Chapter fifteen
Josephine
I haven’t seen Aedon since the strange night at my apartment. Letting him even come back in the first place, accepting his help? It’s unlike me. Was I really that desperate to escape my own mind? The darkness has always swam around me, and even though it’s drowning me, wouldn’t it be better that way? He witnessed a part of me I wanted to keep hidden, and it didn’t seem to faze him. That’s so much worse than me keeping my own distance.
It’s a lot to process. I asked him to stay, brought him to my bed, and sucked his dick. Impulsive, impulsive, impulsive.
He didn’t seem to mind any of it. No one who is getting laid would, but the way he took care of it all was so intimate. Aedon isn’t a stoic guy. He’s dangerous, even if he hasn’t shown it, but there’s something in the way he tenderly held my hand and sewed it back together that makes me crave him. I asked him not to think, and he delivered. I don’t know what it means, but it makes me feel a way I’ve never felt before.
I’m not ready to face Stafford, but I’m not sure where to turn to. Whoever is trying to find me is still out there. While I’m not afraid of them, I’m not keen to toss myself into the ocean and wait for sharks. Not yet. The Grimoire is weighing me down with indecision and so is this new knowledge of the box.
Vivian told me Kate and her mom argued about me. The fact that she was so hellbent that I could enact some prophecy and open the box must be full of shit. Wishful thinking, even if she did have me convinced for a moment. Prophecies are just hopeful wishes for revenge. Just because you say something in anger or write it down doesn’t mean it’s true. Whatever transpired thousands of years ago has nothing to do with me in the now.
It’s easy to try to fit into that mold when someone else has you convinced. Even Kate and Killian must have been convinced of something, but who’s to say that I’m not just some descendant of a vengeful witch? Who’s to say that my own mother didn’t sear symbols into my skin from some fucked up generational belief that I could change the world? Jumping into the Lethe was obviously a way to forget some tortured beginning to my existence. The idea that my life has never been mine will send me back into a spiral.
I want to feel normal, so I try to do mundane things like clean the apartment. When I make it to my room, the duffel in the back of my closet is like a heated lamp, so I choose to do something else instead. I go to buy vegetables I won’t even eat at the open market, where I’m met with friendly banter. ‘How is your sister?’ ‘You missed so-and-so’s birthday party.’ After a while I can’t stand it, so I head back home.
A man sits in a cracked plastic chair on the bottom floor of my apartment, passing judgment on passersby in a cloud of tobacco smoke. His red beard is streaked with gray, and his bald head shines in the sun. Cam is a Rem through and through. For years he has kept his post at the bottom of the stairs. He’s nosy and a gossip.
“Mizz Jozie,” he calls to me, impatiently waving me over.
“Hey, Cam,” I say sweetly.
“Where ya been?” He begins his line of questioning. His green eyes shine with curiosity.
“To see my sister.” I lie.
“She alrigh’? Mus’ be lonely up there in the city with their kind,” he spits.
I don’t think Cam has ever left our community. I don’t know why he ever left the territory to come to Asphodel in the first place.
“She’s happy.” My voice drips with phony politeness.
“Staff’s been by to see ya.”
My anger bleeds into my mouth coming out as a sharp question. “Was he now?”
“Asked after ya. Tol’ ‘im ya haven’ been ‘round much ‘cept for yer guest,” Cam continues.
He can never just say an entire thing. He wants to ask me about Aedon, but he can’t directly. I can hear the disdain in his voice. This is like pulling teeth.
I ignore his prying. “Did he say what about?”
“What ya got in here?” He nods at my bags.
“I went to the market for you. Here.” I shove the bag into his lap. I’ll never touch the vegetables I bought. I know his game. Chit chat and he’ll tell you what he knows.
“Ah, how’s that pretty lass from the ceramics doin’?” Cam has always asked about the woman. She must be about his age and pretty. I just wish he would fucking talk to her instead of always asking me.
