Braving Fate (The Mythean Arcana 1)

“Did the dream still feel familiar?”

It sounded crazy when Vi said it like that. Hell, it was crazy. Vi was her closest friend, and the only person she’d ever told about the dreams besides her dad, who had reacted…badly.

“Yeah, but I’m a freaking history professor. I should be familiar with battles and the theoretical consequences of war. What I shouldn’t be able to do is feel the dying woman’s last emotions.” Such miserable emotions.

Diana stood to put on her coat and barely resisted straightening the mussed pile of papers at the corner of her desk. They were fine the way they were. She no longer had to make sure everything was neat as a pin. That necessity had died with her father. Her hand squeezed into a fist. It might have been a dozen years since she’d experienced the repercussions of not following his rules, but such things were hard for the subconscious to forget.

“Let’s go.” Diana turned quickly from the pile of papers.

They walked down the barren hall, Vivienne’s stilettos clacking at a higher pitch than Diana’s comfortable beige kitten heels.

Fortunately, the coffee shop was close to their department. With her erratic sleeping patterns, coffee was the only thing that had kept her going during the last month.

Outside, they crossed the historic street that ran down the center of the university town of Clayton, barely dodging a child racing down the sidewalk on a bicycle. A gust of wind blew russet leaves off nearby trees. Halloween was coming and jack-o-lanterns grinned eerily from shop stoops. Normally, this was her favorite season. But this year, with the dreams coming more frequently and the unsettled feeling haunting her waking hours, she hadn’t been able to appreciate it at all.

“Was there anything new in the dream?” Vi asked.

“No, basically the same, but this time the man spoke. I couldn’t make out his face, but I think I loved him.” Diana shook her head. “I mean, the dying woman loved him. At least she had loved him. But she felt betrayed.”

“By what?”

“Don’t know.”

Honestly, it was creepy and she didn’t want to think about it anymore. She rubbed the back of her wrist, which had begun to tingle again as the cuff of her jacket rubbed against the sensitive skin. Yet another mystery to be filed away for later.

“Very cool.” Vivienne paused when Diana shot her a look. “But sad. I wonder who she was?”

They slipped inside the coffee shop and out of the brisk air. The wind slammed the door at their backs, but the warmth and inviting décor, punctuated with local art and plush furniture, welcomed them.

“How about a figment of my crazy imagination? Maybe all my research is getting to me.”

“Or, your memories are getting to your research.”

“No, the dreams have nothing to do with my book.” Liar.

Hadn’t she always been drawn to the more gruesome parts of ancient history? The warriors, battles, death? Ever since she was little, she’d been the girl who wanted to play with wooden swords and watch Xena, Warrior Princess. Combined with her love of books, it had led her to a career as a history professor with a specialty in the warrior women of the Bronze and Iron Ages. She had almost finished converting her dissertation into a book for the university press.

“The manuscript is almost done, by the way,” Diana said. “And with it, my application for assistant professor will be all but in the bag.”

She hoped. She really needed that promotion. Currently, as a lecturer, she had no control over what she taught, how or when she taught it, and no certainty that she’d even have a job next semester. She wanted that certainty and that control, desperately. The tenure-track job as assistant professor would get her one blissful step closer.

The line went quickly as they chatted. Their turn to order came and Diana thrust her card at the barista, nudging Vivienne’s out of the way. “Both, please.”

“Diana, you don’t have to.” Vivienne nudged her own card at the barista.

The girl glanced at Diana, then shook her head at Vivienne, no doubt deciding that Diana was the scarier one.

“I know. But you’ve spent so much time listening to me complain about my nightmares that the least I can do is get you a coffee.”

“Thanks. And it’s not a problem. I think they’re interesting, though I’m sorry they cause so much trouble.”

Black coffee in Diana’s hand, a frothy latte in Vivienne’s, they headed toward the door.

“All right, Vi, I’ve got to run. FedEx is delivering an old treatise to my house today. They usually show up around three and I don’t want them to leave it out on the stoop, what with this weather.” She nodded up at the gray clouds. “I’ll see you later.”

Later that evening, Diana jiggled the key in the lock of the front door of her townhouse. Rain pounded on her head, and the groceries she’d run out for after receiving her package made opening the door a pain in the butt. Damn. She needed to get the stupid lock fixed, but there just never seemed to be time between writing and classes.

Snick. Finally. The door swung open and she stepped out of rain that wasn’t nearly as charming as it was when she was snuggled up cozily at her desk.