Chapter 22
NATE
K honsu’s ward fell at two forty-five p.m. on a Tuesday. Even though there was no physical evidence of the occurrence, the magic felt like a pop around us. Even the babies seemed to sense the change, becoming fussy and disgruntled.
At six-twelve p.m., we had our first guest. A very polite Demigod from the Kalevalans—the Finnish Mythics, though there weren’t many of them left—who arrived without fanfare or escorts. Just a blond guy in a pink polo shirt, with a large, wrapped box in his hands. He looked like he was around twenty-five, with a trendy haircut, and seemed far more mortal than any Mythic I’d ever met.
The Valkyries had looked at him with obvious disdain, though when I’d asked if their Pantheons had beef, apparently I’d been wildly off base. He and Mist had once been in a relationship, and had broken up rather fantastically, so now they all hated his guts in solidarity.
He must’ve had some massive balls, standing there outside the compound, looking pleasant yet unconcerned by the obvious antagonism of the women around him. Milo appeared with the babies so the guy could pledge his Pantheon’s allegiance. He pledged, handed over the gift, and left.
Unfortunately, he’d been the first of many. Every tiny, nearly forgotten Pantheon turned up on our doorstep. Old Gods who no longer had a cohort—just interminable loneliness—turned up, proof of what could happen if you were out of favor with the Fates, or were on your last turn of the wheel. Most of the Slavic Mythics sent representatives, as there was no love lost between them and the Greeks, and even some of the Eastern Mythics turned up. Cy had a long conversation with a Kitsune from the Shintō Mythics, who came on behalf of her God, Inari.
I was fairly sure I saw a little bit of jealousy on Wren’s face at that. She and Cy were tight, but I didn’t think they’d taken that step yet.
We let none of them even close to the walls of the compound, most of them stopped on the outskirts of town by the Valkyries and the hounds, then escorted to us under heavy guard, if the Valkyries decided that they weren’t a threat. I didn’t know if they’d turned anyone away yet, but I trusted their judgment. If they had doubts, it was better the Valkyries turn them away than I behead them with my ax. Even though a decapitation of prevention was better than a battle of cure.
Or maybe it would be Demke with the threats of beheading. I wasn’t sure what had occurred between him and Wren on the night of the party, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out it involved sex. Now, the ancient God was as territorial and protective as a junkyard dog—no offense to any of the junkyard dogs that currently protected the perimeter of the town. He eyeballed every single person at the gate, like they were one wrong word from being shriveled to dust on the wind.
I was happy for them, mostly. With the budding of their relationship, all the remaining tension in our group had disappeared, and we were one cohesive unit. A family.
The golden hog from the Norse was weaving around my feet, and it had doubled in size. I had a feeling that it wasn’t going to be normal sized. When had mystical mounts ever been pocket sized? There had been no great heroes who conquered their tasks by pulling out their pocket poodle to defeat a chimera. No, they were always above-average-sized great beasts.
Given that in the last month it had gone from fitting in a lunch sack to being able to headbutt my knee, I didn’t think this one was going to be any different. “What do you want, Pig?”
Milo, surprisingly without any of the babies, walked over and laughed. “You should call him by his name, or you’ll piss off the Valkyries. He is one step below a God to them.”
I reached down and scratched the boar’s head, and he made a happy grunting noise. “He likes it, don’t you Pig?” He snuffled at my hand, and I gave him the last half of my sandwich. Then the ungrateful pork chop ran off. Huffing, I turned back to Milo. “The almost-Demigod just conned me out of my sandwich.”
Laughing, he slumped down next to me. “I caught Trig”—that was the raven chick, though he looked like a fully grown raven now—“nesting in the crib beside the babies, and when I went to shoo him out, he bit my fingers. They are far too comfortable here.”
I chuckled. They might be like having three extra responsibilities right now, but they were already growing, and I knew I would eventually be glad the babies had their guardians, especially while they were young and vulnerable.
Hrist appeared in the way the Valkyries could do. It was kind of impressive, but also somewhat annoying. They sped into place so fast, it was like they portaled right in front of you. Great for the element of surprise in battle, annoying as hell when you were about to have a sip of your beer.
However, the look on her face replaced my annoyance with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Milo stood, prepared to race back toward the nursery and the babies. That was his job, should the worst happen and we were attacked again. He was the last line of defense between Wren and the triplets, and anything that wanted to hurt them.
“We have visitors.” Hrist didn’t seem overly alarmed, but she was tense. That ruled out the Moirai or any of the monsters.
Milo shook his head, already transforming into his bull-headed form. Guess he wasn’t waiting for the big reveal. “Spit it out. Who is it?”
“Apollo. And the Oracle Delphos.”
Well… shit. I looked at Milo. “Go, just in case.” He didn’t need to be told twice, and was gone faster than you would think a being of that size could move. I looked back at Hrist. “What do they want?”
She shrugged. “They say what they all want. To pledge to the new Fates. But…”
Nodding, I stood. “Yeah, but.”
But they were from the Greek Pantheon.
