Chapter Three

"For the record, I did use the front door," Jesse says quietly. "The bell wasn't working, so I knocked, and when no one answered, I just figured…" he trails off, blowing out a breath. "I'm sorry."

I open my mouth to respond, but my tongue can't conjure up words. Of course, he would try the window. It's what he used to do all the time. My best friend. My first lover.

Licking my lips, I release an exasperated sigh and sink onto my bed. "You don't have to apologize, Jesse." My attention snags on the crude bruise forming on his neck in the shape of Nick's fingers, and tears well in my eyes. "I'm the one that should apologize. I'm so sorry he hurt you." I tip my chin toward the ceiling, praying my tears stay put. But when one slips down my cheek, I bring my face into my hands and let them fall silently into my palms. "I've made such a fucking mess."

The bed dips beside me, and Jesse pulls my hands away from my face. His fingers gently come beneath my chin, forcing me to look at him. His eyes are soft and warm, holding none of the intensity I usually find within Nick's gaze. "Don't apologize for him. You have nothing to do with his actions."

Don't I? I pushed Nick to the edge with my lying, then dangled hope right in front of him before Jesse's presence snatched it. The expression on his face when Jesse referred to him as "the friend" will haunt my brain even more than Leviathan's face. Of all the lies I've told, of all the lies Nick has chosen to disregard as bullshit, he decides to believe that one.

I nod, trying to force a smile in between my sniffling. But Jesse doesn't smile back. He drops the finger beneath my chin, and his gaze hardens as he scrutinizes my body. His eyes travel from my neck down to my bare arms and legs before settling on my face.

"Rhi, I don't want to get involved in your relationship with him, but after what he did to me…" Jesse shakes his head. "Has he ever hurt you?"

My eyes widen at the accusation veiled within the question. I hold up my palms. "Oh, Jesse, it's not- "

" Because I will fucking kill him," Jesse growls in a voice not entirely his own. Even those usually gentle eyes of his are now a raging furnace, and his face is inches from mine.

My pulse jumps at the sudden change in his demeanor, even more so at this display of anger I've never seen in all the years I've known him. The Scylla perks up warily, not quite categorizing him as a threat, but not confident enough to disregard him, either.

I place my palms on Jesse's chest in an attempt to both calm him and put some space between us. "Jesse, I promise he has never hurt me, and he never will. That behavior was…uncharacteristic of him."

Yeah, that's a huge understatement.

Jesse narrows his eyes. I can sense he doesn't fully believe me, so I add, "Nick's very overprotective when it comes to me."

Also a huge understatement.

Jesse snorts. "Clearly." He huffs. "Fine, but if I find out he ever puts his hands on you, they're going to find him in pieces all over New York."

I smother a giggle at his inflated bravado, and nudge him playfully with my shoulder. "Now who's being overprotective?"

"Rhi, when it comes to you, there's no such thing." Jesse's mouth lifts in a half smile, but he fixes me with a hard stare. It's difficult for me to reconcile this side of Jesse, the one that seems monstrous in its own way. Jesse has always been non-confrontational, usually settling disagreements and breaking up fights rather than part-taking in them.

Though, to be fair, he'd never been manhandled before tonight, so I can hardly blame him for becoming a little unhinged.

A thunderous crash nearly shakes the walls of my room, and I whip my head toward my window, anticipating a roaring firework explosion. Instead, storm clouds paint the sky an ominous gray and rain pellets to the ground.

My mouth drops open, and I get up to close the window. "Shit. I guess the Solstice Party is over. I didn't even think it was supposed to rain today." I turn around, finding Jesse close behind me. He shrugs, his white tee shirt straining against his muscled chest with the movement. Almond-flavored saliva pools in my mouth. A familiar yet foreign sensation coils in my abdomen and settles between my legs. I'm ravenous. But not just for Jesse's hands and mouth in between my thighs.

I want to fucking eat him.

"You know how summer weather is, Rhi," he starts. " One minute it's eighty degrees and sunny and the next there's a rogue thunderstorm."

