My Soul to Take

by Amy Sumida

  “No, we sure don't,” I muttered as she walked away.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A few hours after Yemanja left, Pan showed up with a party invitation.

  “Wow, that's the second invitation we've received this week,” I said as I took the offered envelope.

  “I know, Blue's wedding, right?” Pan laughed. “We already had this planned when I got his invitation.”

  “We?” I opened the envelope and pulled out a gold embossed linen card inviting me, my husbands, and my Intare to Horus and Hekate's engagement party. “Already?” I frowned down at the card.

  “Already?” Pan huffed. “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “It means she saw it in the future,” Trevor grimaced. “You didn't want to share that, Minn Elska?”

  “I didn't want to jinx it,” I shrugged. “For lack of a better word. Wait a second,” I said as I continued to read the invitation. “Neverland? This says the party will be in Neverland. Is this a new theme park or a joke?” I waved the card in Pan's face.

  All the men just stared at me.

  “What?” I huffed. “Is it some secret code I don't know about? Where's Neverland?”

  “Vervain,” Pan began to laugh. “I'm Pan.”

  “Yeah.”

  “As in the Pan,” Pan repeated.

  “Uh-huh,” I still wasn't getting where he was... oh. “As in Peter Pan!?”

  “Yeah,” Pan gave me a cocky grin and did the ultimate Peter Pan pose; legs spread and fists on his hips. “That's me. The idol of young boys all over the world.”

  “Peter Pan is real?” I gaped at him.

  “How did you not know this, Vervain?” Odin shook his head at me.

  “Why does everyone always say that to me when I find out something new? How did you not know this, Vervain?” I mimicked. “I didn't know this because I never associated a children's story with my friend, the Greek God Pan.”

  “I inspired the story,” Pan shrugged.

  “What?” I narrowed my eyes on him. “What did you do to inspire a children's story?”

  “I think I'm offended by your tone,” he pouted.

  “Pan,” I rolled my eyes. “You're not exactly the first god I'd think of when it comes to inspiring children's stories. You're the god of... what the hell are you the god of anyway?”

  “I am the God of the Wild,” Pan posed again and it was obvious that no one could pose like the original. “I'm the God of Nature, Flocks, and Rustic Music. My symbol is the pan pipes and I can use them to lure and lead any living thing wherever I wish to take them.”

  “I thought you just caused panic,” I blinked.

  “That too,” he giggled and tossed his head, his oak brown curls flopping so that I had a glimpse of the little horns hiding among them.

  “Wait...” I was beginning to go through all the stories I knew. Just like I had the time I'd discovered that most fairy tales were based on actual faeries. Boy had that been enlightening... and a little terrifying. “Pipes... leading... are you the Pied Piper?”

  “Yay!” He clapped, “You figured that out all by yourself. Well done, you.”

  “So you're Pan and the Pied Piper and Peter Pan?” I walked into the dining hall and sat in the nearest chair.

  “Why is this so hard for you to accept?” Pan followed me with Odin and Trevor trailing after us.

  Az was still at work and Kirill was down in his basement office, carving little pieces of wood into beautiful things. He says it relaxes him, so I try to encourage it. We all need to get our stress-relief wherever we can.

  “I guess because we've been friends for so long and this has never come up,” I shook my head. “I should have known... someone should have told me.”

  “We get to know people slowly,” Odin said as he sat beside me. “That's the best way; to see pieces of them, little by little.”

  “Yeah fine,” I huffed and then looked back to Pan. “So now you have to tell me all about it. How did you inspire the Peter Pan book?”

  “I actually love kids,” Pan smiled and pulled out a chair, angling it in front of me so we could speak better. But then he went serious. “During wars, I would watch for the children, the orphans who had no religious ties or who just couldn't believe in a god because of how much life had hurt them,” he cleared his throat and blinked rapidly.

  I stared in shock. Pan was so rarely upset, to see him on the verge of tears, was like spotting a unicorn. A crying unicorn.

  “Orphans who had no ties. You mean children with nowhere to go if they died,” I whispered and felt my throat constrict.

