Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
“What do you mean, he’s here?” I want to throw up, but I’m not sure if that’s nerves or the torpid heat of the swamp.
The priestess wrings her hands. “The Anticipation! The god’s Aspect has arrived, just as the thread-spinner foretold. And he’s very unhappy.”
They both turn to me.
This is my moment to shine, isn’t it? This is what Lachesis brought me here for, bargained with me for. I suck in a deep breath, suck it up, and put on my game face. “Okay, tell me everything so far.”
The priestess’s hands tremble as she wrings them in front of her. “He arrived at dawn, during our prayers. One moment he wasn’t there, and in the next, I closed my eyes and… divinity.” She presses her fingers to her lips and falls to her knees. “Sheer divinity. We are so blessed.”
“Super blessed,” I agree, helping her back to her feet. What an awkward moment. “Now, let’s keep it together, all right? We need to figure out what comes next. Did he say anything? Where is he?”
“I knew our Lord of Vultures would be beautiful, but he is like one of the stars come down from the heavens,” she whispers. “Dazzling to gaze upon. So angry at us, too. His terrible beauty—”
“Dazzling,” I agree, straightening her headdress for her. “Let’s focus. Where is he at?”
Her expression changes from rapture to agony. “He has retreated to one of the far buildings. He does not wish to be here. He does not want our prayers. I offered myself as his and he refused. He is refusing all. We’ve displeased him somehow. You must help us!”
“Of course he’s upset,” I soothe, ignoring the sting of betrayal I feel at learning that she offered herself to be his despite knowing that’s why I was sent.
Doesn’t matter. This is the part I was brought here for.
To take care of the situation, just like I did back home.
To keep a level head when everyone around me goes to pieces.
“He doesn’t want to be here, remember? He wants to be home in his cozy plane of, uh, disease, or wherever it is that he spends his time. ”
She turns tear-filled, frantic eyes to me. “He says he will take no Anchor! He has refused all that we offered. Even now, he is fading. I do not know what will happen if he does not take an Anchor, save that the High Father will be displeased, and our Lord will bestow that wrath upon us.”
“It’s going to be fine,” I reassure her again. “He’ll take an Anchor. I promise. Let me talk to him. Show me where he is.”
The priestess nods, weeping, and wipes her face clean of tears.
We hand off Dingle’s lead to one of the priestess’s acolytes, the goat bleating and trying to chew on my damp skirts before he heads off with the promise of a turnip.
Kina remains at my side, fluttering anxiously as we set our bags down and the priestess leads us through the ancient plaza towards the building that the god of disease has “claimed” as his own.
I can do this, I tell myself. This is what I’m here for. This is the moment I was brought to this world for. I just…I hope he’s not too gross-looking. I hope he’s not covered in crazy diseases. I hope he doesn’t think I’m here to be more than just a babysitter.
Like a sexy babysitter.
It occurs to me that I have no idea what I’m getting myself into. Shit. Too late to have second thoughts now. If he’s some gross, rancid god that wants to get a handy in exchange for my brother’s life and future? I’ll…well, I’ll have to figure something out.
The price has already been paid.
I should have asked more questions. Like, a lot more.
We approach the outside of the temple. I can guess that this is where the god is, just by glancing at the building.
The roof is covered with hundreds of enormous, dark birds.
An ominous sign. Guards stand just outside, wearing clothing very similar to Kina’s family.
They look uneasy as we arrive, but don’t stop us.
Instead, they just step aside. This particular building has a double door made of what looks like a hammered metal of some kind, tarnished and faded.
There are two carved handles to grasp, both of them in the shape of a strange bird. “Ravens?”
“Vultures.”
I should have guessed. Those must be vultures on the roof, too.
I touch the handle and pull the door open, steeling myself against what I’m going to find inside.
The interior is dimly lit, a few braziers flickering in corners, but the room seems yawning with darkness, and I squint, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the low light.
I step inside, my heart fluttering with anxiety, and I’m not entirely surprised when the door is quickly shut behind me.
The room smells musty and damp, but not awful.
It’s silent, too. There’s no sound other than the echo of my footsteps as I move forward.
The temple seems larger inside than it did outside, the room one big empty chamber.
Not empty, I realize. There are skulls and bones everywhere.
