Chapter 5 #2
The kitchen was U-shaped, with a glossy wooden countertop, stainless steel appliances, fancy looking blue-gray cabinets, and an elaborate tile backsplash that made me think of Morocco.
It was about as opposite as possible from my dad’s apartment with the formica countertops and peeling beige paint on the cabinets.
It was all very fancy, and she obviously had good taste and cared about this kind of stuff, which was cool and a little intimidating.
While something about Grace felt familiar—like I’d known her my whole life, or maybe in a previous one—her life, her home , her world made me feel incredibly out of place.
Coffee in hand in a fancy glazed cup that looked like it had been handspun by angels on a pottery wheel, I opened the curtains that covered the french doors out to the covered balcony.
Roses , I realized with surprise. There was a line of terracotta pots, each housing a rose bush. Grace’s interest in plant life was fascinating . It directly contradicted everything I knew about agathos.
More puzzled than ever, I returned to the couch.
We needed answers for this bizarre connection—or at least a starting point—and while I was basically useless in every way that mattered, there was one guy I knew who might be able to help.
If he was feeling cooperative, which heavily depended on his mood.
Blowing out a long breath, I pulled up the contact on my phone and hit the video call icon.
Bullet . I thought he was a fucking space cadet most of the time, but he had a strong connection with the Goddess of Night and maybe he could find some answers.
Maybe he already knew the answers. Bullet was a descendent of the Oneiroi line, but I wasn’t entirely sure how his gifts worked even though we’d known each other for years.
He picked up the call quickly, but there was a black screen where his picture should have been while my puzzled face stared back at me from the small box in the corner.
“Are you alone?” Bullet asked instantly.
“Er, yeah?” I replied. I supposed it was a fair question, he knew I lived with my dad.
Had lived with my dad. Besides, I didn’t really question Bullet’s odd moments anymore.
He lived out in the countryside, entirely isolated, bombarded with vague dreams of the future, with only his tarot cards for company.
What little social skills he’d gained while we were growing up, he’d lost as soon as he retired to the Farm of Tortured Psychics, or whatever they called it.
I’d be a little weird too.
“I thought it would take longer for you to contact me,” Bullet greeted, grinning broadly at me as he switched the camera on, shoving his floppy pale blonde hair out of his face.
He’d always taken an interest in fashion, so I wasn’t entirely surprised to see him wearing a black t-shirt and charcoal blazer in his own home at 8.
30 in the fucking morning. The gold 9mm bullet he always wore around his neck glinted in the light.
“So you were expecting me?” I asked flatly. He’d probably dreamed about this exact moment last night.
“Of course. I know what you’re going to ask me, and no I’m not going to do a reading for you over the phone. That’s not how it works,” he sang. Goddess, I forgot how high energy he could be.
“Can you try?” I groused. “How different is video calling versus in person anyway? I don’t know what you’ve seen , but I’m not in a position where I can just drop in right now.”
Visiting Bullet was a nightmare at the best of times, since it involved a long drive through agathos territory, and they were a bigger threat to us than we were to them. Their non-violent rules didn’t seem to apply when it came to daimons.
How nice of their goddess to include that convenient exception.
Bullet nodded solemnly, all traces of humor gone from his face for a brief, unsettling moment. “A reading on your own won’t do you any good either.”
I stilled, eyes narrowed on the screen, wondering what he knew.
Either he’d seen something, or someone had watched me leave with Grace last night, though I thought we’d been pretty discreet.
The former was a more terrifying idea. As far as I knew, the Oneiroi’s visions were limited to their fellow daimons.
His visions were a gift from the Goddess of Night, and she had no control over humans or agathos.
Daimons couldn’t have visions about agathos, just like agathos couldn’t have daimonic bonded.
Right?
A frisson of fear ran through me that whatever was going on here was bigger than just Grace and I. What if this was some kind of divine task? Back in the old days, the goddesses were always meddling with mortal lives, but they’d grown bored of that centuries ago.
Besides, it didn’t seem likely that any deity would select me for anything.
The Goddess of Night would be more likely to punish me for being a particularly terrible daimon.
Grace, though…maybe she’d caught the attention of the goddesses.
She was interesting, and beautiful and compassionate, and nothing like what I’d expected an agathos to be.
Fuck, I wondered how Grace felt about weed? Surely I could smoke a little of that to dull all these feelings. That was way less potent than coke.
Bullet tilted his head to the side, examining me with eyes similar to my own. “I wonder who you are.”
“You know who I am,” I replied flatly, his vague words pulling me out of the panic spiral I’d been heading towards. “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”
Bullet scoffed. “I know you’re Ryan Garner.”
I cringed at the use of my birth name. Our nicknames were earned in our teen years by other daimons and we went by them for the rest of our lives. I should hate mine. Riot was an ironic nickname, given to me sarcastically. Oh, Ryan’s in the corner smoking by himself again. He’s a riot.
“What I mean is which one you are—The Devil, The Chariot, or The World?” Bullet continued, looking genuinely perplexed at his nonsense question.
“Temptation, addiction, that sense of being trapped have always followed you around, at the same time you’ve always exercised more control and willpower than some of our peers , even when it makes you miserable, which is always.
A sense of completion and accomplishment I probably wouldn’t associate with you… ”
“This isn’t making me feel any better,” I deadpanned, irritation coursing through me. “I called you for advice, not to listen to you list all my flaws.”
Bullet hummed, grinning cheerfully again. “One man’s flaw is a certain woman’s kryptonite. Anyway, I’m sure my dreams will reveal who you are soon enough. Steps need to be taken, Riot. Don’t wait too long.”
The call ended and I cursed under my breath.
Fucking psychics. Now I had more questions than answers, and I felt shittier than usual about myself.
He couldn’t have seen Grace. It wouldn’t make sense for her to feature in his visions.
