Crown of Crimson (Underworld Gods 2)

But that doesn’t even matter because my father would never sleep with a freaking demon.

“Death told me that your mother was a Lapp Witch,” I say. “Not a demon.”

“Louhi is both of those things,” mushy lady says. “And while she may no longer be the Goddess of Death, she is still a Goddess in her own right.”

“Well, fuck,” Rasmus says. He absently walks to the middle of the cavern and sits down on the ground, his head buried in his hands.

I can’t blame him. I don’t know how to feel about any of this. On one hand, I feel an affinity for him knowing that we share the same father. No wonder he looked up to him the way he did, that he went through all those lengths to rescue him from Death. His father figure was literal, and we know now we share the same blood.

On the other hand, he is the son of Louhi. Which means that her blood is running through him. That he’s part demon and can’t be trusted and that there’s a chance he’s still lying through his teeth about all of this.

But it just doesn’t make sense. There is no way my father would sleep with some she-devil.

“So now what do we do?” I ask, though I don’t expect either of them to have an answer.

“You take your truth,” the mushy lady’s voice says, now coming from all corners of the glowing cavern, “and you learn to make it your reality.”

“Right,” I mumble, just as my stomach starts to twist. This time in hunger. I barely ate this morning, I was so nervous about the wedding and…

I look down at my dress, dirty and torn. How the hell was the wedding today? It feels like weeks have passed but I’m not even sure if night has fallen yet. It’s impossible to tell with the storm raging above ground, and the isolation of the cavern.

A shiver runs through me, the cold and damp of being underground and the sheer exhaustion of the day making me feel like I’m getting sick. How the hell did Rasmus live down here like this? I don’t think I’d last a day.

He’s the son of a devil woman, maybe he can put up with anything.

I look over at Rasmus. Sitting on the dirt floor, his head in his hands, knees drawn up, his lanky body looks small, like he’s a little boy sent to his room for punishment. My heart softens in my ribcage and I’m starting to feel sorry for him. I really don’t think he knew about Louhi and I’m certain he didn’t know about my dad. He’s given me some looks before that a brother would never knowingly give his sister. No, the fact that we’re half brother and sister is as a surprise to him as it is to me.

I don’t know how I’d react if I found out my mother wasn’t my real mother. I suppose part of me would feel a sense of relief. It would explain so much, how my mother always treated me like I was a burden, a chore, something I never really understood because, if she really disliked me so much, why didn’t she leave me in Finland with my father?

But, despite how strained and unfair our relationship seems, how I spent all of my youth trying to please her to no avail, how jealous I was of my friends who had mothers that actually loved them and cared about them, at least, at least my mother isn’t related to the devil.

Right?

“Mushy lady?” I ask, my voice echoing.

The mycelia pulses out a sharp burst of light. I’ve insulted her. Well, serves her right for calling me boring.

“Sorry, Sammalta,” I say, trying not to smile. “Can I call you Sam?”

A pause, the mycelia flickering. Then a deep, “No.”

“Just checking. Listen, I still have some questions.”

“I’m sure you do,” she says. “But perhaps it’s time to rest.”

I gesture to the empty space. “I’m not sure it matters much to you, but there is nothing to rest on. I hope you at least had like a toadstool seat for Rasmus to sit on while he was here.”

A deep sigh reverberates through the air.

“I offer you shelter from the storm, nothing more,” she says.

“You also dropped a bunch of truth bombs on us. Speaking of which, you asked me who my mother is. Why? She’s not…she’s not Louhi too, is she?”

I tense up, not knowing what her answer is going to be.

The mycelia glows and then goes dark. Perhaps she’s checking the network. I look over at Rasmus, who lifts his head out of his hand to glance at me.

“I don’t believe so,” Sammalta says eventually.

I exhale loudly in relief. “Well there’s that.” Then I wince and give Rasmus an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

He just shrugs and lies back on the dirt. “It’s fine. It’s all fine.”