by Sierra Dean
Familiars got spoiled to almost ludicrous lengths at the annual convention. Last year I’d picked him up after a particularly trying slog of meetings and found him getting a massage.
My three-pound fennec. Getting a massage.
Now his big ears were perked right up, and he roused himself off the couch, selected a small chew toy from the box beneath the TV set, and settled himself into the carrier just as Leo arrived.
As it turned out, former con artists pack about as light as clerics. He had a backpack and little more.
“You fit a suit in there?” I asked, hoping to catch him off-guard.
“I fit a no-limit American Express in my wallet. I think I can use that to buy myself one.”
I picked up my duffle bag and slung it over my shoulder, then gently eased Fen’s carrier off the floor. It barely weighed more with him in it than without.
“Settling into that playboy demigod lifestyle already, are you?”
“If the expensive shoe fits…”
If clerics had a measure of celebrity, being the child of a god was a whole different stratosphere of social importance. As of right now, Leo’s connection had stayed on the down-low, but after next week, there’d be no hiding him from the world.
By the time we got back from Vegas he’d most likely have Hollywood agents beating down the temple doors for product endorsements—forbidden—or to pretend he was dating an up-and-coming starlet on their roster—encouraged.
Sido would have to be the one to hold his hand through all that. I could easily show him how the bottom-feeding cleric life went. Someone else was going to have to offer tips on being well-loved and famous.
Yet, in the little time I’d spent with Leo, I didn’t think fame was really what he was after. Absolutely, money was a big win for him, but he was the kind of person who had lived his life beneath the radar. To suddenly become fodder for supermarket tabloids probably wasn’t on his wish list.
We were on the road a half hour later, heading south towards our destination. I’d barely bothered to look at the tithe. Instead I focused on where I was needed. The why could be figured out en route.
I handed Leo my cell, then pulled a small box out from under my seat, rifling through it until I found what I was looking for. After slipping the cassette into the Charger’s tape deck, the opening chords of Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again” started to play.
Leo snorted. “A bit on the nose, no?”
I turned up the volume and ignored him. I had yet to meet a person who didn’t have their little ticks and routines. For me, it was blaring the eighties hair-metal anthem as I left the Seattle city limits.
Here I go again, indeed.
“You follow a temperamental god across the continent for your whole adult life and then you can pick the driving music. ’Kay?”
He gave me a faux salute as the guitar kicked into high gear and the chorus started.
It was close to three in the afternoon when we left Seattle, with a twelve-hour drive between us and the quaintly named town of Lovelock, Nevada. With stops for gas and food we’d pull in sometime before dawn, which didn’t give me high hopes of a motel being open. We could both sleep in the Dodge if need be, but it wouldn’t exactly be cozy. Even in Nevada the October nights would be pretty chilly.
Once the song ended I nodded to my phone, which he was still handling. “Care to do a little Google-fu for me?”
“Fire when ready.” He held the smartphone up, awaiting my command.
“Priority one, above all else: Lovelock Nevada Chinese food.”
Leo typed away, then frowned, then typed something else, and frowned again. “How set are you on Chinese?”
I was afraid he was going to say something like that. “Nothing?”
He shook his head. “Looks like in town we’ve got pizza, Mexican, and something bearing the adorable name of The Cowpoke Café. If you really want Chinese, it’s another hour drive to a place called Fernley, where they’re kind enough to have two different options for you.”
“Ain’t that just the way?” I passed a slow-moving RV with a bumper sticker that said Apollo is the sunshine of my life with a drawing of a cartoon sun on it. I made a mental note to tell Sunny about it.
A shiver of excitement I’d barely let myself feel before coursed through my body. In all the years I’d been going to the convention as the representative of Seth, I hadn’t seen my sister once. She had, for the last twenty years, been on an arduous climb through the ranks of Apollo’s clerics. Some other gods only got one cleric, or none, but it seemed there was no shortage of Sun Worshippers.
So, unlike me, my twin was among a large group of other initiates. She wasn’t Apollo’s only cleric. And up until this year, she hadn’t been his first cleric either.
Except now she was.
Which meant in a week’s time, I would be seeing my twin sister for the first time in five years.
I hadn’t let myself dwell on it too much up until this point. If it was too apparent that either of us was looking forward to the trip for personal reasons, Sunny could easily be replaced with another cleric. Sido was less likely to pull me out of the convention because it would mean going herself, and she’d already attended more than her fair share.
I think between the potential connection with Cade and my personal excitement over seeing my sister, there were any number of reasons the trip could have been cancelled for me up until now. Yet here I was, on my way to Nevada.
In spite of all the other garbage circling in my periphery, at least there would be some positive aspects to the next week.
Then, I remembered the stupid deal I’d made in the underworld, promising Charon the Ferryman I would give him the sun. The sun. He’d meant Sunny, of course, and I’d been idiot enough to agree. So there was a god in the hellish underworld, moving a boat back and forth across the River Styx, just waiting for my sister to be delivered to him.
And it was all my fault.
