by SM Reine
When their eyes met, she realized that he wasn’t merely offering comfort to her. He was taking it, too.
He was attracted to blood and death. His reaction to the scene of a mass murder was wildly different than hers, but it disturbed him in its own way.
She squeezed his fingers tightly.
“This is Arawn’s work.” Dana was kneeling by one of the bodies, unworried about her stone armor touching the blood. “He possessed the bodies with demons and dragged the human spirits into the Pit of Souls. More like a meat grinder than a pit, the way he’s been doing it.”
Marion’s knees were weak. “Meat grinder?”
“Look at this.” Dana pointed at one of the bodies. “These cuts are deliberate. They’re similar to the last four—aren’t they, Detective?”
“Identical.” Detective Villanueva swiped through photographs on her tablet and showed them to Seth and Marion. They were starkly lit crime scene images from other casinos.
Marion couldn’t focus on them. It wasn’t a problem with her contacts.
The smell of blood was so strong.
“The photographers have already been through so feel free to muck around. Let me know when the cleaners can start working. The Linq’s on my ass to get this clear ASAP.” Detective Villanueva stepped away to talk to uniformed officers on the other side of yellow tape blocking the doors.
Dana remained crouched beside the bodies, boots planted in their blood. She glared at Seth. “Arawn shouldn’t be in a position where he’s seeking power for ascension. He shouldn’t be functioning as a near-god of death with access to the Pit of Souls.”
“He killed Nyx.” Seth’s hand was clamping tighter on Marion’s.
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Dana straightened. “I found you when I got back to Earth. I told you what you needed to do. What did I say, Seth? I want to hear the words from your mouth.”
“Stop it,” Marion said softly.
“You told me that Elise wanted me back,” Seth said. “She wants me to be God.”
“But you’re still mortal,” Dana said.
“I’m not Elise’s toy.”
“She didn’t elevate you to this level because she’s toying with you. She needs someone to responsibly handle the termination of human life and recycling of human souls, and you won’t do it, so Arawn’s butted in.”
“I’m not a killer any more than I’m a toy,” he said.
Marion found her ability to speak. “Excuse me, Dana… You’ve been talking to Elise and James?”
“So what if I have been?” Dana asked.
There was no information in Marion’s journals about how to contact the gods, and she hadn’t been able to reach out to them ever since having her memories taken away. Despite being the Voice of God, there was very little talking going on.
They were talking to Dana, though.
What if Marion wasn’t the Voice of God anymore?
“They want me to be a god?” Seth asked. “I’m not going to trust the people who thought the best way to track me down was to strip an innocent girl of her identity.” Even speaking as quietly as he was, ensuring they wouldn’t be overheard by police, the vitriol was staggering.
“They didn’t plan for the Canope to get broken,” Dana said a little more nicely than before. Nice for Dana only meant she wasn’t spitting and baring her teeth when she talked. “They never meant for Marion to end up like this…wimpy thing.”
Marion stiffened. “Wimpy?”
“Look at you.” The scornful tones were back. “The two of you are beyond useless. A god who won’t be godly and a mage swooning at the sight of blood.”
In her defense, it was a lot of blood. It slicked the floor and tattoo chairs in such quantities that it looked like an oil spill.
“Arawn’s flooded the Pit of Souls with balefire,” Dana said. “Do you know what balefire is?”
“Duat is guarded with it,” Seth said.
Marion remembered the contagious fire that needed no accelerant to melt everything it touched. It had been a hideous weapon, truly frightening.
“If it’s guarding a city, then it’s gotta be watered down. Real balefire, at full force, can’t be controlled. A fleck of it would burn through the ground and cut all the way into the Earth’s core. It’s burning souls right now in the Pit. Some people say it could burn time itself, if you let it run wild long enough.” The huntress pushed a body, making it roll over. “These ritual marks are stripping souls for delivery to balefire.”
“What’s the benefit in that?” Marion asked.
