Theo
Vivian was delighted to have Ida around.
They’d been fussing over each other all night like mother and daughter.
Their happiness was contagious, making for a pleasant dinner as we ate the food our guests had brought from a café in town.
I was hopeful we could have more of these visits.
One day. Right now, we needed to hold our ground and heal.
“No wonder you can’t find anything in your size!” Ida exclaimed to Ragen. She was sitting on one of the logs surrounding Vivian’s table, holding a tape measure up to his torso. “You come back next summer, and I’ll have a few things waiting for you. Vivian write down these numbers. Shoulders—"
“I need some fresh air,” Mykie sighed, standing from her seat across from Ida and exiting out the front door.
Noting an unexpected tension in her voice, I excused myself to follow. Ragen’s eyes were watching with intent to follow, but he was currently tied up being fitted by Ida for a new wardrobe.
Mykie was leaning against the front of the cabin, lighting a joint in the dark of night. Her foot propped against the wall was casual, but her pinched expression betrayed her.
“What’s going on?” I asked, resting beside her.
She took a long drag. “The scenery is just soooo nice. I thought I’d enjoy it for a bit.
” The sarcasm in her voice was tangible.
Her hand waved loosely toward the horde of beasts waiting around the border for scraps.
At least they were being mostly quiet tonight—maybe confused why I hadn’t killed these intruders yet. “You want some?”
“Sure,” I said, not expecting her to pull a second joint from her pocket and light it for me. But that’s what she did.
I took the offering, inhaling and exhaling the herby smoke. “Hard to know what to do with your hands, right?” I asked gently.
She sighed. “And my mouth.”
“No, your mouth is blabbing at its usual rate,” I teased. “I’ve never seen Vivian laugh so much.”
“It’s when I’m not talking that it feels weird.” Her ears tilted back against her head.
“You entirely done with it?” I didn’t need to say “alcohol”, we both knew what was up. One year ago, she would’ve shown up with a couple of bottles of hard liquor and not had any to leave with. This event was sober aside from the mild blunt.
“I guess I’m just taking it one day at a time.
I was done with it yesterday. And the hundred days before that.
And I’m done with it today. Gonna try to be done with it tomorrow.
They have me on a pill to make it safe. Did you know it’s not safe to stop drinking?
It’ll kill me if I continue but could also kill me if I just give it up and move on with my life without medical intervention. How fucking fun to learn that.”
I’d listened to Mykie talk about things that upset her more times than I could count, but this was the first instance where she was sober for it.
I felt some relief that our friendship wasn’t dependent on me being her bartender.
“Something tells me it wasn’t the fear of death that made you want to quit. ”
She grinned, smoke escaping between her triangular teeth. “Call me on it why don’t you?” She flicked the glowing head of ash to the ground. “Some days I’m doing it for me. Some days for Ragen. Some days I keep going just because it’s easier than starting all over again.”
There it was, another intimate connection to Ragen. I knew when to push and when to hold back. Now wasn’t the time to ask about her relationship status.
“There’s some logomé in the cabinet,” I offered. “If you want something to drink that isn’t water, ask Vivian if you can have some coffee.”
“You know what friend,” she said as her hand smacked against my shoulder in a firm pat, “that might be just what I need.”
Mykie pressed her joint into her arm scales and watched it fizzle out before turning to go inside. I looked back toward the field and took another pull. Despite the wall of beastly skulls watching from the distance, it was gorgeous outside.
A moment later, Mitus appeared through the opened door. The overwhelming urge to leave tingled up my spine, causing me to shiver. I avoided small talk with him on principle, not wanting him to think of us as friends. The last thing he needed was that level of betrayal.
“Hey,” he said, standing stiffly where Mykie had just been. “Care to share?”
I passed him the blunt. “All yours, I’m done with it.”
I was hoping that’d be a convenient out, but he spoke before I had the chance to start walking away.
“Vivian called those things cute.” He was gawking at the crowd of mist and bones. “Is that a goddess thing? To love dark and scary and violent creatures?”
I wasn’t sure he was talking about the beasts as his eyes landed back on me. “No, I think that’s just her,” I answered, subconsciously scratching the scar above my ear.
“I’m glad she’s free. It’s hard to imagine—I mean, it’s all hard to imagine—but being kept in a tube wasting away… This field having a big ugly factory in it. Those healing powers being drained…”
I contained the growl that built in my chest at the thought. He didn’t mean any harm. This was all new to him. Up until today, he likely hadn’t seen proof of the divine despite pledging his life to its protection when joining G.P.O.
Mitus sighed loudly. “One day I'm working a normal, dead shift at my bar gig, and some male shows up and asks me if I want to get away from it all and offers me a ton of money.” He exhaled a thick cloud of gray smoke. “So, I’m thinking, I’m about to be scammed or asked to sell drugs or something.
