by Amy Sumida
“Because I've laid upon the floor and cried for a dead husband,” I said, my eyes straying to Odin. “Because the loss of a child has made me face down insanity. Because I have done horrible things to protect the people I love, and then faced their wrath for it,” I glanced at Azrael. “Because very recently, an enemy of mine showed me kindness and reminded me that shared heartbreak could surpass all animosity. I have shared your heartbreak, Sekhmet, but I've also shared your love–for the man who gave you life.”
I turned to Re and stretched out my hand to him. He came forward and we faced his daughter together.
“Father,” Sekhmet said solemnly. “I did what I believed was right, but I see now, that I was horribly wrong. Please know that my intentions were only to protect you, and please forgive me.”
“I do”–Re laid a hand on his daughter's forehead. “I forgive you, Sekhmet.”
She bowed her head and cried silently.
Re looked to me, and I nodded.
“If Vervain and Kirill approve, I will amend your punishment,” Re said as he glanced at Kirill.
Kirill scowled at Sekhmet, but she met his gaze steadily and with an open apology. Kirill finally nodded curtly and turned away, nuzzling our daughter.
“You will have ten years to prove yourself,” Re went on. “Ten years to live as a human and show me that you can be a caring woman once more; that you deserve the gift of immortality and that you can truly be a goddess again.”
“I will, Father,” Sekhmet vowed. “I will prove myself worthy.”
“After those ten years have passed,” Re continued, “Kirill, Vervain, and I will decide if you have changed enough to be given a second chance. If you have, I will give you a small measure of your magic back, along with your immortality. After another ten years, if you continue to do well, I will return more of your magic.”
“Thank you, Father.” Sekhmet bowed her head. Then she lifted her gaze to mine. “Thank you, Vervain,”–she peered around me–“and you, Kirill.”
Kirill grunted.
“Let's go, Mother.” Nefertum put his arm around Sekhmet. “I'll take you home.”
“I don't have a home,” she whispered.
“Then I'll share mine,” Nefertum said gently. “Don't worry, Mother, I'll take care of you.”
Nefertum guided Sekhmet out of the room. Bastet gave me a grateful look and then followed them out.
“Vervain,” Re whispered. “I have never been more humbled by admiration for another person. How you take tragedy and transform it into a blessing, is baffling to me.”
“Re”–I squeezed the hand I was still holding–“have you forgotten what you did for me when I was imprisoned by Anubis? You showed me kindness in the middle of my nightmare. You gave me courage and pride when I was abused and humiliated. And you saved Trevor when they would have abused him too. You have helped to make me who I am. I shine with your reflected light, Sun God.”
Re's golden eyes glistened with tears. He pulled me into his arms as they slid down his cheeks and hugged me tightly.
“I love you, La-la,” he whispered in my ear. “My beautiful Moon. You take my light and make it magical.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Just a week after we brought Lesya home, Hekate and Horus got married. I attended the ceremony with Lesya, Re, and all of my god husbands. I put Lesya in her first fancy dress; pale pink and very frilly. Because she's my first girl, and I was dying to go girly with her. I loved my boys, but there's nothing like dressing up your baby girl.
The wedding was held on Hekate's island in the Greek Territory. Hekate is the Greek Goddess of the Moon, Magic, Crossroads, Ghosts, and Necromancy. Her style had been very Goth when I'd first met her, but Horus had influenced as she had influenced him. This resulted in Hekate toning done her Goth get-up, and Horus going more casual with his suits. This merging of their personalities showed in their wedding. First off, the ceremony was at night.
A full moon hung overhead when we stepped out of the tracing building on Hekate's island. As with most island-owning gods, Hekate had a separate building altogether for her guests to arrive in. Hers had the distinct look of a tomb.
I stared at the columned building behind me, which would have looked Greek, if not for the sharply peaked roof with its crouching gargoyle. Before us was a winding path, leading through a cemetery–I kid you not–and it confirmed my tomb theory. Iron gates were already flung open at the end of the path, but I'm sure they would have creaked otherwise. Just past the cemetery's fence, a paved road continued up to a Gothic Victorian mansion.
