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

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I hated how chastely we lay in the bed that night. Caliban and I changed into sleeping clothes, but remained dressed. Wearing clothes to bed was for pilgrims, not two desperately drooling, sexually compatible beings madly in love. He draped an arm over me, lulling me into the false sense of security I’d developed when I’d believed I was safely alone with my dreams. I hated the windowless rooms of glittering black stone that made it impossible to tell whether it was day or night in this well-protected tomb. I hated opening my eyes the next morning knowing that it was the second of three days before Azrames and Silas faced the consequences of meeting me.

Rage was actionable. Sorrow could be healing. Hate was not a useful emotion.

“Love,” he whispered, running his fingers up and down my back in slow, gentle, unpredictable patterns. I hadn’t slept much, but I allowed myself to relax into the soothing touch as my mind followed the circles and swirls of his fingertips. “Are you ready for a second day of banquets?”

“I hate events,” I said quietly to the wall. I kept my back to him in hopes that he would continue softly tracing beautiful patterns from my scalp to my tailbone and everywhere in between.

“I know you do,” he confirmed. “Extroversion has never been a quality of yours. Let me fill your cup when it’s empty.”

I rolled toward him and was relieved when his fingers continued to soothe me. It took the barest of moments to recall that he’d been present throughout my childhood. He knew the only calming memories I had with my mother were silent ones that looked exactly like this. She’d touch my back while the staticky television transitioned from soap opera to news. I’d lay my head in her lap and listen to the world events for thirty minutes, and then we’d have dinner as a family. They had been some of the few moments no one was fighting. There had been no talk of shame, or religion, or failure. There had been simply the calming shapes of her nails between my shoulder blades.

The sensation was different entirely when attached to the hands of someone who loved me unconditionally. I looked into silver eyes that didn’t look away as I thought of how unflinchingly he’d seen all my pieces, good and bad. He’d taken the shape of a fox just to make me smile when I was nothing to him. He’d been there for me as my only companion. He’d listened to my woes as my imaginary friend while I’d raged as a wrathful teenager, as someone trying to win favor with her church, her mother, her pastor. He’d held me through the fun and the guilt alike as I’d tried to figure out who I was in college. He’d celebrated my nights when I’d transitioned into sex work, and had helped my career as a writer so I could truly live deliciously. He’d endured every part of me and loved me unconditionally.

“All day today?” I confirmed quietly, knowing the answer.

“And tomorrow,” he agreed.

“Does that mean—”

“No gore today,” he finished my thought.

In the absence of trials and sentences, Azrames might even be present on the second day of the banquet. They’d made it clear that he was to celebrate his final days of freedom like a death row inmate granted lobster and wine for a last meal. Silas would certainly not be extended the same generosity. I wondered if Caliban had already checked on Fenrir, then felt anxious. Fenrir was a powerful god. I had no idea what he needed or didn’t need, only that he was not being treated as such.

“I’m fine,” came a deep, soothing voice from beyond my line of sight.

I looked to the settee where I’d hoped he’d lie but he’d opted for the chill of the sparkling stone floor. I couldn’t see Fenrir from his position past the foot of our bed, and I wondered if it had been strategic on his part. He didn’t need to be exposed to whatever it was the Prince of Hell and his bride did in the quiet hours of night.

I spoke to him in the silence of my mind, saying, “Do you need to go outside, or—”

“I’m a god, mortal,” he said curtly. “The sooner you stop human-washing the deities around you, the more cunning you’ll become. Your friends, your allies, even the one who holds you—they love you, they care for you, but you would be wise to remember that they are not people. The one you call Fauna is no human. Your Prince is no human. Their definitions of love and morality will not reflect yours.”

I hedged uncomfortably as I tried to peek unsuccessfully over the lip of the bed. Caliban’s fingers continued to move, whether he understood an unspoken conversation was happening or not. I had one more question for Fenrir.

“Is there anything you need from me?”

I could have sworn I felt a laugh. “I’ve never needed anything from anyone. You made me a promise. Whether we enact it today or ten years from now, I know I’m here for one reason alone.”

I remembered.

