Tempted by Fate Read Free

with special powers to help keep them safe.
    Her mother had been marked, and so was she. Guarding the Book of Wood was her job now.
    Blinking back another round of tears, she crawled out of the bushes.
    The house was before her, unnaturally still. She swallowed the urge to call out for her mother, and carefully—quietly—wove her way back to the house.
    The door was open. Just like they practiced, she sent her senses out, but she felt nothing human. She slipped through the door.
    A pair of legs was splayed on the floor. Her mother’s legs.
    Willow wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t. Heart pounding, she followed the long legs up to the bared tummy. The couch hid her mother’s face. It didn’t hide the silver blade sticking out of Mama’s chest.
    She leaned closer. A throwing star, like the one Mama kept hidden in the drawer. A reminder of bad things, she used to say.
    Willow swayed, grabbing the door. The wood cushioned her grip and radiated with calm energy. She drew it into herself, thanked it for its generosity, like Mama had taught her, and turned to leave. She had to dig up the getaway fund from its hiding spot.
    But then something on the floor caught her eye.
    Mama’s flute.
    Without thought, she hurried to grab it. The wood pulsed in her hand, in a way it never had before. She tucked it into the waist of her pants, comforted by its smooth feel. With one last glance at her mother, she ran.

Chapter One

    Present day, San Francisco

    I t wasn’t the black, moonless night. It wasn’t the misshapen trees. It wasn’t even the fog, creeping through the branches. But something
was
off.
    “Totally off.” Walking up the steep hill, Willow looked around with her senses. With
mù ch’i.
Her powers were more reliable than her eyes. She’d be less likely to be taken in by a setup.
    The path through Buena Vista Park wasn’t lit. She glanced up, wondering if the lamppost lights had burned out or been taken out.
    “One guess for the right answer,” she muttered, touching an old cypress tree as she passed. Peace flowed from her fingertips into her body.
    She nodded. The oldest trees in San Francisco were right here—eucalyptus, cypress, and pine. They were the reason she picked the park for the meeting. Deep-rootedand full of life, it was perfect for helping her ground herself. Perfect for comfort. At least on most nights they would have been a comfort. Tonight, not even the ebb and flow of the trees’ energy soothed her.
    She kept her pace slow, alert. “Something’s very off.”
    It was more than just tonight. She’d felt it ever since she arrived in the city last week.
    Danger awaited her.
    Common sense told her to leave town and avoid it, but what choice did she have? Six months ago, she’d read about a university professor who had been found dead in her office. With that, Willow knew she had to come to San Francisco eventually. He’d be attracted by the story—not because of the unusual death, but because the woman had been a historian who had a special interest in the Scrolls of Destiny.
    It took all her willpower not to race to California and wait for the Bad Man to show up. Instead, she’d stayed in Paris and waited for the investigators she’d hired to report on any suspicious activity. She needed to be methodical about this—careful. She couldn’t risk rushing it and messing up her chance to finally catch the Bad Man.
    “The Bad Man,” she said derisively. It galled her that she still hadn’t learned who he was, or even his real name. He’d played such an intimate role in her life. He’d shaped her almost as much as her mother had.
    Willow slowed her pace and her breathing, to control her heart rate. This was it, she could feel it. He was close—she just had to find him. After twenty years, she’d finally have justice.
    It took six months before one of the investigators she’d hired caught a break: he claimed he’d found an informantwho had knowledge of the Bad Man. But the informant