So much for my positive outlook.
Of course, there was a chance the following week might go off smoothly, and I’d actually get to enjoy spending time with my sister, seeing Cade, and avoiding my responsibilities and promises.
Provided I got through whatever scheme the temple had me going to Lovelock for.
Still, it was a town of two thousand people in the middle of Nevada.
How bad could it be?
Chapter Nine
Lovelock, Nevada, was on fire.
More accurately, the hills and dry landscape about seventy miles away from Lovelock were burning at a steady pace. The wildfire had blotted out the stars, covering the full moon overhead with a hazy smoke film. The brightness of the fires startled me as we pulled nearer, and by the time the Welcome to Lovelock sign appeared, I didn’t need to check my app to know why I was here.
Trouble was, aside from the choke of black smoke overhead, there wasn’t a cloud to be seen. Even in the lingering darkness before dawn, I was able to tell the sky was clear.
We drove through the quiet, seemingly abandoned streets, where most of the small homes were swathed in darkness. I wasn’t sure how many people were still hanging around with the fires encroaching so close.
I pulled the car into the parking lot of the Lovelock Inn, the first motel we passed with its lights still on. A few soot-smeared trucks were parked in a line in the lot, and I assumed they belonged to the fire crews.
The sign in front of the motel promised it was both pet friendly and offered free breakfast. Given the state the town was currently in, I was just grateful they were open.
When Leo and I got into the lobby, an exhausted woman somewhere between thirty-five and sixty came to greet the sound of the door chime. She appeared perplexed to see us.
“Can I help you folks?” Her tone was polite enough, but we must have looked like precisely what we were: outsiders.
I set Fen’s carrier on the floor in front of me and pulled out my wallet, but she was already shaking her head. “Probably be
st if you keep on going.”
I bristled, ready for a fight, but there was nothing cruel in her expression. If anything she seemed more worn down to be turning us away.
“The sign out front said vacancy,” Leo announced.
“Well, we sure don’t have a sign that says hotel may burn down overnight, now do we?” This was said with forced, raspy humor. “I can rent you the room, but you need to know things aren’t exactly safe. We’re pretty much just waiting for the word to leave or for a miracle.”
Leo put a hand on my shoulder, pushing me forward. “Miracle. Room for two.”
Godsdammit. I resisted the urge to facepalm in front of the poor woman.
Yes, I was obviously here because of the fire. I didn’t need to open up iTithe to know that. But I preferred to work quietly, getting in and out, performing my task without anyone being any the wiser I was there.
Now he’d gone and told her who I was.
The woman’s eyes widened, and a faint tremble shook her hands where they were resting on the counter. “Are you…?” Tears shone in her eyes, but thank the gods she didn’t actually cry. “We prayed. I mean, we prayed, and we pooled our money, but these things are never a sure thing, you know?”
I did know.
“It’s really you?” She was staring at me with such awe I was starting to worry she might be mistaking me for Seth himself.
“I’m just the cleric. But I am here to help. If I can.” A big if, if the big man didn’t send me some cloud cover to work with. There were a lot of things I could do, but I couldn’t will weather into being. I needed a little something to start me out.
Like sourdough.
Yes, I was the sourdough of clerics.
I also, apparently, was very hungry and needed to sleep, because I was on the verge of becoming downright loopy.
Yet the woman at the desk was still so stunned by my appearance she couldn’t bring herself to move. Which she would have to do at some point if she was going to get Leo and me room keys.
I cleared my throat, and she practically jumped out of her skin. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe it worked.”
If the price is right and the prayer is interesting, the temple would send me pretty much anywhere. Even if the price was wrong, sometimes folks got lucky. That’s how it went. Prayers were sometimes answered based on the generosity of a tithe, but other times it was up to the whims of the priestesses or Seth himself. I think the girls at the temple sometimes chose my trips entirely at random. Seth, on the other hand, chose them based solely on how they benefited him.
Thus my little chess piece was shuffled around the board accordingly.
“There’s not much I can do without some food and sleep first,” I confessed. This was the other thing I hated about people knowing who I was. It often forced them to realize I was only human. A human who could really use a piece of chocolate cake and an order of fries right about now.
If I was going to be dousing the wildfires tomorrow, they should also probably send someone out for a big order of Chinese. Like, big enough to feed everyone in the entire town. Plus dessert.
Rain might not take as much out of me as lightning or tornados, but it would take more than a little sprinkle to ease the fire coming in, and I couldn’t leave anything to chance if the whole town had chipped in for this.
“Sleep,” she repeated back, trying to make sense of the word. I hoped I wouldn’t need to explain why I needed it. Considering it was almost five in the morning, I was praying she’d just give us some keys and let us get some shut-eye. “Oh my gods, yes, of course. A room.”
“Two, if you can spare,” I added. I wasn’t trying to insult Leo by asking for my own space, but considering all the rumors that had sparked after I shared a motel with Cade, it would be better if no one discovered I’d shared a double room with a demigod.
