The Fox and the Falcon (No Other Gods #2)

Chapter Sixteen

“So, this is the Bride of Hell?” came a flowery, feminine voice.

I gawked at a room fit for godly opulence and the after-hours executive suite of someone who worked somewhere between Wall Street and a black-market antiquities dealership. I gripped the edges of the stone table—perhaps the only gray, ageless writing surface in the modern, high-stakes business office. The speaker wasn’t quite the billionaire’s trophy wife that the media had led me to expect from these environments. She looked like the most gorgeous attendee at Burning Man.

The breezy, captivating hippie was the only thing capable of tearing my eyes from the crooked smirk of the masculine figure before me. Her voice wafted musically through the tasteful, modern boardroom that would have been more fit for art stock market traders and their presentations than our unholy alliance.

I didn’t think it could be possible for anyone to look so much like the paintings, the renderings, the sculptures that had filtered down over the centuries. I wasn’t sure where along the lines pop culture had begun to depict her with pink hair but had assumed it was a rather cartoonish fiction to connect her with spring blossoms.

I was wrong.

I knew who she was the moment I saw her.

She grinned as she swept across the room in a loose, flowing dress. Her pale hair had been interlaced with a halo of pink lowlights that blended into a gentle gradient, starting with icy roots and ending with light, rose-colored tips. Her lips, her eyelids, and her cheeks were in complementary shades of rose and peach. Her fingernails had been painted pink to match and were manicured into somewhat threatening points.

She snatched up my hand in both of hers.

“Persephone.” I offered a breathless smile. She squeezed my hand.

“I go by Poppy,” she said, dazzling teeth flashing. Her eyes were an incredible mixture of blue and green. She didn’t look Greek. She didn’t even look human. She looked like…spring. “And you and I have something in common.”

“Poppy, sorry,” I corrected, bewildered. From what I knew of names, I wondered if Persephone was even her real name, or just the one she’d preferred when Homer and Hesiod had been busy transcribing their stories. “And, Hades?”

Hades smirked from across the table. While Poppy and Fauna could perhaps swap bohemian outfits, he was dressed like a high-end weapons dealer from a spy movie. I couldn’t fathom two more opposite aesthetics in the same building, let alone the same room. Her dress in contrast with his slick black suit looked like they belonged to the sort of people who wouldn’t speak to one another, let alone be a couple.

He propped his chin up on his elbows and said, “You can call me—”

“Don’t be crude,” Poppy cut in, presumably knowing where his joke was going. “The Prince of Hell and his bride? Come on, darling, how often do we get to meet a couple like us?”

“She’s missing her better half,” he said.

“She is the better half,” Poppy said, positively twinkling. She released my hand and perched on the arm of Hades’s chair. “He’s going by Dorian. Dorian Castellanos, if anyone asks who’s running our museum.”

I rolled the name around in my head. “Dorian, as in…Gray?”

From across the table, Hades’s smile grew. “Precisely. Corrupt the soul, keep the pretty face.” He ran his hand down Poppy’s back. She closed her eyes and leaned into the touch.

“Why a museum?” I asked. I awaited an elbow in the ribs from Fauna for not filtering my thoughts, but she leaned forward, as if interested in the question.

q“Big fan.” She winked.

“Fauna is her Nordic companion. And this is Fenrir.”

Poppy sobered instantly. She offered Fenrir a respectful nod. “It’s an honor to have you, Fenrir. And on behalf of us both, we’re deeply sorry for what you’ve endured.”

I’d never considered the lore gods from other realms told one another, but Fenrir was something of a legend. He stayed silent as he had with Dorian, but closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment.

“How were you freed?” Poppy asked.

Fenrir looked at Fauna but said nothing.

Dorian took control of the conversation a moment later. “I’ll be honest. We weren’t sure, but…we thought you might be coming.”

Fauna cocked a brow. She folded her legs beneath her and made herself comfortable as she tucked herself into the chair. “Color me curious, Dorian .”

