Chapter One

What Fate Commands Chapter #1

Roxanna

I still think about Sullivan’s yacht, as it’s probably my last time ever being that close to the elites, and last time ever being invited on the water before I end up a test subject for the military, or worse, sued to replace it.

Whatever happened, I was only partially responsible. One minute, I’m sipping Moet under the stars while a bunch of trust fund babies party, and the next, we’ve capsized a twenty-million-dollar ship on a freezing lake; leaving a bunch of drunk, confused kids standing on the hull waving down a very confused coast guard.

I might have caught him necking his blonde bombshell study buddy from Stats 402 he told me not to worry about in the master suite. I might have also lost control of myself for a few seconds when I threw my half empty champagne bottle and… everything was a blur from there. But who has it worse here? At least his yacht was insured for freak accidents he can’t prove was witchcraft; STI testing wasn’t in my student insurance plan.

Either way, Sullivan, my now ex boyfriend, blamed me for everything that night—public drunkenness fine included. At least the worst he was blackmailing me to do was continue to date him, publicly anyway.

“I still think you should poison his food.” Selena huffs, dropping a box of elaborately decorated cupcakes into my numb arms, just in time to stop me from elbowing her. “Or we send his precious grandma an email with pictures of the snow they had on his party boat.”

“What’s she going to do? Not like he’s snorting. I think. She’ll just say I’m trying to blackmail the family.”

“Told you, Rox. Nothing but trouble. His parties suck too.” She sighs. “If you stopped drinking so damn much, maybe you’d see that.”

I only ever drank so much that night to feign memory loss. Selena was my childhood best friend and now, roommate. It was easier to keep it a secret that way if I forgot myself everything that happened. I do feel bad, though. Now she’s spent a whole sleepless night decorating cupcakes with my mom to cater at a financial loss at one of Sullivan’s art events, and I couldn’t even tell her why. All I can do is offer her a tense grin. “I’ll quit drinking if you stop looking for ways to kill my not boyfriend.”

Selena rolls her eyes and blows messy pin straight, black hair out of her eyes. “I’m going to poison your food for being so stupid sometimes, Rox. I’m not doing this for you, by the way. I’m doing this for mom. Stop staggering, you look drunk right now.”

“I’m sober, you jerk. It’s these damn heels.” They are sexy, black velvet stilettos borrowed from mom’s closet. Maybe a size too small, but my last pair of dress heels went down in Lake Ontario a few nights earlier, and while we’re a few weeks from losing the house, I’m keeping frivolous spending low on my list of priorities.

I take a few, tentative steps, my ankle nearly rolling as I step up onto the curb. Thankfully, a hand grabs my arm before I fall face first into a trash can.

“Who raised you animals? You’re supposed to be sharing gossip with me first.” Mom says, steadying me. I have no idea where she came from just now but I’m grateful. She steals the giant box from me, perfectly balanced. Even in the late August humidity, her hair is in a perfect ponytail, her tan glowing against the pear green t-shirt with Charlie’s Tea House written elaborately across her chest. She can easily pass for late 20s, save for the few greys in her ginger hair, a few shades lighter than my messy mop. She looks me up and down. “Sheesh. Must be a wild story. You look ready for a funeral.”

Can’t argue that. I’d kill for a cheesy t-shirt instead of my oversized all black suit. Not only do I look like a cadaver, but I also feel like one too. Cadaver in a crematorium, if this heat gets any worse. I feel Selena’s eyes burrowing a hole in the back of my sweaty neck. If Selena is this pissed at me about nearly drowning and my messy breakup, then mom will capsize every toy boat at the harbour. “I look like shit, and I hate these kinds of events,” I lie to her.

She offers me a reassuring smile. “Rather be studying? A little socializing will do you some good. Right, Leenie?”

“She’s feral. It’s pointless.” Selena replies, and even though it’s supposed to be a joke, I can still hear the bite in her words.

Can’t blame her. I’m lying to my mom. Our mom.

Mom looks between us but shrugs it off for now. “Let’s get going, Leenie, before the icing melts. See you inside, kiddo.” Mom winks at me and turns on her heel, without breaking a sweat.

Selena slams the truck door, the last box in her arms. She stops beside me. “You tell her what happened, or I will.” She shakes her head and follows mom inside.