“Fine.”
“Beautiful she is,” he sighs.
I snap my fingers growing impatient. “Cam, focus. Staff.”
He shifts in his chair, averting his gaze. “O’ course, Mizz Jozie. Tol’ me to tell ya that…now don’ shoot the messenger.” He holds his hands up with his cigarette tucked between two fingers. “Said ya need to talk about Kate. Asked if anyone’s been ‘round. Says ya shouldn’ be alone, but ya haven’ have ya?” He grins from ear to ear.
I don’t bat an eye. Talk about Kate? This is bad news, maybe the worst. If Cam tells Stafford about my visitor, then I will simply die.
“You’re sure that’s what he said?”
Cam nods in confirmation. “Quite a pack yer sister brought to help ‘er move.” He is such a fucking gossip.
“City friends.”
“Good lookin’ lot they are,” he muses.
“What are you getting at, Cam?”
“Did the blue-eyed one get what he needed? Must’ve left real late.”
We have a staring contest. Me, scowling, and him, grinning with his self-righteous bullshit.
“Thanks, as always, Cam.” I pat his head, and he grunts.
Stafford came by about Kate, and that could only mean that he’d found something out, or he knows I have the book. He asked if anyone has been around, which is also weird. It could also be a warning, but he would have to know that I would seek him out. He wouldn’t have come to find me if not. Briefly, I consider the possibility that Aedon has ulterior motives, but if that was true, he would have already killed me or abducted me. Just like I told Vivian.
I sit at my kitchen table thinking through my options. If he came here looking for me, surely I could stop by to see Staff at the pub. What’s the difference? Something about it gnaws at me. No one here knows about Kate. Staff carelessly throwing her name around to the town gossip is the worst way he could go about this. I burned her alive. It only means that someone stopped by to see him again, or that it’s important.
The book shoved in the back of my closet feels like a curse. I still haven’t told him I have it. I’m not sure what he would do if he knew. Vivian was adamant that I don’t. There are still too many unknowns. He might connect me to it, and I don’t know what it means. I would also have to show him my scars. At this point, Kate may have carved me up herself in some strange witchy ritual.
Around and around, I go in my head until night falls.
I long to go see Aedon again. I’m not sure he’ll want to see me after he left while I was sleeping. He’s addictive with his charm and wit, but he did tell me he’s interested in me and then took care of me. The idea forms in my mind before I have a chance to think it through. I run to the closet and grab the duffel. I’m not ready to tell Stafford about my discovery, but keeping the thing here feels like asking for trouble.
Aedon has seen my scars and the box. He hasn’t even brought it up that they match. I don’t think he’s stupid enough not to have noticed. The man is reserved, but he also says he’s obsessed with me. I don’t even have to tell him what’s in the bag. He might not even be there. I can hide it, and no one will be the wiser.
Laughter wafts in from the open window. Another night of revelry. The Remnant will celebrate any occasion and tonight being the full moon is always cause for celebration. Aedon had said the revelry sounded fun. He was right. It is fun. I miss my people. To be honest, I miss my village in the Republic. I miss Kate, even if she was crazy. Hell, I miss my sister. Most of all, I miss Killian. He was my best friend.
I want Aedon to show up and make me stop missing it all so much, but if he came here into the open it would be like a feeding frenzy. Since he isn’t Remnant it would be my personal nightmare. It would glue me to him, and we haven’t even defined anything. There’s nothing to define. Vivian bringing Bella in front of everyone had been an ordeal within itself, and she had Staff backing her. Add in the fact that Aedon works for Hades, and he might be killed on the spot.
I swear I’m going to marry you.
Something people mistakenly say during the throes of pleasure. I’ve never been someone’s girlfriend before, and I’m not the type you bring home to your mother unless you want to scare her. I push it off to the side. A ridiculous thought. A mistake is all I could be. Someone you keep hidden just like Killian did. And just like that all of the missing I secretly do has been cast aside.
