Chapter Thirteen
As soon as we pull into the parking lot, we're stopped by a teenager in a reflective vest. He holds a little orange cone in his hand, halting incoming traffic to let an employee walk one of the cows from the barns to the petting area.
She's got a little fleece coat laid over her back with her name embroidered on it.
Callie is literally vibrating with excitement in the passenger seat, and I can't help the grin that spreads across my face when I glance over at her.
"Her name is Daisy," she whispers, her hands balled in little fists in her lap. I suspect it's to keep her from jumping out of the car and running for Daisy.
Once Daisy has been safely escorted to the petting area, we park and head in.
There's a hot cocoa table set up outside of the barn, so I grab a cup for each of us while Callie waits in line by the outdoor heaters.
Despite being perfectly capable of morphing her clothes into something warmer, she insisted on stealing one of my old high school hoodies.
Something about seeing her wearing my clothes makes me a little bit feral, so I'm not complaining.
When I join her in line, we're next to go in. She inhales her first gulp of hot chocolate and immediately sucks cold air in to soothe her burnt mouth.
"It's literally in the name," I laugh. "Hot cocoa.
" She sticks her bright red tongue out at me, and I pull her head towards me, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She takes another sip, smaller this time, and her grimace turns to a grin.
The elderly woman at the door waves us forward and Callie beams at me.
There are cows lined up at the inner fence, ready for their scritches and treats.
A young girl with 4H patches on her jacket walks around with a calf on a harness, supervising her while she butts her head into any available hand.
Callie pounces on the opportunity, crouching down to run her hands over the calf's fuzzy snout and scratching behind her ears.
We spend a little under an hour in the barn before Callie's nose starts to turn red.
I'm having fun just watching her enjoy herself, but she's got to be freezing by now.
She's deep in conversation with one of the cows behind the fence, so I slip my hand into the one hanging at her side and tug lightly until she's facing me.
"I think you've successfully made friends with every cow in the barn," I tell her. "You ready to get some food? Next stop on the Seven Wonders tour is full of tacos." She glances over her shoulder at the cow for a moment before turning back to me.
"I suppose," she says slowly, pointing a finger at me with a stern glare.
"But we will be coming back to see all my new friends.
" She squints at me until I nod in agreement.
As if I could deny her anything. A smile breaks out across her face, and she surges up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my cheek.
We head back to town and grab some lunch at the Mexican restaurant.
We get a whole sampler feast, from chips and queso all the way to deep fried ice cream and a bunch of things in between that I can't hope to pronounce properly.
She orders it all for us, expertly and in Spanish, because of fucking course she can speak Spanish.
I can tell when she really likes whatever she's eating because she does her little happy dance in her seat, and I want to make her feel like that all the time.
When we're so full I think they're going to have to roll us out the door, we pack up the leftovers in boxes and go home.
Home. My apartment has always been more than just a place to live.
Somewhere I was comfortable, where I could take the mask off and just exist in peace.
It's spacious enough for me and all my stuff.
Even with all the things I like to collect, I haven't run out of room.
Everything in it is conveniently placed, and the kitchen is big enough for me to comfortably cook in.
The living room has enough room for my bookshelves and display cases.
My furniture is comfortable, and I think I did a pretty good job decorating the walls and end tables.
I've lived there since about a week after my mom died, when I got evicted from the house because our landlord said the lease was "with her and not me". Fucking scumbag.
Growing up, Mom made sure that I always had the freedom to do whatever weird shit my little heart desired.
We didn't have much after my dad left, aside from the months he actually remembered to send child support, but she made the best out of it.
It never even dawned on me that we had less than anyone else until I was old enough to go to other people's houses.
I never really cared about what we had or the box it was in.
Home was my mom, and then she died, so I had to create a new home.
Now, though? If my apartment burnt down tonight, I'd still have a home.
It's sitting in my passenger seat, bouncing around to the music streaming out of the car speakers loud enough that she can hear it and swooning at me like I hung the fucking moon for her.
It's following me through the door, fingers entwined with mine, barely making it to the counter to drop the leftovers before she's wrapping her arms around me from behind and squeezing.
It's staring up at me with big blue eyes as I turn in her grip and leaning down to kiss her for the millionth time today.
Callie is my home now, and I'm not letting anyone, anything, or any stupid fucking god take her from me. I'm done trying to buy time. It's time to make a plan.