“Say a single word to her and I’m throwing you out.” Selena ignores my threats, delivery door creaking shut behind her.

I sigh, and stumble over the cracked sidewalk, circling around the building towards the main street. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I’m running late and Sullivan is probably already waiting for me in the lobby.

The Lavoie Family Art Gallery sits in the middle of downtown Toronto, a sleek, black obelisk of a building, with tinted windows and a barely legible bronze sign over the front revolving doors. It’s easily mistaken for a bank at a glance, but anybody and everybody who was a somebody knows what it is: the most exclusive place in the West to procure the most avantgarde, trashy postmodernist art. Billionaires, royalty, celebrities, and the fakes all clamour in the heat for a last-minute spot.

I lumber pass influencers taking group photos in front of the gallery, perfectly done up in dainty, mini dresses, earning me repulsing glances that turned to gape-mouth shock when I stroll pass the long line and up to the bodyguards.

“Long time no see, Beaulieu.” The only male bodyguard says, tapping away on his tablet. His female counterpart offers me a polite nod. “Sull is waiting for you already.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, as if I needed his help.

Sullivan waits, crossed-armed, for me as soon as I pass the revolving door. His eyes flit up and down my body before his nose crinkles. “You didn’t need to take “black tie” that seriously.”

It takes everything in me to not punch him. “Nice to see you too, sweetcakes,” I say.

He cringes. No sense of humour. Sure, he was conventionally attractive—perfect blonde hair, a swimmer’s body—but the eyes lacked intelligence. Empty, devoid of life. “Scared I’m going to outshine ya?” I offer a fake smile, aware of the eyes on us around the large, marbled lobby.

Sullivan grabs my hand, dragging me towards the elevator. To outsiders, we look like a flustered couple, or so he hopes. I try to keep my cool, I owe my mom this much. Tonight might be the kickstart her career needs.

“Charlie’s dessert tables look good. At least something is going right so far.” Sullivan continuously smashes the elevator button with a finger. They were built in the 70s from what I can tell and move slower than hell. I don’t respond. As soon as that door opens to gilded, mirrored box, he shoves me inside.

“Mom told me that if you ever hurt me, she’ll burn down your house.” I say once the door shuts behind us.

“We have a deal.” He says, tapping his foot nervously. Sullivan stares at the ceiling, refusing to look at me. “Tonight needs to go perfect. After the little incident last weekend, Grandma Lavoie decided to fly in. I have a sales quota to meet tonight and some high-profile clients. Once we get upstairs, I’m going to mingle for a bit, you entertain grandma, convince her last weekend was a freak accident and that we’re still dating. Tell your mom to keep her opinions far away from the other venders and Selena off the floor. I’ll pay your debts; I keep my inheritance. Everything will go just perfect. Understand?”

I think. “Loud and clear.”

I only have a year left in my master’s program before I can start looking for work. I’m considering military aeronautics for the pay but leaving me in charge of rockets is a terrible idea. If tonight proves anything, I can behave long enough for a pay cheque or two. Behave long enough to finish my studies and pay endless loans, to pay vet bills, to help my friend get back on her feet. I can behave long enough to do that. Right?

The elevator dings and Sullivan wraps an arm around my waist, walking us off into the elaborate penthouse gallery, filled with milling guests and servers carrying champagne flutes and caviar.

“Can’t believe you want me to lie to your grandma,” I mutter.

“She’ll lie for the hell of it, she’s no sweet old lady. She’s a dictator.”

That sweet old dictator, Alathya Lavoie, is centre of attention, more so than the art on the walls. She laughs at some old man’s jokes, a glass of wine in a delicate hand. She wears a deep mahogany pantsuit, enviably tailored, and shocking white hair falls to the middle of her back, not a strand out of place. I want to be her. Her.

As soon as Alathya’s eyes rest on us, hand in hand, they light up. “Roxanna! It’s been far too long.” She abandons her small group, giving me a hug and kissing both my cheeks.

“You look as good as ever,” I say. It was pure truth. Whatever is in the food at the French Riviera, I need.

“You are too sweet, darling. Join me, why don’t you? Sullivan can entertain himself for now—or if he wants to be useful—the guests.” Alathya hooks my arm into hers. I wink at Sullivan. I hate to keep her under the impression I’m still going to marry her loser grandson, but a deal was a deal. It’s easier to keep my cool if he keeps his distance.

