrounded me, watched me with hope. Creatures I'd never seen before but heard stories of, terrifying but mine, the children of Chaos. Waiting for me.

He strode forward, pushing through the crowd, wearing the body of a man but his face that of a dragon. There was something familiar about him and, when he came to a halt before me, I found myself smiling, remembering at last the dream I'd had, the hint of what was to come.

"Seth," I said, calling out the first of my creations.

"Mistress," he said. "What took you so long?"

###
Look for book two of the Eternal Daughter series

At all fine retailers!

***
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About the Author

Everything you need to know about me is in this one statement: I've wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl, and now I'm doing it. How cool is that, being able to follow your dream and make it reality? I've tried everything from university to college, graduating the second with a journalism diploma (I sucked at telling real stories), am an enthusiastic member of an all-girl improv troupe (if you've never tried it, I highly recommend making things up as you go along as often as possible) and I get to teach and perform with an amazing group of women I adore. I've even been in a Celtic girl band (some of our stuff is on YouTube!) and was an independent film maker (go check out the Lovely Witches Club at www.lovelywitchesclub.com). My life has been one creative thing after another—all leading me here, to writing books for a living.

Now with multiple series in happy publication, I live on beautiful and magical Prince Edward Island (I know you've heard of Anne of Green Gables) with my multitude of pets.

I love-love-love hearing from you! You can reach me (and I promise I'll message back) at patti@pattilarsen.com. And if you're eager for your next dose of Patti Larsen books (usually about one release a month) come join my mailing list! All the best up and coming, giveaways, contests and, of course, my observations on the world (aren't you just dying to know what I think about everything?) all in one place: http://smarturl.it/PattiLarsenEmail.

Last—but not least!—I hope you enjoyed what you read! Your happiness is my happiness. And I'd love to hear just what you thought. A review where you found this book would mean the world to me—reviews feed writers more than you will ever know. So, loved it (or not so much), your honest review would make my day. Thank you!

