Chapter 15

 

The door to the memory slammed shut, and she was flung back into her waking state. Darria gripped the desk and her tattoos were glowing. Her whole body buzzed with energy. She got up and paced the room. As she did, her gaze fixed on the spider in the corner of the room.

“You’ve been watching me all this time,” Darria said to the arachnid. “Want to weigh in on any of this?” She shook her head in disgust and slipped out of her office with questions churning in her mind.

Someone screamed in the kitchen.

Sonia stood by the sink with her sprites whizzing around her. Oliver was dressed in his robes, the eye sockets of his skull black and empty from death. Sonia dropped her glass. His gaze turned to Darria. He came toward her and collapsed to the kitchen floor.

“Oliver.” Darria rushed over to him and touched his chest. Her hand came away with crimson staining her palm. The skeleton head didn’t fade away when she caressed his cheek. Even in his wounded state, he remained defensive of her. “What happened to you?”

“Attacked in the graveyard. They had a scythe, Darria.”

“Who is that?” Sonia chattered with fright.

“He’s ... my harvester. Hush,” she shushed the other woman, focusing back on him.

The blood drained from her face. Few things could kill a harvester. One of them was a harvester’s very own scythe or some other weapon of death. “Why would they do this to you? Can you switch to your other guise, so I can look at your wound?”

“Oh, dear gods. What’s this?” Marie rushed in.

“He’s been hurt. I-I think it’s fatal. Can you help him?” she asked Marie.

“I don’t have the power, but you do. You have power over death, and you are more powerful of a necromancer than I ever was.”

Darria shook her head. “He’s a reaper. I can’t actually heal death, and he’s an angel.”

“We can give life to what is dead and bind souls to flesh. He is death. You can heal him as you can heal Omar’s wounds. You have to see it. Want it. Taste it,” Marie responded.

What she said made sense, but she didn’t know if she could do it. Never before had she had the ability to even think about healing a harvester. She couldn’t lose him. He had already pushed her out of his graveyard, but she wasn’t going to let him push her out of his heart. Oliver meant too much to her.

“No. Let me go. It’s too dangerous for you,” Oliver said to her.

“Shut up.” Her rage and the sorrow she felt at the thought of losing him bubbled up within her. She placed her hands over the wound. Life was leaving him, and he was growing colder. The link they had remained, but she tried to ignore its fading. Darria tried to do what Marie said, but something blocked her. She tried to see the flesh mending together under her fingers, but it wasn’t working. Tears stung her eyes.

“You have to drop the harvester and be you. I can’t do this without you doing that. I’m not going to take you over again. I won’t do that, but you have to trust me.”

“Darria. You need to know the one that attacked me. I—”

“Hush. We can talk later.”

“What’s going on?” Sonia asked Marie.

“Let her concentrate,” Marie responded.

Darria touched the skull and trailed her fingers down his cheek. “Please, Oliver. We have to finish our conversation. If you die on me, then we can’t do that.”

He nodded, and the harvester guise fell away. Oliver screamed when she touched him. Darria tore open his shirt and saw the black lines threading along his veins, poisoning him, killing him from the inside out. His complexion was paler, and his skin was clammy. She opened her mind and felt the link forged between them. Pain engulfed her.

“No, sweetie. You can’t go there. You can’t pull in his pain,” Marie whispered in her ear. “You have to focus outward and see the flesh knitting together. You’ve done this before on instinct when you pulled the hunter from the other place. Trust that part of yourself. It’s already there. Let go, and know that it’s going to happen the way you want it and not the other way around.”

“Okay,” Darria answered. Her mind cleared. She tried to think about the other half that lingered in the shadows. Her hands tingled with cold. It filled her core as the energy whooshed down her arms. Within her mind, she saw the poison moving toward her hands and out of his system. Then she willed the flesh to heal. Oliver was a powerful being, and the healing sucked more of her power than she had thought possible because he was partially alive.

She kept pushing and focusing on the wound until she could feel the poison within her. The cold consumed her. Darria grabbed on to the death energy inside the harvester and also felt the angelic part of him. She willed him to be whole and heard him shriek once more. She did not focus on the pain, but she kept on pushing until it seemed that she could stretch herself to the ends of the universe within Oliver’s mind. The agony retreated, and she had to pull back. She opened her eyes, and Oliver gazed at her with awe she hadn’t seen before.

“You healed me. Only Azrael can heal us if he wishes. How did you do that?”

Darria shrugged and wiped the tears from her face, noticing the blood on her fingertips. Oliver took her face in his hands. He trailed his thumbs over her lips. Darria’s heart nearly burst at the gesture, but she held her breath at the hope that he might want to mend the rift torn between them. “I was foolish to doubt you before in the graveyard. I never should’ve taken the coin from you. Will you forgive me?”

“I get it. You didn’t know what was going to happen to me. I didn’t know what would happen to me either, but I haven’t turned into a monster.”

He touched her hair and kissed her lightly. Darria held in a moan. She wanted to savor the kiss between them. “That’s why you are the person for this. You passed the test.”

Darria flashed him a questioning gaze. “Oliver, what are you talking about?”

“Darria, back away slowly,” Marie urged her.

She looked at her friend and got up slowly, moving out of Oliver’s grasp. “Marie, what’s the matter? I healed him. I didn’t think I could, and....”

Marie grabbed her arm. The fear on her friend’s face was something she hadn’t expected. “That’s not Oliver.”

“What do you mean? Of course, it is.”

“I’m afraid Marie’s correct. I wasn’t sure she’d recognize me, but I had to take a chance. We’ve been so intimately entwined.” The creature let the disguise fall away.

Darria gasped. This was a woman she had never met before. She appeared to be in her mid- to late sixties and had white hair that was streaked with black. The wisdom in her eyes trapped Darria. She pulled herself away from that hypnotic gaze. “Who the hell are you? Where’s Oliver?”

The other woman twirled, dressed a silvery pants suit with a gold necklace. The gold belt around her waist had a buckle that was a pair of scissors. “He’s safe for now, same with your assistant, Rory. No harm will come to them if you do what we desire. If not, then you’ll find both of their destinies cut.”