But Apollo was a powerful Mythic.
But Delphos was THE Oracle.
Hrist fell into step beside me as I headed toward the doors, in case they decided to do something stupid. “Get Demke. And Cy—maybe keeping this a family affair might help. And if you see Teron, tell him it might be a nice time for Griff to come and visit.”
Hrist didn’t reply; she was just gone. Trepidation crawled along my veins. Neither Apollo nor Delphos had been overtly antagonistic, but if the plight of the Minoans had taught us anything, it was not to trust a single damn thing that came out of their mouth.
I was unsurprised to see Demke and Griff at the door before I even made it there. Hrist didn’t mess around, and these two were definitely “kill first, ask questions later” when it came to the Greek Mythics. Even now, Demke’s eyes burned holes in the door, like he could see Apollo just there, on the other side.
Cy sauntered up at a slower pace, and while his body language was calm and easy, his eyes looked concerned. This shit could go bad in so many different ways, but there was no point sitting around worrying about the what-ifs.
Then Wren appeared.
“You should go back to the nursery with Milo and the babies.” I was glad Demke had said it and not me, because the withering glare she gave him would have shriveled the balls of a mortal man.
She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head in a way that would be cute, if it didn’t spell sudden death. “You should mind your own business. I’m not pregnant anymore, and I have just as much right to be out here as you do. In fact, maybe more. Let’s go.”
She didn’t wait for anyone’s permission, and honestly, that’s why I loved her. She was so sexy when she gave no fucks. Enough to give an immortal gray hairs, but still sexy.
Griff positioned himself beside her, like a huge Gryphon shadow, and I nodded. If it couldn’t be me watching her ass like that, I was glad it was him. Once again, I was kind of grateful that we’d fallen into this weird, giant harem.
Did I enjoy the idea that she was fucking them all? Fuck no. But in these moments, was I glad to have others at my back to protect her? Abso-fucking-lutely. I’d been in grand battles, but the thought of being the one solely responsible for the safety of Wren and the babies actually gave me nightmares when I fell asleep.
Pushing open the door, we were greeted by a wall of Valkyries. Beyond them, the two Gods in question stood around, looking completely at ease.
“Holy shit, Cy. Your dad is beautiful,” Wren whispered, and Cy huffed an amused sound.
“Only on the outside,” he murmured back, before moving forward and stepping around the Valkyries.
He went up to the second man, who was definitely younger, though it was more of a feeling than a visual age difference. The weight of Apollo’s power was only slightly less than that of Hades. The other guy—who I assumed was Delphos—felt powerful, but not even in the same realm as Apollo, let alone Hades.
Cy hugged Delphos, and it was full of affection. “Brother.”
The King of Oracles looked down at his brother fondly. “Cydon. It is good to see you after all these years. You look well. Happy.”
“As you knew I would.”
He laughed, but it was a sad sound. “As you say.” He looked past Cy to Wren. “It worked out as it should in the end, though.” He inclined his head at Wren. “Wren Mahone. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”
She stepped forward, and I resisted the urge to snatch her back behind me. Holding out a hand, she shook his lightly. “It’s nice to meet Cy’s family. And thank you, I guess, for the Oracle in my drive-thru? She saved my butt.”
Delphos shook his head. “I can’t claim credit for the prophecies of my Oracles. They moved off my mountain a long time ago, venturing into the world as was their right. Any prophecies they hand out are their own.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “But I’m glad she was where she needed to be.”
“She had terrible taste in coffee.”
“Cassie always did.” Delphos turned to the other Mythic beside him. “Cydon doesn’t seem inclined to introduce our father, so allow me. Wren, this is Apollo, one of the twelve Olympian Gods, and the God of Prophecy, Music, Poetry, Medicine and, uh, the Sun? Did I forget any?”
“Dance, Healing, Light—you know, all the fun stuff,” Apollo added. “Much like my son, I am glad to meet you, Wren Mahone.”
She nodded. “Nice to meet you too. As Cy’s dad, not as the Greek God. No offense.” She shrugged, like she hadn’t just demoted him to a father-in-law, rather than one of the most powerful Gods in existence. “I’ve met a few of your children now, and they say nice things about you, so that must mean something.”
Apollo frowned, like he was wracking his brain for all his children—which, rumor had it, were quite a lot—before he nodded. “Ah, Asclepius. That really did send Father into a bit of a spin when he came out and saved the life of the Mother of Fate. The God he’d tried to banish from the wheel, saving the woman who was going to unseat his power? It does have the spice of one of the old tales, don’t you think?”
His father? That would be…
Demke hissed. “Zeus can suck my dick.”
Apollo threw back his head and laughed. “You’ve become delightfully modern, old friend.” He patted his stomach. “But indeed, Zeus can deal. Needless to say, I am in the bad books. My children just keep causing drama wherever they go. But who says the children should get all the fun?” He straightened his shoulders, then dropped to his knee.
“I’m here to vow my adherence to the new Fates and their weaving of the fabric of destiny.”
Well… I didn’t see that coming.