Soul Fire (Darkling Mage 8)

The bartender maenad gave her a pointed grimace – brave, I thought, considering who she was giving attitude – then turned to Dionysus. The god shrugged, spread his hands, and smiled. Another drink for the goddess of the hunt it was, then.

“Listen,” I said. “I’m really sorry about what happened between you and the Convocation. I heard.”

Artemis smacked her lips and grimaced. “Pah. Damn Apollo never could keep his mouth shut. I’m not even that bothered, to be honest. I can live with a smaller realm.” She sniffled, her gaze falling to the floor. “It’s all the animals I’m worried about.”

“Animals?” Bastion said.

“The ones she keeps in her domicile,” I said. “What did you have to do with them?”

Artemis shrugged. “Kept. Domicile’s barely even there, just fits the animals. They’re in stasis, in a way, at the moment. Frozen in time and space. It’s the best I can do for them while I try and fix things. Imagine being evicted from your apartment, and your billion cats have nowhere to go.” Her eyes turned back to me, and she sneered as she pointed one finger in my face. “All because of a shitty roommate.”

I raised my hands and laughed nervously. “Let’s be honest, Artemis, that’s not the most accurate analogy.”

Prudence smacked me in the shoulder. “Not the time or the place, Dustin, damn it. Artemis, is there anything we can do to help?”

The goddess leaned against the bar, her gaze distant and wistful. “Help. Yes. It was so sad, the day the Convocation sent their agents to tear my place down.”

Romira’s lips parted in horror. “Surely you don’t mean that. Bad enough that they threw you out. They ruined your domicile, too?”

“Eviction, I told you. The Midnight Convocation, and all those other clans and tribes of entities, we all knew what we were signing up for when we banded our powers together. You mages know better than anyone how important contractual obligation is to the entities of earth.” Artemis smirked and nodded at Romira. “You most of all, daughter of Cerberus.”

Romira flinched.

“So these agents of theirs, these servants?” I said. “They invaded, basically.”

“Yeah. The servitors of the Convocation, they look like humanoid shapes made out of moonlight and shadow. They just showed up in my domicile, wrecked the place. Priscilla – you remember her, Dustin, the gorilla? She led the call to defend our home. It was an intense few days, like a siege. I never knew Priscilla had such a good grasp of battle tactics.” She peered down into her goblet. “Gorilla warfare, man.”

Bastion chuckled. “You mean guerrilla warfare, right?”

Artemis raised one eyebrow and fixed him with a sharp glare. “I said what I said. The Convocation won in the end. We got repossessed, basically. Tore away pieces of my domicile until I didn’t have much of anything left. Imagine going from a mansion to a studio apartment. Huh. More like a broom closet.” She pounded her goblet on the counter again. “Bartender, where the hell is that drink?”

I looked down at my thumbs, the guilt forming like a little ball in my stomach. “And since you’re using it as storage space, not having access to your own domicile means you’re vulnerable. Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Artemis said quietly. “Yeah, it does. So far I’ve been couch surfing. I’m safe in another god’s domicile, at least. Dionysus is pretty generous about letting me hang at his place, but I really don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Well, what about Apollo?”

Artemis scoffed. “Last resort. He was the one who got me into this mess. He does have some really nice cabanas in his domicile, though.” She set down her cup and sighed. “Listen. I don’t blame you for this. At least not entirely. But right now I just want to drink away my sorrows for a bit. It’s harder than it sounds. I’m immortal. The wine never hits as hard as it should.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure I ended up meeting Dionysus specifically because he got so drunk. It was how he lost the Chalice of Plenty.”

“Oh, he’s a different story. Drinks entire bathtubs of the stuff. No self-control, that one.” Artemis chuckled, then sighed, resting her head in one hand. The color seemed to be settling away from her cheeks, like she was already sobering up. “So what was that stuff you mentioned about Snacky Yum-Yums?”

“Yeah, that’s why we’re here.” I filled her in on the meeting with Loki, from the tour at Happy, Inc. HQ to his specific suggestion about getting in touch with the Great Beasts. Somewhere in between, Artemis’s drink finally arrived. She picked it up, drained half in one go, then set it down again, her cheeks already flushed.

“Yeah, all right,” she said. “I’ll help you.”

I blinked. That wasn’t the response I’d been expecting. “Seriously

?”

“Well, yeah,” Artemis said. “Big deal. You want to find the Great Beasts? It’s your funeral.” She barked for the bartender again, asking for a pen.

Five minutes later we had the instructions on how to contact the greatest, most terrible beasts of myth and legend scrawled on a damp cocktail napkin.

“I’ve done you enough favors, Graves,” Artemis slurred as we said our goodbyes. “The least you can do is find a way for me to get my home back.”

“I promise I will,” I said, wildly unsure if I could even deliver. Give a goddess her own slice of spiritual real estate? Where did you even begin?