“You’re one of the Fates.”

“I’m Morta. You’re quite sharp and very powerful,” Morta told her.

“We’ve been waiting a long time for you,” Sonia said from behind Darria.

She turned to the other undertaker. Sonia appeared to be a little older. She was dressed in a flowing, red skirt and a loose, white top that almost made her think that Sonia was a hippie. The sprites screamed. She batted one away. A white string shot from her finger at Heffla, pinning her to the cabinet door. The sprite struggled to get free as the others raced to the aid of their leader. Darria glanced back at Sonia and down at her flesh, where the arrow was still etched into her left arm.

“How can you be an undertaker? I don’t understand,” Darria said. “The sprites have been around you. How could you fool them?”

“We’re the Parcae, the Fates; we spin and weave the destinies of every single fucking living thing in this world. Don’t you think it’d be easy to assume one of those destinies or spin a new one for ourselves? Poor, half-crazed Sonia was dead a long time ago. I slipped into her role, and they never suspected a thing. You’re right, Morta; she is the one we’ve been waiting for, the one to bring back the true God.”

“Hush, Decima, we don’t want to get to the big reveal so soon,” Morta replied to Sonia.

“What do you want me to do? I assume it has something to do with the pieces I have on my arm. What about Lina? She’s the third one of you, isn’t she?” Darria asked. Her frustration rocked her body. It felt like everything in her vibrated with power and anger. It was hard to keep it all in check.

Marie clutched her arm. “Don’t make them angry.”

She turned to Marie. “Why not? They’re just more supernatural bitches that I have to put up with. I’m so tired of dealing with paranormal sisters. I had to do it with the gorgons and Medusa. What is it about Greek monsters?”

“We’re not monsters, and we’re not Greek. We’re from the Roman Pantheon,” Decima corrected her.

Darria stood up. She was not about to be threaded through whatever needle they wanted to manipulate her into. “Whatever you want, I’m not doing it. Now get out of my house.” The power of the spells that were enforced over the house flashed over her and warmed her. It should have forced them from the house, but they remained where they were. The two Fates giggled.

“Your petty magic can’t force us out. We’re connected to you, Darria Savege. Who do you think guided you to this job? Who do you think made the key choose you for this lofty position?”

“I’m not an idiot. I get that you were the ones who sent me to Abner and set certain parts of my life in motion. Did you always know I was the key to your dastardly plan? Marie is a necromancer. She certainly knows more about it than I ever would.”

“Marie’s been Legba’s pawn for a very long time. Although of late, she’s been very useful. Isn’t that right, Marie?” Morta said to the other necromancer.

Marie bowed her head in deference to the two Fates. “Yes, Mistresses.”

“I thought you were here to help me.” Darria wasn’t sure about what she was seeing. She thought this woman was her friend. “I’m sorry, Darria. The Fates have given me a chance to finally get out from under Papa Legba’s clutches. I’m tired of doing his bidding after all these centuries. You have no idea what I go through, being at his beck and call.”

“But he sent you here to help me with my necromancy. You said he wasn’t that bad.”

Marie pulled up her sleeve and showed Darria the two remaining poppies on her arm. “I’m living on borrowed time. It’s true. Legba sent me here to help you the same way Hekate came to you so that you could be whole.”

“Then....” Darria gazed back at the Fates, trying to wrap her head around the whole thing. She had to put Marie out of her mind. Instead, she had to focus on the two women before her. That was the real reason that the objects had remained on her hand. The objects themselves must have known what was going on. Legba said the items were personally from the gods themselves. Marie had told her a story of a god being one and then breaking apart into separate pieces. Eight separate pieces. Darria glanced down at her arm and thought about what she had learned in her memories and who the figure had been in the shadows in Omar’s tomb in her memories.

“Oh shit,” Darria murmured.

“Something wrong?” Decima asked.

“N-nothing. I was thinking.” There had to be a way for her to get the eighth piece or at least scatter the other pieces on her arm. Something had to be done because she didn’t think that the existence of one big, bad death god was going to fly in this day and age.

“Really? I know that look. I’ve seen it before. I was there when you were watching the gorgons and realized their destinies. You know we want all eight pieces to be put back together.” Morta flicked another sprite with her fingers until it was on the ground and was about to step on it when the house shook.

“By the gods, what is that?” Decima shouted. The house shook again, sending dishes crashing off the top of the cabinets.

Darria rushed at Morta, shoving her out of the way, and raced down into the basement.

One of the Fates screamed something, and an object flew by her, brushing her cheek. A wad of webbing stuck to the door frame as she rushed down the stairs. They were right behind her. The house shook once more. Darria grabbed ahold of the wall when she got to the bottom of the staircase. She opened the door, slammed the inner one shut, and locked it. There was no other way in or out of the cellar unless she used her key. The enchantments around her workroom were the strongest. She needed to get out of the house and find Rory and Oliver. She assumed the third Fate was the one holding them hostage.

The Wunderkammer rattled from the force that quaked the house, and the contents jangled together inside. It drew her attention to the curio cabinet. Everything was sealed up tight and protected inside. The cabinet was glass and wood, but it had great magic that protected itself from any intruders who didn’t have a key. If the memories and the jar had been sealed up, it would be safe to assume the jar was somewhere within the cabinet.

One of the Fates banged on the door. “You won’t get away from us. We’ll get you and the eighth piece.” The voice was muffled, but Darria didn’t doubt that they could pull her strings. She was not going to be their puppet.

Darria traced the key on her arm until it fell into her palm. She ignored the banging and stared at the Wunderkammer. Even through the glass doors, she could see all the objects on the shelves. However, the canopic jar was not one of them. The magical energy of the cabinet grated along her skin. “Look, whatever you’ve got going on here, you know that I’m not going to take anything that doesn’t belong to me or the other undertakers. I need that jar. It’s in you somewhere. Please let me have it.”