  Trauma involving children had become so much worse for me now that I had the twins. It's not like I hadn't been a mother before. I'd felt the emotions of motherhood when I relived Sabine's memories of Vali and Vidar. But it was different with the twins; I didn't know what would happen with them. I had no idea if they'd even live to see adulthood. I know that sounds morbid but one of the horrors of being a mother is the constant anxiety that you will outlive your children. I get these random what if thoughts that I had to learn to push away or they'd drive me nuts. What if they got SIDS? What if there was a fey infant disease I didn't know about and they got that? What if a meteor crashed into the castle and obliterated the nursery? It went on and on, a tortuous, ridiculous litany that I blame completely on hormones. And that whole flying thing hadn't helped.

  So because of this obsession with my babies, I now felt more deeply about other children too. Every hurt that happened to someone else's child, was a potential threat against my own. Not only that, I felt strangely connected to other children, that whole maternal instinct kicking in, and the thought that there were babies out there, alone and unwanted, made my heart hurt.

  “That's right,” Pan shrugged. “No one thinks of the children. Adults make their choices and that's on them but the little ones don't get a choice. Children must go where their parents take them. Unless they have no parents, which is a common side-effect of war. The orphans have no one to guide them or tell them that they're loved. They get bitter and that's just not acceptable to me. A bitter, hopeless child is the greatest of tragedies.”

  “So you saved them,” I swiped at my eyes absently, not even realizing that I was crying.

  “They were lost,” he shrugged. “I found them.”

  “The Lost Boys,” I made a sound of revelation. It was all starting to make sense.

  “Yes, I called them my lost ones,” Pan agreed. “I would find them, on the verge of death. I'd hold them and tell them that they were loved and wanted. That all they had to do was believe in me and I would take them with me to a place where they would never be hungry or afraid or cold. They would never grow old or know any pain ever again.”

  “Neverland,” I said softly.

  “Neverland,” Pan nodded. “That was the name the children gave it. So I started calling it that too. And I started glamouring myself to look like a young boy when I approached the children. It was easier for them to believe in a magical child than a grown god. Then one day, in a dirty alley, with bombs exploding overhead, I held a little boy and told him the story of Neverland; how my lost ones waited for him, to play with him and love him, and be his family forever. I told him that all he needed to do was believe and he did.”

  “And someone saw you,” I concluded.

  “A man had been blown into the alley by the same blast which killed the boy,” Pan nodded. “He heard everything... and he lived. That man was-”

  “Barrie,” I cut him off. “The guy who wrote Peter Pan.”

  “No actually,” Pan laughed. “The guy who witnessed me taking the little boy's soul was named William Burton. He must have been friends with Barrie or perhaps he got drunk in a bar and told the tale of a magic boy who took lost children to Neverland. Whatever happened, Barrie wrote the story and I became a new sort of god.”

  “Immortalized in fiction as well as myth,” I leaned forward and hugged him.

  “What's that for?” P
an laughed when I sat back.

  “For being you,” I smiled, in complete awe of what a wonderful man my friend was. “For being the Pan. I'm so honored to have you as my friend.”

  “Thanks,” Pan hung his head shyly. “You know, they saved me too. They saved me from becoming a jaded, bitter god. They've kept me young and are a constant reminder that no matter what happens to you, you don't have to be forever affected by it. Happiness is a choice.”

  “Then I'm grateful that not only do they have you but you have them,” I picked up the invitation. “I can't wait to see Neverland.”

  “Great!” He sat up straight, all his somberness gone in a second. “Tell Fallon to bring Zariel, I think she might like playing with the souls.”

  “Okay,” I looked to Trevor and he shrugged.

  “I'd tell you to bring your twins but they're a little young,” Pan went on. “Maybe in a few years.”

  “It's pretty fun there, huh?” I laughed.

  “Just wait and see,” he grinned mischievously. “You're gonna love it,” he got up to leave.

  “Hold on,” I stopped him. “If you're Peter Pan, does that make Horus, Tinkerbell?”

