Time

By Patti Larsen

When will the Gods admit Eve is their only hope...?

Funeral for a friend

Sand shifted under my sneakers, making me wish I’d just taken my shoes off instead of trying to walk the beach in my regular footwear. A silly thing to think about, really, in my present circumstances, but that was how my brain worked. Dragging me off on tangents to protect me when I needed it most.

After all, I wasn’t here for a nice day in the sunshine or a relaxing afternoon reading a good book, playing volleyball or even strolling the shore and enjoying the waves. No, nothing of the kind, and though I did my best to distract from the sad truth of my presence, there was no way to avoid what was coming.

A funeral for a friend.

The Crosspath is collapsing, Creation’s time almost done and Eve still has three of the Ogdoad hosts of Chaos’s sparks to locate if she has any hope of stopping the inevitable. But what if Creation decides for her, Time is up and Doom is nigh...?

Don’t miss a single book in the Eternal Daughter series!
Eve
Chaos
Chance
Delilah
Nemesis
Time

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patti Larsen
• Release date: Nov 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9781988700816

Patti Larsen

About me, huh? Well, my official bio reads like this: Patti Larsen is a multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in her head. But that sounds so freaking formal, doesn’t it? I’m a storyteller who hears character's demands so loudly I have to write them down. I love the idea of sports even though sports hate me. I’ve dabbled in everything from improv theater to film making and writing TV shows, singing in an all girl band to running my own hair salon.But always, always, writing books calls me home.I’ve had my sights set on world literary domination for a while now. Which means getting my books out there, to you, my darling readers. It’s the coolest thing ever, this job of mine, being able to tell stories I love, only to see them all shiny and happy in your hands... thank you for reading.As for the rest of it, I’m short (permanent), slightly round (changeable) and blonde (for ever and ever). I love to talk one on one about the deepest topics and can’t seem to stop seeing the big picture. I happily live on Prince Edward Island, Canada, home to Anne of Green Gables and the most beautiful red beaches in the world, with my pug overlord and overlady, six lazy cats and Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn.

Book preview

Time

Book Six: The Eternal Daughter

Patti Larsen

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2019 by Patti Larsen

Find out more about Patti Larsen at

http://www.pattilarsen.com/

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover art (copyright) by Valerie Bellamy. All rights reserved.

http://www.dog-earbookdesign.com

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Chapter One

Sand shifted under my sneakers, making me wish I’d just taken my shoes off instead of trying to walk the beach in my regular footwear. A silly thing to think about, really, in my present circumstances, but that was how my brain worked. Dragging me off on tangents to protect me when I needed it most.

After all, I wasn’t here for a nice day in the sunshine or a relaxing afternoon reading a good book, playing volleyball or even strolling the shore and enjoying the waves. No, nothing of the kind, and though I did my best to distract from the sad truth of my presence, there was no way to avoid what was coming.

A funeral for a friend.

Kismet’s body had been laid out on a raft of logs, her robes carefully arranged around her, the foretelling power I’d known only a short time but who I counted as a friend long gone in spirit. Her physical remains lingered, still and empty of the bright light that had made her such a delight. Karma had closed the body’s eyes, now dark though I knew them more as the pale white of the foreteller she had been, not the remains that were all that was left of the amazing woman I knew as Kismet.

Destiny—no, Time, I had to remember to call her that now—stood next to me, no longer the little girl she had been, though her long, shining curls of black remained, her blue eyes a few shades lighter than mine as huge and lined in full lashes as ever. She’d evolved in body as she had in persona when she’d accepted Time’s spark from me, the part of Chaos held by Nix, the Night, now joined to she who had been Destiny.

Though her physical transformation should have made it easy to remember she wasn’t that most frustrating and adorable of powers any longer, I still struggled to call her by her new persona, and wondered, when I did, about her real name.

I’d never asked her if she even had one. Would she, as Destiny, even been willing to share? She’d done her best to confound and annoy me with the bits and pieces she’d dribbled out along the way, on my side as best she could be, I suppose, constrained by the dictates of the power she wielded. And yet, I’d seen the delight she took at times in keeping secrets, and could only imagine she was perfectly suited to the task she’d borne for so very long.

Again, though, for how long? So much I didn’t know about her, about Karma, now returned to us with the loss of their foretelling sister, and Kismet. I was Chaos, but I was also Eve, and I found myself pondering on that quiet beach while the waves stilled and settled in preparation to receive the body of our fallen, that I’d missed out on so much of who she really was.

