Page 13 of Torn

Years ago, she’d become a renegade deity by falling for a mortal, a grave offense amongst their kind. But instead of spying on her like Anger had been assigned to do, and instead of reporting her, he’d kept his mouth shut. He’d defied the Fate Court in order to protect her secret, then he’d been expelled as punishment for aborting his job.

For all the good it had done him. Love had won the mortal’s heart and thusly became human. To this day, she lives happily in the town of Ever with her boyfriend, a snarky fellow who gets to kiss her.

To touch her.

Meanwhile, Anger’s here, staring into the eyes of a maniac.

Malice’s joyfully abrasive expression could strip tar from the pavement. He sifts through Anger’s silence, which isn’t surprising given that they represent similar emotions. Deities don’t feel overwhelmed by the emotions they serve, but that doesn’t mean they don’t feel those emotions at all. And there are extreme exceptions, as with his class and perhaps exiles who aren’t tasked to rein themselves in.

Whether or not Anger wants to be transparent to this archer, he is.

Whether or not he wants to have that connection, he does.

“You’re curious,” Malice says, pleased.

“Not enough to kill,” Anger says, displeased.

“Why is that? I’ve always thought pain to be pleasurable. But fine, since I never saidkill. I saidbreak.”

“Funny. They sound the same to me.”

“Yes, they do. But killing is achievable by yours truly, so long as I get creative with my hands. Whereas breaking—,” the demon god lifts a pinky and grazes his throat, drawing red streaks across his skin, “—now that’s a tender task. After being on your own, to hear there’s a chance to go home? You’re wondering, how is that possible?” His orbs gleam under the lights of a nearby scrambler ride. “Well, I ask you: How much is it worth?”

“You’ve got the wrong person. Go look for someone who’s evil.”

“I’m evil. That’s not the prerequisite. Imagine winning back what the Fates stole from us. Imagine that.”

“Imagine my right hook.”

“You’re a straight arrow, is that it? That’s beneath you and not what I expected from a rage god who got kicked to the curb. Very well, a deal. I’ll make this prospect even more attractive to you.” Again, he bumps his chin toward the west. “Come join me. What do you have to lose? If anything, you’ll gain insight.”

Anger drums his fingers on his belt buckle. “How many of you are there?”

Malice knows where this is going, because he visibly approves. “Only me.”

“There’s neveronly me.”

The demon god glances around, possibly for eavesdropping exiles, then steps closer. His voice reminds Anger of a meat grinder as he confides, “I know a way for us to regain our place in the Peaks—and our power to wield emotions—with the Fate Court incapable of reversing it. One small caveat is that it requires a challenge, a gig that I’m not qualified for.” He points at Anger. “But you are.”

“Overpower the Fate Court’s will? There’s no chance. Only the stars have that divinity.”

“I can recall a recent event in which a female deity sealed her own fate with a little help from the stars, and the Court didn’t have a say. I think you were acquainted with her prior to your banishment.” Malice cocks his head. “Tell me. How did she achieve that feat?”

Anger’s nostrils flare. He doesn’t want to talk about the past.

Yet Malice is right. There are technicalities in magic, ways around the Fate Court’s influence.

The mysteries of the stars are infinite for a reason. One can never say what their plan is.

The song that had been skipping on Merry’s record player invades the moment, drifting from the arcade where children shoot comets from the sky with plastic balls. Vaguely, Anger wonders if the flighty goddess has ever indulged in that game. He contemplates how many comets she may have vanquished…if her attention span had lasted long enough to punt a single target.

The Constellation Carousel is not far from where he stands. Aries, Libra, and other zodiacs circle the whirligig’s diameter, swooping up and down, traveling but getting nowhere.

Then there’s Malice, his carnivorous grin, and the carousel’s two-faced Gemini in the background. Why does this entitled misfit think he’ll be welcomed back into the Peaks, particularly if it’s forced? That will only insult the Court, which will swamp Malice with enemies.

Or such brashness might intrigue their people, enough to act magnanimously.

What possible deal can Malice strike that will make this worth Anger’s conscience? And Merry’s suffering?

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