Chapter 7
“That’s not glamorous?” Riot asked incredulously. “How can good luck not be glamorous? Seems pretty fucking awesome to me.”
“It’s not as prestigious as, say, bestowing wisdom,” I volunteered with a shrug.
“Luck is fickle, and what they get depends on what they’re trying to achieve.
What if they were trying to do something terrible and I enabled them?
I have to do more… vetting than other agathos to make sure I’m not doing more harm than good. ”
“If you only focus on the negatives, you’ll only see negatives,” Riot replied, cocking an eyebrow at me. “A chance encounter with a bit of good luck can change someone’s life, Gracie. Don’t undersell yourself.”
I dropped my gaze to my hands, unsure how I should respond to that. No one in my life had ever been impressed by my gift. My parents had all hoped for something more prestigious at my emergence. That I had Eutychia only confirmed all of the worst thoughts my mother already had about me.
“I always talk to people first to understand their motives, and the more I give, the better their chances,” I muttered awkwardly.
“How does that affect you?” Riot asked, brow furrowed. “Does it hurt you or anything?”
“Not immediately. Our gift comes with a cost. If I give someone good luck, I receive bad luck in return.”
Riot blinked at me. “What the actual fuck?”
“Sorry?” I squeaked.
“So, your goddess put your people here specifically to play guardian angel, and yet you have to suffer to use the gifts she gave you? How is that fair?”
Riot pulled a lighter out of his pocket and I watched him for a moment to see what he was planning on doing with it, but he seemed content to just flick it on and off.
Perhaps it was stress relief? He was definitely outraged and I knew it was genuine because I could feel it, like angry little tendrils that sprouted up and demanded action against a perceived injustice.
“Well…” I began to explain before trailing off.
How was that fair? I hadn’t asked for this gift, or to be some kind of talisman for humans who didn’t even know about our existence, but that’s what it was. And I was forced to pay the price for using the gift that my instincts demanded I use.
“I guess it’s not very fair,” I said quietly, picking up the remote to scroll through movies.
Sugar, if he thought just the gift itself was bad, he’d hate to hear about the way Constance made me use it at the shelter.
Bonded agathos shared the cost of their gift—if I was bonded, they would occasionally receive my bad luck in my place.
Constance had always seen my lack of soul bonds as a reason to use my gifts more rather than less , since the only person it was hurting was me.
Riot gave me an assessing look, but didn’t call me out on the blatant avoidance when I oh so subtly suggested we watch Bring It On . He was very nice, really—daimon or not—because I could tell by his face he didn’t have the slightest interest in cheerleading.
The heavy, achy feeling that had eased off returned with a vengeance, and I found myself slumping back into the couch, my limbs too heavy to function within ten minutes of the movie starting.
“You should go get some sleep, Gracie,” Riot suggested gently. “The past 24 hours have been a lot, and you look exhausted.”
“Are you…will you stay?” I asked, feeling a little foolish. He looked as exhausted as I felt.
“I’ll be right here,” he assured me, stretching out and pulling the throw off the back of the couch to drape over his legs. “Besides, I’m already invested in Torrance’s story,” he added with a wink. “Can’t leave now.”
Shooting him an awkward smile, I stumbled to my bedroom, collapsing back against the closed door for a moment.
What were we doing ? It felt wrong to leave him out there, but it would be beyond inappropriate to sleep next to him, as tempting as the idea was.
Everything about Riot was tempting. At the same time.
..I’d never been alone with a guy. I’d definitely never shared a bed with one.
I twisted the opal promise ring on my finger back and forth, feeling guilty that I’d even contemplated sharing a bed with him. That was definitely something reserved for soul bonds only.
Which he wasn’t. Maybe.
I flopped down on my bed—for the first time not caring that I still had makeup on and my bedding was all white—and screamed quietly into my pillow.
I still hadn’t worked up the courage to bring up the whole dark goddess prayer issue. Maybe the solution was another prayer to the Goddess of Night to see if the candle going out last night had been a fluke.
What I should do is pray to Anesidora like a good agathos, which I hadn’t done out loud since yesterday. Before everything had changed.
Maybe I was a little bit scared.
