Page 28 of In Death's Hands
“I don’t like it,” he says.
“Don’t like what?” I ask, sick of third-wheeling this conversation.
Turan finally answers me. “Our society, like yours, has rules. And Nathan dearest has already broken a few with you.” She glares at the man in question. “To salvage the situation, we need to visit our leader before we create an even bigger mess.”
“With the Novensiles?”
She nods. “Yes, but not only them. Many have tried to capture some of their members, but they are skilled at evading us, almost like they know where we’ll be in advance. Our leader has been trying to broker peace with them for decades now,in vain. We cannot hurt whatever progress she has made by capturing one without her permission.”
I don’t miss Nathan’s eye-roll but am too much out of the loop to give it any meaning. He holds out his hand to me. “Fine, let’s go.”
“Nathan!” says Turan. “You cannot just stroll in with a human at your side.”
“Why not?” I ask. “What’s wrong with me?”
Turan raises her eyebrows at me, and I choose to ignore her, focusing instead on Nathan dragging a hand over his face. He’s so tense his arm bulges in a deliciously distracting way.
“Don’t tell me…” he starts.
“You know it has to be done,” concludes Turan.
I think I could start painting my toenails and they wouldn’t even notice. I feel utterly superfluous here.
“They won’t help.”
“They will.”
“I don’t want them to,” growls Nathan.
“Tough luck.”
“And how would you suggest I approach them?”
“At their—”
“Don’t.”
“Fine! Then in a neutral place.”
I’m wondering how easy it would be to find my nail polish amidst all the boxes Turan packed. Deciding it would be almost as much hassle as participating in this conversation, I give up on the idea and ask, “How ’bout you fill me in? Where do we need to go?”
Nathan’s dark eyes bore into mine. “Where we woke up.”
It’s like pulling teeth.
I roll my eyes and head back to the kitchen, where I notice some muffins neatly arranged on a plate. I pick one up and the bite of lemon and blueberry explodes in my mouth. If only I had more coffee, I think as I remember the empty cup I left on the bathroom counter. When I turn around to face the tight-lipped man, my eyes zero in on the coffee cup he holds up for me. The one meant for him.
“It’s not mocha, but it’s yours if you want it.” The offer as well as the tentative smile on his face make breathing a more difficult task than it should be.
I hesitate for half a second before taking it and enjoying the bitter taste as it washes down the sweetness of the muffin. Then I look at him questioningly, hoping he’ll finally deign to explain everything.
He winces slightly and rakes his hand through his hair, pushing longer strands out of his eyes. “We were not always… as we are now.”
I interrupt him quickly. “Who’s we?”
“We,” Turan answers as she gets up from the couch and joins us, smoothing her hands down her bright yellow dress and looking resigned, “are servants of the Order.” I open my mouth to speak, but she puts her hand up to stop me. “Our purpose is to keep it from collapsing into chaos.” A strange tightness invades my system as my heartbeat accelerates. “We are beings powerful enough to steer the world, and the humans in it, towards the courses created and envisioned by the Fates themselves.”
“What—” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “I don’t understand. What are you?”
