Page 103 of Torn

Merry is as well. It’s rudimentary knowledge that she’s gleaned from fellow outcasts, and it’s a rule not to break.

Not that any deity would grant his or her power to another.

Well, almost none would. The notion has Merry smiling.

“You heard the Fate Court,” Anger reminds them. “They have eyes on Love. They’ll know.”

“Her name is Lily,” Malice remarks. “Get your facts straight, mate.”

“If she wants, she’ll be the Goddess of Love, restored,” Wonder says. “She’ll be even more valuable than she was when birthed. The Fate Court won’t strike her down if there’s a possibility of getting her back, especially if they’re expecting our crusade to lose—which it just might not. But we have an emotional link to humans; they don’t. We’ve felt the most complex emotion; they haven’t.”

“And just when did you have time to feel love?” Malice inquires.

She balls her hands together, the scars straining across her skin. It takes restraint, but she disregards the rage god and speaks through her teeth to Anger. “You have your powers back fully. If we have Love back, too, we’ll have a better chance of succeeding. She’ll want to be part of this. She’s invested, as is Andrew, as are the rest of us. Perhaps with our combined abilities, we can map a balance of fate and free will without bloodshed, without waging a battle against our people. We can search for the symmetry to convince them. For that, we need her.”

Merry gazes to the horizon. “With all of us, we shall overcome.”

“Not without me.”

Malice again. He’s sprawled, blood crusting his Lucifer lips, the twist of which reminds Merry of a wrung-out cloth.

Is he addressing all of them? Or just Wonder?

He’s the only person capable of drawing a colossal reaction from the goddess, and it seems the feeling is mutual. She exhales, then slowly cants her head toward that grim reaper, leveling him with a direct expression.

That’s how she achieves something Merry has never imagined possible: Malice flushes. It’s not bashfulness, but it’s more like chagrin, like he’s translucent.

His eyes blaze, creating apostrophes of confusion between his brows. He suffers for a brutal moment under her gaze, then resumes that fatally silken exterior. “You’re deficient without me. Need I say why?”

No, he needn’t. He’s shrewd and calculating, which makes him valuable.

Alas, he’s also insane, which makes him untrustworthy.

Anger breaks from their circle and kneels before Malice. “We’re going to find a way without your help.”

“Try keeping me tied up like a filthy secret, mate. Consider this a public service announcement: I have allies in the city who won’t stand for it.”

“Let them come. We can handle them.”

Malice’s mouth curls, his eyes tracking to Wonder. “But can you handle me?”

“You swine. You’re not fit to be—,” she cuts herself off, her voice frayed at the edge.

“Not fit to be what? Don’t stop on my account.” Malice sounds thirstier for the answer than he visibly lets on.

To which, furious moisture beads in Wonder’s eyes.

Anger jerks Malice’s chin away from her. “You overestimate your ability.”

Merry takes the goddess’s hand and receives a grateful smile. It buoys Wonder, who assures Anger, “Leave our prisoner to me, dearest.”

“You’ll stay the fuck away from me,” Malice riots, actually looking nervous.

Sigh. The problem is, he may be right. Wonder isn’t the only one who knows how to peel back enigmas. The putrid contents of Malice’s brain might hold puzzle pieces that they’ll need in the future. If that’s true, he’ll only relinquish them for a price.

From the cautious look Anger shares with Merry, he draws the same conclusion.

He focuses on her. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

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