“The worlds know when a goddess falls,” he said. The embers of his amusement continued to smolder. “Astarte’s body was still warm when they discovered it.”

I swallowed as I gauged the room’s temperature. I was responsible for something unforgiveable.

“Who found her? Was it one of yours?” Fauna asked.

Poppy’s pink and blond waves moved gracefully around her shoulders as she shook her head. “No—a friend of a friend. They wiped forty-eight hours of security footage as soon as they arrived. Little bestselling author Merit Finnegan here was all over them. Can’t have her reputation ruined by a gruesome crime scene, can we?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Fauna asked. “Her reputation took the hit regardless. I’m not sure if the news was international, but our favorite writer was outed for her previous career.”

“Tut, tut.” Poppy’s brows puckered. “Nearly every god and goddess from Rome to Greece had sacred and holy roles for divine sexual worship. Your reputation has not been ruined now that more of us know who you are. We simply see that you’re a more complex character than otherwise assumed.”

I was speechless. She and Fauna exchanged a quiet standoff of polite, restrained looks before Poppy returned to her previous conversation.

“As for the footage…when we saw the Prince, well…I told Dorian it would only be a matter of time before we heard from you.”

My fingertips went unconsciously to my throat as if to soothe the uncomfortable constriction as I asked, “Do they know who killed her?”

Dorian gave me a serious look. “Were any other god-killers present?”

I chewed my lip as I thought. “I don’t know. Can angels kill gods?”

Gooseflesh pebbled my arms and legs as the room chilled. No one moved.

Dorian’s tone remained the same, but his face was an unreadable mask as he asked, “An angel, or an archangel?”

I looked to Fauna for the answer. With a reluctant puff of air, she said, “Do you know Silas?”

Dorian’s eyes darkened at the name, but Poppy lit from within. “That’s great news for your Prince! It doesn’t matter if there’s no footage of Astarte’s murder. If Silas was there, no one will blame Hell. As a matter of fact, they might assume Hell was only there in response to the angel’s threatening presence.”

I couldn’t explain the hollow whistle of air that blew through the hole in my chest. I wanted to revel in the joy that Caliban wouldn’t be blamed, but new thoughts smothered my joy. Was Silas an archangel, that the blame might be pinned solely on him? Where did that leave him? Did it matter?

Dorian squeezed Poppy’s hip and said, “As it stands, we’re glad you’re finally here. We’ve been itching for a little chaos.”

“Well”—I swallowed as I looked between the two of them—“you can take your chaos. Fenrir can have his anarchy. I just want Caliban back.”

The couple exchanged looks.

Fauna perked up at my side. “It’s her name for the Prince. It’s good, right?”

“I must know,” Dorian said. “How did you do it? I mean, gods and mortals have love stories for the ages, but when it comes to you and the Prince…The pantheons have watched his growing affections with a curious eye through your lifetimes. I suppose you don’t remember how it started.”

I did remember, though I couldn’t explain why.

I felt the heat, the blood, my mortal body’s pain from 900 BCE as if it were yesterday. I’d been stoned and left for dead nearly a thousand years before the clock had reset and begun at zero once more. He’d found me there, broken and dying, and I’d asked him to stay with me.

So he had.

“I don’t know most of the cycles,” I said, “but in this one, he didn’t want to see me suffer. He checked in when he could, always trying to cheer me up and be a point of joy in a very dark childhood. I wish he could have done more. Fuck, I would have loved to have joined the missing person’s posters and been swept into the fae realm.”

Poppy clicked her tongue sadly. “There’s not much free will in that, though, is there?”

“I didn’t want free will,” I said. “I was told I had it growing up, but is anything freely chosen when there’s a knife at your throat, daring to slit you from chin to collarbone if you choose wrong?”

To my surprise, it was Dorian who took offense. “Lore loves to play fast and loose with deities abducting their brides. A lot of villains are born from ignorance. I’m positive he did what he could to help you without crossing any boundaries until you were old enough to decide for yourself.”