If I do go down there, I’ll get to see some of my friends again.
Since Vivian left, I’ve avoided everyone. It also turns out my reputation is full of blood, not that I mind. It was always frowned upon that I worked with Stafford, but no one could say it to my face. I don’t think they hate me. I’m one of them, but it’s difficult to show my face now that I’ve avoided it for so long.
To clear my head and feel a little more human, I decide to join the party outside. Cam sits in his chair, watching the celebrations unfolding in front of him.
His eyes are glossy with ale. “Oye, Mizz Jozie, finally come to join?”
“I have,” I say anxiously.
Unlike Vivian I have no grace. I’m not social, and I can’t easily make conversation. Cam knows this.
“Josie?” Fiona, Caleb’s wife, shouts. The crowd pauses for a moment before erupting into shouts of acceptance. People run over and drag me in, battering me with coos of praise and confirmation that I’ve been noticeably missed.
The moon overhead bathes us in its magical light. Ale is shoved into my hands with a bowl of delicious smelling stew and a turkey drum. We mingle around splintered wooden picnic tables. As soon as I’m seated, I’m overwhelmed by the gossiping group of wives. My own personal torture.
“How’s Vivian?” Fiona is absorbed by her own question. The others around me puppet her.
“She’s well. I know you’ve been by to see her.”
Fiona is probably the only woman with no objection to leaving our community. She doesn’t approve of the rest of Asphodel, but she also seems like she understands our position in this city. That the world outside of our community exists whether we want it to or not.
The bowl of stew is gone in minutes. I didn’t realize I was starving for a good homemade meal. I haven’t eaten since Aedon made me dinner. It’s salty and the vegetables from our community garden are cooked perfectly.
“Tell her we miss her.” Another wife pats me on the shoulder in a show of pity. Family is valued in our culture. In their eyes, this was a drastic loss of it. They see it as me being abandoned and left alone when I hardly had anything to begin with.
“I’m surprised she hasn’t been ‘round,” one clucks.
“She’s probably workin’ at that infirmary,” a third adds. They all nod in agreement.
“Such a kind heart, that one.”
“A beautiful soul.”
“Brave, if ya ask me.”
“The garden is worse for wear without her.”
I just nod in agreement. They will talk without me saying anything now that they’re on a roll. They continue, changing subjects and leaving no room for me to talk. I drink my ale and look around, hoping to maybe even see Stafford or literally anyone. Someone needs to save me from this.
“Josephine?” Fiona catches my attention. “Everythin’ alrigh’?” All eyes are on me, and they all know I wasn’t listening.
“Oh, yeah. Fine,” I say too enthusiastically.
The clucking woman leans in. “We all heard yer takin’ a vacation. Threw us for a loop, it did.”
Now I’m perturbed. It’s none of their business. I try to remember there aren’t many secrets between us all but it’s still unnerving. Word travels too fast, even if it has been weeks and weeks of ‘vacation’.
“Don’ look so spooked, dear. It’s time ye take a break,” one wife says.
“Find ye a husband,” another clasps her hands.
“Where’ve ya been anyways? Cam said ya haven’ been ‘round. That ya might be seein’ someone,” Fiona mentions carelessly. Of course he fucking did. I shoot him a glare, and he waves. I make a mental note to force the ceramic woman to approach him. We’ll see how much he can talk then.
“Just been around the city.” Somehow my mug keeps refilling. Maybe they think I’ll have looser lips if I’m drunk.
“Doin’ what?” The clucking hen sounds disgusted.
“Is it a boy?” Another wife says suggestively.
I can’t help it. I fucking blush, and they roar into a frenzy. Questions of who and shouts of suspicion ring out. At some point, more people crowded around. This was a terrible idea, but I also miss the interest of my community, even if they all gossip amongst themselves.
“Is it McFadden’s boy?” Fiona asks hopefully.