Sullivan sulks off to a group of students from his college, leaving me at the mercy of his grandma. I can’t be anymore grateful.

“So, tell me, how are your studies? I hear you’re almost done.” Alathya asks. We walk along the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city, painted orange by the setting sun.

“Busy, but life’s better that way,” I answer. Easy. I can do this the whole night.

“Is my Sully treating you well? I hear you both had quite the… run in… the other night. I hope you know I’ve raised him better than to treat a girl so poorly.”

Spoke too soon. I hesitate. “It was a pretty crazy night, but we’re on good terms right now.”

Alathya nods in approval. I admit there was chaos, don’t blame her or her family. We both win. She rambles on about the French countryside, I only partially listen.

Her gallery is just as sleek inside as it is on the outside. Towering ceilings with Edison lamps lit up the interior. Though the walls and floor were all plain concrete and custom marble, it felt so timeless. Even the model-like staff are immaculate, in various jewel toned suits that easily beat the art for your attention. A gorgeous, umber-skinned server flashes me a blinding smile when she hands me a champagne flute, I almost don’t hear Alathya over the beautiful noise. “…I say it’s an absolute miracle you even survived the whole ordeal, nonetheless, save everyone on board. Praise Lhydassa.”

“Praise who?” I ask.

“Let’s sit. I want to discuss something.” Alathya pulls me out of the crowd, starstruck by a statue unveiling. To me, it looks like a giant soggy marshmallow, and judging by Sullivan’s apprehensive applause, he feels the same way, but prospective buyers whisper eagerly to each other. I overhear numbers that overwhelm my mind, enough to buy small countries. Someone starts crying. I gratefully let Alathya drag me out of the crowd and to the furthest corner of the room, where we sit on a white leather divan.

I spot mom across the room. She and Selena were both shoved into a jewel tone suits that somehow, fits them both perfectly. Selena’s a bright yellow and mom’s emerald. The metal trays empty fast as guests spot her cupcakes. By the time mom makes her way over here, her tray is empty. “These people are animals; you’d think they never eaten dessert in their life!” Her smile disappears when she sees Alathya.

“It’s been a long time, Charlene,” Alathya says. “Too long. I remember your wedding. A shame what Roxy’s father did to you.”

“You two know each other?” I ask. Mom never mentioned it. Judging by her glare, can’t say I blame her.

“I was a friend of your late grandmother’s.” Alathya says. “We all thought better of your father, especially with such a lovely woman for a mother.” She flashes a charming smile to mom.

Mom isn’t so easily bought. Anything to do with my dad makes her feral, for lack of a better term. But she tucks her tray under her arm. “We’re a little swamped in the back. When you get a chance, can you meet me in the kitchen, kiddo?”

“You can borrow some of my staff. They’ll make themselves useful. You should be enjoying yourself tonight, if I knew you were working, I’d organize it ahead of time for you.”

Mom glares at Alathya one last time. “See you in five.” She disappears back into the crowd.

“Always wants to be busy, that one. Even when you were little. No wonder your father gave up trying to compete.” Alathya sighs.

Now I was starting to understand Sullivan’s warnings. “What did you want to chat about?” I ask, biting back insults.

She reclines, the image of perfection, but that smile is gone. “Don’t be surprised, but Sullivan tells me everything about you. You might even call him my spy. He cares about you, in his own strange way, as do I. But it is hard to trust you.”

“What do you mean?” My vision slows slightly from the champagne I’ve only been sipping on. I’m tempted to down the rest of my glass but set it aside for now. Tell me what really happened that night.”

“He should have told you. Issues with the welding under the hull. If you want details, I’m not the best source; I drank too much that night.” My throat closes. I try to swallow, but my tongue is like sandpaper.

Alathya’s hand is ice cold when it rests on top of mine. “Do not hide things from me. I was first to welcome you into this family, despite what yours is. It isn’t the cost that concerns me, but who you are and what you hide. You possess something that was stolen a long time ago. If you let me, I can help you fix it.”

“It was an accident, I swear.” I reply. Did they fish out surveillance video? No one was allowed cellphones on the yacht, but that doesn’t stop people from bringing secret cameras to blackmail. “It all happened so quickly. Really, Alathya. I am sorry.”