Time leaned into me, Karma a few feet from us, standing off though she’d officially rejoined the sisterhood of foretellers after her brief venture on the side of Nemesis. Again, not that power any longer, my former sister in Life (and kind of half-sister I now realized thanks to Chaos and the first Death, Maut, who’d fathered them both), but the Mistress of Justice, her spark taken from the very soul lying dead and gone on the waiting raft at the edge of the sand.

Truth. A fitting transformation from balance, truth be told, though I still hadn’t fully forgiven her for the part she’d been forced to play in the mess Creation presently found itself. Sure, she’d taken advice from the likes of Isis—who did that? I mean, really, come on, who did that?—though I had to admit the woman who bore me had the persuasive power of the Angels on her side now, since they’d made her one of them, though she’d always been able to manipulate like a boss. Had done so to me enough times when I was young I leaned toward cutting Cadence some slack. Forgiveness, however, would have to wait until things unfolded.

Besides, if Creation ended how I felt about my sort of sister wouldn’t matter anymore, would it?

Dreary thoughts, perfect for the task at hand.

I nodded to Karma when she glanced our way, heard her sigh, watched her raise one arm and gesture at the raft. The sky, usually bright blue and warm with a shining sun had clouded over today, fittingly. This place where I often met with the foretellers either responded to the gravity of what we did here or chose to honor the loss of Kismet in its own way. I didn’t bother reaching out to its soul to find out because the truth was irrelevant either way and I preferred to believe the latter anyway.

My turn to honor the fallen. Focus, Eve. Kismet deserved my attention.

The raft slid into the silent water, no waves crashing on the shore now, the ocean—if it even was one—welcoming the platform of logs with Kismet’s body on it, barely clearing the edge of the sand when it burst into flames, consuming what was left of my friend in a gasp of heat I felt from here, while Time turned her head and wept on my shoulder, quietly and bitterly, as though the weight of her own continuance was momentarily too much to bear in the face of her loss.

I was surprised when she spoke, tilting my head to listen, resting my cheek against her soft hair and inhaling the smell of the beach mixed with her own subtle scent of some flower I didn’t recognize.

Her name was Monavar, she whispered to me, spoken with great reverence and adoration despite her tears. She had the spark from her predecessor, passed from Kismet to Kismet. I hadn’t known that, wondering if somehow Time had been reading my mind, knew about my curiosity. Instead of interrupting her, I nodded for her to go on. Her name meant illumination. So fitting, Eve. She was a great light to all who knew her. No argument from me. Time looked up, trembling, the full force of her grief pushing against my empathic field and adding to my own. Not that I minded. I would carry it for her for a little while if it helped. I’d grown accustomed yet again to the physical manifestation of the emotions of others. While it was far different now than it had been when I was young and managed to cope, the weight of it now seemed all the more burdensome. Still, it was part of me, even if it kept Chaos from reintegrating, and in that moment, taking some of Time’s pain for her, it felt like a gift for the first time in my life.

Did she notice? I wasn’t sure, though she did sniff a little, her tears easing, her shoulders no longer slumped and that desperate hold she had on me loose, now, arms around my waist, fingers hooked together as we watched the raft burn. Her blue eyes seemed translucent in profile, thick lashes blinking slowly, thick with tears. She used to be mortal, a brave and noble queen, who saved her people from a terrible invasion that should have wiped them out. Instead, she prevailed against a formidable enemy and was rewarded with this. She waved her hands in the air. This life as Kismet.

I didn’t know what to say to that. The way Time sounded she didn’t think it was a reward at all.

You were all mortal at one point. I hadn’t considered that, but it felt right and when Time nodded her agreement, Karma, too, I realized I had more questions to ask them. Later, Eve. Bad timing.

We all are, under everything, Time said. Except, maybe, Delilah. She sniffled, the raft still floating, burning to ash, though normal water would have taken it long before now, or at the very least snuffed out the raging flames.

What do you mean by that? I had a sore spot when it came to my little sister, the daughter of Life and Death redux, though my former angel of Death brother, Kael, was hardly in league with the powerhouse who had been Samael when he was the Grim Reaper.

Too bad he’d lost that persona and turned into a jerk like the rest of his Angel brothers.

Time didn’t answer right away before she laughed a little, still crying but humor breaking through enough she met my eyes, hers horribly sad. I’m not Destiny anymore, she said. I can say what I like. She shrugged then, looked away, shoulders sagging, sorrow taking over again. And yet, I am still constrained. So, I will answer that question when the time is right.