“No, she’s too bea’iful for him. Bad fit.” Several nod their heads in agreement. Fiona pouts.
“Certainly not Alastair’s.”
“Not him. Alastair’s boy has been frequentin’ McFadden’s girl.”
They continue like that, rattling off names and then crossing them off of their list. Eventually they’ll figure out it’s none of the boys from our clan, and I’ll get scowls and hounding questions.
“I’ll let you all bicker ‘til you figure it out,” I laugh.
After extracting myself from the horde, I run into Caleb. His cheeks are flushed with drink, and he’s roaring with laughter.
“How’re the women,” he nudges me. The other men snicker. They know I hate that shit, and now I know they left me there on purpose.
“Arguing over who I should marry,” I say with distress.
I swear I’m going to marry you.
I finish my drink, drowning out thoughts of stupid Aedon. Pretty boy Aedon. His stupid gorgeous face and his fucking tattoos. I try to forget how his skin is warm and his eyes—
“Fiona’s set on gettin’ ya with McFadden’s boy,” Caleb divulges, interrupting my runaway thoughts.
I roll my eyes. “Wonderful.”
I’ve seen McFadden’s boy. He has mousy brown hair, too big of a nose, and beady eyes. The other girls seem to like him, in fact, they find him attractive. The way he speaks irritates me, and we have nothing in common.
“I’d be willin’ to bed ya,” says Colin, Alastair’s son. I’ve slept with him a few times at parties. He’s always been a playboy. McFadden’s daughter is hardly the first he’s shown interest in.
The old me wants to. The one that was lost and pushing down the past. I’m still lost, but I’m not so broken. Once I started down the rabbit hole of self-discovery, I emerged from a coma. Sleeping with Aedon woke me all the way up.
“I’ve seen what ye’ve got under there, Colin, and it’s nothin’ ta be proud of,” Caleb jokes. The group erupts in raucous laughter. Colin blushes and seems to wiggle out of the conversation, approaching a girl off to the side, McFadden’s daughter.
Most of the men continue to pour ale and joke at each other’s expense, but Caleb lightly puts his hand on my back and leans over, leveling his mouth with my ear.
“Staff wants a word,” he says low in his chest. I follow his gaze to find Stafford hiding in the shadows outside of my apartment door.
My heart starts to thud. Maybe this part is over, and I should spill the beans. I can tell him what’s happening, and we try to figure this all out, but I’ll be able to come back to work and breathe a little easier with him helping me. It can all be out of my hands again. I need a little violence. My current circumstances have me pent up, and I’m trying to avoid sleeping with Aedon again. I’m still in denial about having feelings for him. Serious feelings.
I like the way he chases me and the way he calls me love. It’s like I’ve been waiting several lifetimes to hear it, and now that I do, I’m fucking relieved. Being with him is easy and comfortable. I don’t need obsession to know that he has me. Could his infatuation be the root of my own compulsion? Maybe, but damn, it encompasses me in something I didn’t know existed.
Killian never made me feel like that. There was distance and stress. Secrecy and lies bundled up my love for Killian. Even though I didn’t know until the end, I still imagine what it would have been like to be with him. Compared to Aedon, it would have been boring. Maybe if Killian was here then I never would have been involved with Aedon. Then I wouldn’t know what I was missing. But that’s just it, it would have been missing.
I brush past Cam, knocking his ale into his lap earning a dirty look. That’s what he gets for his bullshit with Fiona. I climb the crumbling cement steps, puffs of dust radiating from them with each step. Stafford leans against my door in all his criminal glory. His face looks tired, and his usually trimmed beard has been reduced to patchy stubble. He’s been pulling it out with the amount of stress he must be under.
“Cam said you came around.” I open the door, letting him in.
With his hands in his pockets and a grim look on his face, I can tell this isn’t going to be a good conversation.
“I’m glad to see ya were enjoyin’ yerself,” he says without emotion. I think he means it, but there isn’t anything left inside of him because he’s so exhausted. I start to feel bad that I ever doubted him.