Iron railings crowned the mansion, penning in a widow's walk that circled a peaked tower. The roof was pointed in several places actually, with a central, dramatic slope right above a pair of large windows which were, in turn, above the front door. It gave the mansion the appearance of a face, especially with the light shining through the windows. Each spire was tipped with a metal point, making it look even sharper. On the whole, the house loomed with elegant menace–like a Victorian lady brandishing a sword– and it was enhanced by the full moon.
“Why is there a graveyard on Hekate's island?” I asked casually.
“It's a cemetery,” Azrael said.
“There's a difference?” I asked.
“A graveyard tends to be smaller and is associated with a church,” he explained.
“Okay, let me try this again.” I rolled my eyes.“Why is there a cemetery on Hekate's island?”
“Hekate's the Goddess of Ghosts and Necromancy,” Odin said. “Who better to guard the dead?”
“What dead?” Trevor asked. “Did Katie bury a bunch of humans here?”
“Gods die,” Azrael's voice was lowered respectfully. “We all know that.”
“Zis is god cemetery?” Kirill cradled Lesya closer to his chest. “You brought our daughter to god cemetery?” He asked me with horror.
“I didn't know it was a god cemetery,” I huffed as I tapped Lesya's nose and got her to smile. “It's fine, Kirill. It's not the dead ones you have to worry about.”
“Yeah, are you afraid of god ghosts?” Trevor teased him.
“Da,” Kirill admitted immediately. “You know vhat gods can do in life, imagine vhat zey can do in death.”
“We know that too.” I grimaced and reminded him of our new motto, “Remember Ragnarok.”
Odin's face fell, and I took his hand in sympathy. He'd lost his son for the second time that day.
“I'm sorry, Odin,” I whispered. “That was insensitive of me.”
“It's okay.” He squeezed my hand. “I'm working through it.”
“Please tell me zat's not a horse-drawn hearse.” Kirill nodded to the conveyance that awaited us at the end of the cemetery path. “I'm not taking my daughter in a hearse.”
“I'm not sure.” I looked over the swaths of ebony silk which draped the ornate, black, enameled carriage. “Could be. It could also simply be a dark carriage done up for a Gothic wedding.”
“This is going to be awesome!” Trevor bounded up to the carriage and opened the door before the footman could. “I can't wait to see the rest of it. Come on.”
“We're coming.” I rolled my eyes as Trevor helped me into the carriage. “I had no idea that you were into the Goth look.”
“I'm not,” Trevor said, “but you have to admit that seeing Horus get married in a Gothic ceremony is going to be the most entertainment that we've had in a very long time.”
“I'd be surprised if it was entirely Gothic.” I grimaced. “Horus is going to have had a say in this as well.”
“Oh, don't ruin my fun before it even begins,” Trevor whined. “Let's just hope for the best.”
“There aren't any bodies in here, Kirill,” I called out to my husband. “It's fine.”
Kirill grumbled but got in.
We all settled into the Gothic carriage–or possibly hearse– then we rode smoothly up the paved road, all the way to the mansion steps. Birds cawed as I stepped out of the conveya
nce, making me shiver. But Morrigan wasn't buried on Hekate's island; her body was on another island entirely. So, I shook off the creepy feeling and headed inside the haunted–I mean Hekate's–mansion with my men.
As dark as it had been outside, I'd expected something similar indoors. You know; lots of black lace, crimson flowers, and low lighting with maybe a few candles to lead the way. I was a little shocked, and nearly blinded, by the bright light that poured out of the double doors when they were opened for us. The sound of revelry accompanied it.
The mansion was full of mingling guests; gods from all sorts of pantheons, not just Greek and Egyptian. They socialized in luxurious rooms which showcased priceless human antiques and artwork. Persian carpets covered marble floors, gold gilded the furniture, and the walls were hung with tapestries and paintings from dead human artists.
“Looks like Horus has moved in already,” I noted.
“He has an amazing collection,” Azrael said as his eyes strayed to a Dali.
“It almost rivals yours,” I agreed.