Darria slid the key into the cabinet. When she turned it, the lock didn’t move. Maybe it was thinking about her request. She wasn’t exactly sure where its allegiance lay, but when the lock clicked, the doors bounced open. “Thank you.”

The house shuddered again. Out of the corner of her eye, Darria saw a flicker of movement. The entire door was moving. Thousands of tiny spiders, no larger than a pinhead, were coming at her. Darria started stomping on them. Each one issued a little scream. As they got closer to the Wunderkammer, purple arcs of lightning struck the spiders. The shelves rearranged themselves swiftly as the cabinet shuffled through all its contents. Little arachnids crawled over her shoes, and she stepped on more. The rearranging stopped.

“Give us the jar,” Morta entreated her.

Darria grabbed the jar and held it to her chest. She turned back to see that the spiders had woven together into a woman. Darria took a breath and ran through her, scattering the spiders so that they had to reform.

“Upstairs, Darria. I can get you out of here,” Gabbie called to her.

Darria pushed on the brick wall, and it opened to reveal the stairs that led to the second-floor office. However, when she pulled the door open at the top, she wasn’t in her office but in her bedroom. Gabbie hovered outside her window. She put the jar down for a second and shoved her window open so that she could escape. Little spiders crawled up the walls. They had found her. She grabbed the jar and jumped out the window.

“Gotcha.” Gabbie swooped underneath her and caught her.

They flew away from the house. The screams of the Fates followed her as they flew out of reach. “Where are we going?”

“Someplace they can’t get to us,” the gargoyle answered.

“They’re the Fates. They can get to us everywhere. All they need to do is find my thread, and then, they can find me.”

“Then we might have to think about cutting your thread.” Gabbie flew higher until they were going toward the graveyard. The energy shifted around them when they crossed over the threshold. She headed further back into the necropolis until Darria could no longer see the houses. All that was below her were other graves, and it was difficult for her to breathe. The shapes of the tombstones changed. They were older, something that she would have seen from a long-dead civilization. It was though they had traveled out of time. They had somehow passed into a different part of the burial ground, and all she wanted was to have Oliver there with her.

The gargoyle moved down into the boneyard and settled on the outskirts of a crossroads. “How were you able to bring me here?”

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it if it wasn’t for Oliver. He told me how to get here.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine for now. Nona hasn’t hurt him. I think she’s too afraid because even she is subject to death. We overheard her and her sisters talking about what they wanted to do. Oliver suggested I bring you here because you needed to talk to Hekate. We figured this was the closest place I could get you.”

Darria looked at the jar. The paintings on it were weathered from time, but the inscription said the same thing. “Breath of life that only death can control,” she whispered.

“And it will if you break the wax seal and join it with the other pieces you have on your arm,” the voice behind her said.

She turned and saw Hekate at the crossroads. The demigod appeared older, dressed in a black tunic lined with silver. Her hair hung free and fluttered in the breeze. “Isn’t that what you want? You and Legba have been lying to me from the beginning. Why even pull out my other side if you were going to fuck with me after? The Fates knew what I was and tested me with the man I ... with my harvester to see if I could revive him.”

“And you did, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point.”

“Actually, it is the point. If you’re strong enough to heal a harvester, the embodiment of death, it means that you’re more than a necromancer.”

She didn’t need any more complications in her life. “Well, what the hell am I, then? What happens if I break open this jar and get the last piece of the god you came from?”

“We weren’t lying to you, Darria. Legba and I are the only ones left. The Fates have taken care of the other gods. I don’t know how they did it, probably because the others were never smart enough to tie themselves down to other things. Legba has his club, and the mortals he shows favor to, he gives them the rose. I can’t fade away. I make it a point to be within the mortal realm and imprint myself on other things, so I can survive. Even if the other gods had survived and all the pieces are put back together again, then he will be resurrected. We wouldn’t be absorbed back into him. We are no longer a part of the whole. It’s the same way with the objects that I took to the Fates. That’s the reason I took them in the first place, so they would become something else. It seemed my intention didn’t wholly work. The objects themselves have taken on the magic Fate imparted them with and are still tied to us. They also contain the essence of the god we originated from. Time has changed things.”

“Okay. They are separate and yet a big part of the whole. What’s in the jar, and what does it mean if I put all the pieces together?” Darria ran her finger over the wax seal, and it easily flaked away. She set it on the ground next to Gabbie, so she would guard it.

Hekate stretched out her hand. “Take my hand. I can show you things better than I can tell you.”

Darria stepped back. The Fates and this other woman wanted her for their own devices. “I don’t think so. You’re telling me what I want to hear. Tell me the truth, or I’m going to call someone who will.”

“Who are you going to call, cher?” Legba crooned next to her. Gabbie growled at the other god. Legba stepped away and held up his hands. “Forgive me. I’m not going to harm her.”

“Did you know that Marie is working with the Fates?” Darria asked the mischief maker.

“Is that what you think?” He flashed her a small, knowing smile.

“They said she was double-timing you.” All around her were graves. The spirits of those who lingered in this place called to her. She could easily pull them from the ground and surround herself with an army if she needed to. “Marie even admitted it to me.”

“Double agent, love. I needed the Fates to trust her. They don’t hold her thread. I do. Her soul is mine. It has been for a long time. You’re correct that we haven’t been straightforward with you. I think—”

“Legba, now is not the time,” Hekate barked.

The other god turned to her. “Now is exactly the time. This was something we feared from the beginning. It’s the reason why you wanted her dead in the first place. You had your suspicions. I wanted her so that we could have her under control and then this wouldn’t have happened, but here we are. If we don’t reveal the consequences, then we can be in deeper shit than we already are.”

Hekate glared at Papa Legba. He didn’t break the stare, but it was obvious that the other goddess was displeased. The way things were now, it was a bunch of bull, and she was getting tired of it. The longer she was around the jar, the more she got an itchy feeling in the back of her mind. Darria knew in the pit of her stomach that she would eventually open the container. It must have been spelled because it gnawed at her. If she did, she would become Pandora opening the box.