“Hardly. Fiona is trying to marry me off to Galen McFadden,” I scoff.
He seems to be brought back to life. “What the hell would make her think that is a good idea? You’d crush that boy in an instant.”
“They have nothing better to do.”
“Did you go to the exhibit?” Stafford asks. There won’t be much chit chat tonight.
I want to know what he’s going to say before I tell him shit. “I did.”
“What did ya think?” His green eyes are pale instead of shining emerald.
“About which part?” I ask.
“Please, Jo, save the bullshit for another time. I don’t have much patience left these days. Did ya see the box.” I wondered if the conversation was going to lead here. Of course it was.
“There wasn’t a box on exhibit,” I say nonchalantly.
“Jo.” He grins. “I know ya saw it anyways. There isn’t a sign in the entire Universe that could keep ya out.”
I sigh. “The symbols look archaic. Other than that, I don’t know what to think.”
“What about the drawin’? Of the Leviathan?”
“I thought it was good for an alleged era when people were rubbing sticks together trying to make fire.”
He’s watching me with morbid interest, just like the woman at The Alibi, and Sam, the doorman. It doesn’t sit right. He must be able to tell because he looks away. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to keep my head straight these days. Anyways, I think they’re connected. The box, the Leviathan, and the Grimoire. And you.”
“Do you?” It’s a lame attempt at covering up my fear, but he doesn’t notice.
“You’re not an idiot Josie. The scars on your skin look just like the symbols on the box,” he says crossly.
“Hm.” I’m nervous. It’s all I can manage to say without having a full-on anxiety attack. Something feels very wrong. The hair on my arms is prickling, but I can’t place it.
“It’s all connected to ya somehow, just not sure how yet.” He stares at the floor in a daze. “Ya don’ remember anythin’ from before?”
This whole conversation is making me uncomfortable. The bag on the counter with the book is getting heavier by the second. “No. You know I don’t.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. I’m just pullin’ my hair out tryin’ to piece it all together.” He points at his beard. “Kate was a solitary person. Had interestin’ ideas that I always disregarded, and now I’m thinkin’ I should’ve given her a chance.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference. I hardly knew what she was saying half of the time. She was crazy.” I settle into the couch. Now that I’ve been thrust into the center of all of this, I don’t believe the words I’m saying.
“When ya showed up I just figured ya were some sort of orphan. She took people in, ya know. Now I think it was suspicious.”
“Kate helped the sick. I was one of them, and it took its toll. Hardly suspicious.” That was the official story.
He peers at me, trying to read my face. Almost like he knows I’m avoiding and lying. Maybe he knows about the book. He sits in the tattered armchair across from me.
“I lived in the Republic my whole life. Kate and I were old friends. Watched ole Killy grow up. He was always a real scoundrel ‘til ya entered the picture,” he reminisces.
I never knew they were acquainted like that. I’ve never heard that Killian was wild. Sure, he got into shenanigans with me a lot, but it was innocent. Stuff that young people do.
“Heard a lot in that house that I wasn’ meant to hear,” he says suggestively.
I don’t say anything.
“It was always bad,” he continues. “Sickness, starvation, and bad fuckin’ luck. Kate said she could fix it. Then ya showed up, and things stopped seemin’ cursed. She kept ya up there under lock an’ key. When I was there, people came and went as they pleased. Mighty suspicious, don’t ya think?”
“I didn’t like going out,” I lie. Stafford chuckles, not buying it. Considering I frequented his bar, he doesn’t have to tell me that’s bullshit in order for me to see the word on his face.
Everything is a lie. My entire life is just one big lie. Something about Stafford’s honesty pisses me off. I’m not going to tell him shit with how weird he’s being.
