I do. This card shows a crown, broken and bleeding, onto a lamb laying in a meadow below it. How strange. It looks split in half, blood spilling out like raindrops.
In the crystal ball, my father’s throne appears. Souls claw their way up until they become a black tornado of shadow and feather. The ball flashes, then the images disappear.
“The Betrayer,” she hisses. “Not all betrayal is as it seems. Slay the king if freedom is what you seek. But be warned—only the strong will survive this fate. Two parts to the story. Draw again.”
More fucking riddles. These aren’t answers. I sigh in frustration, drawing a third card and placing it next to the first two. This one features a veiled woman dressed in black, standing on cobblestone steps. In the right corner, a dagger pierces a bleeding heart. The crystal ball flashes white, and three black silhouettes appear.
“The Sacrifice,” Zora gasps. “The throne demands a price. The bride—a willing sacrifice.”
My magic erupts inside me, a blur of angry fury, but I suppress it.
“Last card, Azrael. What is the final answer you seek?” she whispers with more uneasiness than before.
It feels like something—or someone—is watching us, but I shake it off. “I want to know my destiny.”
The card I pull is blank as I flip it over, except for my thumbprint where I gripped it.
Zora gasps. “This isn’t supposed to happen. Someone is blocking us from seeing the answer. They don’t want you to know. This destiny can’t be revealed because it isn’t fully written.”
The candle extinguishes. The ball goes blank. The air stills—unnaturally.
Whoosh!
Crimson mist blasts through every crack in the boxcar, gathering to form three distinct figures. My shadows rise in response, poised to fight. Malevolent laughter erupts, echoing around us.
“Do you really think you stand a chance against us, Azrael? One snip is all it would take to end you.” The Fates screech in unison,voices hissing and swirling as their shapes refuse to take a solid form.
Heeding their warning, I stifle my powers. At my feet, the shadows sulk, waiting to be called forth once more. What was once a roar of power is now a mere trickle. One by one, the Fates solidify—appearing exactly as they did in Hell. Dressed head to toe in flowing ebony gowns, their faces hidden by a black veil. Every hair on my body is raised in anticipation as I wait for them to reveal their reason for the visit.
“You shouldn’t be asking questions, Azrael. Your destiny isn’t yours to know. It must result from free will,” the Fate in the center warns, pointing a long, bony finger at my chest.
“Only suffering can come from the answers. Stop before you learn too much,” exclaims the one closest to me.
At my sides, my fists clench. Did they come all this way to demand I stop searching for answers? My powers surge in response, tingling beneath my skin, waiting to be unleashed.
Their laughter rings in my ears. “Calm down, Azrael. We aren’t here to threaten you. We came to alert you. Someone important is looking for you. Find them before he does, or your fate will be sealed in heartache, just like all those who failed to break the curse.”
The center Fate adds, “We want to help you, but even we are bound by rules. You must find the answer.”
“The King of the Divine is furious,” another adds. “He will stop at nothing to keep you from reaching your destiny.”
“A final reminder, Azrael, and then we must go. One soul of our choosing. Remember our bargain. Soon we will come to collect, and you will once again be forced to choose.” They burst into crimson mist once more and vanish.
The crystal ball hums to life, glowing faintly in the now dim space. I creep closer for a better look, remembering Zora’s warning not to look for too long. Cautiously, I peer at the crystal until I’m able to make out the blazing fire. Inside, a silhouette wrapped in chains.
Of course, it’s another clue. A hint I have to unravel for answers.
A few seconds pass before a knock on the door makes both Zora and me jump. We exchange worried glances, then I’m gone—nothing more than shadow slithering my way through the darkness to see who dares to disturb us at this hour.
A second knock pounds louder than the first, more urgent this time. I move faster, taking a solid form, and reaching for the knob. With a twist of my wrist, I jerk the door open.
Chapter 17
Mercy
The hairy man from the other night stands next to me. I don’t know where we’re going, but I follow behind him like he instructed. Every few paces, he turns to look back, slowing to wait for me. His messy hair, wild and wind-tossed, hangs over his amber-stained eyes that seem to glow. He groans, shifting his weight from one leg to the other while he waits for me to catch up to him. Over his shoulder, the ghastly creature he rescued me from hangs like an oversized pack, kicking and cursing.
When the man turns once more to continue down the path, I resume my assessment of him. He’s tall—at least seven feet— with broad, thick, muscular shoulders. A tattoo runs the length of his spine, though it’s too dark to make out what it is. The beast flails and snarls, making a quiet but vicious fuss as we trek along the trail leading away from the circus grounds.
