Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
“Enough,” Eros bellows. “Monsters. Get out!”
They scurry after Pie. It takes a little while to empty the room, but eventually the last monster disappears back out to the street.
Everyone, with the exception of Jacqueline, that is.
Eros gets up from his throne, walks across the room—right past me without even making eye contact—and goes behind the bar. I turn to watch him as he grabs a bottle of Blanton’s Special Edition, two glasses with ice, then comes back around the bar and settles himself at a table in front of the now-empty stage.
He points to the second glass as he pours his drink. “Come on. Let’s do this deal like gentlemen. You’ve earned it.”
“I’ve earned it?” I want to slap his fucking nose off his face. “How condescending, how—"
“Stop, Pell.” Eros actually huffs. “I’m not insulting you. I’m merely pointing out that you are a godling in the presence of a god. And while you might think we’re equals—and in some ways, we are—we’re really not. So please. Have a fucking seat and a drink on me so we can get through these negotiations and be on our way.”
I take a moment to parse all these words and here is where I land: He’s tired. As am I. And he’s not losing. But I’m not losing, either. So we’re at an impasse and maybe it’s possible that we can come to an agreement where we both get what we want.
I walk over, sit down, and point to the glass. “Pour.”
He does this. And I sip. We both sip. I really like this whiskey. Plus, it reminds me of Pie now, and our date—at another version of this very bar, in fact—when things were much simpler.
We’re a few sips in when Eros finally gets to the point. “Do you know who you are?”
I look him in the eyes. “The son of Ptah.”
“Your mother was Venus.”
I blink at him, confused. “But—”
“That’s right.” Eros takes a sip of his whiskey, looking away from me. “We’re half-brothers.”
“But that’s not possible. A godling is only half-god.”
“A godling meant for breeding”—his gaze returns to me—“must be full-blooded. But you were not conceived, you were engineered. There was no love between Ptah and Venus because… it’s just science. You were not born from her womb, you did not suckle on her breast, you were not raised as one of us.”
“Because I was expendable.”
Eros points at me. “That. But.” Now he smiles. “You beat them all, didn’t you?”
“Did I?”
“You’re still here. You’ve never produced a godling. I think that’s a win.” His face darkens a little. “You know where Pressia is, don’t you?”
“No. I really don’t. But I do know where she was.”
“Where?”
“In my sanctuary. On another plane, though. Some… in-between realm. I have literally not seen her since the night before the called-off wedding. But I have read her books.”
“What books?” He leans forward in his chair.
“In my apothecary.”
“At Saint Mark’s?”
I want to lie here. I want to tell him that they’re gone with the rest of it. But I don’t care about the books. I’m so done with this history. “Yes. At Saint Mark’s.”
“Are they still there?”
“Yes.”
“Can I have them?”
“What do I get?”
“What do you want?”
I think about this. I look at my drink. Take a few sips. Contemplate. Finally, I say, “I would like you to apologize to Pie.”
Eros laughs. “What?”
“You heard me. I would like you to apologize to Pie. And I would like you to mean it.”
He and I stare at each other. Then he says, “I’m a god, Pell. I can give you lots of things. And this is what you ask for?”
“I don’t need your gifts. I can make my own fortune. But what I can’t do is fix the fact that you ruined her life. That you left her with that shitty mother of hers—who abandoned her, by the way—”
“I knew that.”
“If you knew that, then what the actual fuck?”
He and I have another little staring contest. But he breaks away first. Then he stares into the shadows for a good long while. I think Callistina is still lurking in there, but I’m not really sure.
He stares at the shadows so long, I start to get impatient. “You have an answer and don’t want to spit these words out, or you don’t have one and you would prefer to remain in denial? Which is it?”
He looks back at me. “In order to get what I wanted from her—which is her magic, Pell. I needed her magic. In order to get that, I would’ve had to kill her.”
“What?”
“That’s how you steal magic. This is how the gods get their power.”
“I thought they wanted a godling?”
“They did want that godling. She would’ve had that child by the time she was twelve. Then she would’ve been killed for her power and… well, you don’t want to know the rest because it’s the Cult of Saturn and—”