Page 34 of A Single Thread Of Hope

Hrist snorted. “Not even the fifteenth.”

He nodded sagely. “The opening of Crete, combined with the birth of new Fates, would have all the different Mythics coming out of the woodwork, I imagine. Myself included.” He gave a self-deprecating smile that looked charming on his elderly face. I had a theory that Khonsu could age himself, then revert back to his younger years, which had allowed him to stay in Boston so long. Like the waxing and waning of the moon he was associated with.

Shrugging, Wren gave him a soft smile. “I’m glad to see you, Mr. Lunetta. And I honestly understand why people keep coming. We expected it.”

Khonsu huffed. “Impatient, these young religions. Always in such a rush. No, my gift to you is to restore your ward around Crete. It will not be permanent, because not even I am strong enough to keep out the hordes of Mythics from different Pantheons for too long. Not without some serious sacrifices, and I don’t believe that’s something you’d desire?” Wren looked so horrified, he laughed again. “It should hold for six weeks or so. Enough time to bond with your babies and make sure they are strong and hale to weather the coming tides of fate.”

The gift of time was one without price. Touched, I bowed my head once more. “We appreciate your gift, Kon.”

His gaze suddenly flicked behind us, and his eyes went wide. “Teron?”

I looked over at Teron, whose Gryphon was the last of his kind. I’d forgotten that their territory had dipped right down into Africa, especially Egypt.

“Khonsu?” Teron gasped. “Old friend, it’s good to see you! I heard that you still lived, but after so many years, I never put too much hope in the rumors.” Dodging around us, he walked straight up to the old man and hugged him tightly.

How tightly had the weavers of fate tied me to this course, when my old life and my new life kept tangling together?

They talked to each other excitedly in Egyptian, while I stood there dumbly. Like big, dumb, antisocial muscle. I hated that I couldn’t pull an ancient, powerful being who owed me some inexplicable debt out of my arse, and use that to keep Wren safe, the way these guys could.

Wren leaned into my side, and I tightened my arm around her. Breathing her in, I pushed my magic inside her so I could hear the very thump of her heart, the whoosh of air exiting her chest. I needed to feel she was alive, because far too many times over the last few weeks, she’d come perilously close to death.

I kissed her head, ignoring Khonsu’s raised eyebrow. I didn’t care what he thought, whatanyof them thought. This little mortal was mine for the brief flash of her life, and I would defend her with my immortal soul if I had to. I let all that show in my eyes. He could run back to Boston and tell them all that—hell, tell the whole fucking Mythic world that Néit, scorned Celtic God of War, had once again fallen, this time for a mortal woman.

Teron, with his back to me, missed the subtext of our silent conversation. “Are you coming in? Stay and have a drink with us, for old times’ sake?”

Khonsu shook his head. “Not this time. You need to bond as a family, and relax into your moment of peace, because I fear this tenuous truce won’t last very long at all. Do you have your former ward glass? I will strengthen it the best I can, return your island to the fortress that it once was. None will be able to enter, but if any of the Mythics currently on the island leave, they won’tbe able to return either. Not for six weeks, at the least. Also, passing through the ward to leave would be… uncomfortable.”

Teron nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

I moved toward Hrist, who was still on guard,despite the obvious familiarity of this God to us. I respected that. “You heard him. If you need to leave, you won’t be able to return for six weeks. Would you like to go now?”

She shook her head. “We have our mission. And if necessity means we must leave, we can surviveuncomfortable.”

I had a lot of respect for these warriors. I had no doubt they could survive much more than being uncomfortable.

I called Clio, but her phone went to voicemail, so I sent her a quick text saying if she wanted to leave the island, she had about fifteen minutes before leaving would feel like getting your gooch waxed by a mountain troll. She couldn’t say I didn’t warn her.

Teron reemerged, and I wasn’t surprised to see Demke with him, as well as Erus. From what I could gather, Erus had cared for the ward for the last however many years. He wasn’t inherently magical, and I think his care mostly consisted of making sure it got sunlight and didn’t get smashed in a game of racquetball. Still, he was the closest thing to a keeper they had. He held the glass jar, with the thread inside—strung from the top to the bottom like the filament of a lightbulb—now broken, no longer glowing or holding the ward strong.

The way they all cast uneasy looks at the ward glass told me that the way it was previously made sat in the forefront of their minds. The entire Minotaur race had given their lives for that previous ward.

I looked at Khonsu, who I barely knew personally, but knew by reputation all too well, and wondered if we were about to be fucked over in an ironic repetition of fate. However, he took the ward glass carefully, as if he knew the sacrifice that had been used to power it.

He inspected the broken hair inside, and when he unscrewed the jar, the hair turned to dust and floated away on the wind. Someone behind me made a choked noise, and I realized that was probably the last piece of their Goddess they’d possessed after all this time. I looked over at Demke, and there was loss in his eyes once more, but it wasn’t the destroyed look that had been so evident when we first arrived. The God of Renewal was finally healing himself.

Khonsu looked up. “I’ll need three strands of your hair, dear Wren.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but Wren just shrugged. Plucking out three hairs, she handed them over, like DNA didn’t have power amongst some Pantheons—like you couldn’t be cursed to become a sea otter forever with just three hairs.

So trusting,mo stóirín.

Chanting, Khonsu twirled the hairs between his fingers, twining them together until they threaded into one thin hair rope. Anchoring it inside the jar, he chanted louder and louder until all the flesh on my body was covered in goosebumps, the energy wild and untamed.

Finally, the thread of hair glowed gold, and a rush of magic spread out from this spot. Khonsu screwed the heavy gold cap back on. Smiling, he handed the glass jar back to Erus. “That should give you time to breathe, to plan. To love and live.”

Wren launched herself toward the old man and hugged him tightly. “Thank you.”

He patted her hair softly. “It is my pleasure, little Wren. You were kind to an old man when it didn’t benefit you at all, even when it was harder for you to reach the bottom shelf than I. That unselfish kindness is a rare and beautiful thing, which should be rewarded.” He gave her shoulder a few gentle pats. “Now, I should be going. I only gave myself a small window to leave, without the same blowback as others. Wren, it was a delight tosee you safe and well.” He gave her a soft look. “Zelda would be proud of you.”

---