And I say I’m not really interested in that kind of shit.
He assures me it’s neither and—hell—the guy has me curious, so I go to the creepy abandoned barn at the edge of the town thinking I’m out of my gods damned mind.
” He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes. “You know the one.”
He wasn’t asking, so I stayed silent.
“Turns out there’s this whole energy war in society.
Demigoddesses are being kidnapped and held hostage.
People are dying. And I can’t help but wonder how all of this is happening, and I’ve been completely unaware of it my entire fucking life.
Somehow, I’ve been unaffected by a war taking place in my own town. ”
I couldn’t look at him. Staring at my feet, I forced my hand to stay in my pockets. I could only claw at the old scar so much. It fucking burned. My heart was thundering. I felt sick talking to him about this.
“And then I remember that fairytale my pops had in an envelope when I was a kid. I got the shit beat out of me for opening it, which felt unfair since it was just some story. Right?” He laughed without humor.
“It was about goddesses and fields with magical powers. I mean sure, the story was a little dark. And weirdly written. There were lots of numbers and some shit about machines and torture and cages… but it wasn’t real.
Nothing worth giving me a black eye over.
A fucking strange, mail-order fairytale. ”
I focused on keeping my expression blank. I wanted this conversation over. It wasn’t even a conversation. He was monologuing, building up towards a plot point I knew all too fucking well. I hoped he would stop before he got there. For both of us.
“My dad was killed shortly after that.” There it was.
“By a Quadmos.” Fuck. “The only evidence they left was a trail of blood on the window they escaped through. I was fucking traumatized and my whole life was uprooted.” He stared into the darkness, the joint a millimeter from his lips all but simmering out.
He blinked away the memories and relit the smoke.
“So I’ve been thinking, why did he have that letter?
What side of this was he on? Did he die fighting for the right cause?
Or die because somebody was trying to stop the bad guys?
Maybe it was neither. But I wish I fucking knew. ”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” I could barely keep my voice steady. I wanted to apologize thoroughly, properly, but now wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the way.
“You know, this is the second time I was randomly offered a job that I was unqualified for and drastically improved my quality of life. Isn’t it funny both offers were from people you work with?”
Was that statement a trap? “I don’t work with G.P.O.”
He hummed. “Well, I’m glad they exist so females like Vivian can be protected. And if they’re the ones who killed my dad, that gives me some closure. At least he didn’t die for no reason. Good or bad, it’d be something.”
This was his way of asking me if I was involved. I turned to look at him. Mitus always struggled with being direct, vulnerable. When I saw his black eyes locked on my scar, I knew. He knew.
“G.P.O. doesn’t exchange information through letters,” was all I could say, but I hoped it would be enough.
Mitus had his answer.
He inhaled a long, steadying breath. His lips pursed.
He was nodding slightly, letting the information sink in.
“Erith said he doesn’t feel bad about anyone he’s killed.
That it’s an important part of the job. Unavoidable.
Hurts to hear because part of me is still miserable about my pop’s death all the fucking time…
but he’s right. I hope whoever that hitman was, he understands he did what he had to.
Hell, maybe I’ll have to do the same thing one day.
I’m just pissed my dad got tied up with the wrong side. ”
Was this… forgiveness? I didn’t feel like I deserved it, but I never thought I’d get it in the first place. There we stood. Both with half closure to our messy, festering wounds. But it was a start. And now, I could begin thinking through what a coherent apology may look like one day.
He tilted his head to stare up at the galaxies swirling above us in the purple night sky. “Theo?”
“Yeah.”
“Erith is driving me fucking insane. I’m holding a grudge against whoever decided I’d be living with the only assassin obsessed with rulebooks and meditation.”
A chuckle escaped me, he'd be surprised how common those interests were at G.P.O. My head fell forward in relief at the change of topics. I shifted to face him more directly now that the hard part was over. Mitus was re-lighting his joint again. Under the glow of the lighter, I noticed rings of subtle bruising on his throat. With little pin pricks surrounding them. Like he’d been nibbled recently.
The door opened to my right and Vivian’s head poked out. “Theo, I can’t reach the coffee and Ragen is still occupied.”
“Be right there,” I nodded. Vivian smiled and disappeared inside again.
Any other day I would’ve jumped at the opportunity to escape Mitus, but I wasn’t sure how to thank him for trying to navigate this conversation with me. It felt disrespectful to hint at feeling gratitude. It would imply he owed me relief. He didn’t.
“If the situation in Drifael causes you trouble or you want out of G.P.O., you can always tell me. I’ll do what I can.” It was the best I could offer right now. Show I cared and would still be looking out for him.
“Good talk, Theo. I’m gonna stay out here for a bit.”
“Sure.” I started up the steps.
“Oh hey, do me a favor?” He waited for me to turn and look at him. “Send Erith out with another smoke.”