Furious

Chapter Twenty-Two

Alex took me by the arm and pulled me to my bedroom. No time to be afraid, no time for questions; as always with Alex there was work to be done. Apparently the sweats and dirty shirt I'd been wearing for too long were not proper attire for meetings with fate and there was an untouched closet with my name on it.

How she knew about the closet, I would never know. When Jasper had time to call the Fates, I didn't know. But I did know one thing: I smelled. How long had it been since I even thought about taking a shower?

How many days had it been since I changed my clothes?

With the bedroom door shut and a light on, I finally noticed how thoughtfully furnished the room was. A four-poster bed sat on one side of the room. Across from it was a shelf that spanned the wall; it came up to my waist and was the resting place of an odd variety of books. I'd never bothered looking at them but now I saw Dracula, Frankenstein, Anne Rice's The Vampire Chronicles, and a worn copy of Jane Eyre among the selection. I couldn't tell if Hector put them there on purpose or if it was a coincidence that monsters surrounded me even when I slept.

I had a suspicion that Jasper had placed the vampire books in my room.

Alex opened the door to the closet to the right of the bed. She began ripping out articles of clothing and tossing them on either the duvet or the floor after careful consideration. Fabric floated through the air and for a moment I could be normal again, I could get lost in material possessions and pretend to be a girl instead of a Fury.

In any case, compared to Alex's room and her armoire full of weapons and not clothes, I was happy to let her enjoy the wardrobe in the closet.

The blankets next to the growing pile of clothes were soft to the touch and I sank into their promise of comfort. How nice it would have been to fall asleep and forget about the Fates, forget about an impending war, forget about Furies. But if I wasn't thinking about the Fates, Hector was on my mind. He thought of everything: there was a nook for reading along with plenty of books to curl up with. He made sure I had a plush bed that I didn't sleep in—I spent more nights passed out on the couch than in this room. There was even a closet full of more clothes than I could ever wear.

Had I been any other girl I might have appreciated the gesture.

"What are you waiting for, try that one on top," Alex demanded from the closet. "I'm sure it all fits."

I'm sure you're right, I thought. Still lying on the bed I reached for the nearest item in the pile of potential articles Alex had sent out of the closet. Whatever I picked up was thin and gauzy. It was white and gold and reminded me of cheap Greek Goddess Halloween costumes.

"No. No gauze. And I'm not wearing a toga."

"My, aren't you picky. We haven't worn togas in centuries. Just put that on." She nodded to the garment in my hand. How old was she? Did she just smile? My eyes must have been playing tricks on me.

Or perhaps she enjoyed the frivolous things in life; after all, her closet was full of weapons, not exotic clothes.

"Why do I have to get dressed up if you get to be dirty and comfortable?" I grumbled but obeyed her command. She might have felt the need to demonstrate the proper use of a hanger when in need of an impromptu weapon and I didn't want any more bruises.

My shirt and sweats hit the floor with a sigh—I had definitely been wearing them too long. The parts of me that had been covered by my well-loved clothes needed washing. More accurately my skin needed scrubbing with a wire-bristle brush but there wasn't time. Just there like there was no time to do anything with my limp mop of hair, but the Fates would have to get over it.

Why didn't anybody tell me I looked so homeless? It was worse than I thought.

The dress Alex had pulled out was simple: white and flowing, floor-length and fitted. A collar came up to my throat and the cut of the dress left my arms bare. There was a simple elegance to it that left me awed. I even sort of liked it.

"No, that won't work. Try this."

"Are you kidding me? This looks great! I'm dirty and gross and it still looks awesome." I did look like a modern goddess. Grunge meets sophistication; the dress accentuated my arms. In shock I twisted to look at the back of the dress; the shoulders and arms reflected in the mirror couldn't possibly belong to me.

Alex interrupted my self-admiration. "You look like you should be attending a summit with the rest of the gods. If Aphrodite saw you in that, she would respect you. The Fates will think you fickle."

I huffed. "Then why did you pull it out?"

She finally closed the closet doors, satisfied that something in the pile of cloth she had strewn on the bed would suffice. Alex, queen of weapons and master of the disappointed snarl, looked to be uncharacteristically enjoying herself surrounded by all of the fabric piled high on the bed. If there had been swords in the closet she would probably wet herself with glee. "Just try the pants."

I undressed twice more. The second ensemble consisted of a tight but flexible pair of pants and a long silk blouse. It was something I might have worn to work in an office in the city: business on the sexy side. Alex nixed it as soon as I'd pulled the top on.

While I stripped and discarded piece after piece, Alex warned me not to sit in the presence of the Fates unless invited to do so. I was not to speak or blink or breathe until the Fates did so first. There were too many rules to remember and the Fates, who I imagined were little grandmotherly creatures, old and warm and kind, probably wouldn't care. But I did not voice my doubt; my temporary drill-sergeant-turned-personal-shopper was all too happily preoccupied with my wardrobe. Who am I to steal away such joy?

Alex claimed that "simple" was the goal. What finally won her over was cotton and loose, a long skirt and button-down shirt tied at my waist. I walked out of the bedroom wearing clothes I might have picked out for myself. The outfit was comfortable but not so much as the sweats had. It was a far cry from the original gossamer dress she'd given me first.

"Why is this more acceptable than what I had on?" I asked my reflection.

Alex scrunched her face at me in the mirror. "Because you've been wearing the same thing for days. Take advantage of the niceties provided you, stupid. If we had time, I'd make you take a bath."

Gregory wears the same thing every time I see him. I bet you don't force him to bathe. Speaking of... "Are you and Greg dating?"

"Do you always ask this many asinine questions?" she countered

"Do you always answer questions with more questions?"

Alex came around the bed and appraised my appearance. She shook her head at my hair but deemed me otherwise acceptable. Yippee.