Chapter 35
CYDON
F rom what I could tell, the collective Mythic rulers of the afterlife could come to the Tar Pits and judge whether Wren was worthy of even the time it’d take to hold this magical Weighing ceremony.
It wasn’t like a fairy godmother who could bibbidi-bobbidi-boo her into immortality. This was a serious thing, though no one could—or would—tell me what it entailed. Only that her mortal soul was the price, and if she failed, she would be gone from the wheel. I couldn’t just stay with her in the Underworld and wait for everyone else to arrive. We couldn’t stay here at the Tar Pits and hope the guys would come to visit.
She’d be completely gone, and everything in me rebelled against even the concept. I’d tried to broach the subject, but she shut me down immediately. Sure, it had been with kisses, but they’d only softened the blow of her words.
“I don’t want to live a thousand years waiting for the people I love to die, when I could spend a thousand lives with them, and their children, and their children’s children. At best, this would be a half-life. You’d make me happy—and you do, so freaking happy—but they’re all the pieces of my heart too. What would you do, in my shoes?”
That was the last time I’d mentioned it, because in her shoes, I would also risk it all to get back to her. So as much as my heart ached at the thought I might lose her, I subtly began grilling the bar’s patrons about the Weighing. Some were oblivious, others tight-lipped. But if you hit them right as the mead was rushing to their heads, some of them were as chatty as a human on spring break.
I poured more mead for a grizzled old warrior Mythic. I didn’t know which Pantheon he was from, or even his name, but he liked to talk when he was drinking. “Yeah, we’re just here for the Weighing,” I told him casually, topping his glass up all the way to the rim. “They make it sound hard, but my girl is the best. How could it go wrong?”
The Mythic snorted. “Everything. They mightn’t even come, and you’ll be stuck here slinging beer for that oversized football for eternity. Or they will come and judge your girl, and decide she isn’t worthy.”
I growled. “She’s the most worthy person I know.”
He downed half of his drink in one go. “Their version of worthy and yours are different. Those bastards see nothing but the bad. And if they do decide she’s worthy of the Weighing, that shit is…” He shuddered. “It isn’t good. A soul disappearing is something that makes me shudder. A cold shiver that takes over your whole body. Cold for weeks afterwards.”
I sat down across from him. “You’ve seen one? A Weighing?”
He puffed out his chest. “I was here for the Saint. Patrick? Simon? Who cares. He was unworthy, and he was a fucking saint.”
Dread was like a stone in my chest. I stood, slowly moving back to the bar. Like the guy said, worthiness was judged differently. Maybe it would be okay.
The problem was, how did we know who she was supposed to be impressing? The big ones were obvious: Hades—I couldn’t wait to see him—as well as Lucifer and Hel. But who knew all the lesser known deities, especially from the long-dead Pantheons? I didn’t even know if the Minoans had a God of Death. They were all about life.
When I’d said that to Wren, she’d just shrugged. “If I’m kind to everyone, then I should make a good impression on the right ones, I guess?”
Ugh, I need Google. For instance, the scowling guy she was serving now grunted more than spoke. He didn’t look like he belonged here, but I didn’t know if it was because he was a monster who just liked a beer, or because he was a God of Death who didn’t want to even be here but was obligated to check out Wren for the Weighing?
Smiling happily, she came back to the bar. “Can I have one of Ninkasi’s batch, please? Nergal doesn’t like beer. Or people.” She smiled as if that was the most endearing thing ever. Grabbing one of the large clay urns of wine from beneath the bar, I poured a large pitcher for the unknown Mythic.
When the doors opened, I almost wept to see a face I knew. Hades strolled in, like he’d been here a million times before, and maybe he had. When he made it to the bar, I resisted the urge to jump it and hug him. “If I didn’t think Persephone would punch me, I’d lean over this bar and kiss you.”
He grinned. “It probably isn’t Sephy you’d have to worry about.” He looked around the room, and his eyes snagged on Wren as she emerged from the back with two large flagons of beer. “She’s okay?”
