Penelope
—SAGE
The greenhouse door closes softly behind us. The meadow’s magic rushes to meet us in a wave of heat that smells of rich loam and blooming jasmine.
Eden takes a deep breath, and the pallor that’s been clinging to her skin since this morning begins to pinken. Tension lifts from her body as if the plants are pulling it right out of her.
My hand finds her stomach. The tiny pulse beneath her skin is stronger here, hungrier, drinking in the vel’thurá like a parched leaf drinks the rain.
Our daughter needs this—the soil beneath our feet, the vines curling overhead, the hum of growth that lives in my blood. She’s reaching for it through Eden, pulling her mamé toward the source of my magic. Without it, she starves, and so does Eden.
I slide my arm behind her knees and scoop her into my arms, carrying her past the towering ferns and the broad-leafed elephant ears bowing under their own weight.
I set her down on the moss-cushioned bench beneath the canopy of flowering vines.
“Sage,” she whispers, her voice muffled against my chest. “I feel so… at ease here.”
“Good, luváel. I think we should stay in here today and let the baby drink as much as she needs.”
Her fingers trace over my chest. “Do you want to talk about the mark Damon gave you?”
I cover her hand with my own, pressing her palm firmly over the invisible mark.
“I thought he meant right now,” I murmur. “Me and Ashán haven’t always seen eye-to-eye. I thought this mark was to remind us of what we are and what we share.”
I look down at my long fingers overlapping hers. “But after listening to Lucifer, I don’t think that’s what it’s for at all.”
“Damien said the gods were restricted. Which means we’re kind of on our own right now, but I promise I won’t leave your side while we face whatever it is.”
She leans her forehead against my chin, and my wings close around her. We sit in the quiet warmth of each other, listening to the rustling plants as I trace her belly.
My ears twitch as a chittering noise echoes from outside the greenhouse.
“Penelope! Get back here!” A woman shrieks. “You tiny little demon!”
Eden and I stare at each other for a solid five seconds, utterly paralyzed by the absurdity of what we’ve just heard.
Eden peers out the window.
“Sage, there is a blonde woman running through our backyard… and she’s chasing a chunky raccoon.”
I slide Eden off my lap, and grab her hand as we stride out of the greenhouse and head toward the side porch.
The moment she sees us, the woman loses her footing, stumbles over a root, and tumbles gracefully into a patch of clover.
The raccoon stops a few feet away, climbing onto a boulder before hissing at her like a tiny, triumphant gargoyle.
“We should help her,” Eden whispers, suppressing a giggle.
The woman scrambles upright and shakes dirt out of her hair.
“I am so sorry to trespass,” she says, rushing her words as she wipes clover from her jeans. “I run Ceasefire Creek. It’s a wildlife sanctuary in town, and this little monster escaped my truck—”
She finally looks up and goes deathly still.
Her jaw drops so fast I’m surprised it doesn’t unhinge. Her gaze starts at my feet, passes the blooms trailing across my chest, and keeps going until she’s staring up at the wide span of my wings arching over Eden.
“Penelope,” she whispers. “Did you lure me here on purpose? Revenge for the flea treatment, eh?”
The raccoon flicks her tiny hands and hisses again.
Eden bites her lower lip, a muffled snort escaping her as she tries and fails miserably to keep a straight face.
“Hi, I’m Eden. This is my mate Sage. What’s your name?”
She blinks rapidly, her eyes darting between me and Eden’s comforting face. She swallows hard, her hand trembling slightly as she clutches her empty net like a shield, clearly trying to process the fact that she isn’t hallucinating an eight-foot-tall plant man in the middle of the meadow.
“E-Elena,” she squeaks, her voice jumping a full octave before she clears her throat. “Elena Mercer. And I am… deeply questioning my life choices right now.”
Eden’s eyes soften. “I know this must be strange for you. But he’s a gentle giant. He won’t hurt you.”
A chitter cuts through the air. The raccoon has waddled off the boulder, her black-masked face tilted up as she stares directly at my feet.