“Laws of physics, bitch. Matter can’t get destroyed. It changes. That applies to souls and balefire, too. When balefire breaks shit, there’s a massive output of power—and Arawn’s going to use that power to ascend to Earth. It’ll be the Breaking all over again.”
The exact kind of god-level disaster that Deirdre Tombs was attempting to head off with her council.
“Seth needs to take over Sheol,” Dana said. “Phase through the balefire. Even diluted, trying to jump through it should kill you.”
“Good to know,” Seth said. “I won’t make that mistake.”
Dana rolled her eyes. “Okay. Don’t phase through the balefire. Eat a bullet. Whatever. Just do your fucking job. Souls shouldn’t get burned. Arawn could ruin the whole universe because you’re letting him run rampant.”
The words “eat a bullet” made Marion cling to Seth tighter. Let Dana think she was wimpy. The woman was talking about Seth sacrificing himself to save people, and that was exactly the kind of noble, selfless act he might be tempted to commit.
It was a relief when he reiterated, “I told you I’m not a killer. I can’t run Sheol.”
“I pray to the useful gods to save me from the weenie god.” Dana kept picking through bodies, measuring their wounds with her fingers, poking through their clothes as if searching for something. “You didn’t come to do the smart thing, so you came to me for something else. What do you want this time?”
Marion fumbled to pull out her cell phone. “I tracked down that witness you found for me—Geoff Samuelson. He saw a goat-woman confronting me before I lost my memories. I was wondering if you might know who she was.”
“No goats screwed with your head,” Dana said. “That was Elise.”
The blunt, unsympathetic confirmation of Marion’s fears was not making her feel better. “I’m not the Voice anymore, am I?”
“Boo-hoo, poor little Marion. It’s hard not being special, isn’t it? Who’s the superior one now? Oh wait. You don’t remember that talk. You don’t remember why I hate your stupid skinny ass, because you went and broke your stupid memories.”
“I don’t understand,” Marion said.
Dana cornered her by the bloody flash. “Elise screwed you up because you weren’t listening to her. And before that, you weren’t listening to me. I’d been telling you to be careful. That you were going to ruin your life. You know how you responded to me?”
“What did she say?” Seth’s voice was surprisingly kind.
“Marion flung her specialness at me. She dismissed me because I’m not Ariane’s ‘real’ daughter, because I’m not Elise’s sister, because I’m not the Voice. I’m ‘just some fists for hire.’ So why should Marion listen to the likes of me?” Dana glared hatred at Marion. “You didn’t even come to me and Penny’s wedding because you had better things to do.”
Marion was numb.
All she could say was, “Oh.”
She hadn’t written about that in her journals. Apparently the Marion that Dana knew hadn’t considered that argument significant enough to write down.
“Marion’s changed,” Seth said.
Dana snorted. “I didn’t get invited to your wedding. I’m still not important enough. So things clearly haven’t changed.”
“I haven’t been involved in invitations. Violet—the Onyx Queen—she’s choosing the guest list.” But the more Marion talked, the more annoyed Dana looked. “You’re
right. That’s not an excuse. It would be a privilege if you and Penny came to my wedding.”
“It’s a privilege you’re not getting my fist in your face right now,” Dana said.
Marion held her phone out, hand wavering. “If you could just look at the list of goat-headed creatures and see if you recognize anyone…”
“Shove it up your ass, princess,” Dana said.
“Please,” Marion said.
“Gods, you’ve got some fucking nerve.” Dana snatched the phone out of her hand, though. “I’ll do it for my curiosity. Not for you. Got it?”
“Thanks so much,” Seth said flatly.
He wrapped his arm around Marion’s waist and snapped his fingers.
10
Marion got sick when Seth took her home to the Winter Court and didn’t recover quickly. He could tell that her weakness wasn’t because of the brief exposure to Sheol. He was supposed to be Death, after all, and he knew that Marion wasn’t dying the way she had been during their visit to the Nether Worlds.