Rain Chaser shacks up with son of Seth. Will their love cause rumblings upstairs?
It wasn’t hard to imagine how things would look to outsiders.
I sort of expected her to say no, considering how many trucks had been parked out front, but apparently turning away other guests had done the trick.
“I have two side by side, away from the firefighters, where it’s a bit quieter. They get up awfully early. In fact they’ll be asking for breakfast any minute now. But I guess maybe they won’t be needed anymore.” She gave me such an earnest smile it hurt my insides a little. I hated when people were so nice.
When I pulled out my credit card to pay, she waved me away emphatically. “No.”
“Ma’am.” I was so tired now I almost didn’t care if there was food around. Leo and I had stopped at a couple fast food joints, and if I could get something to eat when now, and again when I woke up, I would be fine. “That’s incredibly sweet, but please let me pay for our rooms.”
She wouldn’t even look at my credit card. “Without you, this hotel would probably be nothing but ashes by the end of the week. So no. You’re not paying.” Without pausing to listen to any further arguments, she ducked into a back room and emerged a moment later with keys in hand. “You get your rest, then come see me when you get up. I can take you out to see the fire.”
I accepted the keys gratefully, handing one off to Leo. We made our way to the courtyard behind the motel where our rooms faced an empty swimming pool. I couldn’t decide if it was drained because of the fire or because it was now October. Either way the empty bowl was a depressing view to look out onto.
“Want me to wake you up?” Leo fiddled with his key, waiting outside his door.
I put Fen’s carrier down in front of my room so I could unlock the door. “Yeah, if I’m not up by nine, bust out the smelling salts and cold water in a spray bottle.”
“That’s only four hours.” He made a face at me.
“Oh, I’m sorry, princess, did you need more beauty sleep? Maybe I should be waking you up.” Four hours seemed like plenty to me, but I also wasn’t exactly normal.
Leo snorted. “Please. I’m gorgeous even with no sleep. You can barely resist me as it is.”
“I don’t know about gorgeous, but I do know you have no shortage of self-delusion.”
He laughed, a warm, joyful sound like a hug for my ears. I was glad he was along for the ride. Apparently at some point between my road trip with Cade and being here with Leo, I’d actually started liking having human company. Who would have thought?
“See you at nine.” He disappeared into his room, leaving me alone in the courtyard. The sky was still dark. This late in the season, sunrise would hold off as long as it could before things started to brighten things up.
I glanced back towards the front building and started with surprise to see a girl standing in a window, staring at me. She didn’t flinch when she realized I’d seen her, and didn’t wave or smile either. Her hair was white blonde, cut in a soft pixie style that made her eyes look enormous. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen.
I nodded at her, figuring I should at least acknowledge her presence.
She let the curtain fall back into place.
Now that was more like the welcome I was used to.
Chapter Ten
The smell of fresh hay greeted me as soon as I stepped into my room, but I didn’t think to be scared until Fen made a mewling noise.
Hay.
A rustling sound, not unlike a bird taking flight, drew my attention to the back corner of the suite. The lights were out, making it impossible to see anything, but all the same I knew instantly I wasn’t alone.
I had barely even thought about escaping when a calm, steady female voice said, “Do. Not. Move.”
The command was a deep purr and made me freeze in place, my eyes drawn to the space it had come from. “Can I turn on the lights?” I asked.
“Yes. If that is what you need to feel secure.” There was something like a laugh in her tone, as if she wanted me to know just how foolish I was to think the light could protect me.
>
I flicked the switch by the door, casting the space in soft yellow light. Sitting on a low chair near the bathroom was the goddess Macha.
I had never met Macha personally, yet I knew who she was without a moment’s hesitation. I was familiar with her sister Badb, who was another aspect of the Morrigan. Macha looked like her sister, physically, but also nothing like her, in that I didn’t want to scream when I saw her face. She had long red hair plaited into a series of braids, starting with small ones, then those small ones woven into bigger ones, until what remained was an intertwined tapestry of copper hair that resembled a very elegant rope hanging down to her waist.
Atop her head was a large headdress made entirely of raven feathers. Except it…rustled.
Then part of it moved, and a live bird fixed me with its glassy black eye.
Oh.
Her dress was simple for that of a goddess, a long stone-colored gown cinched at the waist with a leather belt. Except the hem from the floor to her knee was stained in various shades of red and brown, until the color was so deep at the bottom it was nearly black.
This, I realized, was from thousands of years of walking through fields of blood.
Beneath her skirts, a pair of horse’s hooves rested against the floor instead of human feet.
The Morrigan were harbingers of death. And Macha in particular was the bringer of war.
A fact I hoped was going to be irrelevant to our conversation.
“Can I sit?” I asked.
“You may.” Her stare was calculating, and I knew she was drinking in every move I made, looking for signs of weakness.
She wouldn’t have to look all that hard. I wanted to sit because my knees were about to turn to Jell-O. I could play it off like the gods weren’t impressive, but the second I had to share a room with one I was immediately reminded they were not to be dismissed so easily.