I try to focus on what he's saying, breathing in and out to calm my hunger and keep the saliva from pouring out of my mouth. Panic flares in my chest at the thought that I'm once again losing control of the carnivorous urges that developed when my monstrous side first emerged. But I spent an entire year at Alystair University learning how to control those urges, and a part of me wonders why they're being triggered right now.

"Rhi? Are you okay?"

I blink a few times and let out a deep breath. Jesse still stands in front of me, forehead creased in concern. I clench the pendant. Jesse's gaze falls to my closed fist, and immediately, I feel better.

"Yeah," I breathe. "Sorry. I've been getting panic attacks lately." Not entirely a lie.

He steps closer, and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to flinch at his proximity. But miraculously, the hunger for his flesh has dissipated, leaving only a miserable ache between my thighs.

You win some. You lose some.

"Is that a magical necklace or something?" There's amusement in Jesse's tone, but the truth of that statement sobers me up. Because he isn't wrong.

I release a breathy, fake laugh. "No. But it steadies me. That's all."

Jesse nods, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts. "Well, then I'm glad you have it, even if I don't like who gave it to you."

I smile meekly. I won't try to convince Jesse that Nick is a good - no, a great guy. It's evident by Jesse's tone, not to mention the fact that Nick had him by the throat, that Jesse wouldn't believe anything I had to say about Nick.

Besides, talking about him will just have me dissolve into a puddle of tears, so it's best Nick stays out of conversation for the foreseeable future. Even so, salty droplets leak from the corners of my eyes, despite my best efforts to rein them in.

Jesse immediately reaches for me and pulls me into a tight embrace. I bury my face in his shirt, my tears soaking the fabric. If Jesse notices I'm basically using his shirt as a snot rag, he makes no mention of it. Instead, I feel one of his strong hands softly stroke my hair.

"I hate seeing you cry, Rhi. That day last year in your room, right before you kicked me out, it destroyed me that I almost made you cry." I sniff, gripping him tighter. "And do you remember that time, in the second grade, when that asshole, Jonathan Price, pushed you too hard in a game of tag, and you fell and scraped your knee?"

I laugh and pull away from him, using the back of my hand to wipe under my nose. "Yeah. That really hurt."

Jesse's eyes harden, such a stark contrast to the soft curve of his mouth as he recalls the time when we were kids. "Yeah, you cried. And I never told you this, but I punched Jonathan in the face after school that day."

My mouth drops open in shock. "Jesse!" You could have gotten kicked out of school!"

He shrugs. "I told you, Rhi. I don't like seeing you cry. Not now." He shakes his head. "Not then."

I blink away the last of my tears and stare at him. My oldest friend. A boy that's been in love with me for twelve years. I thought I loved him, once. Enough that I decided to lose my virginity to him. Is it such a stretch to think I can rekindle that love? That I can feel for him what I felt for Nick?

Feel for Nick, my traitorous heart corrects. Because that's the sad truth, isn't it? I still love Nick too much to love someone else. I love Nick enough to let him go, to let him walk out of my room without uttering a single fucking word to stop him even though my heart repeatedly shattered with each step he took away from me. Like a mirror being struck over and over, splintering into finely woven cracks until the last strike sends it exploding into hundreds of unrepairable fragments.

I release a shaky sigh and force a smile. I can't love Jesse the way I love Nick, and it wouldn't be fair to have him wait for a day that will never come.

"You want to watch a movie?" Jesse asks abruptly.

"Oh. Um…" I'm completely taken aback. Not to mention that being alone with him is probably not the best idea for so many reasons.

Jesse holds up his hands defensively. "Just as friends, Rhi. In fact, I was going to suggest something scary. Grotesquely disturbing, even. Not a romantic gesture in sight."

A laugh bubbles from my throat. "Sure. Isn't the new Conjuring movie on Netflix?"

He jerks his head. "Let's go find out." Jesse doesn't wait for me as he turns and exits my bedroom.

I exhale deeply, feeling a lot lighter than I have in months, and follow Jesse downstairs. Hopefully, I'll be frightened so badly I won't think of Nick at all.