Then again, nothing that had happened so far made any fucking sense so what did I know?
I almost trusted Bullet—more than I trusted most daimons with the exception of Dare—but the idea of visiting him with Grace for a reading was terrifying. Could I trust him with Grace? Could I trust anyone with her? With the knowledge of this thing between us, whatever it was?
Her people were meant to be the good ones. The kind and benevolent guardians of humanity. Yet if they found that one of their own had some kind of connection to a daimon, I doubted their kindness and benevolence would extend to Grace.
Fuck, how did people live with all this stress? How did they just go around making decisions all the time? No wonder humans were always hitting me up for temporary escapes.
I unlocked my phone to check my messages, realizing there was one from Dare that must have arrived when I was sleeping. I’d totally forgotten he was expecting me.
Me:
Hey, I found someone to crash with. Thanks for the offer though.
Dare:
Who? I’m your only friend.
He must have an early booking to be replying at this time of the morning. Dare slept less than anyone else I knew.
Me:
Bullet could be my friend.
The three of us had hung out a lot when we were young. Daimons didn’t have friends, but those two were the closest I’d ever had to it I guessed.
Dare:
Fuck off, we’ve barely seen Bullet since he went full country hermit. Who is it? A girl?
As much as I trusted Dare, this wasn’t just my life, or my secret to divulge.
How would I even explain it? Oh yeah, I met this beautiful woman outside Onslaught and I felt like I was about to have a heart attack while being electrocuted, but I wanted to make out with her at the same time. And she’s an agathos, so there’s that.
He’d probably wonder if I’d gone a little too wild with the stash I’d skimmed from my dad.
Dare:
Actually, tell me in person. If you’re not working for your dad, you can come help me out. I need an errand boy.
Me:
Fuck off.
Dare:
See you in an hour then.
I scoffed even as I pushed off the couch to find clean clothes in my duffel bag. I knew Dare was being a dick to cover up his act of charity, and I appreciated him for it.
Besides, I had some pride. I couldn’t just mooch off Grace and lie on her couch all day, even though that’s all I’d been doing at my dad’s place for months.
Maybe some of her good girl charm was rubbing off on me already.
* * *
“Hey,” Dare said, straightening up from the bench of equipment he’d been cleaning and giving me an appraising look over the half wall that separated his work area from the front of the studio. “You look…a lot less shitty than I expected, honestly.”
“Such little faith in me,” I scoffed, even though it was entirely reasonable of him to expect I’d gotten shitfaced last night to avoid my problems. “You look terrible,” I added with a smirk as I shut the door behind me. “You should consider sleeping this week.”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Dare replied, rolling his eyes. He was wearing a black t-shirt that showcased the symmetrical ink down both arms and roses which climbed up the sides of his neck from his chest to finish behind his ears.
The neck tattoo wasn’t new, but the roses hit differently today having seen Grace’s collection. I was pretty sure I’d be seeing reminders of her all day. Already, my skin was itching with the need to get back to her which was…unexpected.
My entire life had been so thoroughly upended that it felt weird to see Dare looking the same as usual.
Dare was at least half Japanese, raised by his Japanese daimon mother who never talked about Dare’s father, and always looked too fucking cool for shitty Milton.
Straight black hair that was shaved on the sides and longer on top, styled in an artful mess because he was vain like that.
He had sharp features and shadows under his red and purple eyes from lack of sleep.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked, moving towards the glass desk in the corner where he kept his laptop and a pile of receipts that he probably considered an accounting system.
Most of his studio was stark white and glass, which showed off the black artwork in white frames covering almost every inch of wallspace.
I didn’t like to tell him too often in case he got a big head about it, but he was crazy fucking talented.
“Deal with that shit,” Dare replied, tipping his chin at the chaos on the desk.
I wasn’t surprised he didn’t have the patience or attention to detail to sort out his admin work, he was descended from the Philotes line after all, and fighting against his nature as it was.
“Greet the clients. Aftercare instructions. Take the payment. Get my lunch. But first I want to hear about where you’re staying and what happened last night. ”
“No can do,” I said, picking through the papers. Shit, the receipts here must go back a year at least.
Dare made a disgruntled noise under his breath. “Riot, don’t be a dick. I’m guessing you swiped whatever you were supposed to sell last night, and your dad was raging before you even left the house. Plus, Goddess knows who you pissed off at Onslaught last night.”
“Who says I pissed anyone off? I was on my best behavior. I didn’t even go inside,” I replied with mock offense.
“I really think you should crash with me,” he pressed. “You have no self-preservation instincts, Riot. You’re already in trouble before you consider the consequences.”
I didn’t argue because he wasn’t wrong, but I was feeling more motivated to keep myself out of trouble than I usually did.
“Just be careful, okay?” Dare sighed, relenting.
The hint of concern in his voice made me turn around. Dare wasn’t a Moros descendent like me, naturally prone to being as objectively miserable as possible. Philotes descendents fucked a lot, they were usually pretty cheerful.
“I’m good, man,” I reassured him, feeling deeply unsettled while doing so. “Things are a little weird right now, but I’ll tell you more when I can.”
“Don’t get killed, Riot,” Dare muttered, turning his attention back to his equipment. “I’d miss you, like, one percent if you died.”
“Cute. I’d miss you one percent too. Maybe two. It’d be more if you put out sometimes,” I joked,
Dare scoffed. “With the amount of time you spend lying around moping, I bet you’re a total starfish. I like my partners less...dead fish-like in bed . ”
“I’m not kink shaming, but that’s two ocean-related metaphors in a row. Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Fuck off,” Dare laughed, moving behind the half wall where the chair was. “Sit down at my desk, in my studio, and sort out my life. I’ll have your sexy secretary uniform ready for next time.”