Killian spent all of our time together lying, not just keeping secrets. There’s clearly so much I didn’t know that I feel like a fucking idiot. So did Kate, but I expect that from her. Not from the redheaded boy who said he loved me. Who even am I? No one alive fucking knows. Vivian said she heard Kate and her mom arguing about me. So at what point in my life was that? If I had been alive all of that time, then there’s no way any plagues or curses have anything to do with me like Staff is insinuating. Right?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I thought…This isn’t what I expected.” Staff finally settles, feeling remorse at whatever played out on my face.
“I don’t know who I am.” It comes out of my mouth. I didn’t mean for it to.
“I know. Neither do I, lass. But I don’ think it’s far-fetched that whoever wants this book might be after ya, too. That’s why I came here. We’ve gotta get ya outta here,” he winces.
My stomach drops. “What?”
“Whoever it is that’s lookin’ for all this shit has been ‘round a few times. We’ve had some…issues…at the pub. Someone is tryna threaten us. They think we know more than we’re lettin’ on. We don’t know your role here. If they find ya, they could put us all in danger. Especially since we don’t have the book. Whatever they want is more important than I coulda dreamed. Eventually they’ll get someone to talk, and it won’t be long before they come for ya,” he explains.
“I’m not leaving. I ran away once. I’m not doing it again. Vivian won’t do it.”
“Vivian won’t be goin’ with ya, lass. Just you and me this time.” He flashes a sheepish grin with those gold canine teeth.
I callously laugh. “That is the dumbest fucking plan I have ever heard. They’ll kill Caleb or Vivian, and anyone else they think could talk. It isn’t practical.”
He sighs with his shoulders rising and falling. “I knew ye’d say that. Quite frankly we’re fucked.”
“You said you know who has the book?”
“Not really who, but I might be able to find it. It won’t matter cause it’s in a language no one can read.”
“Mondurian?”
He looks at me with speculation. “How’d ya know?”
“Just a guess.”
I list out the things I know in my head. Pandora’s box is in a museum, and I’m secretly in possession of the Grimoire. My symbols match the ones on the box and the book. The Mondurian fables that used to be mine were stolen and gifted to Aedon, but half of them are missing. Aedon said the girl that gave it to him didn’t know what it was, and as far as I know, they are all matters of fact.
All of this has something to do with Tartarus and the Mondurians. One step closer to the truth. If I can get the Grimoire open, I might be able to decipher it and put an end to this madness. Someone must know I can understand it. Whoever is looking for me is going to kill everyone I know, use me, and then kill me, too.
“Ya need to leave with me, Jo.” Staffprd’s tone is fierce, and I don’t like the way it makes my stomach swirl. Why exactly is he so fucking interested? He doesn’t know what I did that night. Even if we do leave, where exactly are we going to go? I don’t like to be pushed, and he’s trying to strong arm me into bending to his will. That’s not something he’s done before.
I need to get the book out of here. Carrying it with me everywhere could give whoever it is that wants it exactly what they need. I’m not a fool, but I’m not so delusional that I think I could turn the tables on someone who is fanatical. I might torture, but I’m not usually the muscle in those scenarios. I’m just cattle led to water.
I couldn’t trust Kate, and I couldn’t trust Killian. What has Stafford done to earn my trust? The voice in my head reminds me that he moved us in secret. He kept us afloat when there wasn’t money, and he gave me a job. I’m struck with a revelation. The thing that’s bothering me is that I never told him about my scars. I always keep them covered even during hookups until Aedon. He has seen them, but he is too far removed from the Remnant to have told anyone. He’s aligned with Hades. Vivian wouldn’t have said anything either.
No, this is something deeper. When he paced back and forth asking if there was anything I hadn’t told him, he was trying to get me to reveal myself. He knows more than he’s letting on. I don’t know who told him, but now I think it’s best if I keep my knowledge to myself. All signs of the funny jerk I’ve spent years with are gone, replaced by a man who I now see as a stranger. If I take away one lesson from everything I have been through, it’s to trust no one. But what about Aedon?
Part III
One for the Fates