Chapter Six #3
She laughed with quick, corrective amusement. “Gods, no. I work with the Spider Queen. Given the hand you’ve been dealt, you could use a little fate on your side.”
I gnawed on the response, knowing the name only from pop culture.
“Are you thinking of DND?” she asked.
I admitted I was.
Her smile was not unkind. “It’s because she comes with many names and forms across cultures.
She’s the weaver of fate, the master of fortune and destiny.
To the Grecians, she was Arachne. In Scandinavia, she’s the Norns, weavers of fate.
In Egypt, she’s Neith, the spider goddess of war, wisdom and creation.
In West Africa, she’s Anansi. Ghanaian people brought her to the Caribbean, and my mother brought her here, to the States.
And it looks like I’m the first to bring her into this particular relic of Christian rubble.
I’m her practitioner, and she is my deity.
That is, when I’m not working with the Infernal Divine. ”
As a mythology enthusiast, I’d heard a handful of these names, but I had never considered the possibility of them being one deity spanning many cultures. Before I could say more, she’d spied Azrames and brought our introductions to an end.
He was excited to speak to a demonolater, and he said as much.
I still had a lot to learn, but Priscilla’s work with the Infernal Divine in the Ars Goetia was a separate court from the demons I knew entirely. Perhaps if I were given thousands of years to learn names, languages, and religions, I’d be able to shelve my ignorance.
“Your name sounds familiar,” Priscilla said.
He pulled her knuckles to his lips and brushed a kiss against them. “I’m little more than a facilitator,” he said. “You may be familiar with my practitioner’s work.”
Priscilla’s eye contact remained impressively unbroken, so, from over her shoulder, I provided, “He kills violent misogynists.”
Azrames’s lips pulled up in a crooked half-smile. “Violence is subjective. You don’t have to raise a physical hand to forfeit your life. Come, sit with me.”
Priscilla remained collected, but I was confident her reverence was masking something else. She patted the space beside her on the front pew so Xuan might join.
It was then that I realized my mistake.
Xuan said, “I’m sorry, I don’t—”
“Oh!” I rushed with my marker to Xuan’s side.
I’d grown so used to seeing Azrames and Silas that it was easy for me to forget that not everyone possessed clairs.
“Give me a second. Honestly, Priscilla, I know you can see Az, but you’ll want one, too.
Unless you’re purposefully ignoring Silas, which… I wouldn’t blame you.”
Priscilla studied us carefully as I drew on her friend’s forearm.
Xuan said, “I definitely feel an adversarial presence. I’ve never met angels and demons who work well together. There are legions who might cross-pollinate in who they help, but this feels…higher-ranking.”
I completed the flame on Xuan’s hand-drawn tattoo, appreciating her wide-eyed expression. I allowed her a moment to adjust to the room as Priscilla offered her forearm.
“How high-ranking were you, Silas? Foot soldier, right?” Xuan asked.
Priscilla arched a manicured brow. “Were?”
I nodded, focused on the task at hand as I collapsed the arrow and worked through the angular eye. “I guess he hasn’t totally fallen yet, but he’s about to be a defector without a kingdom. Unless he can learn to play nice with demons, I’m worried I may have to adopt him.”
“Caliban would love that.” Azrames chuckled.
“Caliban might not have a choice,” Silas retorted.
I was caught off guard at the boldness in his statement. Priscilla’s sigil was finished just in time for her to catch the tail end of our exchange. She gave my hand a friendly squeeze as she stage-whispered, “Who’s Caliban?”
Nia raised her hand. “I know this one! He’s the Prince of Hell.
Or whatever. Since apparently Hell is full of courts.
Who knew? Anyway, he and Marlow are a thing, and because of their cycles of sexual tension, all of the gods seem to think she’s going to pop out the antichrist. Also, is reincarnation real? ”
“It helps if you’re drunk,” Kirby murmured.