She flips my wrist over, revealing a tattoo. It’s a sharp, six-point star, done in purple ink. I must have been drinking the night I got it. We were at a club in another city, and somehow, I woke up in a hospital near the university. This was a few years back, but weird things started happening over the last few months. Including the yacht incident. “You made a deal with someone,” she says softly.

“Like, with the devil? I don’t have anything to offer for a devil to make a deal.”

“This is more than a devil. A god, Roxanna. You made a deal with a god.”

“Mrs. Lavoie, please explain, I don’t know what—” I try to rip my wrist away, but she has it in a death grip. Her hand burns my skin, but my tattoo does something I’ve never seen before: it glows.

She tightens her grip, and the many silver rings and bangles she wears also glows. I look up, trying to meet the eyes of the guests, but they’re all enraptured by the artwork. Sullivan is gone. They must be under some kind of enchantment. No one looks out way. “Mrs Lavoie, please—” My pleas fall on deaf ears.

Her bangle shatters, a pathetic rattle when it rolls onto the floor. The tattoo stops glowing, now a dull, dark purple. “By the gods, Roxanna. What have you done?”

“What have I done?” I rub my sore wrist and stand up. “My mom needs my help. See you around.”

“Roxanna, don’t you dare walk away.” She hisses. Now I hear that psychotic energy Sullivan warned me about.

I ignore her endless threats, the blood pumping through my body louder. I make a beeline for the kitchen. She’s collecting pieces of her shattered bangle from the floor, leaving me alone for now.

Mom and Selena stand in the doorway, giggling to each other, no doubt about the shitty art people gawk over. Their smiles falter as soon as they see my pale face and trembling body. “Do I need to go over there and tell Mrs. Lavoie off?” Mom asks.

“We need to leave. Something weird is going on here.”

Mom stiffens. “Get the truck started, Leenie. We’ll be down in a minute.”

“What about the cheque? We still need to clean up—”

“—Leenie. Move.” Leenie doesn’t argue with mom, shoving her tray into mom’s arm and heading towards the elevator.

Mom drags me into the kitchen, locking the door behind us. We’re alone. She grabs a nearby broom and shoves it into the door handle, locking us in. “Do you want to explain to me what happened out there?”

“Only if you tell me what we’re doing.” I point to the door.

She shoulders her tote bag, pushing me into the back of the kitchen. “This is all my fault. I didn’t know Sullivan was one of them, and if I did, I wouldn’t have let you see him at all. I should have never agreed to do this. Your father warned me this would happen.”

Mom is still pushing me. I hear pounding on the kitchen door, but mom ignores them. She dumps a fondue gas canister onto the floor and throws a matchstick on the puddle, which explodes into flames. The fire alarm goes off overhead, and although the sprinkler system quickly dims the growing flames, the alarm still wails overhead.

“Mom! What are you doing?” I shout.

“Just go!” She retorts, pushing me down the stairwell.

I listen. There’s turmoil in the kitchen above us, but we’re already several flights down. I stumble, but mom catches my arm and pushes me through another door leading into a dark hallway. Inside, there’s tarps, yellow tape, and ladders all over, and a metal chair by the door. She shoves it into the handles in time for several dark figures to smash on the sealed door.

“Don’t stop moving!” Mom hisses, pushes me along.

I listen, but all I can do is limp along. My feet are on fire, these shoes are definitely going to be a blood bath when I get them off in the truck. “Can you explain what the fuck is happening?” I demand.

“As soon as we’re out. Keep walking!” Mom said. “What floor are we on?”

I look around. It’s closed off to the public, and judging by the dust, has been for some time. I recognize the teakwood veneer walls. “Some French café thing. Renters got kicked out last year. Seventh floor.” I answer. Even in the dark, and with all the furniture removed, it was easy to recognize. One of Sullivan’s favourite date spots in our freshman year.

“Good. When we get to the elevator, get to the truck. Tell Leenie to use the cash in my wallet, not my cards. I’ll meet you both in two hours at the dumpling spot in the North end.”

“Mom! What is going on?” I stop, blocking the walkway.

Emergency lights flicker overhead. She grabs my shoulders. “You want to tell me first what kind of witchcraft Alathya was doing on you out on the gallery floor?”

I don’t answer. She smiles. “Then listen to me for once. Keep. Going.”

“You two aren’t supposed to be down here.” We both turn.