I released the silent tether we had on one another as I looked at Caliban. He was watching me speculatively, but not intrusively. Whatever had happened in the banquet hall, I could tell he had not been privy to our conversation. It did, however, bring me to a question.

“Can you hear my thoughts?” I asked quietly.

He looked at me for a long time. He asked, “Have you heard mine?”

I frowned. “No, of course not.”

He matched my expression. “You could, you know. And yes, I can…sometimes. And you could hear mine if you chose to. Generally, it’s only when we’re speaking to one another.”

“Is this the part where you tell me I have a mutant superpower and can read minds?”

His face twitched as be battled a chuckle. “No. With me, it’s quite specific to someone calling on me. As for you, I’m relatively certain it’s not your gift, either—that’s not to say there won’t be any in the realms who can’t tap into your mind, so it would be wise to stay as blank as possible when around new deities. But let’s focus on the now. You and I have a bond. Call out loudly in your mind, and I’ll be the one who answers. Do you want to try?”

My smile faded. “Aren’t we a little…busy?”

He shrugged. “It’s a three-day banquet. Time is arbitrary when you live forever.”

“I don’t,” I whispered.

“You do,” he countered. “Your cycles just look a bit different than mine. You’ve done it before, Love. Give it a shot.”

“I’ve read your mind before?”

He made a patient sound, then said, “You didn’t always fight your clairsentience. In the 1700s, you were a part of a practicing coven and developed it with quite the intentionality. Think of it like working toward turning up the volume of a speaker. This time, thanks to your fae blood, your speaker is stuck on loud.”

A green-haired witched on a frantic Zoom call had said something similar. She’d told me to picture a dial and crank up the volume.

I frowned and thought his name while he watched me. I thought song lyrics. I thought a snappy quote from a favorite motive of mine. I told him he was incredibly sexy, that I loved how he felt, that he did indescribable things with his tongue.

“Love.” He broke my reverie.

I heated. “Did you hear the tongue thing?”

He flashed a wicked grin. “Alas, I did not. But believe me, I wish I had.”

My cheeks cooked under his smile. It was so much harder to look at this beautiful, perfect, devilishly sexy man now that I knew he was real.

“Let me go first. Have you tried meditation before?”

My thoughts returned to Xuan’s instructions. She’d been the breakthrough I’d needed to see the sigil painted so clearly on my door. I frowned at him. “Yes. Poorly.”

“Poorly is all I need,” he said appreciatively. “Calm your mind and think of a cave.”

My quizzical look was enough to prompt explanation.

“It’s a tool, and an effective one at that. Close your eyes,” he whispered. He pressed a kiss into my eyelid the moment I complied, and my body melted beneath his touch. “Don’t speak, just listen. Picture yourself in a dark cave. You’re looking into the blackened end, and your ears are straining. All around you is nothing but wall. You listen, and suddenly you hear…”

I listened in the dark cave.

“I love you.”

It took me a moment to realize I hadn’t heard it with my ears. My eyes shot open. I jolted against the bed and might have toppled out of his grasp if he hadn’t been clutching me. He kept his eyes shut while struggling not to laugh.

“Get back in the cave.”

I giggled for both of us. I exhaled slowly, grounding myself as I pushed past the rush of nerves and anxious laughter. I let the visual of a dark, stony room fill my mind. Thanks to a family vacation to a national park when I was younger, I was able to pluck choice memories and decorate the image, to paint it over my closed eyelids. Stalagmites lifted from the damp cave floor, frozen in their reach toward their icicle-like counterparts. A distant dripping came from somewhere in the shadows. I could feel the darkened chill of a room that had never known the sun.

Something moved within the darkness.

Had I been in a physical cave, I would have felt afraid. But I knew I was in Caliban’s arms, safe in his instruction. I stared as the shape shifted from nearly indiscernible shades of black and gray to something lighter, something more defined. I kept my eyes screwed on the shape as it grew brighter and closer, like a small star rising from the bottom of the sea. I nearly lost my breath when I realized what I was seeing.

“It’s you,” I said through an inhale.

The white fox padded up to me carefully. He sat upright, wrapping his luxurious tail around his paws as he did. He tilted his head to the side and looked at me with piercing silver eyes. “Don’t say it with your mouth,” the fox said into my mind.