They line the walls and decorate the pillars that I walk past. The benches are made of bones.
The altar off to one side is made of bones.
The ceiling has a chandelier for holding candles and it’s made of—you guessed it—bones.
I’m appalled, but I’ve seen this sort of thing back home, too.
What was it called? An ossuary, a place of worship decorated with bones, endless amounts of bones.
It’s definitely a vibe. Not my vibe, but I guess it’s this guy’s.
As I move forward, I see a man seated upon a throne. The throne is at the back of the massive temple, in an alcove so shadowy that I almost miss it. His chair is made entirely of more bones, but that’s not the most striking thing.
The man on the throne is almost colorless.
His long hair is a pale, bleach white that matches the bones.
His skin is just as colorless. He wears a linen wrap about his waist that is the same pale almost white of the temple priestess’s garment, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she gave it to him.
He slouches on the throne, his knees spread, his pale feet bare on the stone floor.
I hadn’t expected the god of disease to look as pale as a ghost.
They had told me he was beautiful, but I still wasn’t prepared.
The god of disease, the lord of vultures, is stunning.
His features are strong and yet somehow refined, with high cheekbones that would put one of Tolkien’s elves to shame.
His mouth is full and pouty, and his nose is perhaps a little too big for the rest of his face, but it somehow goes well with his thick brows and hooded eyes.
Long, cascading hair of the palest white gleams with health and ripples down his broad shoulders.
The chest in front of me is bare and unmarked, a lean swimmer’s build.
His hands hang over the arms of his throne, and he doesn’t even look at me as I approach.
He simply stares straight ahead, his eyes the only dark flashes of color on his face.
They’re a vivid green, the effect startling amidst all that ghostly pale splendor.
“Hello,” I call out gently.
There’s no answer, no acknowledgment that I’ve spoken at all. He continues to stare straight ahead at nothing at all.
I move toward the throne, eyeing him. Lachesis said he’d be Apathy…well, she wasn’t wrong. Apathetic is the best way to describe him. He lounges with careless grace, his expression blank. It’s like he doesn’t care that I’m here, or that anyone else is. That he’s here in the mortal realm at all.
I kneel in front of him to try to get his attention by breaking his line of sight. “Are you Kalos?”
The bored eyes finally focus on me. He blinks once, then turns away again, staring deliberately at a wall. “Do you think someone else would pretend to be me?”
Well, he’s got a point. It does seem like a lot of effort to go to for one of the other gods, and it sounded like he wasn’t anyone’s favorite to boot.
I eye him, and one of his hands trembles against the bone armrest. My attention is drawn there, and as I watch, his fingertips slowly fade out. He clenches a fist and the firmness returns to his outline. I think about what the priestess said.
He’s fading because he won’t take an Anchor.
I decide to try politeness first. “My lord, I know you don’t want to be here, but you need to take an Anchor.”
No response.
“Someone to keep you attached to the mortal plane. Your tie to this world? That’s why you’re fading in and out. Good news—I’m that person. The goddess of fate from my world has me brought here to serve you. I’ve been waiting for this day.”
Still no answer. He ignores me as if I don’t exist, so that’s fun.
“You have to take an Anchor,” I try again. “The big guy—whatever you call him, the one in charge—is going to be really mad if you don’t and you poof out, or whatever happens if you don’t play by the rules.”
His hand clenches, then spreads again. No other response.
Annoyance flares inside me. I tamp it down because I knew coming in that this wouldn’t be easy. If it was, anyone could do it, right? Lachesis wouldn’t have had to bargain with me. “I was sent here to be your Anchor. I know you don’t care—”
“Why.”
The slow, soft word makes me stop in my tracks. I digest it for a moment and shake my head. “I’m not sure what you’re asking. You need an Anchor because—”
“Why you.”
Oh. “Why not me? You need someone with my talents, obviously.”
He doesn’t ask what my talents are. Doesn’t answer me at all, in fact. He’s not being a dick. He just…doesn’t care.
“This conversation will go a lot faster if you actually answer me,” I point out.
The god sighs dramatically, eventually swinging his gaze to me. His eyes are weary. “You’re still here.”
“You still need an Anchor. It’s not an option, at least not that I’ve heard.”
He sighs heavily again.
“My name is Elsie—”
His growl of frustration cuts me off. “I do not care.”