“Tell me or don’t tell me, but I’m going to smash this thing in a minute if you don’t.” Darria reached down to pick up the jar once more.

“Don’t, please. You won’t know what you are unleashing,” Hekate warned.

“Then tell me the truth,” Darria demanded.

“She does deserve to know,” a cool voice said next to her. The power of it prickled her flesh. It belonged to the one being who had the power of the universe at his fingertips. His energy was very different from the other gods. It was colder and much more akin to what she worked with. It was a truer sense of death.

“You have no power here, Azrael,” Legba said to him.

The Angel of Death chuckled. His voice was low, but the sound of it shook her bones. “I think it’s you who is forgetting that this realm is neutral.”

Legba lifted an eyebrow. “Really? Even after the trouble you had?”

Darria gazed between them, wondering what it was they meant, but by the red coloring in Azrael’s normally black eyes, she didn’t think it would be a good idea to ask. “That was another matter. Just be glad you weren’t involved in it, too. Would you want to suffer the same fate as some of the others?”

“Nothing to be hasty about. I was against it. Besides, it was a different universe with different ideas of death. I think the humans say, ‘Not my circus, not my monkeys.’ Besides, that is why you only have reign over the harvesters or whatever it is that you want to call the angels who collect the souls here.”

The angel stepped forward, and his wings flared outward until they settled back at his side into the shape of a trench coat. “I realize I have no power over you except with my harvesters, but I’m here representing Darria in that capacity. Her harvester is currently being held captive because of the antics of the Fates.”

Darria shook her head. “I know you said there were other dimensions, but if there is another version of Fate in another realm, are they doing the same thing? Are they like the Fates here?”

Azrael glanced at her. “We’re not here to discuss the other realities or the versions of other things in those parallel dimensions. You need someone to speak for you in this endeavor because Oliver isn’t available.”

“How do you know that?” Darria asked.

He flashed her a smile that let her know he wasn’t going to answer that part of her question. “I think we should let Papa Legba and Hekate give you the full truth instead of the twists and turns of the tales that you’ve been feeding her. I do have the power to make you do that. In the end, I am still Death. No deals are to be made. Answer her questions and tell her what will happen if she reunites the eight pieces.”

Hekate frowned. “Fine.”

“Legba?” Azrael looked at him.

“I have no problem with that, Azrael. As you say, you can make us tell the truth.”

“Tell me the whole truth about being a necromancer. Why did you really want to kill me before?” Darria stepped closer to Azrael because she felt more comfortable. He also negated some of the itchiness she felt when she came near the jar.

“You were born with the innate ability to be a necromancer. You did the ritual that awakened your powers with the boy you had loved. If you had been on that path and were not fated to be an undertaker, you might’ve never known about your powers. I sensed you in the world, as I normally do those who have necromantic abilities. You were powerful enough once you awakened your abilities to raise one or two corpses. Nothing that could truly do damage unless you made a deal with lesser entities to garner more power. You ran from your abilities. When you became an undertaker, it boosted your powers to an almost unfathomable level. If you know about the jar, then you realize that a necromancer tried to unite the pieces once before. He only had three of them, but the gods weren’t that weak back then.

“After him, we realized we had to watch other potential necromancers to see if they would become a threat; it was a choice to either bring the necro under our control or kill them.”

Darria nodded. “When I displayed the power during the rite and raised a couple hundred corpses, I was put on your watch list.”

“Yes,” Legba replied. “You took over your harvester. You were powerful enough that someone else would notice. Stockton begged us for a second chance for you. He said there was more good in you than darkness. I relented. Stock’s a good hunter and never asked us for anything. I tested him to see how you would do with the banshees. Two birds with one stone. I owed the banshee queen a boon. If you succumbed to your dark side pushing onto a banshee, then even your balance as an undertaker in the gray couldn’t save you. I swore to Stockton that if you passed the test, we’d spare you on the promise that he wasn’t supposed to intervene. You passed, and we keep our promises. We punished him because he interfered.”

“Stockton made a choice and altered your destiny. You touched death in the literal sense,” Hekate glanced at Azrael and then back at her, “and it touched a deeper part of you, strengthening your abilities on all fronts, yet you hadn’t succumbed to your darker power. You fought with the necromantic side of you. It made you different. The only choice was to get you on our side.”

Darria understood why they had done what they did. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to tell me all of this? If all eight pieces get back together, then the world is going to be in some deep shit. I don’t want the world to end any more than you do. If you had been up-front about this, I would’ve trusted you.”

“As the Fates like to tell us, this might have all been manipulated by them in a delicate way that none of us knew about. Even though we put your two halves together, they haven’t really fused. You could still go all dark side of the force, as you put it. We still have to be sure that you are on our side,” Hekate explained.

“She’s the one, Hekate. As much as you don’t want to admit it,” Legba commented.

Darria glanced at Azrael. He remained impassive and flashed her a small smile, not showing a hint of his sharpened teeth. Gabbie lay quiet with her paws locked around the jar, so no one would touch it. She glanced at her arms and saw that the tattoos were glowing in the overcast graveyard. The magic in them warmed up as they talked and continued to be near the eighth piece. “Okay. I’ve got all scattered pieces of this fallen god on my arm. Why does Fate want to put them together? And what am I since you haven’t answered that question?”

“The Fates want you to put the pieces together so that they can have power over Chaos. They want to channel the power and recreate the universe in their own image.”

“How can they channel chaos?”

Azrael chuckled.

“What?” Legba asked.

“Nothing. Sounds familiar. That’s all,” he responded.