My phone buzzed next to me and I latched onto the distraction, snatching it up instantly. Even that small movement highlighted the ache in my arm muscles. It felt like the one time I’d attempted lifting weights and had barely been able to move my upper body for a week.
Mercy:
Can we video call? Your mom is driving me crazy.
I smiled at my baby cousin’s message, grabbing my earbuds so I wouldn’t disturb Riot.
The call connected and Mercy beamed at me, lying on her front on her pale pink bed, earbuds in.
In some ways we looked similar—we both had typical agathos eyes, golden brown skin and black hair, though hers was much curlier than mine.
At 17, she hadn’t quite lost the baby roundness of her face yet—much to her chagrin.
“Hi, baby cousin,” I said quietly, hoping she wouldn’t question why I was practically whispering in the apartment I lived in alone.
“Are you okay?” she asked instantly, the beaming smile she’d answered the phone with turning down. “You don’t look well.”
“Don’t I?” I asked vaguely, switching the pictures on the screen so I could get a better look at my face.
I grimaced a little at the dark shadows under my eyes and the sallowness of my skin visible even under my makeup.
I wasn’t feeling one hundred percent either, but I’d attributed that to the shock of the past couple of days and the meagre amount of sleep I’d had last night sitting half upright on the couch.
“Are you working too much? Is Constance being too hard on you?” Mercy asked, sounding concerned.
I flipped the pictures back around and gave her a smile I hoped was reassuring. “I’m not working any more than usual. Constance is Constance.”
Mercy wrinkled her nose and I tutted quietly at her.
I had to be careful with Mercy, she had the same negative predispositions as I did, and I didn’t want to encourage her.
Mom had less time to focus on Mercy’s “training” the way she did when I was a teenager since she had my two little brothers to raise as well, and I wanted my little cousin to continue flying under the radar.
One of her fathers was my mother’s brother, and they had given my parents free rein to train and discipline Mercy as they saw fit. They lived in Saskatoon, and had sent Mercy to live with us when she was 16 to finish her education at Auburn’s more illustrious high school.
I’m sure they’d hoped she’d feel the call to a soul bond in Auburn too, but it hadn’t happened yet.
“Did you hear that Joy’s memorial is on Sunday?” Mercy asked, rolling over and holding the phone above her face.
“I didn’t. But I’ll be there, of course.” Every member of the community was expected to turn out for that kind of thing, even the tragic singletons.
“You better get some industrial concealer before then,” Mercy giggled. “Aunt Faith will flip if she sees those bags under your eyes.”
I snorted at the accurate assessment. “How has she been frustrating you today?”
Mercy gave me a sheepish look. “The Basilinna of the Northeast is attending the memorial. You know, Harmony Daubney? Joy was her niece.”
Apprehension skittered down my spine and I did my best not to let it show.
Harmony Daubney was based in New York and rarely made it to events in Auburn even though it was one of the more old money, longstanding agathos communities in her jurisdiction.
No one could find out about this strange connection between me and Riot, especially not the Basilinna.
The agathos had no compunctions about hurting daimons, and just the idea of what they might do to Riot made panic swell in my chest.
“Why is that stressing out Mother?” I asked eventually, clearing my throat. My family may live among the elite, but we weren’t high profile enough to register on the Basilinna’s radar.
“Because of you,” Mercy replied with an apologetic smile and I could have sworn my heart stopped beating for a moment. “Aunt Faith was at a knitting party with some of the older women this morning and the subject turned to you…”
“And why I haven’t met any of my bonded yet,” I finished flatly, not surprised in the least. “Mother never appreciates those conversations.”
“They were pretty critical of her, apparently,” Mercy relayed with typical teenage glibness. “More than usual. Talking about how it’s your parents’ fault that you are a single spinster.”
“How could that possibly be their fault?” I laughed quietly, though the sound was a little too bright to be natural. It was the first I’d heard of anyone blaming my parents for my situation, usually it was all on me.
“Not praying enough or showing enough devotion to Anesidora, that kind of thing, or maybe not asking forgiveness for their own sins and you were being punished in their stead. Since Anesidora hasn’t given you any direction on where to find them and all.”