Strange Fates (Nyx Fortuna) Read Online Free PDF Page A

quite pull it off.
    “I haven’t even said yes yet,” I said. “And what kind of papers are we talking about?”
    “Historical documents,” she replied, like that cleared it up for me.
    “I’ll think about it,” I replied. “In the meantime, I need to go out to pick up a few things.”
    They were both staring at me curiously, so I added, “Smokes, maybe a razor.” I didn’t smoke. They didn’t need to know where I was really going, which was out the door as fast as I could.
    Bolting was kind of a shitty thing to do, considering Elizabeth had given me a place to stay, but I didn’t have the energy for a scene. She was clearly used to getting her own way.
    “Why don’t you stay here until you make up your mind?” Elizabeth said, “It’s almost four. I need to make a call anyway.”
    Four P.M. ? I’d slept most of the day away. It didn’t give me much time. I was almost out of cash.
    I went back to my room and took a long hot shower. The chest wound looked like it was healing pretty well, but it hurt when the water hit the crusted wound.
    After I toweled off and dressed, I noticed that someone had placed a bouquet of hothouse flowers in a crystal vase on my nightstand. I plucked a rose and inhaled. It was one of the soulless new strains that didn’t have any scent, but it would have to do. I shrugged on my jacket and placed the rose inside my jacket, where it would be safe.
    I wondered if I could find a place to make an offering. A place of magic and luck would be preferable, but I would settle for an altar to Lady Fortuna.
    Nobody believed in magic anymore, anyway, unless it happened in the pages of a book.
    Some people still believed in Lady Luck, though. My mother had many names. The Greeks called her Tyche. The Romans called her Fortuna. She was the fourth Fate, the youngest Wyrd Sister, Lady Fortuna.
    There were few reminders of my mother’s power floating around. I’d found altars in Vegas, Atlantic City, and the back rooms of several restaurants in San Francisco’s Chinatown. I left an offering in every city. It was my way of remembering her.
    I took a bus from the posh suburb where Elizabeth lived and got out a few streets from where I’d parked the Caddy. It started up right away. The car was my prized possession, a purple 1956 Cadillac Eldorado convertible, so I was relieved no one had messed with it. The wards I’d put on it would have discouraged all but the most determined vandals.
    I cruised around Minneapolis, but finally ended up wandering into a bingo game at the Uptown VFW. Not exactly high-stakes gambling, but there was a certain amount of luck involved, so it would have to do. It was twenty dollars for fifteen games, which depleted my cash considerably.
    I played a couple of games and won a hundred bucks. I didn’t always win, but I was my mother’s son, after all. I left the rose next to my board and collected my winnings.
    A chill wind hit me as soon as I stepped onto the street, and I turned my collar up against the falling snow. My ungloved hands were already freezing.
    I found a grocery store and picked up a razor, some chocolate, and a cheap pair of gloves. The store was nearly deserted, except for a bored clerk at the front. I was walking down the neat rows of canned goods, heading for the refrigerated section, when the lights flickered.
    I froze when I saw a familiar figure reflected in the glass of the display case. He was blond, with watery blue eyes and pale skin. His nose, pink from the cold, made him look like a cuddly rabbit. In reality, he was the farthest thing from cuddly that I could think of.
    Gaston, my aunts’ errand boy, was a general pain in the ass. He was also a Tracker, one of the best. He could sniff out his prey better than any hound dog. He had just enough magic in his blood to be dangerous.
    He turned, stared straight at me, and took a swig out of a bottle of orange soda. Gaston had been drinking nectar of the gods since he’d started tracking for