Page 11 of A Single Thread Of Hope

There was so much we didn’t know about the mysterious Néit. He’d just grunted noncommittally as he closed it back up, and I wasn’t going to ask too many more questions. If someone wanted to send him a gift hamper of blessed axes and swords, so be it.

Milo had us pull up to a vet next, and had come out with a box of pet medication. Flea treatments and dewormers. Bags and bags of dog food. He’d also bought a butcher out of dog bones and steaks, bringing out several large styrofoam boxes worth.

Combined with my pallets of canned human foods and dry goods, we looked like we were crazed preppers. In a way, we were. We were definitely stockpiling for what they would have called an apocalypse in the old days. Ragnarok. The End of Days. The Fall of Olympus. All of these had heralded the end of the world as humans knew it.

I would try to prevent that, this time. I was a healer. I didn’t relish the idea that humans would die for the insane power grab of Mythics.

I watched the humans finish loading the truck, giving us a wide berth. They mightn’t know why we seemed wrong; they just knew we were. It was a good thing. It might save their life if things went badly.

I walked up to the back dock worker and signed the docket. “Big party?” he asked, and I smiled at him politely.

“Something like that.”

This guy would definitely report me to the authorities if he knew that the three big crates in the back were humidicribs. I told myself that we’d just donate it all back to the island anonymously at the end, and Wren wouldn’t stress about the fact that each piece of medical equipment came with an eye-watering price tag.

With everything finally loaded, we jammed the three of us into the cab of the truck. It wasn’t comfortable, and my Gryphoncomplained the whole time, but at least I got to drive. It must’ve looked a little like stuffing meat into a sausage skin from the outside.

I pulled back out onto the road, anxious to be back in Amourgeles. The mate bond in my chest pulled me back in the direction of her, and honestly, the Gryphon was a little pissed about being so far away. How could we protect her if I was walking around on two legs in my useless meat suit, buying chickpeas in a can? Direct quote from the Gryphon.

I could only appease him by explaining that this was the way we provided for our mate and offspring. That was the thing about the Gryphon; he didn’t care that she was carrying someone else’s children. Or, well, they weren’t really someone else’s, I guess. But to the Gryphon, they were his cubs. His children. He would protect them with his life, if need be. It was sweet and daunting all at once, because it left my more human sensibilities scrambling to catch up.

“Should we talk about where Typhon disappeared to?” I asked to break the silence.

The Father of Monsters deserved his title. He and Ekhidna had spawned some of the most fearsome monsters in the world’s long history, including Cerberus, who guarded the Underworld. They were probably having quite the catchup down there, Ekhidna and Cerberus. Made me feel a little less bad that she’d had to die for the whims of the Fates.

Not that any of us truly died, unless we were removed from the weave altogether.

But Typhon was worse than all his offspring combined. Huge, with a hundred free-thinking serpents spreading from his shoulders that spat fire and acid, and mocked you as you died. One of the serpents had told my Gryphon that he was puny and smelled like offal as it attacked. I mean, that was slightly strange,even in the realm of monsters, but it had definitely stuck with him. He’d washed and preened at least six times since the battle.

“Is it too much to hope that he’s just slunk back to the ocean and gone about his business?” Milo suggested, and Néit grunted his agreement.

I wished I could be that optimistic. “He isn’t a friend of the Fates, either way. He may become an ally as we have a common enemy, or he might be pissed that we sent his wife to the Underworld. I think the best we can hope for is that he stays out of this battle altogether.” See, I could be optimistic too.

“We need to have better plans. Attacks after the babies are born will not be so easily defended, and it would only take one—” Néit couldn’t finish his sentence, shaking his head. I knew what he meant. They could only continue to be the Fates if there were three of them. “We need a better plan.”

Milo shrugged. “I’m living with the hope that maybe they aren’t the new Fates at all. Maybe they’re going to be something else, or nothing at all.”

I was optimistic, but that was downright delusional.

Milo continued. “There’s one surefire way to find out, though. Her and Demke are on better terms, and at this point, she looks at him the way the hounds look at a juicy sausage.”

I was already shaking my head. “No sex. It’s too late in her pregnancy. I don’t want anything bringing on labor early.”

Both Néit and Milo looked at me as if I’d suggested they live a life devoid of happiness. “Noneat all?” Milo gasped.

Rolling my eyes, I took the turn-off that would lead to home. “No penetration, at least. You can undertake oral sex as much as you wish.”

The sigh of relief that Milo emitted was kind of amusing. “Thank goodness. The idea of not bringing her pleasure for weeks, maybe months?” He was shaking his head, like that was the most preposterous thing we’d spoken of today.

Néit snorted a laugh, but didn’t say anything. I got the feeling he wasn’t a big talker, and given the amount of shit Tryp could say during a single mealtime, his tall, dark and silent vibe was refreshing.

We drove the rest of the way home in silence, lost in our own thoughts. We needed help—that was obvious—but we’d spent centuries purposefully not mixing with other Mythics. We were secular and unfriendly, and it was going to come back and bite us in the ass, I feared.

From what Néit had said, he was no more well liked in the Celtic community. We may truly be on our own, though we had the Valkyries’ help, at least.

Pulling into Amourgeles, I waved at some of the townspeople as we passed. There was still evidence of the other night’s battle, with gouged potholes littering the road, burned trees and outbuildings, rubble lying in piles. For the first time in a very long time, the villagers were looking at us with fear and trepidation. I worried that might quickly devolve to torches and pitchforks, especially if anything happened to Stavros.

Shaking my head, I pushed the thought away. I wasn’t borrowing tomorrow’s problems just yet. Pulling up to the rear gates in the wall, I honked. Erus appeared quickly, saluting me as he pushed open the heavy wooden doors, which had been there since before Christianity even took hold.

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