Chapter Three
September 9, age 26
The second hand on the clock ticked the same word over, and over, and over.
Gone, gone, gone.
One week ago, I’d been held by the Prince of Hell. My hair had been ruffled by Azrames, the demon of vengeance. Silas—full-time angel, part-time dick—had scooped me out of harm’s way. One week ago, I’d willingly given my blood and signed myself over to the Phoenician goddess Astarte because I was, as Fauna so often liked to remind me, an absolute idiot. I hadn’t just peered behind the veil; the veil had been torn down in its entirety as gods had walked among mortals under the guise of the fabulously talented, wealthy, and beautiful in the tiny town of Bellfield. One week ago, I’d been drugged, panicked, deviously horny, and sobbing inconsolably in Fauna’s arms as she’d held me under the ice-cold water of my apartment’s shower and told me that everything would be okay.
What a goddamn liar.
“How are you so calm? It’s been a week.” I paced back and forth, gnawing on my knuckle. I refused to sit still despite Fauna’s relentless insistence that I calm down. Deep, angry imprints from my teeth wounded my forefinger as I bit into it again and again. I kicked a stray shoe to the side so I could continue my pacing unencumbered. My place was a mess, and at this point, there was no saving it. I’d given my maid the time off, as I didn’t know how to explain the bizarre sigils scribbled in permanent marker on my door or windows. Similarly, I had no idea how I’d explain Fauna to…anybody. It had taken long enough for me to make sense of the skosgr?—the Nordic nymph of sugar and chaos—and I’d barely scratched the surface of understanding her.
“It hasn’t been a week, drama queen. It’s been six days. We know they went to another realm, or else your police would be giving press conferences and human news anchors would be talking about some mass murder at a fertility clinic. Time passes differently in other realms. For all we know, they’ve been gone no more than ten minutes.”
“How can you just sit there?”
“I’m not just sitting here. I’m eating. And cartoons are on.” Fauna snapped off a piece of cherry-red licorice. She’d been a stabilizing force for the first few days of my tears, my recitation of events, and my shock as memory after memory kept bubbling up in traumatic flashes. She’d been there for me, holding me while I cried, reassuring me, talking me through everything. She had taunted me more than once for trying to seduce her in my drug-addled state, but given that I’d been under the influence of a fertility goddess, I was offered a little begrudging compassion.
But when it came to actually doing something about Caliban’s disappearance, Fauna had been monumentally unhelpful.
She’d shot down my pleas to visit Betty—the witch who ran Daily Devils in the art district—when I’d begged for alternative paths to answers. Betty worked exclusively with Azrames, after all, and he was presently indisposed. All my other proposed solutions, from crystal balls and tarot cards to seances and Ouija boards, were similarly shot down.
Days of brainstorming had led us to a few conclusions. The first was that if Caliban and Azrames had won the fight in Bellfield and dragged Anath to Hell, we would have heard from them. The second was that if Silas had slain the Prince of Hell, Heaven would have made its celebrations known. If they were unreachable, it meant they had to be with the Phoenicians.
“Okay, what about a different witch?” I asked. “Maybe one who works with a Phoenician deity? Could they channel someone from that realm like Betty does with Azrames?”
“Sure,” came her dry response, not bothering to look away from the television. “Let me know when you find a Canaanite practitioner.”
I chewed my nails. “Maybe the Nordes have heard something. Could you ask?”
“They haven’t.” Fauna tapped her temple. “If there was new intel in the Nordic network, I’d know about it.”
“Your nonchalance is coming across as pretty fucking heartless,” I bit.
“I have reason to be calm. Caliban’s alive, and that’s what matters. When he dies, you’ll know.”
I choked on my question. “How?”
“The same way I know Azrames isn’t gone. If a bond like yours was snipped, that loss would punch an invisible hole through your chest. You don’t stay tethered for lifetimes and not feel it when he’s gone.”
“Everyone has spies, right? Wasn’t that the lesson of Fire and Swords ? Every kingdom has an infiltrator; every seal has a leak. There must be someone connected to the Phoenician realm who knows something. If they’re being held prisoner, if they’re being tortured…I need to know they’re safe. I need to know Caliban is all right.”
She looked up from her cartoons. “I’m pretty sure the lesson of Fire and Swords is that every scene is made better with tits.”
I stomped my foot. “Take this seriously!”
“Give them a few more days, Marlow.”
“Please.” I interlaced my fingers as if in prayer. “You said you have a place in the mortal realm, right? A house where you keep all your hipster outfits? Your landlord is some fae that you do favors for? Well…do other fae do him favors, too?”
She chewed on her lip. “It’s possible.”