Fenrir had communicated this way, which set me to remembering what Caliban had said only moments prior about some deities and their gift of hearing thoughts. I hoped I hadn’t thought anything I’d regret while around the Nordic god.

“It’s like praying,” I said silently.

The fox dipped the coal-black point of its elegant snout. “Praying to Elohim was a soliloquy. You speak, yes. It’s seldom he answers those who cry out to him. I wonder how many would remain Christian if they knew that sometimes when you went to a god in prayer, the deity replies.”

I was quick to parrot a lesson that had been drilled into me for years. “It would be a trick. A dem—”

My thoughts chilled.

Caliban’s fox eyes narrowed in good humor. “ Demon isn’t a dirty word, Love. I know where the premise comes from, and for what it’s worth, Lisbeth wasn’t wholly wrong.”

I knew it wasn’t time for me to speak, so I watched the metallic flames of his vibrant eyes.

“Your mother is more open-minded than many.”

It was a battle to not roll my eyes.

“She is,” he insisted. “Many Christians don’t even believe in their own god. The others would end at this belief, without accepting angels or demons. At least your mother acknowledges what she calls pagan deities, even if to her, there are only two categories: things of Heaven, and things of Hell. Every pantheon in the world overflows with demons in masks, as far as she’s concerned. I’d say that’s more open than refusing to believe at all. Now, I know you’d love to spend more time talking about how your mother wasn’t the monster you think she is, but there are some things you should know. The first is that you’re doing great, but I don’t know if we can rely on your ability to access the meditation plane if you’re in a high-stress environment, or if time is of the essence. However, should you need to call, there’s a reason it’s effective to look into the mouth of a cave.”

“Why?” I asked breathlessly.

“You’re accepting that you’re looking into the unknown—that anything could be there. It creates a portal of sorts. You could speak to Fauna this way, though you might not want to. She, unlike me, may not feel compelled to answer your call, but you can still call into the dark nonetheless.”

“From anywhere?”

“From anywhere.” He nodded, triangular ears tilting with interest. “From the same room, from across the seas, from other realms. She’s a deity, and worthy of more caution than you give her.”

“But…”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Love.”

I balked at his words. He hardly knew her. He had no idea—

“I can hear your rejections and justifications. You’re filtering her through a very binary understanding. You’d be much better off if you took a piece of advice. Mortals have learned to think of good and bad in terms of black and white. Perhaps it’s best you consider that for those of us beyond your veil, good and bad are matters of orange and green.”

***

I ran a hand over the silvery bangles that decorated my dress like a chandelier. When the attendant had arrived to dress me for the second day of the banquet, I’d made a face at the gown, expecting it to be rough, metallic, and uncomfortable. To my pleasant surprise, the diamonds were not firm gems, but moved and flattened under my fingers as if I were running them over water.

I was to remain barefoot today, apparently.

She’d slipped on a matching jeweled cuff that ran from my ankle to my toe, offering the illusion of a sandal without the support of a shoe. I supposed it was a demonstration of the cleanliness and luxury of their palace. The floors were made of glittering, black polished stone. The smooth obsidian was warm enough to keep my toes from chilling but cool enough to keep me from being uncomfortable. I didn’t have to look at myself through Caliban’s eyes. I knew I looked like a meteor shower.

I spun, creating a celestial event of swishing and starlight.

Caliban flashed brilliant white teeth. “Do you think they could get me one to match if I asked now? You’re having far too much fun to keep it to yourself.”

I looped my hands through the crook of Caliban’s bent elbow. He opened the door for Fenrir first, offering a silent, reverent bow for the Norse god. Caliban was the one who knew how to navigate the halls, but his show of respect reminded me how much I’d been taking the powerful beings around me for granted. Fenrir exited the room, after which Caliban took the lead.

I knew better than to say anything about Fenrir’s involvement, so I returned to the visual of Hell’s silver Prince in a gown of starlight.

“I’m sure you’d look marvelous in a dress,” I said, “but this one is cut for curves.” I chewed on my lip a bit uncertainly before asking, “Is anything supposed to happen on the second day of the banquet?”