“Penelope, no! Don’t provoke the…” Elena trails off. Penelope’s nose twitches furiously as she scents me. She rears up on her hind legs, placing two tiny, muddy paws on my shin.
“Well, hello there, little one,” I rasp. “Elena must feed you really well.”
Elena lets out a strangled laugh, her death grip on the net loosening slightly.
“She barely lets me touch her without a pair of Kevlar gloves. She bit my mailman Melvin yesterday.”
I extend my hand, a pale, white clover blossom uncoils from the center of my palm.
Penelope’s eyes lock onto it. She drops back onto all fours and snatches the flower with her nimble little fingers, stuffing it into her mouth.
“I thought you might like that,” I murmur. “Though I think you’d eat just about anything.”
Penelope licks her whiskers, chewing with an enthusiasm that shakes her entire body. As she swallows the last petal, her sharp claws dig into my leg.
“Oh my God, Penelope, no!” Elena gasps, dropping her net as her hands fly to her mouth.
I watch, completely amused, as fifteen pounds of pure fluff scales me like a trunk. She hoists her heavy back-end up my thigh, over the thick vines across my hip, and makes her way to my shoulder.
Her round butt plants itself firmly against the base of my neck. My wings flare out slightly, creating a wide shelf beneath her so she doesn’t slip. Her wet nose sniffs my ear before she digs through my hair, looking for more snacks.
I straighten to my full height, reaching up with one finger to scratch under her chin. She leans into my touch, purring like an overgrown cat.
“What… are you?” Elena whispers.
“Animals always trust him,” Eden says softly, her eyes crinkling. “He’s the heart of this meadow.”
“I can see that,” Elena murmurs, looking a little less terrified. “I’ll just grab her and get out of your hair.”
She takes a step forward, reaching her hands up to pluck the raccoon away. The second her fingers get close, Penelope’s happy purr dies and her ears pin flat against her head.
“Penelope!” Elena gasps. “Unbelievable. You traitor!”
“Don’t take it personally.” I chuckle.
The door creaks open behind us. Damien’s heavy frame fills the doorway, his pale eyes searching the yard before they land on us.
Elena goes positively pale.
“It’s okay,” Eden soothes. “He’s a friend.”
Penelope’s ears perk up, her little nose twitching frantically as she inhales.
Without warning, she launches herself off my shoulder like a furry cannonball.
Damien’s hands shoot out and catch her with ease.
She melts into his palms, curling into a ball against his chest and pressing her face into the crook of his elbow.
“She…” Elena’s mouth opens and closes. “She has never done that. With anyone.”
Penelope purrs louder, and the hard line of Damien’s jaw softens.
He stares down at the furry weight in his arms, his massive fingers twitching against her gray fur.
“Ohh,” Eden hums. “She loves you, Damien.”
He keeps his eyes glued to the raccoon. He looks bewildered that a living thing would fling itself into his arms for a cuddle.
“She’s… heavy,” Damien rasps, his gravelly voice cautious as he holds Penelope like he’s going to break her. He stops a few feet from Elena, keeping a respectful distance, and slowly extends his hand forward.
“Here,” Damien murmurs, his eyes moving to the ground as he offers her back. “Before she falls.”
“Thank you,” Elena whispers, as she accepts Penelope.
“I’m sorry,” Elena says. “Have we met before? You look incredibly familiar, but I swear I’ve never been out to this part of the county.”
“No,” Eden says softly, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “I don’t think we have.”
“That’s so strange. I feel like I—never mind. I should get her back to the truck before she tries to scale anyone else.”
Penelope lets out a mournful chitter, her chubby body twisting around to look back toward Damien.
“Maybe I’ll see you again, Vae?n?.” he murmurs quietly to Penelope. (Thread)
Eden watches Elena leave the meadow.
“What was that?” I murmur. “You were rubbing over your chest.”
“She belongs to one of them,” she whispers. “The Horsemen. I felt it the second she held out her hand to grab Penelope.”
My brow furrows. “Which one?”
“I don’t know.” She frowns. “But I think we’re going to find out very soon.”