Damaged Gods

This thought makes me snicker with satisfaction when I enter the lower grand hall of the cathedral. And I’m still chuckling under my breath as I climb the stairs.

Once at the top, I enter the apothecary, scan the bookshelves until I find the Book of Debt, and then set it down on the counter and open it up to the last page.

There she is. Pie Vita.

Oh, that’s adorable. Pie is life.

I think the universe might be fucking with me. But I like this joke.

And—“Holy fucking cow.” I whistle under my breath. “Ten thousand, two hundred and seventy-five dollars in debt. On day one.” I laugh out those last words.

This is amazing.

Out of curiosity I flip back a page to find Grant’s name, but that’s all the page says. Just his name. All his debt has been cancelled.

Yeah. I don’t know how he pulled that off, but moving on.

I close the book, tuck it under my arm, and leave the apothecary, heading back towards the stairs. But instead of going down, I duck into a hallway on my left and follow the dark marble floor tiles past dozens of doors, two staircases, and an atrium before finally arriving at my pleasure room.

It’s really just a natural hot spring. But it’s nice and steamy and even though the water smells a little bit like brimstone, it always feels good to get in. I haven’t been in here in decades. Grant never accepted the idea that he had to work off his debt, so he just flat-out refused to cooperate. But I’d grown tired of the steam cave long before Grant.

But Pie is no Grant. She is no Stewart, or Jonas, or Michael, or Ignacious, or Antonius, or Luther, or Milo, or Odo. The point is, she is not male.

And this might be the only perk about Grant’s betrayal.

Getting a horn and foot massage from one of those jerks? Yeah. That’s not fun.

But getting a horn and foot massage from Pie? Or any of the other numerous ways in which she will be working off that debt?

Fuck, yeah. I’m up for that.

I set the book down on a stone table, making sure to leave it open to Pie’s accounting page, and look at the pool of spring water bubbling up from the surface of the cave.

My face sports a wild grin as I strip off my pants and jump into the eternal hot spring. I sigh with pleasure and contentment as I settle onto a familiar smooth ledge, my arms stretched out along the edge of the rocks, my head tilted back with my eyes closed, my body instantly relaxed.

I’m going to enjoy this day.

In fact, this one day is going to make up for the two thousand shitty years that came before it.

I am roused from a blissful sleep by the girl’s voice. “Well, I’m here. Now what?”

I reluctantly open my eyes and sit up straighter, then sleepily direct my gaze at her. “We need to go over the Book of Debt so you know where you stand and then go over the rules of money.”

“Do you think you should’ve explained this to me before you sent me out on errands?”

“We didn’t send you out. You left. Without asking permission or even telling me. This is unacceptable. And that date you think you’re having with the sheriff? I will say it one more time and that’s it. You will not be alone with that sheriff at any point in time.”

“Says you.”

I stand up on the ledge, then step out of the pool, trailing streams of water down my shaggy legs.

“Pants!” she whines, shielding her eyes like a child.

“I’m not putting on pants. Satyr chimera do not wear pants. I’m all wet and you are in no position to make demands.”

“Oh, right.” She snorts. “I put on your stupid ring so now you think you own me. So your concern for my wishes, that was what, just platitudes? To make me think you are some kind of reasonable monster? Hah. What a joke.”

I glance over at Tomas. He’s cringing. He mouths, Put on the pants.

I ignore him and walk over to the Book of Debt, making puddles under my hooves, then tap the page with her name on it and her list of purchases. “There it is. Every time you use the money, the book records it.”

Still shielding her eyes, she walks over to the stone table and looks down at the book. “But how does it work? How did it know? I mean, it’s freaking itemized.”

I glance down at her list. “Fucking hell, Pie. You paid two hundred dollars for underwear?”

When I look up at her, she’s no longer shielding her eyes since my exceptionally large package is now mostly hidden by the table. “It’s lingerie, not just underwear. And…” She sighs. “Well, if I had known you would be invading my shopping privacy, I’d have used my own money.” She bites her lip. And I know this is a lie. The lip-biting thing is one of her tells.