“No. Sentencing will be carried out on the third day. Today, try to enjoy yourself. I know demons and deities, of which Azrames is no exception. He won’t want today to be sullied with tomorrow’s woes. Live in the present for him and for all of us.”

It was an impossible ask, and he knew it. It had to be why he was warning me in the hall long before we entered. He’d known me for twenty-six years, and was aware of exactly how I’d internalize things.

“He’s right,” came a deep, ancient voice in my head. I didn’t look over my shoulder while Fenrir spoke to me alone. “And you have a role to play. They expect you here as the Prince’s bride, and nothing else. The Nordes are extended tentative grace as escorts of your lineage. Do not ruin it with your morality.”

“Fauna wants me to start a war.” I spoke to Fenrir with my mind. “I’m supposed to relax and party, but it’s all a facade. She’s urging me to push Caliban into battle. Why does she want this so badly? And why is no one speaking their truth?”

“Some of us were born for a purpose you can’t fathom, human.”

“Why is everyone on my case for being human?” I grumbled. I hadn’t fully intended to say it to him, but I also hadn’t ensured that he’d broken his connection. I was mildly horrified when Fenrir responded.

“Because you’re a mortal playing the game of gods.”

I felt the absence as Fenrir left my thoughts like a breeze through the room.

As with the day before, we seemed to be the last to the party. Entertainment was in full swing. Goblets clinked, laughter swelled, drinks flowed freely. Banners and dancers and music laced through the air. Once again, Caliban had been given the seat of honor on the far end of the table. Directly beside it was an empty chair for his betrothed. And beside that…

Black horns peeked through permanently disheveled hair. A gray arm draped around the back of Fauna’s chair. Azrames appeared to be in the middle of eating a turkey leg larger than his fist when he caught our eye. He smiled easily, waving me over as Fauna turned to see who’d drawn his attention. He looked so relaxed. His wicked smile made it hard to believe he was on the eve of unspeakable torment.

Azrames got to his feet. Two armed guards flanked him at the sudden movement, but he paid them no mind as he squeezed me so hard my back nearly popped.

“Mer-bear.” He smiled. I’d never been so happy to lose myself in a hug as I was in his strong, incense-laced arms. He released me and dipped his head in a small bow. “Your Highness.”

The Phoenician guards kept their hands on the hilts of their weapons until Caliban waved them down.

Extending his hand to Azrames, he said, “We’ve fought together, are citizens in a foreign realm together, and have nearly died for the same woman. We’re friends. I’m going to need you to stop using my formal title.”

Azrames clasped the outstretched palm. They shook once as if sealing a bargain. When we sat, it was Azrames who was beside me rather than Fauna. I tried to catch her eye but was unable to snag her gaze.

Ella and Estrid raised their glasses appreciatively, fingers interlacing. I couldn’t quite hear them from where I sat, but they seemed to be having a great time. Fenrir was offered water and fine cuts of meat in elaborately decorated bowls. Wine flowed, music filled the air, the scents of flowers, perfume, and decadent food mingled, and the dancers seemed to be wearing less and less clothing as they moved sensually through the hall, never growing tired. The Canaanite gods were dressed in shades of gold, red, and black. The laughter and merriment at the far end of the table was that of friends and family who’d spent far too long apart.

I hadn’t thought it would be possible. I was so certain the anxiety, the guilt, the armed guards, the enemy territory, the ticking clock of the trial would restrain me, would shove me into my chair and force me to look into the dark face of the evening.

But I was wrong.

The wine certainly didn’t hurt.

Maybe it was because I’d never gotten to see Caliban so happy. I loved watching him swap stories with Azrames. I loved listening to him laugh. I loved eating with him, and how he squeezed my knee beneath the table, and the small wink he’d shoot me when someone else was speaking to let me know that his attention was still wholly on me.