An intrusive clap of thunder has me jolting awake, and panic ensues as I'm wrenched from another horrible nightmare where not just Liv and Kassi die, but every single one of my friends. The word liar drips from Leviathan's monstrous snout as rows of his crude, pointed fangs tear the flesh from their bodies. The monster's sickly yellow eyes bore into me while the electric blue stares tauntingly.

Bile climbs up the back of my throat, and I swallow it down as I use the back of my hand to wipe beads of sweat from my forehead. I glance around in confusion as I take in the surroundings of my bedroom, when the last place I remember being was on my living room couch with Jesse.

I reach for my phone on my nightstand. The numbers on the screen glaringly read two thirty in the morning, and I open a text from Jesse.

Jesse

You fell asleep downstairs. Didn't want to wake you. Carried you up to your room and waited until your parents came home so you didn't have to be alone. I left using the window, not the "fucking front door," so your Dad wouldn't kill me ;)

A chuckle escapes my lips, and then I frown. He carried me to my bedroom, then sat around and watched me sleep? I dart my gaze downward in panic. Relief floods me in realizing I'm still in my sundress from yesterday.

Watching me while I sleep? Creepy, friend or not.

Undressing me while I sleep? Norman Bates.

Luckily, Jesse had the sense to leave me clothed, despite having seen me naked plenty of times.

Bet you wouldn't mind if Nick undressed you, my ridiculous brain taunts. I don't have the energy for my inner thoughts to war with each other right now, so I close down that tab window in my brain and swing my legs over the side of my bed, attempting to put on comfortable sleeping clothes.

Another explosive echo of thunder reverberates in my ears. Lightning quickly follows, illuminating my room to reveal three figures shrouded in black.

I stifle a scream and scramble backward on my bed, unceremoniously falling off the opposite side. My monstrous agility allows me to land on my hands and knees rather than my back, and I pick my head up just as another burst of lightning brightens my room.

One of the figures peers down at me with startling lavender eyes, head cocked to one side in interest. Moonlight hair spills down to her waist in loose waves, the black shroud nothing more than floor length black dress. She's equal parts beautiful and terrifying, and I stand up slowly, those uncanny lavender eyes tracking me curiously.

"Don't be frightened," she says, her delicate voice like wind chimes in a soft breeze.

A snort sounds from across the room. "We appeared in her bedroom in the middle of the night, Lachesis, during a torrential thunderstorm."

A second figure sidles up to the lavender-eyed girl, who I assume is Lachesis. This second girl is Lachesis's clone in every way. Silver white hair falls like a curtain down to her waist, her facial features identical to Lachesis, except for the color of her eyes. A melancholy blue, they hold none of the curiosity of Lachesis's lavender ones. These eyes hold something akin to pity.

" Of course she should be frightened," the blue-eyed one adds.

The third and final girl joins what I'm guessing are her sisters, because she is also identical to the other two. Again, the only aspect of her appearance that differs is her eyes. And of all three, these eyes are the ones that send ripples of fear down my spine. They are pure silver, unsettling, and wholly fixated on me.

"Well, she's the one without a thread, Clotho. It's impossible to predict her movements," the silver-eyed one says, her mouth twisted in disapproval. Something about her reminds me a bit of Astrid. She's abrasive. Rough. Immovable.

I finally remember I have a working tongue and a pretty decent vocabulary, one that includes my favorite swear word. "Who the fuck are you? What the fuck are doing in my room? And what the fuck are you talking about?"

The three girls tilt their heads in unison, which is incredibly disturbing. They then speak in order, starting with the silver-eyed one on my left.

"We are the Moirai."

"We've come to see you," Clotho, the blue-eyed one answers next.

"You're a puzzle, Rhiannon," Lachesis finishes.

All three sentences are entirely unhelpful. I have no idea what the fuck the Moirai are and still have no fucking idea why they're here.

They're coming for you. Blood rushes from my face as I recall Kassi's words. These… Moirai… could they be who Kassi referred to in her prophecy?

I swallow against a dry throat. "A friend of mine gave me a prophecy. She said someone was coming for me. Is that why you're here?"

