Page 65 of A Single Thread Of Hope

Then there was Sheela, who was some Fertility Goddess with three vaginas, which she happily flashed to the whole bar every time she drank.

My favorite so far was Veles, another horned God like Cernunnos, though Veles was Slavic. He was my favorite because he and Brân bickered like old maids, and also because he always had at least three bunnies, two foxes, and a baby cow with him. I wanted to petition for a calf in every workplace. It was so freaking cute, I couldn’t help but cuddle it.

“Beer for you, sir. And a bowl of milk for my favorite customer, Rova.”

The huge God snorted derisively. “She does not need milk, girl. Bring her a beer too. We’ll see if she can make Guinness when milked, eh, Brân?”

The fact that Brân was just a head was becoming less confronting, especially when you took into account all the interesting-looking Mythics who came in. The Flying Spaghetti Monster had been an especially interesting one. He’d talked purely in 2005 slang, and after winning a game of cards, he’d told a literal God of War, “In your face, you got pwned.” Not going to lie, even I only understood half of his smack talk.

Brân rolled his eyes, and it was easy to see he and Veles were old buddies. “If you manage that, you might have a whole new religion to get behind. In Ireland, at least. So, girl, what are you going to do if you get back up top?”

I petted Rova the cow’s big wet nose, and she mooed at me softly. Man, she was so adorable. “Hug my babies. Find homesfor all the stray dogs in my care. They’ve waited long enough. One—no,twoorgies with the men I love.”

The bar laughed. If the people in this room loved anything more than beer, it was animals and orgies. Not together, though… I hoped.

Veles snort-laughed. “A worthy course of action.” He looked over at Brân. “She’s got my vote.” With that, he downed his beer and whistled, causing all the animals around him to come to heel. “See you in a few weeks, Wren Mahone.” Then he left.

I looked at Brân. “What does that mean?”

The bodiless Demigod merely grinned. “Means you impressed the first of the rulers of the afterlife. Congrats, girlie. Only a few more to go.”

I looked over at Cy. What the hell did thatmean?

Chapter 35

CYDON

From what I could tell, the collective Mythic rulers of the afterlife could come to the Tar Pits and judge whether Wren was worthy of even the time it’d take to hold this magical Weighing ceremony.

It wasn’t like a fairy godmother who could bibbidi-bobbidi-boo her into immortality. This was a serious thing, though no one could—or would—tell me what it entailed. Only that her mortal soul was the price, and if she failed, she would be gone from the wheel. I couldn’t just stay with her in the Underworld and wait for everyone else to arrive. We couldn’t stay here at the Tar Pits and hope the guys would come to visit.

She’d be completely gone, and everything in me rebelled against even the concept. I’d tried to broach the subject, but she shut me down immediately. Sure, it had been with kisses, but they’d only softened the blow of her words.

“I don’t want to live a thousand years waiting for the people I love to die, when I could spend a thousand lives with them, and their children, and their children’s children. At best, this would be a half-life. You’d make me happy—and you do, so freakinghappy—but they’re all the pieces of my heart too. What would you do, in my shoes?”

That was the last time I’d mentioned it, because in her shoes, I would also risk it all to get back to her. So as much as my heart ached at the thought I might lose her, I subtly began grilling the bar’s patrons about the Weighing. Some were oblivious, others tight-lipped. But if you hit them right as the mead was rushing to their heads, some of them were as chatty as a human on spring break.

I poured more mead for a grizzled old warrior Mythic. I didn’t know which Pantheon he was from, or even his name, but he liked to talk when he was drinking. “Yeah, we’re just here for the Weighing,” I told him casually, topping his glass up all the way to the rim. “They make it sound hard, but my girl is the best. How could it go wrong?”

The Mythic snorted. “Everything. They mightn’t even come, and you’ll be stuck here slinging beer for that oversized football for eternity. Or they will come and judge your girl, and decide she isn’t worthy.”

I growled. “She’s the most worthy person I know.”

He downed half of his drink in one go. “Their version of worthy and yours are different. Those bastards see nothing but the bad. And if they do decide she’s worthy of the Weighing, that shit is…” He shuddered. “It isn’t good. A soul disappearing is something that makes me shudder. A cold shiver that takes over your whole body. Cold forweeksafterwards.”

I sat down across from him. “You’ve seen one? A Weighing?”

He puffed out his chest. “I was here for the Saint. Patrick? Simon? Who cares. He was unworthy, and he was a fucking saint.”

Dread was like a stone in my chest. I stood, slowly moving back to the bar. Like the guy said, worthiness was judged differently. Maybe it would be okay.

The problem was, how did we know who she was supposed to be impressing? The big ones were obvious: Hades—I couldn’t wait to see him—as well as Lucifer and Hel. But who knew all the lesser known deities, especially from the long-dead Pantheons? I didn’t even know if the Minoans had a God of Death. They were all about life.

When I’d said that to Wren, she’d just shrugged. “If I’m kind to everyone, then I should make a good impression on the right ones, I guess?”

Ugh, I need Google.For instance, the scowling guy she was serving now grunted more than spoke. He didn’t look like he belonged here, but I didn’t know if it was because he was a monster who just liked a beer, or because he was a God of Death who didn’t want to even be here but was obligated to check out Wren for the Weighing?

Smiling happily, she came back to the bar. “Can I have one of Ninkasi’s batch, please? Nergal doesn’t like beer. Or people.” She smiled as if that was the most endearing thing ever. Grabbing one of the large clay urns of wine from beneath the bar, I poured a large pitcher for the unknown Mythic.

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