The female security guard from outside stands in front of the elevator, a long sharp blade in hand. We’re in the middle of a cross walkway, an elevator at the end, and the door we had just exited down the other. The people who followed us disappeared, but both our exits are still blocked.

“I don’t think those kinds of knives are legal in this country.” I answer.

“Forgive us, we’re just looking for the exit. My daughter is sick. Bad sushi before hand.” Mom replies, a desperate grin on her face. “Do you mind?”

Lady security guard steps forward, the knife glinting in the flickering light. “You were a fool, girl, to choose poor alliances. Damn you, for cursing the Honest Sisters.”

“I don’t know your sisters, but thanks for the random accusations.” I reply. There’s no running. I spot a nearby ladder, around ten feet tall. Before she attacks, I slam my body into it, toppling it on her. The guard is crushed, cursing me under her metal trap.

She doesn’t stay down for long. Mom grabs a half empty paint can, smashing her over the head with a loud thwonk! The guard stays down, but there’s more guards coming up the crosswalks from the dark, all with the same, strange knives.

Mom frantically presses the elevator buttons. She’s looking around. “Where is it? Where is it? Gods, where is it?” She mutters.

“What are you talking about?” I beg.

I press my ear to the elevator. It moves slowly. “What are you looking for?” I asked mom.

“Don’t worry about it!” She snaps.

“This, Charlene?” Alathya joins us, three guards behind her. We’re surrounded. The elevator moves past us, up, stranding us. She holds up a small vial of glowing, purplish water. “As sweet as your relationship is, your daughter is not worthy of the Mother’s Blood.”

“What happened was an accident. She’s made no deals.” Mom stands in front of me, holding my hand. “You should have come to me. I thought we had a deal; I didn’t even give a damn your people were spying on Roxy this whole time.”

“You know what’s going on?” I ask. “Why is no one telling me what’s happening!”

Alathya tilts her head to look at me. “A hundred and fifty years ago we escaped the fall of our Order. We’ve only survived by our wits in a world that resents womankind, nonetheless spectacular, by keeping our deal with the pantheon after She betrayed us. After people with your blood betrayed us. How were you able to get the Mother’s Vow?”

I look down at my tattoo. It’s glowing again. “We were… drunk racing, I think. That’s the last I remember. I swear, Mrs. Lavoie, I don’t know anything about your fuck ass cult. I don’t give a fuck what weird cult laws you have, or your freak of a son. Let us go or I’ll fuck you and your freaky little minions up.” I flex my hands. Sure, my feet hurt like hell, but I kickbox instructor in my spare time. I trained how to disarm all kinds of weapons. I’m shaking, but when anyone threatens mom, I’ll take a few stab wounds for her, easily.

She looks me up and down. “I like you, Roxanna. Greatly. But once She gets her hands on you, there’s no undoing the damage. I’m sorry.” She nods to her guards. They come forward, twirling those weird little machetes. Seems as if they know how to use them.

Mom lets go of my hand, sprinting. Before I can even shout, she socks Alathya in the face, and the vial shatters on the floor a few feet away. The creepy, glowing fluid spills across the floor, but it doesn’t stay put. It floats.

Alathya curses, the guards are frantic. I take it as my chance to sock the nearest one in the face, sending her stumbling back into the second guard. The water expands, creating a giant puddle that fills the room with soft, glowing light. It sparkles, almost like a pool of starlight.

I look at the pool. Only a few feet away, Alathya pins mom down, holding a blade to her throat. The other three guards back away from the pool, splitting the room in half. “Let my mom go.” I demand.

“Roxy, get in the water. It’ll protect you.” Mom winces, the blade sinks into her throat. I see a few drops of blood.

“Go ahead, Roxy, follow your mother. You won’t find her again.” She drags the blade across.

A tear stains mom’s cheek. “Get in the pool and don’t come back.” Mom begs. “I love you, kiddo. I love you more than—"

Mom goes limp, her body falls to the floor.

I think I’m screaming. My vision goes red the moment mom collapses. I run towards her, just in time to catch mom’s body before it sinks into the water puddle, surrounding us with cold, wetness that I can only imagine is her blood.

I feel Alathya’s hand grabbing the back of my jacket, pulling me out of the water, but the cheap material rips as me and my mom’s dead body are pulled deep into dark, frigid water.