We spend the rest of the night bouncing ideas around for the ending of my book.
I can feel her influence on me like a warm trickle down the back of my neck, words flowing freely from my brain to the page.
My writing isn't the only thing she's inspiring, though.
We work until well past midnight, and I wait until we're curled up in bed to say anything about the plan I've been formulating all evening.
"So," I start, tapping my fingers nervously where they lay on my stomach.
Her head is nestled into my shoulder, one arm laid across my chest. "We're just about done with the first draft.
I think we should talk about the plan." She hums noncommittally, snuggling closer into me with no response.
Shit, I should have waited until morning. I should have-
"There's no planning when it comes to them," she interrupts my spiraling, her voice quiet and steady. "They do what they want, and they make decisions on whims. Once you're done with your draft, I'll send a message to Apollo."
I'm sorry, who? Yeah, we're going to be circling back to that later.
"He'll set a time to meet up with us and we'll petition him for my contract.
He'll name some outrageous price and expect us to either give in or haggle with him. If you try to haggle, he might let you. Or he might kill you for defying him. Depends on how he’s feeling that day.
If you decide you're willing to pay the final price, then he'll take payment, and I'll belong to you. If the price is too high..."
She sniffs quietly, her fingers tracing the tattoo on my shoulder lightly. When she doesn't continue, I take her fingers with my free hand and bring it to my mouth, pressing a kiss to each knuckle. She lets out a heavy sigh before starting again.
"If you decide I'm not worth the price, they'll reassign-" My gaze whips to her.
"Woah," I stop her, sitting up as much as I can without tossing her.
Now that I can see her face, I can see the tears forming in her eyes and the sad smile.
I swipe my thumb across her cheek, catching the first tear as it falls.
"I need you to listen to me, and I need you to absorb what I'm saying.
There's no price I wouldn't pay for you to be mine.
There's not a single thing I have that I wouldn't be willing to give up for you to be free. "
Her eyes meet mine, and I can feel the pain behind them like it's my own. "I won't let you suffer to save me," she whispers.
"I won't let you suffer to save myself," I retort.
"Let me decide what I can and can't handle, because you're worth it to me.
You're worth more than anything I have. I don't care if he wants every penny I have or everything I own.
Take my sight, or my voice, or years off of my life.
Callie, I don't give a single fuck what he wants, as long as it ends with you in my arms every night for the rest of our lives. "
"For the rest of your life." I tense at her words.
They're so quiet I almost don't hear them.
"I don't age, Devon. You'll grow old and you'll die, and I'll still be this.
" She gestures down at herself. This meaning a thousand-year-old muse in the body of a 25-year-old woman.
"You'll get older, and people will see us and think I'm your daughter, and then your granddaughter.
And then one day, when you die, I'll be all alone again.
" Her breathing is fast and shallow, like she's working herself into a panic attack.
"Hey, relax" I murmur, brushing her hair down and pressing a kiss to her temple.
After a few deep breaths, I can feel her settle back into my side as her breathing returns to normal.
"Once we get through the first step, we'll worry about the next one.
For now, let's just worry about the deal.
Tell me what to expect. Are we talking Apollo Apollo? Like, God of the Sun Apollo?"
"Yeah, and he's a fucking dick." Her face is so serious, but I can't help the laugh that escapes me. She pins me with a glare for a second before it softens and she giggles along with me.
"I'm sorry, did you just call a god a fucking dick? Isn't that smite-worthy or something?"
"Only if I say it to his face," she says with a smirk.
"And he knows he is, anyway. He's just the worst. He's impulsive and rude and, honestly, he's kind of a creep.
He likes to think he's in charge of the muses because he's a god and he had a kid with Calliope a million years ago.
As if you can walk anywhere in Olympus without tripping over a demigod.
It doesn't help that some Russian composer in the twenties wrote a whole ballet calling him 'Leader of the Muses'.
But, because he's a nepo baby who gets whatever he wants, Zeus made him the mediator for all of our petitions, and he gets the final say on anything we do. "
I nod slowly in lieu of a response. She just referred to the god who drags the sun across the sky as a creep and a nepo baby. Although, based on what I know about Greek mythology, she's probably not wrong. I take a deep breath. I have a feeling this isn't going to go as smoothly as I'd hoped.
"Great," I mumble on an exhale. "Piece of cake."