Page 50 of Of Flame and Fate

Gemini answers when Johnny clams up. “It means if we passed him on the street, we’d mistake him for a warlock since he only smells of witch magic.”

“So what’s the big deal if he is a Fate?” I ask. “It’s all shits and giggles having Destiny.”

Based on the bitterness claiming Johnny’s boyish features, and the way he averts his gaze, I asked the million-dollar question.

Gemini’s rigid stance alerts me that it’s not good news. “Destinies are rare,” he says.

“Right, a gifted female born of two witches, once every century,” I say, articulating what every supernatural knows as I wonder where he’s headed.

“Fates are even rarer,” he replies. “There’s only been five documented in history.”

“Now you have lucky number six,” Johnny says, his voice absent of humor.

Gemini tightens his posture, pretty much the same way he does right before he takes a swing. “What’s the problem with having Fate and Destiny?” I ask, seeing there obviously is. “Aren’t they the same thing?”

“They are, and they’re not,” Gemini replies, his expression darkening further. “They’re not supposed to coexist. Theycan’tactually, not in the same lifetime.”

“Because they’re anomalies?” I ask. That’s my guess. But there’s more,obviously.

“In part,” he answers. “But it’s what happens when they’re together that’s the real issue.” He releases a harsh breath. “According to mystical beliefs, their powers brutally clash, interfering with the natural balance of the earth and triggering the start of unspoken evils.

I stumble to a halt. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Gemini and Johnny stop in place, frowning. “I’m sorry,” I say, holding out a hand. “But I’m sick to death of all this mystical shit. It’s always something with you people.”

“You people?” Gemini asks, cocking a brow.

I point. “That’s right,you people. It’s always doom, gloom, and destruction,always. Whether it’s some prophecy saying we’ll sprout six tails if we wear green on Wednesday during a full moon while watching Seinfeld or finding some messed up artifact that opens a portal to hell—and don’t get me started on that damn singing knife you shouldn’t insult or risk having it stab you in the ass while you sleep.”

Gemini tries to shush me, I’m guessing about the knife. I don’t, enough is enough. “And now you’re telling me the lead singer of some boy band with freak of nature skin is bringing on the apocalypse?”

“I never said anything about the apocalypse,” Gemini says. He thinks about it, maintaining that same stoic tone. “At least not at the moment.”

“And I’m not in a boy band,” Johnny adds, getting pissy.

I ram my hands on my hips. “Oh, now you have something to say?”

He scowls at me, but then something he sees in me softens his brow.

“What are you?” he asks again. “You’re not a witch or a beast.” He huffs. “And I don’t think you sprout fangs either.”

“No.” I smile. “But I have been known to bite.”

Gemini works his jaw, trying not to grin. I’ve taken my fair nibbles of him. And with his primal side on edge, he remembers when and where.

I keep my voice easy, although by now all I want to do is go home and fall asleep in my lover’s arms, comforted by his presence and knowing that I survived yet another hellish night.

What sucks is, that’s not an option, and crawling into bed is a goal too far away to see.

We reach the small section of woods, the mounting darkness stimulating my arm to flick on like a night light and set the skin aglow.

Johnny’s gaze takes it in, appearing as fascinated as a Star Wars nerd with a new light saber. “Cool,” he says.

Damn. If I dropped him in the middle of any college campus, he’d fit right in. This is a kid who should be headed for class somewhere, or talking to his buddies about the next big keg party. This isn’t someone who should hold the grand title of Fate. It’s too much of a burden and more than someone this young should bear.

I look at Johnny, and the way my arm casts light against his youthful features. “What’s going to happen to him?” I ask Gemini.

“That’s up to the witches,” he replies, his voice low.

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