Prey and Mercy

XI. When Heaven Freezes Over, Look for Hell

There's no time to think.

It's Hello, how are you?

Good morning and a bow.

A blessed thanks and a kneeling absent-minded prayer at Rhymos's alter.

It took three showers to wash the human scent down the drain and off my skin. He was everywhere; in my hair, on my skin, my clothes. The boy's bittersweet perfume triggered an innate nurturing characteristic in Perseus I didn't even know he had.

I'm pretty sure I had Leo convinced I was smuggling catnip in my bra and waistband.

All the matters, however, is that the disciples don't catch on to my affiliation with the mortal boy. Their tender smiles are only that, tender and gently stuffed with wise words I don't have the time nor patience to care about.

Though no one seems surprised at my appearance after the rumor Prey helped spread just yesterday. They don't spare me a second glance. I'm a specter wondering aimlessly. My time will come, that's all that they can hope for.

With insincere and mumbled apologies I acknowledge the apostles at the dining chamber, raspberry jam trickling from the corner of my mouth. I fill my hobo bag with chocolate stuffed croissants for Idris and cream horns for Milena ignoring the twinge of agony that erupts through me at the thought of Harper. Bear Claws were his favorite.

But I have no time to think about that. Not now.

My morning's from now on are filled with prayers, mythological studies, blood taxing, and scented candles. I follow appraised disciples from one accommodation to the next, cleaning and scrubbing temples, setting incense, and sweeping spotless marble floors.

Azreal can only save me so many times with a simple story he fishes out from the fogs of his memory or a task meant to give me leisure. Leo, however, cannot spare me her time, the glances I get are swift and hardly loving, though I won't pretend I don't notice her checking in on me from time to time.

At some point I'm informed throughout my duties that my diet needs changing. No more hearty meats and proteins. I should keep a strict fruit and vegetable diet a zealot with long bronze waves and sharp cheekbones like cliff sides explains rather brazenly.

"You should probably lay off the pastries," she wipes the corner of my mouth with a grimace, lips pressed. "Sacrifices should be kept bright-eyed and blooming. A workout ritual or two should put you in good shape by the end of the Ripening don't you think?"

I notice she said the same words to Prey only a few minutes ago as he stood helpless, arms filled with wet towels. it's unclear if her advice is heartfelt or simply condescending.

The phrase that leaves my lips is the same one that left Prey's just moments ago. "Of course, my goddess. I will take that into certain consideration, you have my word."

A light flashes in her eyes as if she sense the deceit coming off me in waves. But she says nothing and takes her leave.

Good riddance, I think. I make sure to add grill steak to my mental To Do List.

"Are the young ones hounding you again?" Azreal chirps. He winds an arm around through mine, a contemplative gaze held firm. "They're learning."

"They're hovering." I say.

"Oh...they could do worse."

From altar to altar I spare a candle or two and take his arm through the second length of the Pantheon; around the gardens and the sailing temples by the water front. We walk slow, his mouth always moving so that others almost never have the time to cut in for a short word.