He was going to turn her Immortal. What did that mean?
Fuck the tumor. If she saw an escape route, she was gone.
"Do as Darkyn says, Deidre."
She spun at the voice, startled to see Mr. Checkmate, the man she'd met on the beach when she arrived at the Sanctuary the first time. He was out of place, a bright light in the corner of the dimly lit room, dressed casually in jeans, T-shirt and hiking boots.
"This will not provide much comfort, but Darkyn was your only real chance of living," he added. "Assuming you survive what he does to you."
"I'm kinda hoping I don't right now," she said. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"
"Deities tend to do what they want," Mr. Checkmate replied.
"You're … you can't be the Dark One."
"I am not," he said with a wide grin. "I'm worse. I'm Fate."
"You got that right," she muttered. "You've been kicking my ass for awhile now. I don't suppose you're here to cut me a break?"
"I just did."
"Obey the psycho demon that wants to suck my blood."
"Exactly."
"If I do, will everything be okay?" she asked, searching his face for any indication she survived the ordeal and left Hell.
"That's not how the Future works. There is no single event that determines the outcome of one's destiny," he said with a shake of his head. "But, if you do this one thing, you increase your chances of being relatively okay by about thirty seven percent for a total of just under fifty-fifty."
"Do what the demon says and almost have a fifty percent chance of surviving. Disobey him and I have like, a ten percent chance."
"You've got it."
"I'm under the impression your kind doesn't do things for free. Why are you helping me? Do you have an even worse vengeance planned?" she demanded.
"Better. I have a preferred outcome, one that involves you surviving and the soul embedded in your head not."
She touched her head self-consciously. Darkyn wanted the soul alive while Fate wanted the opposite. Who was she more likely to side with? As if sensing her doubt and growing panic, Fate drew near her, face grave.
"Deidre, you must do exactly as I say," Fate said. "You must obey him, no matter how much you do not wish to. Your life is not the only one dependent upon this."
"Gabriel," she breathed. "Oh, god, have I put him in danger?"
Fate's eyes changed colors rapidly. His subtle magic brushed by her, through her. It was warm, like Gabriel's, not cold like Darkyn's. Comforted by the familiar sensation, she sensed she was better off trusting Fate than the Dark One.