Page 47 of Torn

In answer to Wonder’s question, he’s not certain anyone will ever earn Merry’s light. Least of all the prick who’s planning to demolish it. And all because he lacks the backbone, not to mention the balls, to recycle the indomitable pieces of himself without resorting to backdoor deals and faking a rebound.

If Anger were a real god, he would staple together what’s left of his resilience. He wouldn’t need to scam Merry, and he wouldn’t need one final interaction with Love in order to move on.

Too bad he’s already fist-deep in this pile of shit.

Too bad he’s a selfish deity, as if any other genus exists.

Remorse won’t do him good. Not when he’s got a challenge ahead of him, tension to rectify, a goal to attain. He needs to double his efforts while pacing himself from now on.

Time to get working. Time to break a heart.

12

Merry

Time to get working. Time to win a heart.

This is going to take more finesse than she’d anticipated, now that she knows of Anger’s occupied affections. It’s merely a detour. Well, notmerely, but the art of soul-mating must be a trial. If it were a piece of angel food cake, creating a love goddess wouldn’t have mystified the Fates for millennia.

A bubble inflates from Merry’s lips, a sugary blimp swelling in front of her vision. The orb dilates, then detonates and shrivels, and she suctions the gum back into her mouth. Candy doesn’t help any more than the lemonade had, so she chucks the elastic glob into a wastebasket, where it disappears.

The record player spins, alleviating her inner strife and the recent influx of setbacks, like the Fate Court’s attack, her random quarrels with Anger, his lack of jealousy, and her lack of pacing. Not in that order.

Last night, they’d fallen asleep listening to her player, which she’d left in the fern alcove, atop the hammock. This morning, they’d sparred yet again, their principles at an impasse. Gracious, it’s always back and forth with him.

Standing in her woolly robe and slippers, Merry rifles through the rack of clothes in her sanctuary, the armoire hangers clattering. A distinct wildflower breeze blows into the space, making Merry grin.

She plucks a sapphire tulle mini skirt from the wardrobe. “What do you think of the color? I like to imagine that I’m wearing the sky.”

Another hand, maimed with starburst scars, reaches past Merry and selects a worn Pisces T-shirt. “Then embellish it with a constellation.”

Merry spins around and embraces Wonder while balancing the outfit in her fingers. Pulling back, Merry admires the female’s fountain of tresses and the posy of blooms at her temple, but most especially her bottomless eyes, bona fide wells of contemplation.

She and the goddess clasp their free hands, swinging them between their bodies. They’ve known each other for a scant amount of days, having met only twice, yet Merry cherishes their bond.

Being birthed from stars and unable to conceive, their people don’t have families and suffer no desire for them, not like mortals do. Be that as it may, this connection with Wonder feels intrinsic.

“I leave you alone for a moment, and already you have a tale to tell,” Wonder says. “Several tales, come to think of it.”

“Kindred,” Merry greets. “You heard my call.”

She hadn’t expected Wonder to answer so quickly. While Anger had been gone from the observatory—spending the day doing whatever he’d been doing—Merry had awakened on the lounge chair, needing to talk to someone about everything that’s happened since encountering Anger.

The meet-cute. The attack. The chase. The cable car.

The rejection. The hope.

She’d sent a message to her friend, because who better to discuss this with?

Initially, Wonder had made a stunning appearance in the Carnival of Stars not ten days ago. Through nomadic research, she’d learned of Merry’s existence and sought her out, wanting to see Merry in the flesh.

A failed love goddess? And the only failed attempt to survive birth?

Wonder had bounded to the Celestial City, on a mission to quench her fascination. They’d connected instantly, and by the second visit shortly thereafter, Wonder had an idea. While snooping in the Archives, she’d previously uncovered a legend, which spoke of winning a deity’s heart. Restoring Merry to the Peaks had been an appealing notion, which felt like the right thing to do after hearing Merry’s tale.

Not only that, but Merry has spent her life trying to find an outlet, a way to redeem herself in the Fates’ eyes. She’s ruminated and conversed with the stars. She’s studied human couples, love triangles, and crimes of passion. The mortals who pine, and the mortals who grovel, and the mortals who self-destruct, and the mortals who break up, and the mortals who cheat, and the mortals who say their vows, and the mortals who live happily ever after…happyoccasionallyafter.

Without a Guide to teach her the nuances of matchmaking, Merry has attempted to educate herself, just as she’s learned to skateboard by spying on mortals and then improvising, just as she’s cultivated centuries of musical appreciation by attending every local performance known to man.