All Vaia’s instincts were screaming, it’s a trap, it’s a trap. Glancing down at the deck of cards, just sitting in her hand,inert. From the moment the Handmaiden mantle had settled over Vaia’s shoulders she’d had that deck in her hand and had been non-stop cutting it, re-cutting it, sometime briefly shuffling it. Each card representing a myriad of places, people, things, actions, outcomes – and thanks to her powers, Vaia understood what it meant every time she cut the cards. That Fate had made a decision. Good, bad, indifferent. Fate was relentless, never letting up.
Her older sister, Mimi, interminably fidgeted with six twelve-sided dice. Whilst her younger sister, Arna, click clacked five abnormally large knuckle bones, reading Fate’s out come in the way they were positioned in her hand.
Fate never stopped. Except from the moment she’d arrived here in the Southern Sanctuary, the relentless need to cut the deck had disappeared. The sneaky matchmaker hinting that this place was the reason. Could she? Dare she? Tentatively Vaia dropped her hand, cautiously letting go of the cards, amazed when they remained on the ground. Her whole body beginning to tremble in shock.
It had to be this place, full of magic, full of magical people. A lot of whom danced with Fate. Not just the matchmaker. Closing her eyes, Vaia sent out a pulse of magic. Sensing the others. The Fate Weaver who made the wonderful bikinis, descended from a distinguished line of dragons. A Pathfinder, capable of identifying all the options open to a person when they hit a crossroad, manipulating and nudging people accordingly. The Matchmaker was easy to sense, her energy bright and weirdly glittery. Bam! Vaia’s senses almost overloaded as she fought to pull her magic back. A Spider Mage, a strong one. They were notoriously mad, bad and extremely dangerous to know. That had to be Darcy Montgomery of the micro plaid skirt and wielder of chopsticks and rocket launchers.
This place, this Sanctuary, was full of people dealing with Fate. Was that why the cards were weirdly quiet and the constant clamouring in Vaia’s brain had backed down to a dull roar from the moment she’d arrived? Did it matter what the reason was? Family lore always maintained that it took the Handmaidens decades, sometimes longer, to come to terms with their powers, to be equal to them, rather than be ridden by them. But if this place gave them even a smidgeon of control, and there was a charming little disused building that would be perfect for a bar, and the local laws allowed gambling? Oh, Praise Moria, it seems like the Siros sisters had just found themselves a new home.
Of course there would be a catch. There was always a catch. But staring down at the seemingly ordinary pack of cards on the towel, Vaia was beyond sure her sisters would agree that the price would be worth paying.
Two shadows momentarily blocked the sun’s warmth. Instinctively Vaia snatched up the cards, cutting the deck, she didn’t even need to look, she knew every card so well just by touch. Not enemies. Not exactly friends. She recognised them, Nico and Gigi, looking for answers. Hah, weren’t they all?
“Hello again. Please, join me.” Gesturing to the spare towel spread out beside her. Lucky she’d brought it along, it was certainly getting a workout today. “Are you okay?” She queried Gigi as she sat down cross legged, the sweater, leggings and the blanket wrapped around her shoulders a little worrying, given the bright sunny day.
“Just a slight health hiccup.” Gigi flashing her a seemingly genuine smile.
Vaia couldn’t resist a little sneak peek, cutting the cards. Hmmm, interesting.
“We have some questions.” Nico’s gaze was more shuttered, wary, he didn’t trust that Vaia wasn’t in league with Qetesh and her mother.
Curious, Vaia cut the cards again, weird, things had definitely changed between Gigi and Nico since she saw them in Florence, they were a couple but not a couple. That was convoluted. And thankfully not her problem, she had no desire to dip her toes into matchmaking waters. Those murky depths would suck her under for sure, and she had enough to deal with. “What did you want to know?”
“Whose side are you on in all this? The Cabal of Deities that want to rule the world, or those who would oppose them?”
“I’m just your average everyday girl kidnapped by a bunch of giant Minotaurs. Imprisoned by an Egyptian Goddess of Love, who really wouldn’t know a genuine emotion if it was an asp biting her on the butt. Before being pawned off to her demi-goddess spoilt blinkered daughter in a vain attempt to somehow coerce or intimidate me into helping them on their stupid quest to kidnap a baby.”
“So did you or didn’t you help them?” Nico growled out the question.
“Yes.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Sure it is, it’s just not the one you were looking for.”
Nico’s expression darkened, Gigi reaching out from under her blanket to place a hand on his arm. “Hold on. Let me understand this. As one of Fate’s Handmaidens, you claim neutrality. But you can split the difference, can’t you? Be both helpful, or unhelpful.”
“Yes.” Vaia couldn’t help but smile, Gigi got it. “And depending what the question is, or how it’s phrased, I have a lot of scope as to how I can answer. But what most people don’t get when they ask me a question is that I’m forbidden from giving out spoilers. You’d be better off asking your questions of your Pathfinder, and Spider Mage, but only if they understood every player and possibility on the table. And even the Goddess of Fate, Moira,doesn’t have all that intelligence yet. I can assure you, the Minotaurs and the kidnapping were as much of a shock to her as it was to me and my sisters. Which has actually worked out in your favour.”
“How so?” Nico was absently rubbing Gigi’s cool hand.
“My Goddess is, in a word, pissed. Dragging her, me, into this campaign to rule the Earthly Plane was a big misstep by Hathor. I can’t give away anything for free, but Moira has indicated that I have a lot more leniency when it comes to you guys. Having spent some time now with both looney tunes mother and vapid demi-daughter, I wouldn’t mind a little payback.” Vaia shivered, Hathor was a big fan of orgies, she’d never be able to look at another grape again she suspected.
“You called me fire-touched. What does that mean, exactly?”
“Ah, you picked up on that, did you? I was dropping hints like they were A-bombs that day. So you’ve probably already twigged that you’re a descendant through your father’s line of Kuat, the Aztec God of Fire.”
“Yes, I get that. But what does it mean to be fire-touched? Can I swallow fire? Throw fireballs? What?”
“I wouldn’t try swallowing it, if I were you. But what you could do is pick up a baby who channels the sun as a weapon and would obliterate anyone else who tried to do that against her will.”
“I can pick up the baby? That’s all I get out of having a God for a fucking relative?”
“Well, that and a certain level of resistance to deity fuelled coercion or influence. It’s partly why you’re not a mindless golden love slave right now at Qetesh’s beck and call. So, maybe a little gratitude wouldn’t go astray.”
“Fine. What about the trojan horse reference? Am I an unwitting danger to the baby?”
“Ugh. Now we’re getting into spoiler territory. I will say though that it’s a really good question and you should definitely follow up on it.”