Yet she still didn’t rise from where she sat in front of the vanity in her bedroom. She just sat there, immobile, staring blankly at her reflection.
He couldn’t leave her like that.
So Seth hung around. There was a lot to see in a magical faerie bedroom. Trees, flowers, furniture that was growing all on its own. It was so humid that condensation gathered on everything, yet nothing became moldy. Marion wouldn’t have tolerated the room if it had gotten moldy, even for the sake of being in Niflheimr’s warm oasis.
He was walking a loop around the biggest tree in her bedroom when she finally spoke. “You’re welcome to explore Niflheimr for the darknet servers, if you want. May your luck be better than mine.”
“Don’t you want to know what bargain I have with Lucifer over it?”
“You’ll tell me if I need to know.”
“He said he’d make me a vampire. I could stay in my avatar form as long as I wanted because I’d be undead.”
Her eyes lifted, surprised, and their gazes connected through the mirror. “You’d do that?”
“Sinead didn’t manage to heal me completely. I don’t know what else to do.” It wasn’t as though killing people was an option for trying to restore his mortal body. “What do you think about vampires?”
“They’re the weakest breed. Having you among their number would improve their standing markedly.” She toyed with a vase of flowers on her vanity. “What if Dana’s right and I’m not the Voice anymore?”
“You’re talking to me right now,” Seth said, “You’re still the Voice of a god. Screw Elise and James.”
She smiled sadly. “Thank you.”
“It’s not much of an honor. I am the weenie god.”
That actually made her laugh, covering her eyes with a hand. “Oh, Seth.” She let her hand fall. Her pale eyes looked tired. “What’s next? How do we find out what happened to Charity?”
“Don’t worry about her,” Seth said. “I’ll figure it out.” And he planned to go into Sheol to do it, which meant he wouldn’t take Marion, even if she argued with him over it for hours.
Surprisingly, she didn’t. “Very well. I was due at a wedding dress fitting ten minutes ago. I’d best catch up.”
Seth made a noncommittal noise. It was hard to talk of all the trappings of weddings and not remember his wedding.
Marion didn’t seem to relish the subject of weddings any more than he did.
“I have nobody on the guest list,” she said. “My mother, Ariane—I haven’t been able to reach her. Rylie’s invited and will attend, but she’s considered a state guest rather than a personal one. Dana is clearly uninterested.”
“Nori,” Seth said. “Konig.”
“They don’t count. It’s the most important date in my memory, and nobody is coming for me.” Marion plucked a flower that was blossoming on the edge of her vanity’s mirror, rolling it between her fingers.
“To be fair, your memory doesn’t go very far back.” He felt guilty trying to joke about it, but he was rewarded with the faintest smile from Marion.
She stood up, stroking the silken petals of the blossom. “You’ll come to my wedding, won’t you?”
Seth could think of things he wanted to do less than that. For instance, the visit he’d have to make to Sheol soon—he wanted to do that less than attend Marion’s wedding. He wanted to die less, too. But other than that…
The idea of sitting in some sprawling sidhe castle while Marion walked down the aisle to meet Konig, one of the biggest blowhards that Seth had ever met, was only more appealing than dying and/or going to Hell.
The fact he didn’t respond for so long didn’t go unnoticed.
“Aren’t we friends, Seth?” Marion asked.
That was an easy answer. “Yeah. We are.”
“Why?”
“Well,” he said, “I can’t seem to shake you off.”
Another tiny smile. “I’m the half-sister of the god you hate.”
“You fought her off on my behalf before we knew each other. Everything you’ve suffered is because of me. We’re friends, Marion. You’re the best friend I have right now.”
She handed the flower to him. “I can’t imagine getting married without you there.”
“I’m not wearing any bridesmaid dresses.” Seth tucked the flower over his ear. He could tell he looked goofy thanks to the mirror behind Marion, but now she was actually smiling, and there was even one of those dimples, so it was worth it.
