Fated

Dante

As I walk away from her room I felt a sharp pain in my chest as I can feel that she has begun to cry. Everything in me is screaming to go to her…to hold her…to pull all the pieces of her shattered world back together for her. It takes all my resolve to keep walking. I walk into my study and sit rigid in my chair as I try everything I can to calm myself and distract my mind from thinking about the need I have for her. I chuckle as I hear her musing about something she saw in the woods being bigfoot. I smile to myself knowing it was only Victor making his rounds. I hear Martha approaching her door and decide it is time to head downstairs to the dining room where I will wait eagerly for her arrival.

I make my way to the bar at the back of the dining room and pour myself a glass of scotch white I wait for her to arrive. The seconds move by so slowly as I feel my breath catch in my throat…Eve...

“Good evening Eve.” I speak as I try to focus on the view out the window to keep my nerves steadied.

“Good evening Mr. Shay.” she replies back in a timid voice. How did she know my last name? I had not spoken it in her presence. Martha…damn hired help and their need for formalities.

“You may call me Dante. In fact I would much prefer it. Is your room to your liking?” I ask as I continue staring out the window awaiting her response…yearning to hear her voice again.

“It is a nice room, but I have a lot of questions. Like what am I doing here? Why did my mom bring me here?” I can hear her voice straining to hold back the emotions that I can feel trying to break free.

“Please, sit down and I will tell you everything I can. You must be famished.” I hold out my arm to the chair that sits next to mine at the head of the table. Much to my delight she does not hesitate to make her way to the chair as I pull it out for her. As she sits I gently slide the chair back to the table before taking my seat beside her.

I quickly drink down the last of my scotch before turning to her. “Would you like something to drink? Water, wine, or..?” I ask as I await her response.

“Water is fine. What I really want is answers mr. Shay.” I wince at her repeated use of my formal name. I begin musing over her persistence and raise my head, my eyes meeting hers.

“Then let’s get down to business. Martha, please get Eve a glass of water.” I fold my hands together as I see the storm clouds brewing behind her eyes.

I decide that I am going to be completely truthful with her in regards to her questions and begin answering the ones she has already voiced even though I can hear all the unspoken questions swirling through her head.

“Eve, you are here because of an arrangement I had with your mother. Your mother brought you here to uphold her end of that arrangement.” I feel the weight my words have on her the moment they escape my lips which only causes more questions to bubble up inside her.

“What fucking arrangement?!” she practically shouts the words causing my eyes to widen in surprise.

With a sigh I speak the words with a tone that carries more weight and sorrow than I intended.

“Let me tell you a story..” she attempts to interrupt me, but falls silent as I raise my hand and continue. “ 70 years ago in a land not far from here there lived a man and a woman who were deeply and irrevocably in love. They lived in a small cottage in the woods and were blissfully happy. Then one day the woman had walked into the woods and did not return. After a few hours of her absence the man went searching for her. He called out for her…screaming her name. When he finally found her his world came crashing down around him. He pulled her lifeless body to him and held her as he begged the gods to take his life in place of hers. His pleas fell of deaf ears for the gods bend to no man. The man searched for the people who took his wife from him. It was 5 years before he would find them. By this time his heart had turned to stone and the only thing that drove him was his burning desire to avenge his beloved. The coven responsible would be burned to the ground. He found one of their young witches wandering by a lake.” I pause as I try to fight back the surge of emotions that I can feel trying to overtake me as I relive this entire moment in vivid detail within my mind. “He took the girl deeper into the forest and as he prepared to take the life of this fragile little being she begged and pleaded for him to let her live. He looked into the crystal waters of the lake and what he saw staring back terrified him. He had become a monster. He wrapped his hands around her throat willing them to squeeze the life out of her, but his limbs would not obey. In defeat he fell back to the ground sobbing. He let loose all the tears he had held back over the years. The girl stood up and while she could have run, she instead knelt next to the man and placed her hand on his head. ‘She was your mate’ she spoke softly as the man nodded. ‘I cannot bring your mate back to you’. The man continued to weep. ‘The sister responsible for taking her life was seeking something of great power. Something your mate had hidden. If you can get this for me then I can promise you a sacrifice from the very sister who has brought you so much pain. You will have her first born. You will have to wait until such time that she conceives and must wait until the child is of age, but the child will be yours.’. The man struggled to process the proposition laid out before him. Why would he want a child? How could a child ever possibly replace his mate? Why in the world would he trust a witch? ‘The goddess has much in store for you yet and it would be wise to allow her plan to unfold.’ spoke the young witch. The man felt a strange feeling wash over him as if the goddess herself was urging him to listen. He did not speak, but only nodded in agreement to her offer. A mysterious item that seemed to be of great importance to the coven in exchange for a child.” My eyes find their way back to hers seeking her understanding.