“Cheers to that,” Nia replied, lifting her tequila. It appeared that Silas had sobered them up only for them to start from scratch and get shitfaced all over again.
“Thanks, Nia,” I said.
“Wait, wait, I haven’t gotten to the most important detail: Because Marlow despises children almost as much as she hates being told what to do, she’s fixing to step up and end the world on her own.
” Her fingers thrummed on her hips from where she stood in proud, Wonder Woman-esque victory. “Eh? How’d I do?”
Azrames grinned. “I’d say you nailed it.
Priscilla…” He turned to his new puppy, extending his hand for her to take.
She obliged. “The missing details are this: My practitioner—a wonderful woman who’s been called Betty in this cycle—was attacked specifically for her proximity to Marlow.
If you align yourself with us, you’ll be making yourself a target. ”
“It’s why, loath as I am to admit it, we could use a few witches,” Silas said. “If we’re on the move, Azrames and I can’t cast wards for everyone on our own. The more shields we have, the safer we’ll be.”
Xuan looked between us. “On the phone, when I asked you about your deities, you rattled off far too many disconnected pantheons. You’ve…recruited them? You have the Hellenic pantheon, the Nordic pantheon, the—”
“No,” Silas said, cutting her off. His face softened.
“I don’t want to oversell our arsenal. I know what it is to be cannon fodder.
We have a few rebels in a number of pantheons, but this band of insurgents isn’t a collection of primordial gods and goddesses.
We have two confirmed in the Greek pantheon.
Three in the Nordes. All in the Prince’s court are expected to stand with us.
The Phoenicians have rallied in their entirety, though even therein, I expect there will be dissenters.
It won’t just be the King of Heaven trying to take us down.
I expect Zeus and Odin will be quick to make their displeasure known when they hear what their citizens are doing.
You all deserve to know what you’re getting into.
” His gaze lingered on Nia and Kirby as he repeated, “All of you.”
Despite the standoffish energy he’d given the witches, Xuan reciprocated his compassion. She looked at him as she said, “I’d rather go down on the losing side’s sinking ship if it’s the right thing to do.”
“And, to be clear”—Priscilla cleared her throat—“we’re about to be on the move? A deconsecrated church feels pretty safe as long as we’re hiding from Heaven,” she said.
“Without food, water, and electricity, this place will become more of a prison than a safe house,” Nia guessed.
“And there’s someone we need to see,” Azrames replied. “Now that we have the two of you, we can create the warding we need to hit the road. Our next stop is in New York City.”
Nia bit her lip. “And Kirby and I can’t stay behind, because…?”
“Adaptation goes both ways. Every time the assailants adapt to our protection, we need to shift our wards. It’s a cage match, and no one wins by standing still.”
The answer settled uncomfortably over the sanctuary. The puffs of dust dancing in the diffused light suddenly felt too thick to breathe.
Xuan asked what I was thinking. “So, to be clear, Pris and I would have been fine if you hadn’t involved us. And now that we’re here, we’re vulnerable.”
“We won’t be running forever,” Silas said. “If Alessia agrees to help us out, we’ll be able to take a breath. You’ll see.”
Xuan’s question wasn’t as hostile as I felt I deserved, and Silas’s response wasn’t as satisfying as we needed. No answer would alleviate my guilt.
To my surprise, Priscilla anchored us with her response. “The Weaver of Destiny wouldn’t tell me to go here unless this was where I was needed. If this is the end, then we get to play an important role. I’m glad I’m here. Because no matter what happens, I know my life had meaning.”
Emotion pulsed through the room. My eyes stung with the early threat of tears. It seemed wrong to speak. The energy was too somber. The stakes were too high. The world was too—
“We need a round of shots,” Kirby said, getting to their feet. “Are you two wine witches or liquor witches?”
Xuan looked up from the couch. “I’m normally a weed witch, but the world’s ending. Pass the bottle, I’m not picky.”