She had no idea how frustrating she still was.

What’s your name? I really wanted to know, suddenly, tired of calling her Destiny, Time. Maybe knowing would help the aching grief I felt through her, a reminder of our humanity despite the massive powers we carried. I was the daughter of two great powers, a child of the Crosspath, but even I could die. Knowing that made living even more precious in the light of the burning raft offshore.

She started like she wasn’t expecting the question, stared a moment, tears drying up, and I watched while her gaze softened, as though her mind traveled back in time to uncover a secret she hadn’t thought of in many years.

Damaris, she said at last. My name was Damaris when I was born in the mortal realm over three thousand years ago. She turned to watch the burning pyre again, but she’d stopped weeping and I wondered if she even saw the flames any longer or was lost in the past. It means dominant woman. She smiled a little. My parents must have known I was going to be a handful.

I grinned, couldn’t help it, hugged her around her shoulders, grateful for her and the answer she’d given.

Damaris, I said. Is it okay if I call you that?

She nodded then, shrugged. If you like, she said. It all seems so strange, now, I’ve been Destiny for so long. I suppose Damaris is as good a name as any.

We both fell silent, Karma still a few feet from us, as the raft finally collapsed into the water, the sizzle of the fire dying out signaling the end of Kismet’s funeral and stirring tears in Damaris all over again.

It’s not fair. She pulled free of me, angry now, fists thudding against her thighs, full skirt swinging in her anger. She still preferred pretty dresses, though more mature, reminding me of the 50’s housewife attire some called rockabilly.

I know, I said. It wasn’t, but that was fate, right?

But Damaris shook her head, jaw jumping, body rigid. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Karma closed the distance in a slow and almost apologetic two strides, her head down, shoulders slumped, Goth makeup tracking down her pale cheeks.

Damaris. She paused, swallowed, shrugged.

And Time, her face contorting, closed the last of the distance between them while I wondered what she’d meant and stood aside to let the old friends comfort one another. The healing of their rift closed visibly, at least to me, the empathic field granting me the vision of their reunion in heart and in spirit.

While an elegantly British voice spoke from behind me, spinning me around to stare at the newcomer.

I beg your pardon, a young woman said, her beautiful face a deep brown, tall, lean body dressed in a floor-length black dress, shining, dark hair hanging to her waist. Can you tell me, please, where I am and how it was I arrived here?

I caught my breath, sure of one thing as I stared into her empty, white eyes. Kismet, I whispered. Welcome home.

***

Chapter Two

Not my Kismet, of course, but a new one. A replacement Kismet, young and lovely and already blind, it seemed. Or was her blindness a part of the power? Had she lived her life, until now, as a sighted woman? What could she see through that milky whiteness that I wasn’t privy to? Instead of blindness, could it be she instead saw more than anyone?

Possibly, and perhaps at some point I’d get the chance to ask her. But not today, not when she was newly made and clearly still confused by her status. How odd to reach out and take her hand, guide her forward, into the circle of us, to join Time and Karma as they observed her approach without surprise registering. They knew she’d be coming, I suppose, though it was news to me. Shouldn’t have been, perhaps, since the powers of Creation needed vessels, hosts to work through.

And that force of all that was had this entire process down pat, didn’t it? She didn’t seem upset or frightened, though she should have been, right? I’d have been losing my crap all over the place, unless. The power of Kismet likely had its own ways of dealing with newbies, the means to welcome a fresh soul into its domain without breaking its new toy.

That was rather cynical of me, but I was still grieving and found it difficult to be objective. How many mortals simply disappeared from their old life to become a foretelling power? Or some other, for that matter? It had to be by design, this calm she exuded, to come from the mortal realm the way she had, suddenly imbued with an unexplained power and not freak out.

Clearly the soul that was Kismet already had her well in hand, Karma’s fingers slipping through the young woman’s, tugging her close while Damaris sighed.

Sister, she said, there are some things you’re going to need to know. She gestured at Karma who nodded. It won’t be easy, but you are welcome here.

Thank you. Her soft voice sounded curious, gracious enough for such an unusual circumstance, expression a little lost, though there was a delightfulness to her smile when she shared her gratitude that made me positive we’d end up friends.

Just as soon as I let myself release the old Kismet from my grief.

Karma led her away, Damaris watching them go while I inhaled slowly, aching from the understanding of what just happened. How easily we were replaced, then, how simple the act of Creation, the drive of that mighty power, to