“He likes me,” Apollo said, chuckling as Banjo licked at his face.
“Good,” Asher said, curling his fingers at the dog’s stomach. “Because otherwise we’d have to scrape you off the walls.”
“Mason,” Apollo said. “What’s up?”
All heads whipped in Mason’s direction. The silence was palpable. His eyes darted around the room. “What? We’ve met.”
“Okay,” I said. “And how did that happen, exactly?”
“Long story,” Apollo said, throwing his arm over my shoulder. He smelled like sun tan lotion, and olive oil. “We should get started.”
“Excellent,” Carver said, clapping his hands to get our attention. “Then it begins. Link hands, everyone.”
We arranged ourselves into a ring, with the table piled high with expensive offerings – and one very peckish Apollo, who wouldn’t stop poking at the lumpia Mama Rosa made – at the center. Banjo snuffled around the ground inside the ring, distracted by his own little pile of Puppy Yum biscuits.
Carver had explained it, the way Thea had before. Big magic needs bigger gestures, not just one or two people, but as many as you can gather. Calling a goddess to appear out of her domicile definitely qualified as some very big magic. That was the rationale behind cults like the Viridian Dawn, the Society of Robes. Put enough psychic power behind the same intent, and you can change the world.
Thea said so herself, in terms that made my skin crawl: “That’s how you get an apocalypse going.”
I shoved those thoughts out of my head, focusing instead on what we, as the Boneyard, were doing. What we always did: saving the damn world, from this darkness that Delilah wanted to bring, to stop her from sending up another signal flare for her mad masters. We were done with the Eldest. No more. The Old Ones were dead, as far as I cared. Let the gods of myth walk the earth as they were meant to. Fickle as the entities were, they were still ours, as close to human as gods could ever be.
“Sis,” Apollo yelled.
Especially the Greek ones, it seemed.
“Yo sis,” Apollo shouted again.
I looked at the others, puzzled. Mason shrugged at me, his fingers stiff against mine. I looked to Mama Rosa, my hand tiny and frail in hers, but she only grunted.
“This is highly irregular,” Carver muttered. “I was expecting an incantation, or – ”
“Your brother is calling, sweet sister,” Apollo said. “Won’t you come? I’ve prepared a feast. The finest wine. Succulent, roasted meats. Fresh fruit. And these little Filipino egg rolls that look so good.”
“Not egg rolls,” Mama Rosa grunted. “Lumpia.”
“Yes, that. Artemis? Come on.” Apollo ran the edge of a golden knife along his hand, spilling his blood. This was still a communion, after all. The rules for the rituals of summoning were the same, then, whether performed by humans or gods. Apollo thrust his head to the ceiling, his teeth glinting as he grinned. “I Arte-miss you.”
Mason groaned. But that did the trick. A pool of silver light shimmered in the ceiling, forming into the shape and cratered image of a full moon. The moon-pool rippled, as if disturbed by a pebble, only it wasn’t a pebble, but a toe.
A whole sandaled foot followed, then the other, then strong, tanned legs, and the rest of Artemis’s body floated out, droplets of silver running off her skin as she slipped into Valero. Her gaze was set coolly on her brother’s face.
“What is this? I don’t hear from you for months, then suddenly you roll into town – fully knowing I have a perfectly good tether in the botanical gardens – and then – oh.” She looked around herself, shook her head slowly, then folded her arms. “I’ve been bamboozled. We
ll done. At least the decor is nice.”
“Thank you,” Mama Rosa said. She let go of my hands. I turned to Mason, half smiling, then disentangled my fingers from his. He shrugged, folded his arms, then nodded towards the siblings.
“So. This is what counts for normal in your life, eh?”
I shrugged. “You get used to it.”
He shook his head, sighing. “Angels, demons, gods. What’s next?”
I sighed, too. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
“Fine,” Artemis said, throwing up her hands. “That lumpia had better be so good it makes my head spin. Someone chop up that pig, I’m starving. I’ll do the dog first, then everyone shut up and let me eat. Deal?”
“All the food you want,” Mama Rosa said, her hands clasped together, her cheeks rosy. The restaurant truly was her passion at the end of the day. The woman loved feeding people, and it was clear that she and Artemis were going to get along just fine.