Page 52 of Unraveling Fate

Per their agreement, he’d been keeping the man apprised of the Cadenza and Taran situation. The amount of time they spent together, their apparent growing closeness. Canon suspected his boss wanted Taran’s heart broken, although he didn’t yet know why. He’d supplied his info while benefitting from his gift of discernment in the showroom and on the campaign trail, and he had his own reasons for keeping tabs on their relationship, so he didn’t begrudge the time reporting took. His time and info in exchange for this gift had been a fair trade. So far. But what he’d overheard tonight?

What he’d overheard was valuable. Too valuable to give up for nothing.

Guilt scratched at his conscience. Was passing the info on to his boss giving it up for nothing? He’d already been paid with this ability to read people’s wants. And aside from all this about a curse, his employer would want to know what that gift told Canon.

He narrowed his eyes. That gift told him that what Taran wanted was Cadenza and freedom. In that order. If he were in Taran’s place, freedom would be first. Easier to secure Cadenza after gaining freedom, but Taran apparently didn’t understand priorities. Taran’s need for Cadenza burned hot and new. Freedom, he wanted, but he wanted it without hope of attaining it.

Canon shook his shoulders out. What Cadenza wanted most was still success in Italy, so he had time to deal with Taran as a rival. In fact, if his boss did want the younger Norroway hurt, Canon’s plans for Cadenza would play right into that, so he was still helping his boss.

Canon resumed pacing. Yes, he’d been paid with the gift to discern a person’s desires, but the information he gainedtonight outweighed that gift. They weren’t an even exchange. If his employer didn’t know something about the Norroways as momentous as a curse, then he needed to pay extra to get it.

And if he did already know, Canon needed to figure out what the larger game was.

Because whatever this game was, it was big. Taran had been agitated. Distraught even. In past attempts to glean information, Canon had tried to sneak up on Taran but?—

He paused in his thoughts. Sneak? No. That sounded too underhanded. Too nefarious. Canon was trying to keep his end of a deal. Keeping his word was important. Holding up his end of a bargain was honorable. No, not sneaking then. Questing. Questing for information.

Much better.

Every time he’d quested for information, Taran heard him coming. He had some kind of sense, like a built-in perimeter alarm or something. But tonight he’d been too upset for that alarm to go off. When Canon saw first Cadenza, then Taran, storm out of the garage, he’d been able to follow without being noticed. At one point during their conversation, he thought Taran had heard him, but telling Cadenza his story had kept his attention diverted from the trees where Canon had hidden, listening.

And what a story. Canon chuckled to himself. Nothing Taran had said rattled him. His own gift proved the existence of things beyond normal explanations. And Taran had said nothing that the rules of interaction couldn’t explain. Curses, shifters, Fate. They all worked on a give-and-take basis like “normal” humanity. Exchanges, deals. Those, Canon understood. Even Fate could be bargained with.

And this information was too valuable not to use as a bargaining chip.

Canon swiped away his employer’s number and called Vasilios instead.

Thirteen

10 Sep 2019

6 Days. No car. Breathe.

Sun streamed warm through the windshield of Cadenza’s loaner car, parked downtown. Foot traffic bustled on the sidewalk, and a stack of flyers stared at her impatiently from the passenger seat, but she didn’t get out of the car. Taran’s tale from last night of Fates and revenge and curses swirled through her thoughts. Amazing. Unbelievable.

But true. She’d seen Taran try to go through the fence with her own eyes. Been there when the Ferrari transformed into him. And his story explained Drostan’s reaction to Taran’s sudden reappearance, as well as why Drostan had never talked about his third son. Taran had never “been away.” He’d been there at Norroway Automotive each time she’d visited as a child but tucked away in the garage as the F12. Drostan never told anyone he had a third son because then he would have to explain why that son vanished every day. Why that son couldn’t ever go anywhere that the other Norroways were invited.

Even if she didn’t have all of that as evidence, who was she—a freaky earthsong-hearing, walking demolition derby—to tell anyone their own story of unbelievable things wasn’t true? No, she couldn’tnotbelieve the story of Taran’s curse. But the end of their conversation last night was a different story.

A lump hardened in her throat, and she breathed slowly through her nose to keep the tears at bay.

“For the short time you’re here,” he’d said.

A fling. He wanted a fling?

What did you expect, Cadenza? She scoffed at herself. She’d made no secret of the fact that she was leaving. And hadn’t she warned herself not to get involved with anyone before she left?

Flyers in hand, she shoved out of the car, slammed the door, and stalked across the street, Taran’s face refusing to leave her thoughts.All the incredible, tragic, bizarre things he told you last night, and you’re hung up on the idea that he just wants a fling? Get a grip.

Besides, why should she care if that was all he wanted?Italywas her dream, not a relationship.

Wasn’t it?

She yanked open the door to the music store to check on the flyers she’d hung last week. Three other voice teachers’ flyers hung plastered over hers, and Cadenza cursed under her breath before re-pinning them to the side of the notice board.

“Can I help you with anything today?” an older woman in a store uniform asked.

“Not unless you know how to date a cursed Ferrari,” Cadenza muttered.