Damaged Gods

Because he’s not here. And that only means one thing.

He’s having trouble.

Normally—i.e. before Grant left and Pie arrived—I would not even notice if Tomas was missing for a morning. But Grant did leave and Pie is here—and Tomas likes Pie. A lot more than he liked Grant because he can touch Pie. He can interact with Pie. He needs Pie. So he would not be missing this morning unless something else was up.

Which means something else is up and I need to find out what it is before things get out of hand.

I walk across the great hall, casually looking at the door that leads to the greenhouse as I pass. I will have to tell Pie about that later. It is her job now. I pass the dining room and enter a hallway that curves around in a spiral and descends into the variable lower levels.

This part of the cathedral changes at will. Sometimes the variable parts will stay the same for hundreds of years, only to completely disappear one morning as something else takes its place.

But Tomas’s part of the cathedral hasn’t ever disappeared and most of the changes are so minor, they’re difficult to detect unless you’re here on a regular basis. Which I am not, so it all looks the same to me—stone walls lit up with torches that spiral downward so far you get cold and then hot again. The smell begins somewhere in between. I try not to breathe through my nose as I descend. Time is weird down here. I never know if it takes minutes or hours to finally reach the bottom because it all looks the same.

Eventually I do reach the bottom and I grab a torch off the wall to light my way in the darkness ahead. “Tomas?” I say it softly, doing my best not to disturb things. But when he doesn’t answer, I have to say it louder. “Tomas? Are you here?”

I keep walking. Slowly, since the cone of light in my hand only reaches a few feet in front of me. It’s almost like the darkness swallows the light. Which isn’t how things work. Light rules dark. Light needs only to exist to banish darkness.

The dark has no such power over light.

Except when it’s not really darkness, but something else altogether.

“Tomas?” I call. Not loud, but not soft either. “Are you here?”

“Go back.” Tomas’s raspy voice is barely audible.

“I’m just checking on you. Do you need—”

“Get out!” He growls it this time and I feel the darkness that is not really darkness push against me. Warning me.

“OK. I’m leaving. But if you need anything—”

“Go. Now.”

I put up my hands. Not like I’m surrendering. Just letting him know I’m cool. “I’m going.” I back up until I hit a wall. Then I turn, quickly retrace my steps to the spiral hallway, replace the torch on the wall, and do a full retreat.

When I finally come up into the stable sections of the cathedral, I let out a long breath.

Tomas has been wearing that human costume around me for so long, I had almost forgotten what he really is.

I won’t make that mistake again.

CHAPTER TWELVE - PIE

By the time Pell returns to check on me, I’ve started two fires, blown up a small pile of powder, and inhaled fumes that made me temporarily forget who I was. None of which will be mentioned in any kind of update.

“Well?”

He’s standing in the apothecary doorway. No pants.

I did look up satyrs. They are known for their sexual exploits, lewdness, and, yes—their exaggerated, ever-present erections.

Why me? It’s a serious question.

“Well.” I blow a piece of hair away from my face. “I think I’ve come up with something.”

Pell takes a long look around the apothecary. It’s a total mess. I’m talking dumpster-fire mess. There are powders all over the stone counters. Herb jars are open and lying on their sides, spilling leaves and roots and petals all over the place. And there are eleventy billion test tubes with the remnants of all my attempts at potions.

He sighs. Loud.

“It’s not as bad as it looks. I can read Latin now! And look what I made!” I hold up the little leather pouch with pride. “An amulet!”

I’m pretty satisfied with this. I mean, I should’ve started with the amulet thing. You don’t need to heat anything up, you don’t need to distill any essential oils, and you don’t need to make powders. All you really do is stuff the right kind of shit into a little leather pouch, wave your hand over it as you say some fancy words, and poof. You’ve got yourself an amulet.

“Nope.” That’s all he says.

“What do you mean, nope? What’s nope about it? You didn’t even look at it. It’s good. I promise. I used the magical herb book to find something that wards off love spells.”