“You’re thinking of what history and folk tales tell you,” Hekate clarified. “In the beginning of everything, there was Chaos. He ran the universe along with Nyx. Together, they birthed Chronos. Nyx saw the devastation Chaos caused. Nyx loved her husband, but everything that was around him, he destroyed. After the birth of her son, the devastation began to cause harm Nyx’s beloved stars. She cried to Chronos to go to his father and beg him to stop destroying things. Chaos wouldn’t hear his son’s pleas. They fought. Chronos won. He tore his father into the seven pieces that created us. The eighth piece was his essence. It was sealed away, so his power wouldn’t pass on to some unsuspecting mortal. Chronos charged the new gods with finding places for it and the seven pieces so that Chaos would never be resurrected. We focused that energy from Chaos into specific things and pushed that bit of our creator into the piece, so they were still tied to us. The Fates picked seven shamans who had a strong connection with the spirit world and with death. The Fates bound the pieces to the shamans, creating the undertakers. We didn’t know who they were until the strings tugged on us. The jar was spirited away by the undertakers until it was lost to history. Then, the Fates came to us with a prophecy. They said: ‘One day, the pieces will be reunited by one who can heal death. Chaos will either reign, or the universe will become unraveled, and all that was known will be turned on its head.’”

“The pieces get reunited by a necromancer. That much is clear. However, I have no means to reunite them,” Darria said.

“Actually,” a woman responded, “you will reunite them. Then, the universe will cease. We have already seen it.”

Three women appeared. One of them was holding Oliver with scissors at his throat. Thin slashes from the blade marred his skin. From each cut, dark lines of poison infected his flesh. Darria’s heart went out to him. The other woman had Rory. Darria felt the darkness of death around them the same way she could with the other gods. It would be so easy to take them over and force her will onto them. She concentrated and was about to throw her power at them, but the one who posed as Sonia, who had Oliver in hand, shook her head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Unleash your power on us, and I’ll end him. Where do you think these blades come from? They are weapons of death.”

“Don’t do it, Darria,” Oliver wheezed.

She bit her lip and glanced back at Azrael, who remained impassive.

“This is your decision. You can sacrifice everything you love and defy them, maybe end up dead, and try to kill them, or you can put the pieces together and pray you’re strong enough to deal with the aftermath of what comes next.”

She looked back at the Fates. “What does come next?” she shot back at him.

“That is your road to walk. My time is done here. I’m sorry that I can’t give you more guidance.”

“What if they kill Oliver?”

“You don’t need me to give you permission to save the man you love. I told you once that you shouldn’t take over any of my harvesters, but I’m not so sure Oliver is mine anymore. You never know what Chaos can do. He’s a powerful force, even for one so divine.” Azrael stretched his wings.

“Leaving already, Azrael?” the dark fate said.

He bowed to them, but Darria didn’t sense that it was out of respect. He locked eyes with her and then went back to them. “I have other matters that need attending. I have fulfilled my role here now that Darria’s harvester has appeared. Ladies, I pray you really know what you’re unleashing.” A dark slit in the fabric of time opened behind him. In it, she saw the darkness of space and the stars that dotted the cosmos. The deathly angel slipped through the gash. It sealed itself back up, taking him and whatever help he was going to be with him.

Oliver was bruised from where they had tortured him. It was the same with Rory. He seemed wan and paler than he had been. One of his eyes was swollen. His hands were bound together with white thread. He tried to talk, but all that came out were muffled gasps. His lips were sewn shut. Gabbie stood over the jar and growled.

“Hush, beast. I’ll turn you back to stone, and you’ll end up a monument forever here in the graveyard,” the leader of the Fates said to her.

“You have no power here, Ker,” Hekate said. “You are mere shadows of your sisters, the true Fates.”

“Wait. I thought these were the Fates.” Darria answered as confusion came over her.

All three women laughed. Their twittering grated on her nerves. The one who had Oliver, Ker, flashed her a wicked smile. “How easy it is to confuse mortals. We made you believe Ankou was the necromancer behind all the bad things happening to you. That was so much fun, seeing you run around, trying to figure it all out. Silly undertaker; you have no idea who we truly are. My sisters, Letum and Tenebrae, and I thread the shadows behind the destinies. It’s time that we weave the universe into our own image, the way it was supposed to be. The Fates, as you call them, are but shadows of us. We might be their sisters, but we’re only distantly related. They’ve always taken a pacifistic role. We have spun the shadows behind them, moving humans and things, until this very moment. With the power of Chaos, we can do whatever we want, bring back whomever we want.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into if you reassemble him,” Papa Legba said.
“His power is uncontrollable. Why do you think he’s called chaos? Idiot women.”

Letum flicked her fingers. The god was thrown backward against one of the larger headstones. Black threads wrapped around him and held him to the slate stone. “Silence from you. We may linger in the shadows, but we do exist. Eventually, everything comes to death. It’s time that we remake the world in our own image. The dimensions are in fluctuation. The undertakers were killed because of a decision of another trio of sisters. We saw our chance. The veils are thinner than they were last time. It’s the right time for us.”

Legba struggled when Letum threw another thread at him and covered his entire face. Ker ran her fingers over Oliver’s chest. Darria trailed her fingers over the items on her left arm and felt the pieces gathering power. The urge to grab the jar and smash it itched more strongly on her soul but held herself back because the ramifications would be disastrous. When she glanced at Oliver and saw him staring at her, Rory panicking, she knew she was going to have to face what was to come.

It was inevitable.

“Let my harvester and my assistant go. Then, I’ll put the pieces together. They go first.” Darria held her chin up, facing the three dark fates.

“Darria, don’t do this,” Hekate warned her in a hushed whisper. “You’ll wipe out everything. The universe will unravel. Chaos will be unleashed.”

“I can’t let those bitches kill them,” she replied.

“Do the lives of two people mean so much over the destiny of the entire universe?” Hekate asked her.

“Enough squabbling. No deal. Put everything together first, and then, I’ll let one of them go,” Tenebrae said to her.

“I guess you’re not going to get what you wanted.” Darria crossed her arms over her chest.

“Then you’ve brought doom to one you hold dear.” Ker shoved Oliver into one of the gravestones and doubled over. She grabbed Rory and sliced his throat with the scissors. Blood gushed out to water the grass, and the blades sopped it up.

“Rory.” Darria dashed over to him. Tenebrae stood over her. Darria’s right arm burned. When she looked down, Rory’s arm was bare again. The key was no longer on his flesh. She was now the sole owner.