“So I take it you are the man. Wait…the young witch…she promised to give you a baby…I mean…me? She promised you someone ELSE’S child?!” she whips the words at me in a heated frenzy.

“No Eve, the young witch was your mother…and at the time I did not realize that she was promising me her own child.” the words are laced with pain as I speak them.

Her eyes grow large as if some great realization came over her. “She was the one who killed your mate!” a look of regret takes over her face as soon as she finishes speaking. I can hear her reprimanding herself in her head for even daring to speak the words out loud.

“Yes.” I let out a weighted sigh as Martha walks in pushing a cart with 2 plates, a carafe of ice water and another glass of scotch. “Let’s eat and then I can answer any more questions you might have after.” The words sound much more stern than I intended as I bite back the resurgence of emotions I had long since buried as they are being stirred back to life.

Eve only nods as her plate is placed before her. Chef MIguel had prepared us a simple yet delightful meal. Both plates were piled high with Spaghetti and I look over to see Eve’s eyes as wide as saucers and mouth agape and the mountain of noodles covered in red sauce that was set before her.

“I…uh…there is no way I can finish all that.” she says in a serious tone.

“Just eat what you can, no one will force you to eat your weight in spaghetti.” My voice is much more light hearted as I let out a gentle laugh at her reaction.

“Thank you.” she responds before diving into her meal. Much to my surprise she is able to finish nearly half of her plate which males me realize that the poor girl truly must have been famished. I watch as she gracefully dabs her mouth with her napkin and sets it next to her. She takes a large drink of her water before turning to me again.

“So…” she hesitates as I hear her mentally sorting her words so as not to appear rude or offensive. This makes me smile knowing that she is so concerned with how she will speak to the strange man who she was delivered to as if she were an object and not a living being. “What was this mysterious thing that my mother wanted so badly?” she asks as she considers what could possibly be so valuable to her mother…more valuable than her own child.

“I know you saw the rune etched box that was handed to your mother. It contains the bones of a god. Ciarcos to be exact. The bones still radiate with his power and I presume they would be of great benefit to a witch wishing to attain more power,” the words seem so nonchalant as they leave my mouth which seems to have caught her off guard.

“But…but how did your mate come to possess such a thing?!” she exclaims.

“That is a mystery even to me. She had never spoken of such an item let alone that the item was in her possession. Your mother will be sorely mistaken if she thinks they can gain power from the bones.” I smile at the last part of my statement.

“What do you mean?” Eve’s words mirror the confusion painted across her face.

“They will not give her what she seeks. I made sure of that. Consider it her reward for the atrocities she committed to obtain them.” I can feel the venom seeping from my words, albeit unintentionally.

“You don’t know my mother then. If she was willing to trade me for them then she will stop at nothing to get what she wants from them. Not even an entire coven of witches could stop her, but then again….you already stated that you are not a witch, right?” she asks in what I am sure is a challenging tone. I hear her unspoken question echoing through her head. Without any kind of magic how can he possibly stop her from draining the magic from them?

Without thinking I spit out my response, feeling suddenly annoyed by her doubting me. “Because I am the son of Diatruse, grandson to Ciarcos!” my words have left her visibly shaken as I rise from my seat and exit the room.

As I reach the stairs I hear her words like a gentle whisper floating on the breeze.

“But that would make him…a god!”