I coughed again, looking down at myself. “I mean, I have been working out.” I flexed a little, perhaps to cover up the fact that I’d never worked out a day in my life. Don’t need to, am I right?
“Ah,” Hecate sighed. “This is why you are among our favorites, fleshling. Your charming sense of humor brings us boundless amusement, as ultimately pointless as your banter is in the face of the dark, gaping void of the universe.”
“R-right,” I said, shuffling my feet.
She beckoned at the shapeless abyss floating just off the edge of the stone slab we called home. “So admirable, your determination and resilience, despite knowing that you are but a speck of worthless dust in the grand scheme of the uncaring cosmos.”
I chewed my lip, unsure of what to say. Trust Hecate to make things uncomfortable in record time.
“Dust,” Hecate said. I shivered, so unused to hearing her speak my name. She laughed. “Do you like our play on words, fleshling? Our little joke?”
“Hilarious,” I said. “Now I hope you don’t mind my asking but we don’t usually get goddesses of magic strolling into our home. What’s up? You’ve got something for me? Some new information to be delivered in a string of obtuse and possibly puzzling sentences?”
She stirred the dishwater with the clawed end of one slender finger, then laughed. “Is that how you see us, then? As a cryptic entity? Then perhaps it is best for us to be more direct.”
Hecate vanished, and my shoes scraped against the floor as I stumbled when she reappeared close – too close – to my face. She smiled smugly. I hated when she did that, shadowstepping the way that I could, like she was trying to tease me, or to prove some point I still couldn’t understand.
“Dustin Graves,” Hecate said, her voice thick with gravity. “There are no questions as to the severity of the matter. The walls of this world are wearing thin.” She lifted her nose, the black of her eyes like twin chasms of endless void. “The Eldest are coming.”
Chapter 8
My breath caught in my throat for the fraction of a second – as if I didn’t already know what Hecate had come to talk about. She was one of the small handful of entities who sought me out instead of the other way around, and her appearance always meant one of a few things.
It could mean that she had come with great knowledge that could turn the tides in my favor. But too often she came with bad omens, ill tidings brought on the wings of ravens, by a murder of crows. Her hair and her midnight cloak fluttered in their deep darkness just then – exactly like feathers.
“What can we do?” I said quietly.
“Hey man, I thought I’d help you out with the dishes and – oh. Hello.”
Hecate and I turned towards the entrance to the living area. Asher was paused mid-stride, the casual look of camaraderie on his face sloughing away. His eyes locked with mine for a moment – as if questioning – then landed on Hecate’s face. He was squinting and trying to focus, his mind struggling to lock down the goddess’s features as they shifted and blurred.
“Greetings,” Hecate said stiffly.
“Um. Hi. Welcome to our home.” Asher brought his hands together, studying his nails. “Um. Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?”
Hecate looked at me, then her head turned towards Asher so slowly that I could almost hear the bones in her neck creak. She stared at him in silence.
“It’s really no trouble at all,” Asher said quietly.
“You offer us a cup of brown bilge water?” Hecate scoffed. “We are made of the very essence of the universe, child. The turnings of nature, of the very cosmos supply us with the power to alter reality itself, to meld it to our liking. Night and day, tide and ebb, beginning and end, all bow to the occult supremacy of Hecate. We have no need for sustenance.”
Asher stared back, unimpressed. “We’ve got flavored creamer.”
Hecate narrowed her eyes, then shrugged. “Oh, very well. Do you have hazelnut?”
I sighed in relief. You could never tell with Asher, honestly, whether he was just oblivious, extraordinarily brave, or just plain dumb. Maybe it was all of the above. Maybe it was just his strange, innate need to be nice to people – even dangerous goddesses.
It didn’t take long for Asher to make Hecate some coffee. He put it in one of our nicest cup and saucer combos, the ones that Carver liked to drink his blazing, infernally boiling teas out of, placing it gently in Hecate’s outstretched hands. She accepted it with a polite hum, then stared at Asher in another prolonged silence.
“I’ll – help with the dishes later,” he said, scurrying off.
“Thanks,” I said to his back, still somewhat confused.
“Yes,” Hecate said. “We thank you for your hospitality.”
We waited some moments until Asher’s footsteps had disappeared down the hallway. I was about to apologize for his intrusion, but Hecate spoke up first.
“Such a sweet disposition he has, this boneweaver of yours.”