I shook my head. “She’s grief-stricken. But she’s determined to get home, even if it means she might cease to exist.” I stared at him. “Hades?—”
“Hades!” Wren’s voice bounced around the room, drawing everyone’s eyes to the enigmatic ruler of the Underworld. She raced over and hugged him like a life buoy in the middle of the North Sea. He patted her back awkwardly. “Thank god you’re here. The guys? The babies? Are they okay?” She stepped back, but gripped his sleeve, clearly worried he’d disappear before she got her answers.
“They’re okay, Wren. Please, let’s sit.”
Shaking herself, she stepped away. “Of course. Sorry. Do you want a drink?”
“A whiskey would be great. Bran has some of the best malt whiskey ever distilled down here.”
I agreed, and given the distillery Bran kept in the back of the bar, it had been perfected over an endless eternity. I leaned over the bar, grabbing a bottle and a couple of glasses. I figured we’d all need it.
“Bran! We’re just taking a short break!” I yelled across the room to the head, who was deep in conversation with a woman in black.
Wren sat across from Hades, and while she’d let his sleeve go, she wasn’t taking her eyes from him. “Tell me?” she implored.
“The Minoans are a mess, but they are holding it together for the infants. The Valkyries and the Morrigan have picked up their protection slack, while they all adjust to your death.” I winced at the word, and he looked over at me. “The pack have stuck around, but I’ve never seen so many sad dog faces.”
My heart clenched at the idea of my leaderless pack. They relied on me too, and while I wouldn’t change anything, I hated that they felt abandoned.
“But since you connected with the Gryphon, there is some renewed hope.”
Wren’s eyes went wide. “So it was real? I did speak to Griff in my dream?” A smile spread across her face, so bright it lit the interior of this dark little bar. “I thought it was just my own grief manifesting him.”
“A matebond is a powerful force not even death can break.” Hades shook his head. “About the Weighing…”
Shoulders stiff, she stared down Hades, literally one of the most powerful Mythics ever created. “I’m doing it. I’ll take the risk to get back to them.”
“I expected nothing less. No, the consensus is that you are worthy for The Weighing. It will happen soon. I want you to be prepared, because it isn’t an easy task. If you survive it, you will be… different. I cannot interfere once it starts, and I can’t alter the outcome, no matter how much I wish I could.”
Wren reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “I understand. I accept what has to happen, but you know better than anyone that I need to be there, with them, to protect my babies. To ensure they live happy lives, filled with love and not just duty. I trust my guys with the boys, I do. They’ll protect them with their lives. But if their hearts are broken because I’m dead, how can they give them the love they need, so they don’t end up like the Moirai—warped and twisted creatures, drunk on their own power?”
I resisted the urge to spit on the ground at the name of the old Fates. Hades nodded at her words, like he knew exactly what she meant.
“Have you ever seen a Weighing before?” I asked him.
“Several. None have ever been successful, though.”
That was not reassuring.
“Is it physically taxing? Like, should she be doing sit ups in her spare time?”
Wren laughed. “If it involves sit ups, I’m in trouble.” I could hear the nerves in her voice. She was worried, and so was I.
Hades downed his whiskey. “It is not an obstacle course. She will not have to be physically strong. But it is painful. Prepare yourself for that.” Standing, he reached out and squeezed Wren’s hand once more. It was the most I’d ever seen Hades touch anyone who wasn’t one of his inner circle. He really did like Wren, which was reassuring in itself. “It will happen tomorrow. I will tell Bran. Prepare yourself, Wren Mahone, because this time tomorrow, you’ll either be home or you will cease to exist.”
Then he disappeared.
I looked at Wren’s wide, fearful eyes. In the next moment, she shook her head, the fear replaced by determination. “It’s almost over, Cy. Regardless of what happens, I need something from you. A promise.”
I knew what she was about to ask, and I wasn’t sure I could fulfill that promise. If she was gone, I didn’t know if I would be anything more than dust. “You know I’ll do anything for you, Wren. But don’t ask this of me.”
She shook her head at me sadly. “If I die, I need you to return to Crete. I need you to show the boys how to love with their whole hearts, despite the potential for hurt. I need you to teach them that the weak and beaten-down have the potential to be heroes too. I need you to show them how to be good leaders, good men. I know you can do it, because you’re one of the best men I’ve ever met.” She gripped my hands tightly, her knuckles blanching. “ Please , Cy.”
It felt like a deathbed promise, and it was threatening to break my heart.
“I promise.”