Horus was an elite antiques dealer in the human world, but Azrael was simply a collector. Az loved humans; he found them fascinating, and he had a weakness for their art. I often wondered if he'd influenced me to become an artist in this life. Azrael had touched my soul when he'd taken it to the Well of Souls at Odin's request. He'd also returned to visit me over the five centuries that my soul had remained in the Well. It wouldn't surprise me to discover that Azrael's touch on my soul had left its mark in more ways than the obvious.
We checked in with an attendant who was collecting gifts, handing over our presents and signing the bat-shaped register. Then we made our way through the halls, stopping to speak with the gods we knew and nodding warily to the ones we didn't. Pan was in the wedding party, so he wasn't around. He was probably getting dressed under Horus's critical eye–I think it was the gold one that was the critical eye, not the silver. So, we didn't see Pan, but we did run into Hades and Persephone. As soon as we found them, we chose a corner to settle in and wait for the ceremony to begin.
I was sipping champagne, searching the crowd for the rest of the God Squad, when a familiar voice greeted me.
“Miw-sher, you look lovely, as usual,” Anubis said.
“Thank you,” I said as I turned to face him. “And you look as handsome as ever. Though your beautiful companion outshines you.” I leaned over to hug Ma'at, Anubis's sister, who also happened to be an old friend of mine.
“Vervain”–Ma'at smiled–“I was so relieved to hear that everything worked out with Sekhmet and Lesya. I believe it was handled justly.”
“It was a complicated mess, but Lesya is finally where she belongs.” I waved Kirill forward so that Ma'at could meet the real Lesya. Ma'at had been at the first introduction, but that had been crow-baby-Lesya. “I'm glad to have the Goddess of Justice's approval, though.”
“You always have my approval, Godhunter.” Ma'at winked at me. “But in this instance, you also have my respect. Mercy is hard to offer when you've been so wronged.”
“A goddess once taught me that a person's merit is shown in both victory and defeat.” I smirked. “She judged me worthy once because of the way I handled defeat. So, I could hardly disappoint her by handling victory badly.”
“I find you worthy still. Well done, Vervain.” Ma'at kissed my cheek, then turned her attention to Lesya. “And your daughter is lovely.” Ma'at trailed her elegant fingers down Lesya's cheek. “She has her father's eyes.”
“Yeah, the lucky girl,” I said.
“I don't know,” Anubis mused, “there's nothing quite as striking as the languid stare of a dark-eyed woman.”
Kirill started to growl, and Trevor stepped up on my other side.
“Oh, stop it.” I rolled my eyes. “He's just pushing your buttons.”
“I apologize.” Anubis chuckled. “It's just so entertaining.”
“Grandfather!” Ma'at cried as she spotted Re. She eased around Kirill and went to hug him.
“How's my beautiful girl?” Re asked her, smoothing his hand over Ma'at's lustrous, pearl-white hair.
They were a stunning pair; Ma'at with her pale hair and dark skin, and Re with his golden sheen. They looked like statues for a moment, too perfect to be real. And then Anubis approached them; a shadow in the midst of their glory. He shook Re's hand, but Re used it to pull Anubis into a hug.
“It's good to see you, Anubis,” Re said as he eased away.
“You as well.” Anubis smiled softly.
There had been some awkwardness between Anubis and Re for awhile, and it had been because of me. First, Re had helped me when I was in Duat, and then Re, and I had become lovers–after I had made it expressly clear that I wouldn't accept Anubis into my bed. The fact that Anubis was Re's great great grandson didn't help matters either.
I grimaced when I realized that I'd slept with both grandfather and grandson. This was even worse than the Odin and Thor thing. But, when you consorted with gods, things like relations and age didn't matter as much. A friend of mine had once been married to a goddess, and then, after their divorce, he dated her daughter... and no one was shocked by it.
Anyway, Anubis had taken a sip from his magic fountain and had cleared away a lot of badness that had been holding him down. He was a new man, and he was a lot less bitter over not being in a relationship with me. Plus, I'd shown him that he had a lover in his future, someone far better suited for him than I could ever be.
“There you guys are,” Finn declared as he stepped up with Brahma and Sarasvati. “We've been wandering around here for an hour now. Have you seen the others?”