“Ask him. I’m safe in this apartment.” I shot a glance at the graffiti of warding on every window in my home. “Maybe the gods hold ransom. Maybe someone will be willing to strike a deal.”
She told me not to hold my breath. A moment later, she vanished.
While she left me to gather intelligence, I could do little aside from pace.
Twenty-three steps from the front door to the windows.
Twelve steps from the wall behind the couch to the entertainment set.
Thirty-one steps from the same wall behind the couch, down the hall, past the first and second bedrooms, the guest bathroom, and the linen closet.
Six steps from the television to the dent in the couch where Fauna had been ten, twenty, forty minutes prior.
An hour passed and my palms began to sweat.
I’d seen the glint of the meteor hammer as Azrames had whirled it above his head like a flail at the end of a lasso, taking out enemy after enemy. I’d watched Caliban saw off the head of the Phoenician goddess of sex, love, and war. I’d been there when the glittering angel had snatched me from the swarm of parasitic entities.
Now for all I knew, I’d sent Fauna away to meet the same fate.
Three hours later, a knock came at the door. I threw it open to see copper hair mixed with blocks of silver. Her freckles were stark against unusually pale skin.
“I need to alter that ward,” she muttered. Her voice was disconnected, eyes glazed over, as if she wasn’t truly present. “I don’t like that it keeps me out.”
Panic lanced through me. I wrapped my arms around her neck. “What happened? What did you learn?”
“She has them,” Fauna confirmed. “They’re with Anath.”
I pulled away from the hug, searching her face for answers. “And?”
“Anath told Baal and every heavy hitter in the Phoenician pantheon that the human author Merit Finnegan came to Astarte’s clinic. You made enough of an impression on Dagon for him to corroborate your presence in Bellfield. It seems they’ve pieced together that your success is linked to being the Prince’s human, which is why he showed up for you. They want to see you.”
A painful lump formed in my throat. “We…we need to go to the Phoenician realm.”
“No.” She pushed past me and plopped down on the couch. “You can’t go now. And I can’t send you in there alone. We’re going to need help.”
“Fine, yes, good, let’s get help. More demons? Did you go on dates with any other angels? Do you know Thor? He’s a legendary fighter, right?”
She shook her head. “First of all, you sound stupid. We have no time for the comic book versions of gods. And no to whatever else you asked. The fae who told me put himself at great risk to pass along the message.”
I took a seat beside her and snatched her hand tightly. “What did this fae tell you, exactly?”
Her eyes remain unfocused. “He confirmed what we knew, then the realm’s gossip: that you’re the Prince’s human. Anath didn’t witness Astarte’s death, so it sounds like right now they have no proof as to who murdered their goddess. That’s good news for all of us. The Phoenicians plan to send you a formal invitation to their realm. He said he’ll volunteer to deliver the message.”
“Why? What’s in it for him?”
She sucked her teeth. “You wanted me to strike a deal? I struck a deal. The specifics are none of your business.”
It was hard to know if she was being flippant, or if there she was genuinely irritated. Regardless, I had taken a step closer to answers. “Okay, so we go get help while we wait for the messenger, right? And he can’t come to my apartment since it’s heavily warded, so do we need a meeting location? What’s the plan? What—”
She pressed her index fingers into her temples. “You’re giving me a headache. Leave the planning to the immortal being charged with keeping you alive, okay? I promised my contact that I’d wait to make a move. Our earthly location isn’t important. He’ll find us when the time comes. If we start visibly gathering forces now, all eyes will be on the only fae who could have spilled their tea. We can’t dime him out.”
“But—” My fingernails bit into her hand.
“But nothing,” she snapped. “I know you’re scared for the Prince. That’s fair. But you’ve only known him for what…twenty-six years? And of that, you’ve spent…ninety-nine percent convinced he was fake? So, you’re fresh to reality. Welcome to the party, newbie. I’ve known him—or of him, I mean—for…Let’s see…” She began to count on her fingers. “How long is forever?”
“Fuck off.”
She shook her hand free of my grasp. “If they were holding Caliban prisoner, Hell would have sent reinforcements to rescue their Prince. My source made it sound like he’s remained in their realm of his own volition. Azrames, on the other hand…he has no titles. They have no reason to keep him alive. Caliban might be there for him.”
“You keep insisting that they’re safe, but they’re no longer fighting parasites, Fauna. With Astarte gone, Anath is the last remaining Canaanite goddess of war.”
“Thanks for god-splaining to me.” She rolled her eyes so hard I could have sworn I heard them pop…Then, “If you really want to take on a goddess, we can go to the Nordes. But if you sprint to the Nordic realm for the first time right after I was seen interrogating umpteen fae in the fae network, we’ll have blown our cover.”
