Page 106 of Torn

But Merry just can’t stand it. “Goddess of Love,” she gushes. “I’m vanquished. How sublime to meet under excruciating and historic circumstances, for it gives me nothing but revelry to greet the infamous matchmaker. Did you also wear white dresses in your former life, like Eros? I’ve heard such tales, but one hardly knows what’s true. And you have the blackest hair that I’ve ever seen, like a defiant star that refuses to shine.”

“Love,” Anger says with humor and pride. “This is Merry.”

The goddess’s captivated eyes link with Merry’s. “I only wore one white dress. And a pair of pajamas once.”

This last bit of information cracks a smile from Andrew. “She burglarized a store to get them.”

“Truly?” Merry inquires, diverted. Deities can change attire as they wish, but Love had restricted herself—or she had been restricted. As to the pajamas, why didn’t she simply conjure them?

Love gauges Merry’s thoughts. “I wanted to wear something more…down to earth.”

Ah. When Andrew affectionately tucks his girlfriend close, Merry comprehends. Love had wanted the clothing to be human, because she’d wanted to feel human like him.

Love and Merry exchange another look. Maybe they feel the same thing, this lovely and sudden spark of sisterhood, an instant kinship blossoming with little else spoken. Maybe Love instinctively understands who Merry used to be, and who she is now.

Maybe they both understand. And maybe that’s why, as they grin at each other, the stars brighten.

28

Anger

Midnight. They sit in a ring on Stargazer Hill. The theme park has shutdown, its bulbs glowing only for their eyes.

It’s still not Peaks. But it doesn’t need to be.

The Carnival of Stars encircles them from below, highlighting and shadowing them. Atop the verdant hill, its lone oak tree stands proud, and twin telescopes peek at the sky. If he were to stare into one, he would find a flashing star positioned near a winking one.

A spring breeze fringes the ends of his hair. Blades of grass brush his knuckles. The distant tang of blueberry lemonade mingles with the crisp aura of contemplation.

Their group is a constellation. A newly discovered one.

Seven members. Some have known mortality. The rest have known eternity.

All of them know uncertainty.

A class diversified. A class of fate and free will.

After Anger had introduced Love and Merry, more greetings had followed. When Love had presented her lunar boyfriend, Anger became the object of Andrew’s probing gaze. In short, it was the most direct stare Anger had ever experienced.

Anger and Andrew had seen each other once before, from a distance, at the onset of Love’s friendship with Andrew. Even back then, the young man must have guessed Anger’s repressed feelings for Love. Andrew had possessed a perceptive, unapologetic gaze, perhaps able to filter through nuance. A force unto his own.

But they’d never exchanged words until the library vault. Down in that basement, Andrew hadn’t shown one iota of doubt or jealousy. He had studied Anger implicitly, those silver irises scanning. And Anger hadn’t known whether to set his teeth or squirm—proof that Andrew and Love had been made for each other.

“I never got to say this before, because memory loss kinda does that to a person,” Andrew had told him during the introduction. “But thank you.”

Anger had blinked. “For what?”

“For growing up with her. For looking out for her. For breaking the rules for her.”

Anger had swallowed, feeling unworthy of the gratitude but wanting it, nevertheless. He’d nodded to Andrew, unable to respond in any other way.

And Andrew had smiled in understanding.

Afterward, they’d all migrated from the library to the carnival. There, Envy and Sorrow had joined them.

More hugs. More greetings. More introductions.

A wry remark from Sorrow. A sassy flirt from Envy.

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