Chapter 8 #2
The gods sent you to me, Angel. You are mine to wield how I see fit, you hear me?
I pulled air in through my nose, trying to quell the nausea.
“I seek your blessing, Angel!”
The woman started toward me, but Griz grabbed her before she got more than two steps in. He had to carry her out as she fought, but he managed.
“No!” she wailed. “Angel, please!”
As soon as the door shut behind them, I fled to the loft and tucked myself into my corner, back to the wall and knees drawn up to my chest. My hands trembled as I fought waves of nausea.
Angel.
I hated that Juck still had so much power over me. I wanted him to be gone: out of my memories, my fears, my nightmares. I hated that one word could reduce me to this. I could only hear his voice saying it.
Angel. He’d groaned it in my ear when—
I clapped a hand over my mouth again, determined not to be sick.
Griz’s head popped over the side of the loft and I jumped.
“Sorry,” he said, “you okay?”
I nodded, wiping my wet cheeks and hoping he didn’t notice as he pulled himself up the rest of the way into the loft. He sat against the wall several feet away from me.
“Don’t know why I keep asking you that when I know you’ll lie,” he said, but he didn’t sound mad.
I tried to take a deep breath and pretend he wasn’t there. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him watching me.
“You run into the Voiceless before?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Just seen ’em from a distance. And heard things.”
“Did they know about you?”
I shuddered. “Don’t think so.”
He looked thoughtful. “Word’s out about your powers now, though. Mac’s contact says people have been asking around about you.”
I thought of Vulture and curled tighter into myself. It couldn’t be him, could it?
Gods, if Griz was trying to make me feel better, he was doing a real shit job of it.
“I don’t know much ’bout their beliefs, but if they think you’re some sorta angel—”
I tensed.
“You really don’t like that word, do you?”
I didn’t answer him.
“Is that what they all believe? Megs is batshit crazy, so I never know.”
I shrugged. Honestly, I wasn’t sure either.
I only knew what Juck told me, and the little I’d gleaned from the Reapers.
Juck was the only one who ever mentioned angels—one angel.
Me. He believed he’d been chosen as a new god by finding me in the desert.
He’d ascended to godhood, and I was his angel.
The place I’d been born—Carth—believed in one god, the God of Justice.
The seven gods worshipped by the Voiceless were a mystery to me.
No one outside of the Voiceless seemed to know their names or what they were even gods of.
Not that it mattered. Everyone invoked the gods in their speech.
I’d learned real quick that saying “god” instead of “gods” was a sure way to stand out.
As far as I knew, Juck didn’t talk about his religious views with many people.
He seemed to save that for me. He said he left the Voiceless because they didn’t believe new gods could be made.
I knew there was probably more to that story, but I also knew better than to ask questions.
The Voiceless scared me, and I was grateful Juck went out of his way to keep the Reapers and the Voiceless from crossing paths.
The Voiceless were spreading like weeds, though, which had put Juck on edge these past few years.
“So who used to call you that?” Griz asked. “Juck?”
Whatever crossed my face must have been confirmation enough, because his expression darkened. We sat in silence while my heart returned to a normal rhythm.
“Me and Mac met him once,” he said, “during a trade deal. Didn’t like him much.”
“When?”
He looked surprised that I’d asked a question. “Must’ve been about six years ago? The Reapers had a stock of propane tanks and we needed some…along with everybody else.”
Everything inside me clenched hard. “I remember that.”
He paused. “You were there?”
“I was supposed to stay in his tent, but I snuck out.”
“To see the trade meeting?”
“No.” The words tumbled out, surprising me. “I tried to run away.”
“Ah,” he said, watching me. “Is that why he was in such a rage that last day?”
Gods, why was I talking about this? I stood, brushing off my pants. “I should get back to work.”
“Clinic’s closed,” Griz said, not moving from where he sat.
I fixed him with a sharp look. “Why?”
“So you could have a break.”
I didn’t know what to do with that. “I’m—”
“Fine,” Griz finished, shaking his head with a grin. “Yeah, I know.”
I glared at him and made my way over to the ladder.
“You know, it’s okay to not be fine sometimes,” he called as I descended.
I ignored him, going to the door and unlocking it. When I opened it to flip the sign, Sam sat outside, carving something from a piece of wood. He looked up at me and grinned.
“Break over, Shortcake?” he asked.
I flipped the sign to open and shut the door without responding.
—
After the dinner bell, Sam entered with my mug of broth and a piece of bread, and the other woman in Mac’s crew, Raven, came in with him.
“Hey, Raven,” Griz said, an edge to his voice, “what’s up?”
Silver piercings shone from Raven’s eyebrows, nose, and lips, and her body was lean and muscled like a fighter. Her blue eyes locked on me, and she smiled, but it definitely wasn’t friendly. I wasn’t sure what she thought about what Lana had done, but I knew they’d been friends.
“Do I need a reason to be here?” she drawled.
Sam handed me my mug and bread. “Ignore her. She’s in a mood.”
Raven laughed, sauntering through the clinic. “I want to see what all the fuss is about. If I gotta follow all of Mac’s new rules, I should at least get to see why.”
I didn’t know what she meant, and I didn’t like it.
“What rules?” I asked shortly.