Fauna snorted, but quickly apologized given their shared alarm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just…as soon as she was old enough to consent, she decided he was made up and she was insane. It wasn’t an ideal outcome. So, enter Fauna, stage left.”

I shot her a glare.

“What?” She leaned back in her chair. “You don’t give me nearly enough credit for saving your life.”

Dorian clapped his hands together. “Are we off to topple some kingdoms, or shall we spend the night wandering amongst my antiquities? Because I’d like to see a few heads roll.”

Fauna cleared her throat loudly enough to stop everyone in the room.

I supplied: “For all intents and purposes, we are here because of the politician who doxxed me, and no other reason. Anything else that happens is purely coincidental.”

Dorian positively glowed. “Well, isn’t that delightful.”

Poppy got to her feet. “That’s enough of that. You’re our guests, and we’re all here in good faith. Now that we’ve exchanged the formalities of our preferred monikers, there’s a life to be lived! We’re not going anywhere tonight—for all intents and purposes.” Poppy shot me an air-kiss, informing me with one throwaway gesture that she understood more from my two sentences of immortal beings and their semantics than I could ever hope to achieve. She waved for us to follow. “Come now, we can’t very well spend the night in the boardroom. You’ll stay at our place, of course. You look like you need a good washing.”

It was anxiety-inducing enough to meet Hades and Persephone in the flesh. I didn’t need the reminder that changing into Estrid’s clean tunic hadn’t gotten rid of the sulfuric marshy stench or lingering wolf hairs.

I looked at Fenrir and his beautiful, glossy coat, and resisted the urge to pet him. Surely, it was improper to stroke a god’s stunning fur. But that didn’t make keeping my hands to myself any less challenging.

Dorian took his time getting to his feet, smoothing his jacket with idle hands. I shot Fauna an uncertain look, but she looped her arm through mine. Fenrir followed on Poppy’s heels as she led us into the palatial museum atrium and toward the elevators. I didn’t have time to absorb the floors upon floors of exhibits, the balconies, the statues, or the banners in the dim after-hours lighting as I kept up. Dorian flicked the lights off behind us and brought up the back of our small crew. I was surprised to see Poppy hit the arrow pointed down and frowned as we got into the elevator.

I opened my mouth to ask if we were going to Hades, but as if to preempt my question, Fauna pinched me.

I suppressed the urge to cry out in pain. Dorian caught the exchange but seemed to enjoy our tiny display. Moments later, the doors opened. I was instantly glad I’d said nothing, as the shiny doors parted not to the Underworld, but to a parking garage. Poppy led us to the only remaining vehicle in the otherwise empty subterranean room. I knew enough about cars to be pretty sure the black Aston Martin was the same make and model as the one driven by James Bond, which only deepened my preconceived notions that Dorian’s earthbound profession was something more closely affiliated with the mafia than with museum work.

Fauna opened the door to the back seats for Fenrir and he leaped in first, crossing to the far side as if jumping into a vehicle were the most natural thing in the world. I crawled in next and wedged myself in the middle while Fauna slid in beside me. I kept my eyes on Dorian as he crossed to the passenger’s side, and for a moment, I was confused about who was expected to drive. Then he opened the door for Poppy and ensured she slid in safely before he got in.

“Why don’t we just jump to their home?” I whispered to Fauna.

“And leave a car this nice behind? Please.”

She was right. I supposed even the Lord and Lady of the Underworld had appearances to keep up if they were masquerading as humans. The car purred to life and Dorian eased it toward a small security tower. He scanned a card and thick protective doors eased open to release us onto the streets of Athens.

Thirty minutes later, he slowed the vehicle as he turned into a driveway lined with tall, manicured cypress trees. A thick iron gate swung open as he approached, then eased shut the moment we passed its perimeter. I wasn’t sure if this was a mortal mechanism or magical intervention, but the gate was the last thing on my mind as he pulled up to the cliffside villa of my fairy-tale dreams. I tried to pick my jaw up off the floor as we got out of the car and approached the door.