“And what? They’ll be fine with us running to the Nordic pantheon for help after we’ve received a message? Won’t that seem more threatening?”
“I promised him, Marlow. Our word is our bond. Running to the Nordes without cause looks suspicious. If we play our cards right, we may still find a way to get them to fight with you. There are other incentives to stir the pot. But…you might need to work on your persuasion techniques.”
Her casual tone was infuriating. “I don’t understand how you can just sit there! You know Az is being held hostage. We know where they are. We know—”
“These aren’t mortal games. If you ask one more ignorant question that proves you’re not listening to me, I’m going to duct tape your mouth shut.” Her expression softened, presumably in reaction to the wound clear on mine. She gave me her hand once more. “In the meantime, we need a distraction. What can I do? Want to swap sex stories?”
My lip twitched in a sneer. “No.”
“Liar. Everyone wants to swap sex stories. Come on, tell me about your best lay. Your craziest night. You have to have some really good tales. Was it with the Prince? Of course, it was. Demons are…well… demons .”
“Stop it.”
“Oh.” She pouted. Her irritation had evaporated. The playful, infuriating nymph returned. “Is it because Caliban’s not that good in bed? Trying to protect the Prince’s reputation among the realms since he’s been outshined by some country boy named Jake in the back of a pickup truck?”
I narrowed my eyes. “The country boy was a girl named Sasha, it was a rusted 1970 Ford something-or-other, and she was an uptight law student looking to break a little tension over summer break. I put a blow-up mattress in the truck bed, packed a picnic, and lit citronella candles. It was adorable. And no, she wasn’t better than Caliban.”
She steepled her fingers like a Bond villain. “Yes, good. Tell me more about Sasha.”
“Absolutely not.”
She made a dramatic show of crossing her arms. “Then you must tell me about Caliban! Why are you withholding this from me? Please, I’ll give you anything. What will it take for you to describe his package? I could tell you about—”
I had a feeling she was about to tell me what Azrames did with his horns, and to be honest, I wasn’t positive that I could continue looking him in the eye once I knew.
“Come on. Give me something while we wait. Time will pass whether we speak or not, so you might as well give me some wild stories from your glamorous life as a former lady of the evening. Tell me about a crazy client with an obscene fetish. Live a little.”
I planted my hand on my hip, eyeing her testily. “Fauna, I’m sitting on a treasure trove of tales. You don’t know the half of it. And you never will.”
She slumped back into the couch cushions, grabbing a handful of candy. She clicked the television on once more. “You’d be a hit at parties if you took that stick out of your ass.”
I glared between her and the screen. “Back to cartoons? Seriously? With all we’re going through?”
Fauna threw up her hands. “You’re impossible. You need more intervention than I can offer. Let’s get you out of the house.”
My eyes bulged as she reached for my laptop.
“Don’t touch that!”
“Too late,” she said through a mouthful of sweets as she quickly typed in my password.
“How do you—”
“ Caliban69 ? It was like the third thing I tried. It’s how I know you’ve got sex on the brain.” She pressed the button before I had the time to lunge from my place in the living room.
Nia picked up after one ring. My friend’s eyes widened into spectacular spheres as she stammered out a greeting. She shouted an off-screen cue for her music player to stop.
“Oh my god, hi!”
I dashed toward the couch, but Fauna extended her foot to effectively kick me in the stomach with a single, stalling gesture. I grunted against the explosion of pain, pretty sure my stomach had ruptured. It took me a second to suck air back into my lungs, but by then, the pair was already well into introductions.
“Hi, yourself.” Fauna smiled in return. “We haven’t formally met. I’m Fauna. You’re Nia, right?”
“Nia Davis-Greene!” I snapped, still fighting for my life. “Hang up the phone right now!”
Fauna kept me at bay. “You’re one of three humans in the world Marlow talks to and you’ve got a hyphenated last name? So feminist. I love it. Anyway, I’ve been trying to get her to take me out of the house, but she’s boring. Are you busy tonight? Can we come to yours? Invite that peach with the quirky name! What was it?”
“Kirby?” Nia asked breathlessly, still gaping at Fauna. I’d sent Nia the selfie that Fauna and I had taken outside of the coffee shop many moons ago, but seeing the ethereal nymph in all her video-chatting glory was something neither Facetune nor Photoshop could fake.
It took me a minute to curse and swear and throw Fauna middle fingers before I groaned my way into frame. “Fauna is really pushy,” I said, shoving myself onto the couch and body checking her until I took over the screen. “We’re fine, Nia, really. I’m not—”
Nia’s eyes bulged at the implication that I might back out. “You’re coming over tonight, and if you don’t, you’re dead to me. Darius!” She yelled the name to an unseen face. She hollered again until her husband answered. “Get your ass to the store. We’re making the best of the nice weather tonight!” Then to us, she asked, “Fauna, do you eat meat? What do you prefer on the grill? Burgers? Hot dogs?”