The meals continued, the hours stretched on, and the food, the drinks, the music, the dancing changed time and time again. With no windows to betray the hour, I had no way to mark the passage of time. The drunker we got, the more we joined the entertainers in spinning, swirling glee. I hardly put up a fight when tugged onto the dance floor, too drunk on wine and high on love to resist Caliban as he twirled me into his arms. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he could dance, but even in the midst of song, his movements were strong, solid, and utterly commanding. His eyes hardened as if he had only one thing on his mind. His shoulders remained straight as he threw me out, yanking me back in with a hand. When he dipped me, it was not the way I’d seen it done in movies, where a couple would press together during a sensual tango, hand on back, hair dipping to the floor.

My eyes flew open in alarm as his grip found my neck. My hands flew to his wrist in panicked instinct, and I understood why a moment later. I provided the counterbalance on threat of death as he lowered me to the floor, fingers flexing around the blood that pulsed through my throat. I swallowed as the world spun. I kept my grip tight as he stepped in front of my prone form in the last second of my dip, planting his feet before he pulled me up from the brink of asphyxiation. A moment later, I was on my feet once more. He slackened his grip ever so slightly, but kept his hand on my throat as he pressed his forehead to mine.

I wondered if the entire court could tell how lost I was. I was soaked, and drunk, and deeply in love. I trusted him, but not because he was safe, for he was anything but. No, I trusted him because as I was licked by the flames of danger, I knew exactly who held me.

I didn’t remember being handed off to Azrames for a far more lighthearted dance, though as his horns caught in the firelight, my alcohol-addled mind remembered a comment Fauna had once made about borrowing him…

I tried to shake the visual from my head, but from Azrames’s laugh, I was suddenly worried I’d voiced my filthy thoughts. In the next shameful moment, I caught another glance of the watchful guards who kept their eyes on every step of our dance. This was all happening because of me.

“I’m so sorry.” It was all I could say.

“Just have fun, Mer,” he urged. “Do it for me. Don’t let my last day as a free man be a sad one.”

I was in Fauna’s arms before I could process the gravity of his comment.

“I’m still mad at you,” she said, but the sting was no longer in her words. “But lucky for you, this is one hell of a party. And you shouldn’t be the only one who gets to play.”

It felt right to be with her again. And maybe it was because I was drunk, but I babbled about how much I loved her, how sorry I was for putting Azrames in harm’s way, how beautiful she was, and how heartbroken I’d be if she ever tried to leave me.

Fauna grinned. “Let’s get you drunk on sacred wine more often! I would have been offended if I was the only one you hadn’t tried to fuck tonight.”

I was pretty sure I hadn’t tried to sleep with either her or Az, but then again, Caliban had abandoned me as little more than a slippery mess on the dance floor. I could hardly be held responsible for who spun the puddle next. Fauna’s stamina was eternal. Her hair stayed perfect, her skin soft, her smile endless. Mine was fueled by booze, but eventually I felt the sweat and burn and exhaustion of a day of partying. I wasn’t in college anymore. My body could only take so much.

“I’ve learned my lesson,” Fauna giggled.

“About what?” I panted.

“Have you heard of the dancing plague of 1518? Over a dozen deaths. It took some of us a while to feel out human limits before we quit murdering people.”

“Fauna!” I slurred her name in a drunken rebuke, too tipsy to do anything more.

“It was an accident!”

She looped her arm around my waist and helped me off the dance floor, returning me to my chair. I was loosely aware that I’d probably be humiliated the next day that I had been the only sloppy human cuddling up to a Prince in the company of gods, but for now, I didn’t care.

Day became night as we partied away. We were one step away from me commenting that the only one missing from our day of debauchery was Bacchus when a sound cut through my drink-addled haze. It was a creak, followed by a murmur, then a gasp.

I’d been on the verge of falling into a well-deserved nap against Caliban’s chest when I opened my eyes to see everyone whipping around. The dancing stopped. I looked to the far end of the table to see that Dagon, Anath, Melqart, and Baal had stirred. I turned in my seat and immediately understood why. Two stunning figures strode into the hall in banquet-ready attire. One was dressed in a flowing spring gown with a flower in her hair. The other’s linen shirt was unbuttoned ever so slightly, hair slicked back, wicked grin on his face.

“What the hell?” Anath demanded, teeth clenched, face reddening with indignation.

“I think,” Dorian responded, “you mean: What the Hades?”