“Oh, you go ahead and get the others set up,” Poppy said to Dorian. “Please see to it that Fenrir is given the most kingly treatment after all he’s been through. In the meantime, I want to show Merit the infinity pool.” She looped her arm around mine before I had time to protest. Despite her cheery disposition and insistence that we were kindred spirits, the look of alarm on Fauna’s face at our separation put me on edge. I didn’t miss the flare in her eyes as she sent me a silent warning—for what, I wasn’t sure.

My heart continued to skip uncertainly as Poppy led me around the edge of the house to where beautiful gardens and olive trees fell into a smooth, sunken firepit lined with posh cream patio furniture. I wondered if they left the fire burning at all times, or if it had been turned on in anticipation of our arrival, which did nothing to assuage my worry. The fire didn’t hold my attention long as she guided me past the landscaping to a glossy black surface that fell away into the sea.

“Wow,” I murmured appreciatively. I’d been to luxury resorts around the world. I’d stayed at five-star hotels and taken calls at multimillion-dollar mansions. The limitless blue where the sky met the ocean never got old. It was a moonless night, dotted only with the few stars that weren’t muted by the glow of Athens. “Owning a museum must pay pretty well?”

She giggled lightly beside me. The sound reminded me of new leaves rubbing together, of chirping birds, of bright, sunny days. “The museum is a pet project.”

I knew it , I thought. I’d have to ask Fauna later if the Greek god of the Underworld really did run an arm of the mafia.

“I prefer it up here,” Poppy said in low agreement to any unspoken question. “In the human realm, that is. Don’t get me wrong, the Underworld has its luxuries. We’re deities in our realm, but…we’re subjugated gods.” Her words dropped off as if catching on the wind that breezed over the cliff. I turned to look at her, but the pretty slope of her nose and apples of her cheeks were barely discernable against the dark sea. All the light remained at our backs as the fire danced quietly in its smooth cement cage.

“Subjugated?” I repeated the word uncertainly.

“I have a goddess for a mother—then again, I probably don’t have to tell my story to the great Merit Finnegan. I’m a minor deity—a lot like your Norde companion, actually. A bit more famous.” Her face scrunched in a genuine smile. “Dorian’s a true god. They’re brothers, you know,” she said. There was a blue note to her final statement as her words met the ocean, lost along with her distant stare.

I fidgeted. “Zeus and Hades?”

I didn’t miss the way she frowned. “We aren’t using those names these days.”

“I’m sorry.” And I was.

She turned toward me. I monitored every movement as she closed the small space between us and ran her soft fingers along my arms, urging me to look at her. Our bodies turned so the fire lit one side, and the ocean was at the other. Humans didn’t touch each other like this. At least, none that I knew.

I was still tingling from the vaguely ominous motion that I knew was intended to be comforting as her soft voice said, “Gods can kill gods, you know. They’re equals. You’d think they’d be treated as such, but that’s never been the case.”

I didn’t know what to say, but I had a feeling that silence was fine.

“Dorian and Caliban have something in common.”

My lips parted briefly at hearing the Prince’s allotted name on her tongue.

Undeterred, she went on. “Caliban is patient—legendarily so. We’ve known about you for a long, long time, Merit. Well, we knew about the Prince’s human. It being you was a surprise. So, he won’t rush you, even if the realms wish he would—and they do, Merit, make no mistake. But Dorian’s like that, too. True gods are excellent at outwaiting their enemies. Perhaps it’s why lessers need to nudge things along. Not everyone has the patience for eternity.”

I had no idea what to make of her warning. Each word made sense individually, but her message was lost on me. I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to reply. For lack of anything better to say, I answered with, “I appreciate your willingness to help me get Caliban back.”

