Fury Freed

With a critical eye, I considered the house.

“What do you think?” Oanen called from his position on the roof. A pair of shorts hung low around his hips. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, he looked tempting as hell.

“I think you need to get down from there and give me a foot rub.”

He grinned, tossed the paintbrush he held into the can beside him, and jumped from the roof. Landing with his usual grace, he strode toward me so he could set his hands on my rounded belly.

“The baby being a troublemaker again?”

“No. I just wanted you to hold me.”

Oanen kissed me then slipped his arms around me so we stood looking at our newly painted house. I would miss the obnoxious rainbow colors that had decorated it, but it was time to move on and grow up. The soft buttercream color definitely made the house look less crazy and more welcoming.

“Things will be different for this next generation,” he said, tightening his hold just a smidge.

“I know.” We’d talked at length before taking this next step. “If this baby is a girl, she’ll be raised knowing exactly what she is.”

The newly rewritten Book of Fury would be her bedtime story. And when her anger started, she would live with her Auntie Eliana instead of being left alone. Not a day would go by where she would question my love for her. Well, not more than a week.

“And, if it’s a boy,” I said, “I’ll build a coop.”

Oanen chuckled behind me and pressed a kiss to my temple. Despite his outward affection, I could feel the worry that he was trying so hard to hide from me.

“I don’t regret this decision,” I said, twisting in his arms to look up at him. He had barely aged a day. Neither of us had.

It’d taken me a while to understand my Grandma Irene’s words about needing the next generation. Watching all of our friends age, while time stood still for us, had been eye opening. As much as I worried about the gender, I didn’t fear having a baby. Not anymore.

“If this one’s not a girl, we’ll try again,” Oanen said.

“And again? And again? And again?” I asked playfully.

“I’m willing to sacrifice my evenings until we get it right.” The husky note in his voice made me shiver.

“Except tonight,” I said. “Our friends will be here in a few hours. You have paint to clean up, and I have a dinner to make.”

“Get to it, woman,” he said with a playful swat to my butt. “First one done gets a foot rub.”

I bolted for the house. It was probably more of a waddled hustle, but I worked with what I had.

However, instead of going to the kitchen, I went to the study and pulled the new and improved Book of Fury from the shelf. It was much thicker than its predecessor and was filled with not only my handwriting, but Grandma Irene’s, Grandma Grace’s, and my mom’s as well.

I thought of Grandma Irene, who had recently passed away. I missed her terribly, but thanks to her, I had a relationship with the other two furies. A long distance one, but I’d take it. And also, thanks to Grandma Irene, I had hope for my own future and that of my future daughter’s.

I opened the book and read a passage I’d written for the next generation.

While it’s true there can only be three Furies, it’s not necessary to kill the elder generation. It is only necessary to strip her of her power by ripping off her wings. It won’t be easy to stop there. You’ll want to condemn her to hell for her crimes against the wicked. But remember not to hold her at fault. It is the gods who made us the way we are. And while we can control some of our impulses, others cannot be refused.

Embrace who you are and take your power when you’re ready. Remember that you will not age until you do. You will watch the lives of your friends move with time but you will remain standing still until you bring forth the next generation of fury.

I closed the book and placed it on the shelf. The gods made us, gave us our gifts, and left us to make our own choices. And, I’d made mine. I had no regrets.

“Megan?” Oanen called, the back-door slamming. “I think I won.”

“Does that mean I don’t get a foot rub?” I asked, coming out of the office.

He gave me a wry grin.

“It means I help with dinner, and you get a foot rub afterward.”

I smiled at him.

Nope. I didn’t have a regret in the world.