The Gatekeeper's Daughter (21 page)

Desire flared in
Than’s heart. Her blushing cheeks and the awkward way she lowered her eyes made him want to sweep her into his bed. “Right.” He cleared his throat, feeling the blood rush to his face. His cheeks were probably as pink as hers. “When a god and a mortal get together, a pregnancy always results. Between two gods, it’s less often, but one can’t predict when it will happen. They say only the Fates know.”

Therese’s eyes widened with a spark that meant she had an idea.

Just what he needed: another idea. “What?” he asked warily.

“The Fates live here, in the Underworld, right?”

“Right.”

“Are they related to you?”

“They’re my great-aunts, but I rarely see them because they’re heavily guarded. Especially since that one time Apollo got them drunk to help his friend Admetus. You remember, the story I told you about…”

“Yeah, I remember. He’s the one that asked his wife to die in his place.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I don’t think I’ve even been to their chambers. Our paths usually cross out there.”

“Out there?”

“When I’m collecting souls. See, they also have the power of disintegration.”

“Why? Why would they need to be at more than one place at a time?”

“They visit each person on his or her seventh day, when they weave, measure, and cut out the thread of life for that person.”

Therese put her fists on her hips. “I don’t believe that they get to decide how people live their lives. People have free will. Your brother said so, too.”

“That’s true.”

“Then how can the Fates already know what a person’s going to do?”

Than sat in one of the leather chairs in front of the fireplace and beckoned Therese to his lap. “I’m going to give you an analogy.”

“Like the shower head?”

“Yes. Like the shower head. But this time, imagine you go see a fortune teller, and she says your shoe lace is going to break. Then your shoe lace breaks later that day. Just because she foresaw it, doesn’t mean she caused it. Understand?”

“So you’re saying the Fates see what we are going to do with our lives, but we still have the power to make our lives what we want them to be?”

“Not complete power, not total freedom, but yes.”

“Why not total freedom?”

“Well, you don’t get to choose your parents or the other circumstances of your birth, like what economic class you’re born into, religion, culture, and so forth. If you’re born a king you are limited and free in different ways than if you’re born a slave.”

“Okay, I see. But within certain parameters, people are free to make their own destinies.”

“Yes. Within limited parameters.”

“So when can you take me to them?”

He seriously doubted it was possible. “Both gods and people have tried to manipulate the Fates. Like I said, they’re heavily guarded.”

“But if the Fates don’t cause your destiny.”

“Well, they do weave part of it. Those things outside of your control. And then the goddess of chance comes into play. But people, especially demigods, have come seeking my aunts under the misguided notion that the Fates can change anything. They can’t. Once a thread is woven it’s immutable.”

“Immutable?”

“Can’t be changed.”

“But can’t you just explain that we don’t want to change anything? We just want to know how many kids we’re going to have.”

He shook his head. “Nothing good ever comes from knowing what the future holds.”

“But our case is different.” She jumped from his lap. “We need to know so we can get Ares to cooperate.”

He crossed the room and grasped her shoulders, looking hard into her eyes. “And what if we don’t like what we hear?”

“Like what?
That we won’t have any kids?”

He nodded, but he worried there could be other information they wouldn’t want to know, like her being captured by Ares and kept for all eternity in the Amazonian Pit, Than helpless to save her.

“Well…, that would be disappointing…, but then we could tell Ares with confidence that he has nothing to worry about. Don’t you get it?” She pulled away to pace around his room again. “If we can find out for sure how many kids we’re going to have, even if it’s none, we can bring back the right number of apples and have more credibility when we make our proposition to Ares.”

“The Fates are never wrong.”

“Exactly.” She turned to him and put her hands on his chest. “So how can we arrange to meet with them tonight?”

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Fates

The chamber belonging to the Fates resembled a Las Vegas casino. It was alight with blinking colors from slot machines crammed together with archaic pinball machines along the Phlegethon, which also illuminated the room as it flowed in a circle around the perimeter of the cave through a haze of thick cigarette smoke. Two tables occupied the middle of the room. The bigger and more central was a roulette wheel that emanated a barely audible melody reminding Therese of circus music. On the right side of the roulette wheel was a much smaller table with three chairs and stacks of playing cards. Sitting in each chair was a petite wrinkled old lady holding a cigarette. They didn’t look up from their cards when
Than and Therese entered.

“Is it already time for their visit?” said one in a raspy, throaty voice as she picked up a card. Half of her gray hair sat in a bun on the crown of her head, and the other half lay in straight lines along her back and shoulders, across her pink velvet pantsuit. “Hit me one more time.”

“Are you sure?” The sister dealing was plumper than the others but as small in stature and throaty in voice. Her gray hair was short and curly and she wore a bright blue shawl over a blue velvet dress.

“Of course not, but hit me anyway.” She looked at the card. “Damn. I’m busted.” She tossed the card on the table and took a drag from her cigarette.

“Hit me,” said the third, who wore her white hair in a bob with bangs that curled under, reaching the top of her black-rimmed spectacles. She took the card from the dealing sister and turned all three cards over. “Twenty-one. I’m on a roll tonight.”

“I think I’ll hit the slots for a while,” the one in the pink velvet pantsuit said.

Her sister, who wore a lavender jacket and a denim skirt, pointed to Therese. “But what about our guests, Clotho?”

“You deal with them,” Clotho replied. “I need to be amazed.”

“Do you want me to bring that magician from the fifth century in again?” the one who had dealt offered.

Clotho sat down before one of the blinking machines, her back to Therese and
Than. “No thanks, Lachesis. He was a little too predictable for my taste.” She pulled the lever.