Her laugh was a single short exhalation. There was a sadness to the sound, stolen quickly on the wind that carried over the Mediterranean Sea.

“Do you know what so many of us like about Hell?”

My hair tickled my shoulders as I shook my head. She’d changed topics so quickly that I was forced to assume everything was interconnected in a way I couldn’t possibly comprehend. At this point it would be shorter for me to make a list of the few things I did know rather than to assume I understood anything about the other realms.

“There are no gods in Hell,” she said. “There are courts, sure. They have royal families—the King and the Prince, the infernal divine, the other courts, what have you—but it’s nothing like the absolute supremacy of gods in other realms over their subjects. Hell’s king dreamed of equality. Hell stands for the egalitarian rule we laud. I think it’s part of why so many of us spend our time in the mortal realm. Here, Dorian and I aren’t squished beneath another god’s thumb. Few humans are—though I suppose there are exceptions even in the mortal realm. Your presidents, your prime ministers, your queens—it’s just a ship and its sail. The sail can be collapsed at any time, and then you can steer with rudders and oars. It’s not forced obedience. Hell is doing something other realms dream of, and at a steep price. Heaven is a formidable foe—a nearly unconquerable one.”

She searched my face for a light but frowned when I failed to latch on to her words.

Poppy tightened her hold on my arms as she said, “We’ve been waiting for you to make this happen.”

I had no idea what to do with her intense monologue. I shot a look toward the fire, hoping salvation would come from the house. I looked deeply into the greens and blues of Poppy’s springtime eyes as they caught the flecks of hellfire. “Waiting for me?”

Before I could react, she pulled me into a hug. She smelled like fresh-cut grass, apricot blossoms, and the earth after it rained. Into my hair, she whispered, “Please, don’t waste this life.”

“Mar?” came Fauna’s voice from somewhere behind the olive trees.

Oh, thank god.

“Out here, Fauna,” I called back, doing my best to keep my tone light. I wasn’t afraid of Poppy, but my heart hadn’t settled its arrhythmic skipping since she’d led me to the cliffs. Nothing about our conversation set me at ease.

Poppy pulled out of the hug as footsteps began to scrape from the far side of the firepit. She whispered, “She wants it, too.”

I frowned. “What?”

Popped dipped her chin, voice low as she said, “For the first time in countless cycles, you have fae blood. This is the first time another realm has been able to step in like this and intervene. Your Norde wants it every bit as badly as I do. Ask her why she’s helping you. Ask her why she really came into your life. It was sudden, wasn’t it? Out of the blue? Ask yourself why a nymph would be charged with such a task. With Fauna… You’re important, Marlow. You deserve to know who she really is.”

My lashes fluttered rapidly at her hushed, conspiratorial words. A numbness tingled my fingers and toes as I struggled to grip on to Poppy’s warning.

“Mar?” Fauna called again.

I was once again overcome with images of a security guard mutilated in the park and buried, never to be seen or heard from again. A vision of ferocious wolves bowing to her will flashed before me. A chill snaked down my spine as Fauna approached.

Poppy dropped her hands and I turned to see my Nordic companion lit by the yellows and whites of the bright, clean fire.

I gave Poppy one last confused look, but she only closed her eyes and offered a single nod before putting her hand on my lower back and urging me forward. She called out to Fauna, “Did Dorian show you to your rooms?”

Fauna bobbed her head, extending her hand toward me as I was given from the Greek Lady of the Underworld to a Nordic forest deity, like a human toddler being passed off from teacher to mother after kindergarten. Fauna looped her arm in mine and rested her head briefly on my shoulder before saying, “You’re going to love our room! He said we could have two different ones, but I thought it would be more fun to have a sleepover.”

“Of course you did.” I’d intended for my tone to come out dry, but there was a cautious edge to it that I hoped she’d missed. I shot a look over my shoulder at Poppy, but her face was serene and encouraging once more. She followed closely behind as we entered the home of Hades and Persephone.