Read Online Bailey Morgan [2] Fate by Jennifer Lynn Barnes - Free Book Online Page A

lowdown on my love life (or lack thereof) a little too much.
    “Interesting?” I repeated my mom's word choice. “Nope.”
    Zo paused just long enough to make me nervous. “Not a thing.”
    Fifteen minutes, several probing questions, and a half-dozen cookies (two for me, four for Zo) later, the two of us escaped to my room.
    “What have I told you about thinking about anything that falls under the heading of
romance
in my mom's presence?” I said once the door was shut behind us.
    Zo rolled her eyes. “Bailey, your mom isn't that perceptive. You're just really bad at bluffing.”
    “And which one of us has a secret identity?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
    “The same one of us that could use her mind-control powers to make her mother do whatever she wanted.”
    Clearly, Zo had lost her mind. I couldn't mind meld my mom. It wouldn't work. She'd know, or somebody would smite me for even thinking of doing such a thing. This was
my mom
we were talking about.
    “Let's research,” I said, letting my mental shields down just enough to let some of my power leak over onto Zo.
    “Cool,” she said. “Research!”
    I smirked, and she threw a pillow at me.
    “Darn you, Bay!”
    “I thought you wanted me to use mind control,” I said, the picture of innocence.
    “Not on me!” She threw another pillow. “Brat.”
    I sent her a mental image of me sticking my tongue out.
Brat.
    Zo took a defiant bite of the cookie she'd brought upstairs with her, and then we both snorted.
    “Soooooo,” I said, drawing the word out. “Google?”

In the time it took me to actually navigate my way to Google (because, of course, I had to check my email first, and then a couple of my favorite websites, and then my email again), Annabelle probably could have skimmed eight encyclopedia entries on Greek mythology, four on Celtic traditions, and two on the historical role of jewelry in ritualistic mysticism. Unfortunately, I didn't exactly have A-belle's skills, which was why I had options for college and Annabelle had Options with a capital O.
    “Bailey,” Zo said, and the one word carried an entire sentence with it, one that simultaneously warned me about moping, told me to concentrate on the task at hand, and suggested that I would need to supply her with more cookies soon.
    “Right,” I said. “Research. This is me paying attention.”
    This was me having no idea what exactly I should research. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. Three or four times, I moved to type a word, only to jerk my hands away from the keys at the last second. Did I really want to see what the internet could tell me about Morgan? It would be easy to run a search for some of her older aliases, but at the same time, I wasn't sure how much learning about Poseidon or Neptune would tell me about the real Morgan.
    Mythology never got things quite right. The Sidhe weren't who the Celts thought they were, the Fates weren't who the Greeks thought they were, and Morgan wasn't Poseidon or Neptune, even though she had once answered to those names.
    “Bay. Lee.”
    Zo broke my name down into two words this time, which basically meant everything that she'd communicated before, but with more urgency on the cookie front. She was getting antsy, and I knew from vast amounts of experience that an antsy Zo was not a good thing.
    “Why don't you go get us some more cookies,” I suggested. “And I'll get started up here.”
    “Likely story,” Zo said, tweaking my ponytail with one hand. I couldn't help but note that her skepticism didn't stop her from taking my advice and heading back down to the kitchen for round two of Cookie Day.
    Once Zo left the room, I tried to make good on myend of the deal, but I honestly didn't know where to start. I stared at the screen until my eyes started burning, but I refused to blink, hoping that something— other than the constant niggling reminder in the back of my mind that sooner or later, I'd have to learn to do all of this on my