“Do as we command, or your harvester is next. Do you want that?” Tenebrae asked her.

Darria wiped the tears away. The darkness inside of her crept up. It wanted to take control and do things to these dark fates she had never thought were possible. The shadows were tangible to her. It seemed that she could reach out and touch them if she lingered on her anger. Fleeting thoughts filtered through her mind, but none of them seemed to be the right thing to do. She stood up and stared at the three women and then back at Hekate.

“Don’t do it, Darria. It will destroy everything you know and love,” Hekate whispered.

She walked over to Oliver when Mercury blocked her path. “I don’t think so.”

She gathered her energy and waved her hand at the other familiar. He roared, but she forced the bull backward. “I knew something was off about you.” The bull shrank. The more she focused on Mercury, the more she was able to feel its energy. Darria latched on to it and banished the bull. She drew in a few breaths and stared at the other three women. Her whole body buzzed. “You might have killed my assistant, but you’re going to let me talk to Oliver before I rip the universe to shreds. Can you deal with that?”

The three looked at one another.

“Make it quick,” Ker spat.

Darria took Oliver in her arms. The harvester moaned. The poison from the metal was spreading within his veins. She touched the side of his face and drew his attention.

“What happened?” Darria asked through the link that bound them.

His dark gaze flicked to the others. “I wanted to check on you. I found Rory and recognized the Dark Fate for what she was and not Sonia, the undertaker. She took me out with her thread before I was able to do anything else about it. I wanted to talk to you.” He reached inside of his jeans pocket and pulled out the red poppy. “I got your message. I was a fool to take away the coin and bar you from the graveyard.” He pressed the poppy into her hand. The power of it radiated up her arm.

“It’s okay. I was pissed, but I understand why you did it. I’m sorry you had to be dragged into all of this.” Darria caressed his cheek.

“Are you done yet?” Ker snapped.

“Don’t do this, Darria. If you open that jar, it will mean that you die. The universe will be unwritten. He’ll consume everything,” Oliver begged her.

“I don’t have a choice. You’re dying, even if you want to try to hide it. The wounds are deeper than you’re letting on. I can’t lose you.”

“I’m already dead.”

Tenebrae grabbed her arm and hauled her away from Oliver. The Dark Fate threw Darria down by Gabbie and pointed to the jar. “Put the pieces together and open the jar. Then, use your power to resurrect the dead.”

“Fine. But when I do, you let them all go.”

“Whatever; we won’t need them after this is done. Get on with it.”

“Fine,” Darria muttered.

She ran her hand along her arm and slowly pulled out all of the objects embedded there. She placed them all in a circle. She took the key from her arm and inserted it into the last spot in the circle. The objects sparked with energy. Hekate groaned and doubled over. Silver threads wove between all seven pieces. It was a mistake for Gabbie to bring her here. They were in the center of purgatory or wherever the graveyards intersected in another plane. If they were to unleash the god Chaos here, then everywhere the cemeteries touched would be affected.

“Something wrong?” Ker asked.

“No. I was thinking. Why don’t we do this back at the house?”

The woman slapped her across the face, and her head turned back. Darria thought she had broken her jaw. “I say we get this over with, so we can welcome back Chaos and harness his power. Get to it, or you won’t have the last few minutes of your miserable life to spend with your harvester.”

Darria rubbed her cheek where the Fate had hit her and peered over at Oliver. The light in his eyes was dimming. Gabbie was over by Hekate, and Legba was still trying to get free. The other women gathered around Darria. Tenebrae handed her the jar.

The circle of objects hovered above the ground, sending little sparks of lighting outward as they spun. Whatever was in the container would resurrect a god—not just any god but a primal one who had helped create the universe. None of this was in the handbook when Darria had signed on for the job. She ran her fingers over the inscription of the jar.

Breath of life that only death can control.

It hadn’t changed.

She was hoping that maybe something would switch the way her tattoos had morphed. Instead, she looked at all the eyes watching her. The three Dark Fates were filled with glee at what was going to come. They were already trying to figure out how they would remake the world in their own image. Gabbie’s eyes were the liquid intelligence she had come to trust. Oliver watched her as the poison slipped further along his veins. Rory’s eyes were glassy, accusing her of what was to come. The power of the objects called to her. They held the memories of those who had come before. All that was going to be lost. The whole universe would be lost. There had to be something that would allow her to stop all of this.

There had to be.

Ker held the scissors to Oliver’s throat. “Get on with it.”

“Can’t you feel that he’s coming?” Tenebrae exclaimed with glee. The laughter in her voice made Darria realize she was insane.

They’re all batshit crazy. This is not going to end well. Darria stood mesmerized by the revolving disk the objects had become. The darkness within her grew more piqued by what was going on. She wanted to go with it. All the spirits that resided within the graveyard stirred from their graves, being pulled by the destructive power.

“Do it, or he dies, and there is no more waiting,” Ker demanded.

Darria’s fingers ran over the inscription once more, and it sparked something. Azrael had said something about chaos and being able to handle it. It was a powerful force to handle for one so divine. I’m not divine. Whatever happens, I’m not going to let this take over the world. She threw the jar down onto the ground. A gray-white cloud expanded and whizzed toward the spinning disk. Once it came into contact with them, the world exploded.

Something hit Darria and threw her backward. She sensed an otherness that pressed on her chest. When she breathed in, the otherness slid down her throat. It was small at first, but it grew inside of her. She stood and looked at the devastation. Headstones and tombs had been leveled. A supernatural bomb had exploded. Darria grabbed on to the first thing she could to steady herself. The otherness grew, gaining strength and taking over her body.

“You will feed me the energy I need to rise,” a hard voice said inside of her. It seemed male and female all at once, layered over one another.