  Pan gaped at me for three seconds before all of us burst into laughter.

  “Oh Vervain, I can't thank you enough,” Pan kissed me on both cheeks. “Tinkerbell! Ha! Horus will be horrified!”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Yemanja came stumbling into the dining hall the next morning, practically tripping out of the Aether. Her hair was tangled and her dress was stained but she had a satisfied look on her face.

  “I got it,” she pulled a little pouch out of her cleavage and handed it to Odin.

  “I'll go get started,” Odin gave me a wide-eyed look before he headed upstairs.

  “Coffee?” Kirill offered her.

  “Oh, you're a god,” she moaned and slid into a seat across from mine.

  “Demi-god,” Kirill winked at her before pouring her a cup from the carafe before him. “But you can call me god if you like.”

  “Oh not you too,” I groaned. “It's bad enough that I have to deal with Re's ego.”

  “I am ze Lion God, Kirill,” Kirill mocked Re.

  “Nice one,” Trevor nodded and high-fived Kirill.

  “Well, you may be a lion god but I'm Death and Death is pooped,” Azrael said as he walked in.

  “Hey, Baby Death,” I cooed as he walked up to me.

  “That was bad,” Az said as he leaned down to give me a kiss.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I scrunched up my face at him. “I was trying out a new pet name; it didn't work.”

  “Don't the French call an orgasm the small death?” Trevor mused.

  “La petite mort,” Yemanja said in perfect French as she nodded.

  “You just called Az an orgasm,” Trevor gave me his lopsided grin.

  “I think I'm okay with that,” Azrael chuckled as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “La petite mort.”

  “Don't you want to go to bed?” I asked him in concern.

  “Whoa!” He held up a hand as he sat down. “I didn't think I'd have to prove myself worthy of the title immediately.”

  “I meant you must be tired after working so long,” I shook my head at him. “I didn't think you'd want to drink coffee right before you went to sleep.”

  “It affects me for about two point five seconds,” he shrugged. “And I'd like to spend some time with my wife before I get some rest.”

  “Take my seat,” Kirill offered as he stood from his chair on my right. “I vant to go train vith Intare.” He kissed my forehead and gave Yemanja a polite nod before leaving. His long braid swung enticingly over his ass as he left. I followed the swishing of it with my eyes like staring at a hypnotist's watch.

  “Don't mind if I do,” Azrael switched chairs. “Where's Odin?”

  “Making a tracking spell for Baron Samedi with the hair Yemanja just got for us,” I waved a hand towards the exhausted goddess.

  “Do I want to know how you got Samedi's hair?” Az lifted a brow.

  “Not the way you're implying, little death,” she chuckled. “Sam may talk big but he'd never cheat on Brigitte. He loves her too much.”

  “That's sweet,” I mused. “You know, they have a great relationship. To be able to joke around and flirt with other people like that shows how secure they are.”

  “Soooo,” Azrael leaned forward. “What you're saying is; you want me to flirt with other women?”

  “Do it and you'll both die,” I smiled sweetly.

  Trevor and Azrael burst into laughter.

  “I'm not as secure as Brigitte, I guess,” I said to Yemanja.

  “It's a unique relationship,” she shrugged. “Not many could handle it. I know I couldn't. And by the way,” she gave me a steady look. “He's seriously upset about the souls. Papa told him what you said and Sam asked me if I believed it. I told him; no, of course I didn't and that was why I'd come to visit; to reassure him of my faith in him. But I'm not sure I convinced him. He swore to me that he'd find whomever was behind this.”

  “Is it terrible that I hope it isn't Sam?” I asked her softly. “I mean, he quoted Labyrinth to me. I've never met a straight man who could do that.”

  “No, I hope he's innocent too,” she sighed. “But I just don't see how he could be. I think he's guilty, Vervain, and it's killing me to believe that of him.”

  “It's never easy to believe our friends are capable of evil. But I suppose we all are, given the right motivation,” I glanced at Azrael and he took my hand.

  “I never thought you were evil,” Az whispered to me. “You did those things out of love for me.”

