Page 109 of Surrendering Hope (The Hope Legacy)

I grit my teeth as Lysa cocks her head and tugs on my mind. A fresh cloud of smoke swirls around me, clogging my nose and throat. Reciting “Poison” by Alice Cooper, I block her from my mind. She chuckles and switches her attention to Ant.

“I will give you what you seek, for a vial of her blood.”

“No,” Ant grits out as I shout.

“Done.” I’m aware of the consequences of giving someone a vial of blood. The spells that can be performed with it are terrifying, but what is more terrifying is not getting Archan back. Even though I know she speaks the truth, my heart constricts.

Lysa stands and claps her hands, clearly delighted with the exchange. She taps a long, gold painted fingernail on the arm of the throne and a glass vial filled with an ominous inky liquid, wrapped with a silver snake no larger than my pinky finger rises. She clasps it in her fingers and pulls another vial, this one empty. “Hold out both your palms, Pandora.”

I roll my eyes as she insists on using a name I have no attachment to, but hold out both palms. “Shit,” Ant mutters as he runs a hand through his midnight hair.

Lysa’s eyes gleam as she drops a vial in each hand. I hiss as a sharp pain tears into the soft flesh of my palm. Within seconds, the empty vial fills with my blood. Lysa grabs it. I expect my palm to be torn and bloody, but there’s not even a scratch. Ant takes the vial of poison from my other palm and tucks it into his pocket.

“Never a pleasure,” he mutters towards Lysa as she reseats herself.

She pouts. “Oh dear, always the pessimist. As I’m feeling generous, I’ll sweeten the deal with a date with the fates.”

“The fates?” I ask, my mind fuzzy from the raspberry drink and smoke that insists on being inhaled.

“Yes, they will show you your future. But be warned, Pandora, the fates are never wrong.”

Ant grabs my hand and drags me towards the steps that will lead us away from the craziness of Lysa. The thickest smoke yet hits us on the way out. “Bitch,” grumbles Ant swaying whilst I struggle to stand.

Instead of the main area with the pool, we are in a dome shaped chamber where three beautiful, identical women with ice blonde hair that trails beyond their waist sit around a cloudy, glass sphere. Their long, floaty pale blue dresses drag on the floor as they stand and beckon me forward with smiles and wide eyes. “Come, Pandora, see what destiny awaits you.”

Ant swivels me around to face him. “You don’t have to do this, Natia. Knowing your destiny can make you live in fear of it. Sometimes it’s better to not know.”

“And knowing can prepare you better for what you must do,” one of the women says. I turn, swallowing hard and like a lamb to the slaughter, fall forward and slap my hands on the glass sphere. I lose focus as the women grab the sphere and lead me into a vision of what is coming.

Silent tears stream down my cheeks and drip onto the floor; the pain is real, the weight of the power is too much, the loss surrounding me is devastating, but my mission becomes focused as they show me how futile my efforts of saving everybody would be and the inevitability of the end and my ultimate destiny to save mankind. I stumble back as the vision fades and collapse into Ant’s arms, sobbing. He turns me in his arms and holds me tight.

“I tried to warn you, Natia,” he whispers into my hair as he drags me towards the entrance and inside the smoky room. My deep breaths drag the chemical air into my lungs and the tightness in my chest releases, the seductive quality behind the drugged air whispers to my mind to let go. I shake my head, trying to dispel the drunk feelings, but it only makes the room spin. Ant drags me, I trip several times, but he doesn’t slow down until we are passing Barry the doorman.

“Good night, Sire,” Barry mumbles as I stare around in wonder of the colors and the beautiful chaos surrounding me.

“Close your eyes and hold tight,” Ant whispers. Gravity lifts and my world tilts. The mouthwatering smell of Chinese food wafts around me. My stomach grumbles in agreement of the idea. I open my eyes to find myself in a busy industrial kitchen. Several Chinese people scuttle around with plates of delicious food, avoiding eye contact with myself or Ant. I track the food like a hungry predator.

Ant chuckles. “Come on, let’s get some food in you, it will help soak up the chemicals.” He leads me through the kitchen and into a busy restaurant area with small booths lining the dark wood-paneled walls. We tuck ourselves in the last empty booth next to the window. People dart in and out of unfamiliar tiny buildings down a sun drenched street. The signage makes little sense, written in an unfamiliar language.

“Where are we?” I ask as a scowling squat woman slides a bowl of noodles in front of me.

“China.”

“I didn’t know New Orleans had a Chinatown.”

He shakes his head. “We are in the real China.”

My mouth gapes open around the forkful of noodles. “You’re kidding.”

He shrugs. “Better food.”

I shove the noodles in my mouth and groan. “Agreed.”

We eat the rest of the food in peace and the woozy feeling recedes, although the happy buzz in my veins suggests I’m still drunk. Ugh, the guys are going to be so annoyed with me.

Ant leans across the table and grabs my hand. “Natia, I’m not sure what the fates showed you. But I need you to promise me something.”

I wince at the memory. “Okay.”

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