Lachesis stacked the cards back into a full deck and said, without looking up, “You may as well have a seat.” She pointed to her own as she left the table to spin the roulette wheel. “Call out a number between one and a hundred.”

Therese, taking Clotho’s seat, glanced at Than.

“Fifty,” Than said.

The one in the lavender jacket, who was the only sister seated at the table, said, “Don’t you remember? He doesn’t get it right.”

“I’d forgotten, Atropos. But thank you for spoiling it for me,” Lachesis, the dealer, complained before returning to the table. “Please, honey, take my seat,” she said to
Than. “I’d ask you how you’ve been, but I already know. And I’d ask you why you’re here, but I know that, too. I don’t know how you feel, so, tell me, Thanatos, how are you feeling?”

“Anxious,” Than replied.
“I’ve witnessed only bad consequences when people seek answers from you. By the way, you know Therese. Therese, these are my great-aunts. Clotho, across the room, is the spinner. Lachesis here is the measurer. Atropos is the cutter.”

“Nice to meet you,” Therese said, repeating their names in her head so she wouldn’t forget them: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos.

“I wish that were true,” Lachesis said. “But it won’t be nice, dearie.”

“What do you mean?” Therese asked.

Atropos of the spectacles and lavender jacket blew cigarette smoke from her mouth. “Only that it’s best not to know what lies ahead. But, despite this warning, you will still ask your question, so proceed.”

“We wouldn’t ask it if we could think of any other way to be together,” Therese said.

“Blah, blah, blah,” Clotho said in her pink pantsuit from across the room. “Just get on with it. Ask your question. I’m ready for a game of roulette.”

“Why do you play if you already know the outcome?” Therese asked.

“It’s your turn, Atropos,” Clotho said. “I answered it the last time it was asked.”

“But that was two centuries ago,” Atropos complained.

“It still counts,” Clotho said.

Atropos sighed. “The threads of gods are woven, but they are neither measured nor cut like they are for the mortals. The threads belonging to us three Fates remain unwoven, for the sake of our sanity. We do not know the details of our own futures.”

“Except for those moments when we cross paths with others,” Lachesis added. “Such as this visit. That’s how Atropos knew what number you’d call out, Than, dearie.”

Atropos exhaled more cigarette smoke and said, “We are weary of always knowing what was, what is, and what will be. These games of chance in isolation from others divert us from our otherwise dreary existence.”

“But each time a new person is born, you weave, measure, and cut a new thread,” Therese said. “Each one is different, right?”

Clotho waved her hand through the air. “There’s nothing new under the stars, dearie. One person’s life in a given culture and context is very much like another.”

Lachesis came around the table next to Therese and put a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. “Occasionally someone different comes along, but it’s quite rare. You, for example. Your thread was a delightful surprise.”

Therese smiled. “Thank you.”

Atropos looked at Therese over her spectacles and from beneath her curled white bangs. “That doesn’t mean you’ll like the answer to your question.”

“Ask already,” the impatient Clotho said again.

Therese glanced at Than, who appeared as nervous and worried as she felt. Why wouldn’t she like the answer? “Okay. How many children will Than and I have?”

“Two, but none immortal,” Atropos said.

“What does that mean?” Therese asked.

“Are you sure you want to ask more questions, dearie?” Lachesis asked.

“If I remember correctly,” Atropos began. “They ask one more.”

“Yes, you remember correctly.” Therese climbed from her chair to stand beside
Than. “What does that mean, none immortal?”

Atropos rolled her eyes. “I mean you produce
mortal
children.”

“Don’t ask more,” Than cautioned Therese.
“We have enough information to satisfy Ares.”

“But…” Therese wanted a better explanation.

Than shook his head and gave her an urgent stare. “Let’s go,” he said. “Thanks for your help, ladies.”

“Oh, good,” Clotho said jumping from her seat.
“Time for roulette.”

“Yes, thank you,” Therese added.

“Our pleasure.” Lachesis gave her a friendly nod.

Clotho shook her head as she crossed the room toward the roulette wheel. “I knew she would ask it, but I still hoped she wouldn’t. Why? Why do I bother?”

Therese and Than god traveled back to Than’s room.

“We need to see Ares immediately,” Than said. “This will put his fears to rest.”

“But what does it mean, no immortal children?”

He took her in his arms. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”

“But I do. What if I can’t remain a god?”

“They said we have children together. There’s no way I could sire children by you if you return to being a mortal.”

“Unless for some reason you, too, become mortal.”

Than pulled away and faced the fire crackling in his fireplace. “I knew we shouldn’t have gone.”

“But at least we’ll get Ares off our backs.” She went to him and hugged him from behind, burying her face in his strong back.

“Can you be happy with me, knowing what you know? Can you just let the future be and enjoy the present?”

She nodded against him. “Yes. I’ll trust that whatever happens, as long as you and I are together, we’ll be happy.”

He turned around and kissed her.
“Mmm. That’s my girl. Now, we need to see Ares.”

“How do we manage that? I don’t know if they’ll let us in at Mount Olympus.”

“Hermes can arrange a meeting.”

Chapter Thirty-Five: Conference in Paris

Than thanked Hermes for summoning the others, and then he and Therese god traveled from his chambers to Paris. He had asked Hermes to invite Apollo, so the god of truth could vouch for the veracity of
Than’s statements to Ares, and for Aphrodite, so her presence would put Ares in a good mood. Alecto would also be present, in case Ares tried anything, like abducting Therese again.