“You’d look pretty if you did.”
“Ruggedly pretty.”
“That’s a yes to my invitation, then.”
Seth still didn’t answer. He couldn’t stop imagining Marion walking down the aisle just like Rylie had, walking toward him at the altar, while he waited in an uncomfortable tuxedo for his whole life to change.
Rylie had walked away.
“It’s the god thing,” Seth said. “I don’t want anyone to know about it. I’ve risked enough by showing up at the summit with you. If some guy keeps showing up with the Voice of God…”
Marion’s smile melted.
“I’m sorry. I really am. But I have to look for Charity now,” Seth said.
She stepped back to grab a voluminous fur cloak from the back of a chair. She flung it around her shoulders. “Please be careful. I’d hate to lose my only friend.”
She’d left the room before he even had time to phase out of the Winter Court.
Marion’s wedding dress was a lovely thing. That was no shock. It had been made by the sidhe, and their taste in fashion was as incredible as their taste in food. The dressmaker who collaborated with Violet on Marion’s gown was a woman named Luciana Sellabon—the same Luciana Sellabon whose cursive “LS” initials were stamped upon fine handbags that cost two years of the average American’s income.
With the guidance of a queen with near-supernatural fashion sense, Luciana had outdone herself in producing a dress that would be auctioned for millions after the wedding.
Marion hated it.
“Good, very good,” Violet said, walking around her to study the dress from every angle.
They were in a room that had been set aside for wedding staff to use. At the moment, it was filled with mirrors, permitting Marion to see the pins holding the dress at her narrow waist and gathering the hem near her feet. Luciana herself was sitting on a stool by Marion’s right knee, pins sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she took notes on changes that needed to be made.
“It’s very white,” Marion said.
“It’s a wedding dress,” Violet said.
And what a wedding dress it was. Under her fingertips, the spill of skirts felt like the silk from a spider’s spinnerets. It hewed closely to her breasts, mounding them under clawing fractal patterns made of diamonds, which sprayed from the cleft between her breasts all the way up her throat.
The back, on the other hand, was very low, swooping down to show the elegant line of her spine and the
dimples above her butt. There were no diamonds there because it would be covered by veils in similar fractal patterns.
Fractals like snowflakes.
That was most likely why she hated it. It made her think of the snowy cold that made the Winter Court hostile.
She was meant to look like the Queen of Niflheimr. The effect was perfect. And Marion hated it despite the fact that it was, by all metrics, a masterwork of a dress.
It didn’t help that she had so much exposed skin, either. She was so cold.
“We’ll pile your hair atop your head with more of these diamonds.” Violet plucked at a thread framing the hollow of Marion’s throat. “Your diadem is still being crafted, but it, too, will match. For years to come, when anyone sees you on your throne in that diadem, they’ll recall this wedding.”
“The event of the decade, just as they’ve been saying on the news,” Nori added helpfully. Her eyes were swimming with tears as she looked at Marion in the dress.
Konig entered. Marion saw him behind her in the mirrors.
“It’s not my wedding, but I feel like I should point out that the groom shouldn’t see the unfinished product,” the dressmaker said. Her voice was as tiny and brittle as her fingers on the dress’s hem.
“I don’t care about tradition,” Konig said. “Out of my way.”
Luciana gathered her notebook and stepped aside. Konig leaped onto the platform with Marion, taking her in his hands.
She leaned in for a much-needed kiss, but he wasn’t approaching to show affection. He was holding her at arm’s length to study the dress with a critical eye that looked very much like his mother’s. “We need to see more of your breasts. A sidhe queen would never be this modest.”
Marion could already see more of her breasts than she could in a bikini. It was far from modest. “I’m not a sidhe.”
“But you will be their queen.” He turned her, cool hand sweeping down the line of her spine and lifting shivers in its wake. “The back is fine. I’d like more volume on her ass so it looks like she has actual curves.”
