Furious

Chapter Twenty-Three

As we exited the bedroom I fixed the deplorable mess of hair on top of my head, pulling all of the loose bits together. It would definitely need washing. There was nothing to be done about it but I was prepared to be less than presentable, even in clean clothes.

What I was not prepared for was to see three women on my couch. In the time it took me to change three times, the Fates had arrived. The women in front of me spanned a wide array of ages, from young and vital to decaying and old. On the left of the sofa sat the youngest, with white skin and soft hair the trailed so long she was probably sitting on it. If she was a day over twenty-five, I would be surprised. Her grandmotherly companion on the opposite side of the sofa looked so old and frail I would not have touched her for fear of her whole body disintegrating into a pile of ash on my couch. At least she was nearer what I had imagined the Fates to be than the young one.

"You know, I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting, but you three are less green-and-wrinkles than I was picturing." I didn't move to sit across from them. Jasper and Gregory were off in the back of the room. Alex stayed behind me; I could practically feel her rolling her eyes. So much for not speaking until spoken to.

"Lindsay said the same thing. Sit, girl, and be less disrespectful." The woman in the middle spoke. Her face looked about forty but her voice was deep and rocky. Definitely not what I had been expecting.

The two silent companions looked bored on either side of the middle-aged Fate. Sitting between her two—what, friends, sisters, coworkers?—she seemed to run the show. She also seemed to be the only one with any interest in her audience.

"I am Lachesis, spinner of the thread. Before you were born I spun your father and mother's threads together and before them their parents' lines and so on. As Fates we have manipulated your entire life and those of your ancestors to bring you to one defining moment. The moment you march to war. You will fight for Hades. You will win."

"This has been your destiny since before your parents' parents were born." The youngest Fate spoke in a high, lilting voice that didn't try too hard not to pout. "I am Clotho, spinner of the thread of life. I spun your thread into existence. A century ago we spun the threads of your ancestors to bring about your creation, to allow for this very moment. Do not let the work of our hands be for naught."

Honestly she sounded like a child who had proudly dressed herself only to be told that she had to change her whole outfit because it didn't match. And she was probably thousands of years old. Her indignant attitude was unnecessary and unimpressive.

The third sister spoke next without introducing herself. One two three, like they had practiced this conversation. "The severing of your life thread is an easy process," she threatened. "Because of your destiny to lead the army of Hades, we have graciously given you freedoms to learn on your own, to gain the necessary skills in your own time. "

Two voices joined her tired tone. "But your freedom has run out. You will not forfeit the battle. Your life is in our hands."

There's nothing creepier as three seemingly innocent women speaking in tandem. But no matter the chill in my spine, despite my arm hairs standing at attention, I was not frightened enough to overlook their threat.

Besides, I made a deal—Hector would take me home if I helped him. I would live up to my end of the bargain before I gave up. I wouldn't let him turn me into a quitter.

The oldest one, weak with wrinkles, weighed down by sagging, pasty skin, had threatened to cut my life thread. They claimed to have given me freedom to learn and to gain skills. They all expected me to immediately be ready for war.