"No," the three of them answer immediately and as one.

Fuck, that's really creepy .

To make matters worse, they all sound similar.

"You do not know who we are?" Lachesis asks gently. Of the three, I garner she's the nice one. The silver-eyed one whose name I still don't know is a terrifying twat, and Clotho, I'm working on.

"Nope."

"I am called the Spinner," Clotho answers, stepping forward. She offers me her palm, in which a dazzling gold thread is curled like a corkscrew, spinning on an incessant loop. In a daze, I reach for the thread, but Clotho snatches her hand away.

"From each mortal conception, I spin the thread that holds every mortal's fate. Every decision, every mistake, every heartbreak, and every regret is all right here. Every single action and non-action this mortal will take during their life is found in this thread." Clotho opens her hand again to reveal the gold thread.

"So, that…" I gulp and shake my head, attempting to wrap my thoughts around the gravity of what she's explaining. "That thread right there…is someone's life? "

She smiles and nods before stepping back in line.

Lachesis comes forward, her lavender eyes sparkling. "I am called the Allotter." She holds up her hand and inside her fist is a spindle wrapped in the same golden thread Clotho holds in her palm. "I measure the thread of life and allot a mortal's time on earth accordingly. I am the dispenser of their Fate. Some even call me Destiny."

The silver-eyed one rolls her eyes and steps forward just as Lachesis returns to Clotho's side. The information they are firing at me is overwhelming, and before the silver-eyed sister can speak, I interrupt—"Ok, so the three of you are some witchy, weavers of time or something." I throw my hands up in the air. "What does that have to do with me?"

The third sister's silver eyes flash. Her lips are turned up in a sneer, and I gather she's less than pleased about the fact that I interrupted her.

"Everything," she snaps.

"You have no thread, Rhiannon," Clotho states matter-of-factly.

"Without a thread, we cannot properly dispense your Fate," Lachesis adds.

I'm beginning to understand they all take turns speaking, which is very nice for them.

But fucking annoying for me.

I also don't understand why that's such a problem. So, they can't know my every move? Cry me a river. Welcome to Chess 101.

"This seems very much like a ‘you' problem." I wave my pointer finger back and forth at the three sisters. "So I'm not sure why you decided to scare the shit out of me at almost three in the morning, but if you don't mind, I'm going to get into some comfy pjs and go the fuck to sleep."

I push past them and make my way over to my dresser, deciding to add on to my tirade when none of the sisters answers. "I mean, who cares if I don't have a Thread?" I rummage through my drawer.

"You do have a Thread, Rhiannon. It is being hidden from us," one of them says. Definitely not the silver-eyed one, since the delivery was almost friendly.

"Again, not my problem," I reply, though I won't deny that revelation sets off warning bells. Why would someone cloak my Thread? And who is powerful enough to do so? But I continue fishing for some sleep shorts as though I'm unbothered.

"Another's Thread is heavily entwined with yours. Even though I can't see yours with his, I can feel it."

At the mention of the word his, I stiffen, my rummaging coming to an abrupt halt. Whichever one of the sisters spoke must definitely mean Nick. If they have his Thread, maybe I can -

"He is going to die."

I whip around, eyes narrowed and heart racing. The silver-eyed one is grinning from ear to ear, her smile wide enough to reveal her teeth are small and sharp, and damn . They are incomparable to my own flesh-tearing fangs, but the way she wears that smile has only one word flashing in my mind: death .

"No, he isn't," I argue, my voice trembling. "I'm the cause of his death. If I just stay away-"

"Do you know what they call me, Rhiannon?" She walks toward me in a slow, predatory manner. Her sisters' gazes are unmoving, following her every step, her every subtle movement. It's then that I notice something spinning on her pointer finger. She twirls a crude-looking pair of metal shears, their blades serrated. She catches them in her palm before releasing and twirling them again.

She stops inches from my face, those silver eyes of hers menacing. "I am Atropos, the unturnable. The inevitable. " She all but spits the words in my face. Holding up the shears with the blades separated, she adds, "I am the Cutter, and I dispense Death."