All of a sudden, she felt like she was hit in the gut, and her lungs were burning for air. She fell to her knees and raked her fingers through the grass, collecting bits of stone. Darria was used to having another being with her and fighting it. She was not going to have the newly revamped god sharing the space within her. Chaos had been born from her actions. Darria closed her eyes and pushed her mind inward. Instead of a long hallway of memories, she was on a flat, gray surface. Storm clouds roiled and cracked with amethyst lightning. Her other half remained like a double exposure. Whoever else resided in her, that wasn’t part of the god she had noticed before. A flame, burning both black and white, twined around together. A third presence reared its head.

Chaos.

He stood, fragmented. His limbs were askew, and his facial features kept changing. The eight pieces of him hadn’t cemented together yet. He grabbed on to her necromancer side and started siphoning the life force from her. Darria cried out from the pain. She wouldn’t be the vessel that birthed the primal god back into existence. To save herself, she limped over to the entwined flames. They flared as she got close to the only other source of energy. Something awoke within her that imparted her with the strength she needed. Darria stood up. Energy sparked from her fingers. She flung it at the god. Chaos screamed and released her necromantic half, who was nothing more than a husk on the floor of her withered mind. Darria had never felt so alive.

“You will not use me. Now get out.” She blasted Chaos with all the energy she had tapped into. It felt as though her insides were on fire. Her limbs were heavy. Chaos shrieked. The energy left her in a rush, and Darria was shocked back to the real world.

Something slithered up her throat. As she vomited, it spewed over her lips. Darria sat back against one of the tombstones to catch her breath. It felt like she had been torn in half, plugged into a light socket, and drained; she could barely keep her eyes open. All she wanted was to sleep for a week. As she fought the malaise, Gabbie limped toward her. Hekate was on the ground with Ker’s scissors buried in her chest. The color of her skin was growing paler by the second. Darria crawled over to the goddess.

“You can’t let them,” Hekate whispered.

“I don’t know how to stop him. You can’t be dying,” Darria said to her.

Hekate touched her hand. “Weapons forged by the gods can kill any kind of god. Take the scissors. Use them against Chaos, no matter what the cost. He can’t rise once more.”

“But—”

Oliver screamed behind her. It was a scream of horror and pain.

Chaos had found another host.

Hekate moved Darria’s hand to the scissors. “You have to do this, no matter what happens.” She wheezed, and then, her eyes glazed over.

Darria pulled the scissors out of Hekate’s chest. Darria held the scissors in her hand and turned to face what had happened to the others. Oliver was no longer on the ground. He stood in the center of the devastation. The three Dark Fates bowed before Oliver.

“Oliver,” Darria whispered.

The man that had been her harvester turned to look at her. His expression turned sinister. The corners of his mouth turned into his cheeks. This was not the man she loved anymore. Darria tried to follow the link they had together, but it was closed off. She pulled her mind back, and the dark laughter she heard turned her heart cold. Oliver still had to be in there, fighting Chaos. She couldn’t give up on him.

“Master, we have waited for eons for you.” Ker prostrated herself before him.

He placed a hand on her head. “You have done well and led me to a wonderful vessel. The power within him and the one I was born from have given me form. Come here and let me reward you for all your efforts.”

The Fates crawled over to him on their knees. “Yes, Mighty One.”

They touched his feet. Chaos passed his hands over their heads. They screamed and raised their arms to ward him off, but they were too weak. He sucked in their energy so quickly that they shrunk from the inside out. Their clothes collapsed to the ground until there was nothing left of them. He turned and went to face Legba, but Gabbie jumped in front of him.

“Get out of my way, beast, or you’ll be next,” Chaos said.

“I won’t let you hurt him.”

“Fine, then I hurt you.” He waved his hand. Gabbie turned to stone, becoming the menacing gargoyle that Darria had seen perched on churches.

“You’ll feed me too, flesh of my flesh. I’ll grow stronger until you burn out, and then, I can take back everything lost to me. Of all my children, you are the only one who remains.”

Legba laughed. “I am not your son any more than Hekate was my sister. We might’ve originated from you, but I don’t remember you raising us. Besides, I’m a death god. Chaos can’t exist for a long time. You won’t turn the world into your oyster so that you can find the pearl at the center of it. You will be stopped.”

“I don’t think so. You’ll fuel my rebirth.” Chaos held out his hand to draw Legba’s essence into him.

Darria forced herself to stand on wobbly legs. The power within her raged. “Hey,” she called.

Chaos paid no attention to her. Mercury reappeared and charged at him full force, goring Chaos in the shoulder with one of his long horns. The bull slammed him back into one of the crypts on the other side of the pathway. Darria rushed to Legba and tried not to throw up from the sudden rush of her head spinning.

“Come on, love, cut me free, and I’ll owe you one,” Papa said.

“Swear it,” Darria said.

Mercury squealed something as he fought with Chaos. The god had gotten himself off the bull’s horn and was trying to get around the large creature. There wasn’t much time left before he came back and went at Legba again.

“You want me to swear now?”

She held up the scissors. “Do you want me to cut you loose?”

“Fine. I swear that I owe you one, love. Now set me free,” Legba entreated her.

Darria used the scissors, expecting to find the webbing too sticky to cut through, but it was fairly easy as though she were snipping regular thread. She got him free. He took her hand and kissed the back of it.

“Thank you, beautiful lady.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I wish you luck against Chaos.”

“Wait. You’re not going to help me fight him?” She jabbed the scissors at Legba.

“’Fraid not. I don’t feel like dying today. By the way, you might want to add those to your collection. Finders’ keepers. Ta-ta.” Legba smiled and disappeared.

Darria glanced at the scissors and placed them against her left arm, but nothing happened. She then placed them on her right hand underneath the needle, and they shrunk in there. She felt a tingle from the added weight and the power that went along with them. These were weapons that could cut the thread of death and other things. She had no idea what she would use them for, but it appeared that they wanted to become a part of her.