  “Most evil is born of love,” Yemanja said tiredly. She saw the way we stared at her and gasped. “Oh, don't pay attention to me, I'm so tired, I don't know what I'm saying right now.”

  “You're saying what you believe to be true,” I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

  The love magic inside me fluttered in sympathy. It had been used for some very evil purposes by Aphrodite.

  “No,” Azrael said firmly. “Love is love, and that is never evil. It may be altered into something awful but it cannot be blamed for the alteration.”

  The butterflies perked up inside me; yes, we liked that. But was it true? Was it really the fault of the individual? I suppose it was.

  “Love doesn't kill people; people do,” I smiled at my angel.

  “Exactly,” he nodded. “Love is pure, people taint it and replace it with evil, but that evil is not born of love,” he gave Yemanja a kind look. “And if our friends disappoint us, perhaps we should remember that and not let their deeds poison our love for them.”

  “Bon Dieu!” Yemanja exclaimed. “You are something special.”

  “Yes he is,” I stroked the script on Azrael's cheek. “And he was born of the true Root of all Evil.”

  “Best father ever,” Az laughed.

  “Hey, my Dad's pretty awesome too,” Trevor huffed.

  “Agreed,” I leaned over to give my neglected wolf a kiss on the cheek.

  “He wants you to come over for a run,” Trevor went on and I paled. “What?”

  “I can't shift into my dragon form,” I hadn't wanted to tell my men about the horrible near death of my children, I'd thought that letting them know I was battling my beasts was enough. But it looked like it would have to be said.

  “What do you mean?” Azrael caught my arm and leaned into the conversation.

  “I didn't want to worry you with this,” I sighed.

  “By the Moon, Vervain!” Trevor growled. “You need to be honest with us.”

  “I am,” I whined. “I told you about the trouble with my beasts, I just didn't specify that it happened more than once or elaborate on what had triggered it.”

  “What do you mean?” Azrael asked again. “What happened, Vervain?”

  “Arach said it was time for Rian to make his first flight,” I explained. “Which basically entailed throwin
g him out a window.”

  “What is wrong with you faeries?!” Trevor stood up violently, upsetting his chair. “You allowed it, didn't you? You let him throw that baby out a motherfu... son of a... dang it!”

  “It's tradition,” I shrugged. “And I was waiting below, ready to shift into my dragon form in case Rian wasn't able to fly.”

  “But?” Trevor narrowed his eyes on me.

  “But I couldn't shift,” I swallowed hard, all of my beasts whining inside me. “My star; without it, the balance is upset. The lioness and wolf knew that if they let the dragon shift, they might be destroyed. So they held her down and I wasn't able to shift.”

  “Are Rian and Brevyn okay?” Azrael whispered and Trevor's eyes went wide.

  “They're fine,” I said hurriedly, holding up my hands. “Though Rian did pull Brevyn out the window with him.”

  “Vervain!” Azrael shouted.

  “It's okay, Rian flew and he carried Brevyn safely to the ground,” I reassured them. “Brevyn loved it.”

  “Alright,” Az leaned back in his seat in relief. “They're fine but you're not. Is that what you're saying?”

  “I can't shift into a dragon because it might kill my other magics,” I nodded. “And I doubt I can shift into a wolf since it was the power of the star which made that possible to begin with.”

  “And your lioness?” Trevor asked.

  “I don't know,” I sighed. “I haven't tried. It's very upsetting to my beasts when I fail and I don't want to mess with my equilibrium right now. Plus, if I can shift, the other two will be jealous.”

  “Vervain, you have to fix your star,” Trevor sat back down. “This is getting insane.”

  “Saying that over and over won't help, Trev,” I grumbled. “I know I need to fix my star, I just don't know how.”

  “We'll think of something,” Azrael stroked the hair back from my temple. “Don't worry, Carus, we always come up with a plan.”

  “Yeah but our plans don't always work,” Trevor huffed and I shot him an angry look. “What? You know it's true, my little Godhunter. Life loves to screw with you.”