Chapter 31
Vivian’s Point of View
Rule thirty-one: Stop pissing off boss-level creatures.
Terror floods my veins as I’m jolted awake by the sound of a cell door opening.
Oh fuck, Leon is back.
But no, the guards are standing in front of the cell beside mine. I can just see the back of one guard’s armor, while another mutters about traitorous bitches. Chains rattle, followed by the thump of a body being shoved to the floor. Then the door slams shut again.
Have they caught Nymara?
Guilt floods me. I never even considered what she must be suffering. There’s no doubt Need discovered it was Nymara who brought me the beaded dress.
The guard closest to my cell takes a step back. His helm is up, and I catch the obvious fear in his eyes.
Why would one of the brutal, seasoned guards be afraid?
“You’re sure the cuffs can hold her?” He asks.
His fear is masked by the time the other guard turns to him, laughing, “Those cuffs are made by Lilanthara. No one has ever broken out of them. I heard they’re using these to keep the Destroyer whore under control.”
The nervous guard’s shoulders visibly relax, and they start back up the path toward the exit. One of them occasionally smacks a baton against the metal bar, and Cerberus never makes a peep.
I’m assuming he’s been trained to avoid that sound, but maybe he’ll come if I call him. He could eat the guards.
The thought is tempting until I remember I’d still be stuck in here afterward. I’ll save asking Cerberus for help until Leon returns.
A few minutes later, the heavy door at the top of the prison slams shut. But instead of more suffocating silence, an angry childlike voice rings out from the cell beside mine. “Would you care to tell me why you’re still rotting down here?”
I’m momentarily stunned by the vehemence in her tone.
Low growls rise from the shadows below, as Cerberus reacts to the noise.
“Pipe down, Cerberus,” the girl in the next cell snaps.
The growling immediately cuts off.
Shock – I am in shock.
Who the hell would also be able to command the death-puppy?
I peek over at my other chatty neighbor, wondering if he’s seeing this. I only have a second to take in his horrified expression before he sinks back into his cell, looking like he might throw up.
“Uhm… sorry, who exactly are you?” I ask, not bothering to give excuses for the obvious fact that I am shackled to the floor. If she knows who I am, then she definitely saw me on her way in.
My neighbor across the way starts shaking his head at me in a panic.
I shrug back, so he knows I have no idea what he’s worried about.
There’s an annoyed sigh, and it’s almost dainty. “I’m the being who’s been trying to keep your moronic ass out of a grave for far too long.”
I scour my brain for someone who fits that description.
When I don’t immediately answer, my new neighbor loses her patience. “Seriously? I’m Clotho, the Fate responsible for your very existence, which by the way, you are doing a horrible job of preserving.”
Fate.
There is a literal Fate in the cell beside mine – and she is mad at me.
Honestly, this is a little bit validating. I’ve been alternating between blaming Lady Luck and the universe for the shitty way things have been going, but having a Fate with a grudge against me checks out.
“Sorry… uhm, thanks, I think?” I answer, hoping not to piss her off more than I already have.
I’ve upset enough supernatural boss-level beings. I’d really like to try a new approach where fewer things want to hurt me.
Goals are important.
There’s a small growl from the cell beside mine.
I’m pretty sure that means I’m failing at this new goal. I don’t love that for me.
“Why are you down here?” I ask, trying to change the subject as I lean against the bars.
There’s a bitter scoff. “Need brought me in for questioning. She wanted to know how you managed to break the leash. I refused to answer, and since I spun your string of life, I am being held responsible.”
Chills creep down my arms, followed by a fresh wave of guilt.
Yet another person is suffering because of me.
“I suppose it was only a matter of time, though, since I already had to out myself earlier tonight,” she continues, sounding no less offended.
Oh god, what else did I do to her?
“What do you mean?”
If I’m going to wallow in guilt, it’s probably better that I have the specifics.
She huffs. “Your mate came to visit the Fates before the party tonight and almost ruined everything. The brute tried to trade his soul for your freedom.”
My breath catches in my throat.
Sin is not allowed to die.
“My sisters were incredibly eager to taste a Destroyer’s soul, and I had to interfere. Oh, and by the way, when you break out of here, keep him away from my sisters. They have decided to claim his soul.” The last sentence comes out more as an afterthought.
The relief that hits me is absolute. Sin still has his soul. He’s going to be okay. Hugging my knees to my chest, I try not to start crying again.
I miss him so much. And now, I might never see him again. We had so little time together, but even if those few weeks are all I ever get, I will never regret them. No one has ever cared for me as much as he does. Not that I deserve–
“Would you stop spiraling and get to work?” Clotho snaps, her cutting tone pulling me from my depressing thoughts.
“Work on what exactly?” My tone is short, forgetting I’m not supposed to piss off boss-level creatures.
“The fate I spun for you. Get to it,” she orders impatiently.
My teeth grind together. “I don’t know what kind of set-up you have on the other side of this stone wall, but I’m in magically binding cuffs and a collar. Oh, and Cerberus refuses to eat my hands.”
I add the last bit, feeling way more smug than I should. Everyone keeps talking to me like I’m an idiot. Objectively, they’re not wrong, but still, I’d like to think that sometimes I have great ‘out of the box’ ideas.
There’s low muttering from the cell beside mine. Clotho is counting under her breath.
It’s definitely not for patience. I’m sure she’s impressed with my Cerberus idea.
“The Council has had control over my sisters and me for millennia. The souls they feed us are akin to heroin from your realm. I can’t make my sisters stop. They need to leave this place, and the only person who can make that happen is you.” Her voice grows exceedingly impatient with each statement.
“I’m still not getting…” I start.
“You are a Reaper,” she hisses, so quietly that the sound barely reaches me. “You have the power to snap the bonds that hold the dead to the planes of the living. Do you really think something as flimsy as chains or collars can hold you?”