Mercury brayed once more. The bull shrank until nothing remained of it except ash. Chaos walked away and approached Darria. She grasped for the scissors. The screams of the spirits filled her mind. They were all congregating around her and trying to stay out of Chaos’s way. She was running on empty. The power of the dead remained inside of her, but she wasn’t sure about her other half. It didn’t matter now. This flame ignited inside of her, giving her strength, but she needed more power to recover. The energy of death was all around her. Darria saw the lines of power that tapped into purgatory. Surely, Chaos did too because he was in Oliver’s body. Darria stretched out her mind. It was her only chance to give in to the dead, to give in to the very thing she had been trying so hard to get away from, but she couldn’t run from who she was.

Oliver walked toward her with a swagger he had never had. The smirk on his face told her everything she needed to know. Chaos was the only being within him now. If he wasn’t, Oliver was buried under him so far down that she couldn’t reach him. He couldn’t leave the graveyard. If Chaos tapped into whatever abilities Oliver had, then he also had the powers of the grim reaper or an angel.

“You let Legba go. Such a naughty child.”

“Yes, I did. You think I was going to let you use him up the way you did the Dark Fates or Mercury? I don’t think so.”

“He leaves you stranded in this reality with me. The lone guardian. I’ve already tasted you. If it weren’t for you, undertaker, necromancer, and a bit of something else I long thought extinguished from mankind, then I wouldn’t be here. I guess you do deserve a nobler death. It’d only be fair to the mother who bore me into this world. It was silly of the sisters to think they could use my power to rebuild the world into their own image. They had no idea what was really befalling them.”

“I’m really tired of everyone pontificating at me. Why don’t we get on with this? Once I’m done killing you, I’m resurrecting my assistant, healing my harvester, and then taking a long, hot bath before I make sure my familiar is reattached to his severed left hand. Maybe I’ll even let him feel me up. I don’t know. I’m sick of dealing with all of this shit.” The energy of the graveyard engulfed her.

“Darria. Interesting name, by the way. Did you know it means ‘upholder of the good’?”

“Great. Glad to know my name has some wonderful meaning. You aren’t going to get out of here alive.”

Chaos walked over to her.

“Let’s make this quick. I’m getting hungry again. How do you wish to die?”

“I’m not going to die,” Darria whispered.

Chaos flicked his wrist, and hands burst out of the dirt, grabbing her legs. They held her in place. Other spirits materialized and captured her arms. It appeared that he learned how to tap into Oliver’s powers. Another had ahold of her throat. She had no way to access her tattoos to pull them out of her flesh. She was screwed.

“You didn’t think that I wasn’t going to learn your harvester’s abilities, did you? The energy of this place is quite satisfying. I’ve learned a few new tricks, thanks to him and his angelic background. He not in here anymore. I used him all up. Very tasty. I’ll make this easy for you since he did have feelings for you. One last kiss. How does that take you?” Chaos chuckled.

The look might have been Oliver’s face, but it wasn’t the man she loved. “I’m not going to let you win. Oliver is still in there.”

He laughed. Chaos might have had the power to summon and control the spirits, but he still wasn’t confident about how to wield it. However, it controlled the harvester first. She had done it before, but it had all been instinctual. Darria had to do it now and forge another link between the two of them. Darria disregarded the hands holding her. She closed her eyes and used her will to pierce the veil around Chaos’s mind. She drove forward, and it was like moving through cement as she worked through the layers of his mind.

The grip on her body weakened. It was difficult to make sense of the energies she felt there: life, death, rebirth, evil, good, nothing, and everything. Oliver has to be in here somewhere. She conjured up the thread she had and felt something tingle on her flesh. On her arm, the needle came to life. It could pierce things and sew them together. She set the needle on her hand, and it shot from her palm. Darria raced through his mind until she came to the back corner of Oliver’s thoughts. Oliver was curled into a ball, his dark wings folded over him. His feathers were withered, and most of them had turned to ash. She sunk down before him and moved one of his wings aside. Oliver cried out. The sound turned her heart.

“No more. Please. Enough,” he pleaded.

“Shh ... it’s me,” Darria whispered. She sensed the danger she was in being there, but it didn’t matter. Her physical body was still battering away at Chaos. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. She only had a few minutes before she had to get back.

Oliver moved his wing back, and what she saw stunned her. His skin sagged off his bones. The poison the Dark Fates had inflicted upon him had carved a black road map across his face and body. His chest was bare, and the scars were even more prominent. Large handprints marred the perfection of his flesh where Chaos had drained his energy.

“You’re another shade he sent to torment me.” Oliver tried to sit up against the tombstone.

“No. It’s me. I promise.” She touched his cheek, but he still shied away from her.

“Lies to torment me. You and all the other shadows.”

She bit her lip and wondered if the poison had affected his spirit as well and if this was all that was left of the man she loved. She took his face in her hands. “Would a shade do this?” Darria kissed him. On his mouth, she could taste the acrid tang of the toxin in his system. Some clarity returned to his eyes when she pulled away.

“Darria,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You have to get out of here. He’s draining all of me. I can’t ... I won’t exist much longer. I’ve only lasted this long because I’m an angel and a reaper. You have to stop him.”

“I know I do.”

“It’s not me on the outside.”

She nodded, holding back the tears. There was only one thing left to do. “I know.”

“You have to go. You’re the one hope we all have left,” Oliver begged.

“You know that day in the graveyard when you cut our conversation short? I came because I wanted to tell you something.”

“I know what you were going to say.” He placed a finger on her lips. “You know what you have to do.”

“I do.”

“Then do it. Don’t wait to see me fade away.” Oliver raised both of his hands before she could respond and shoved her with the last of his strength.

Darria landed back in her body. Chaos lingered centimeters from her lips. She tried to move away from him, but the ghosts still had her feet.

“Nice trick, whatever you did, but there’s no escaping. I don’t know how you did that, either. No human has ever taken over a god before.”

Darria thought about the scissors. She had pulled the key from her arm before and summoned it directly to her palm. Maybe she could do the same with the scissors. She focused and felt their tingling energy. They grew from the ink lines they had become and slipped into her fingers. With every last shred of her power, she blasted away the spirit holding her right arm and struck Chaos in the center of the chest with the double blades.

“I’m not any ordinary human.”