“We're here,” Torrent said brightly as he came up with the rest of the Squad in tow, including his lovely date, Artemis.
“This is something else, eh?” Artemis asked us. “Did you guys freak out a little when you saw the graveyard?”
“Cemetery,” I corrected her with a wink at Az.
“Oh, right, good distinction. Anyway, did you see my father's plot?” She went on. “It's the one with the lightning bolt covered by a slashed circle.”
“What? No, we didn't,” Trevor said.
“Is Zeus dead?” Kirill asked hopefully.
“Not yet.” Artie smirked. “But Hekate is an optimist.” She laughed. “She's got his marker ready for a date to be carved on and a body to be buried below it.”
“Morbid,” Odin muttered, “and that's coming from a god of the dead.”
“That's Katie for you,” Artie said cheerfully.
“I think her home is amazing,” Torrent whispered. “Kinda kitschy and kinda elegant.”
“It has a somber beauty to it,” Karni Mata, Teharon's Rat Goddess girlfriend (yes, I have to mention the rat part because it still kind of horrifies me to this day), said sweetly. “The island, that is. There is a louder glamor within the house itself.”
“'A louder glamor,'” Mrs. E. mused. “Yes, I like that, it describes this place perfectly.”
Then some attendants came in to herd all of us guests into the backyard, where the ceremony would be taking place.
“Do you think that Hekate will be dressed as the Corpse Bride?” Torrent asked hopefully.
“If she isn't, I will be sorely disappointed,” Trevor declared.
Chapter Forty-Five
Hekate was not dressed as the Corpse Bride, but Trevor was not as disappointed as I'd thought he'd be over it. The gown that Hekate had chosen was nearly as good as torn blue silk and was even from the same time period. Hekate wore a Victorian wedding gown, something elaborate enough for Queen Victoria herself. It was cream silk and lace, with sleeves that went from puffy at the shoulders to thin tubes down her forearms. Her skirts were wide and embellished with embroidery and pearls, and a nine-foot train cascaded down the satin runner behind her. Over the train, her veil floated, the slightest breeze moving the delicate silk like a ghostly apparition. Hekate had a tiara holding her phantom veil on; it was encrusted with pearls and diamon
ds, with a large pearl shaped like a crescent moon set at its peak.
Hekate's maid of honor was Libys, one of the lamia–those vampiric Greek goddesses who formed Hekate's clique. Libys was dressed in a crimson silk sheath with thin straps. Along with its deep color, the dress's simplicity helped Hekate stand out even further. She glided down the aisle after Libys, staring straight ahead of her at Horus.
The spacious backyard was lit with lanterns that hung from bordering trees and a few iron posts. The soft lighting revealed elegant chairs placed in rows across the grass with an aisle between them. The runner was red, as were the swaths of silk that draped the columns that bordered the aisle. On top of the columns, massive arrangements of underworld flowers bloomed. And I don't mean the Greek underworld either. I recognized those blossoms as coming from Anubis's gardens in Duat. I even remembered their fragrance... unfortunately. Scent is the biggest trigger for memory and my time in Duat was not something I wanted to remember. But I pushed the past behind me and focused on the bright future my friends had before them.
At the end of the aisle, a low platform had been erected. On top of the platform, there was a pergola. Roses wound themselves around the pergola's four posts, and silk draped the latticework roof. Standing right beneath the pergola was Horus, Pan, and a young, winged man.
“Who is that winged man?” I whispered.
“That's my nephew, Hymen,” Artemis answered from her spot behind me. “He's the Greek God of Marriage.”
“Hymen?” I lowered my voice even further.
“Hymenaeus, if you prefer.” Artie smirked.
“Apollo's son, eh?” I asked. “Yeah, I see the resemblance. I bet your brother's proud that a part of the female body is named after his baby boy.”
“You're damn straight he is.” She chortled.
Hymen had blond curls falling across his slim shoulders and a boyish face that would have placed him around sixteen if he'd been human. When Hekate stepped up onto the platform and handed her bouquet of red blooms to Libys, Hymen's white, feathered wings lifted behind him, and he stretched his arms out to either side.