Fauna made a contemplative face. “Pineapple goes on the grill sometimes, right?”
Nia didn’t so much as bat an eye. Off-screen once more: “We’re doing shish kebabs with pineapple! Get stuff for five!” Then to us again, “What do you drink?”
“Make it sweet.”
“Get mixers for pina coladas,” she said to her husband.
“Five?” came the male voice from beyond the edges of our devices. “You, Kirby, Mar, and me. You don’t have any other friends.”
“This is a dinner to meet Mar’s new friend,” Nia said, tone resting heavily on the last word. He must have jumped into action at the implication. I could hear him rustling with his shoes near the door as I wrinkled my nose at Nia. He was a good guy. He was probably just as excited as Nia that I had someone new in my life, even if they couldn’t see how wrong they were about the freckled goddess of sugar and chaos.
“Nia, we really don’t have to,” I said with my mouth. I hoped she heard the underlying telepathic message: Please, save me from this. Cancel on Fauna. Say no. For the love of god, please!
She waved away my protest with too much intensity. “Bullshit. It’d be a crime not to take advantage of one of the last nice days of the year. We’ve wasted half the month as it is. Darius is already on his way to the store. You’ll offend us both if you cancel now. Be here at six for drinks. We’ll do food at seven? I’ll call Kirbs.”
Fauna arched her back over the couch, dangling her hair in front of my face as she said, “Thanks Nia! Can’t wait to meet you!”
“We keep it casual,” Nia said, tone somewhere between warmth and bewilderment as she eyed my new companion. “No need to dress up.”
“I never do,” Fauna responded brightly. “See you at six.” She shut the computer before I had time to argue. She smiled at me with infuriating, unwavering victory.
“Proud of yourself?”
“Immensely.” Fauna grabbed another stick of licorice as she asked, “Isn’t it rude to go to parties without bringing something? They always bring something on TV.”
I shook my head. “Not when your sister is the host.”
Fauna, normally a living noodle of blurry irreverence, stilled. “You’re sisters?”
I yanked the computer from her and walked across the apartment to set it on the kitchen island before she got any other smart ideas. I made a mental note to change my password. “What, we don’t look like we share a parent? That’s racist, Fauna.”
She narrowed her eyes almost imperceptibly as she scoured me. She searched my hazel eyes and pink features, gaze flicking between me and the now-dark computer. At long last she said, “You’re telling a joke.”
I flashed my teeth. “I am.”
Of course, my colorless skin and Nia’s rich brown looked nothing alike. I had no siblings. Nia was one of three, though her brothers didn’t live in the city. I gave Fauna a brief history of our found-family story, which made her grin.
“Almost like you and me!”
I was about to argue that Fauna had tried to leave me to die on more than one occasion—something I was quite confident Nia and Kirby would never do—but my memory flashed to several hostile texts from Nia wherein she’d promised to kick my ass. Maybe there was a love in joking about violence completely separate from the lived experience of growing up in a family whose primary mode of correction was corporal punishment.
Fauna had once told me she’d loved me. At the time, I’d believed her.
When Nia, Kirby, and I said we loved one another, we believed it, every time.
Fauna draped herself over the side of my couch with a dramatic sigh. She gave me an innocent pout as she said, “Now, just to be clear, when it comes to your friends…”
“You can’t fuck my friends, you freak.”
“Just asking!” She blew a kiss.
“Well,” I amended, “Kirby would be into it. But Nia and her husband are monogamous.”
She made a face. “Monogamy? In this economy?”
I tried to keep from laughing, but the only thing I could get out between my giggles was “But please don’t make a move on Kirby. Their head would explode.”
“Because I’m so spectacular?”
“Because you’re chaos in a bottle,” I said, not bothering to comment on how I had no comprehension of her centuries of life and love with Azrames, despite her attempts to explain it to me.
Stay wild and free .
It had been his way of saying goodbye the first time I’d witnessed their flirtatious interactions. After spending time with him, it was hard to understand why she’d want to be wild and free. Then again, she was not me, and I was not her. If she wanted to sleep with centaurs just for the plot, eat sweets, binge reality TV, and piss off angels, that was her prerogative. All I wanted was to be reunited with Caliban.
I thought of his face as he’d shouted to Silas in the final moments in the lobby. He’d begged the angel—Hell’s adversary—to rescue me. He’d needed to ensure I’d be safe while he took care of the problem—a problem I’d caused in the first place.
Now I was the one who needed to know he was safe.
If our rescue mission was forced to wait, I supposed a sham of a dinner party would suffice.