Page 67 of A Single Thread Of Hope

“I promise.”

Chapter 36

WREN

I’d never seen the Tar Pits so empty. In all the time I’d worked here—which was indeterminable, really—it had always been bustling with bodies. Today, in Brân’s words, only the brave or the stupid remained.

“It’s a room filled with Death Gods, girl. Some are notoriously easy to offend. No one wants to spend an eternity in Christianity’s Hell, being poked in the ass by a demon, just because you pissed off Lucifer.”

I felt like I would’ve recognised the Devil if I’d met him in the bar, so he must have sent an emissary. Who knows who that could’ve been, though?

Cy paced back and forth, and if I thought I could make him leave, I would. He didn’t need to see this. But I knew he wouldn’t go. He’d stay for this whole ordeal, because he was loyal and he loved me. It was in every line of his body, in every achingly handsome curve of his face. It was in the way his fingers brushed my hand or arm or thigh every time he walked past, like he was trying to reassure himself that I was still here.

Finally, after such a painfully long time that it almost had to be part of the trial, the doors opened. Hades walked in beside abeautiful woman, her face a skull. Or her skull was a skull, and she had no face flesh. I wasn’t sure how I knew she was beautiful, but I did, deep down in my chest. She was in flowing red robes, clad in beautiful roses that looked real, though I didn’t know how flowers that red could grow down here. The hood of her robe was elaborately embroidered with gold thread and flowers. She held a scythe in her hands, but even that was intricately engraved. She was a beautiful Death.

Brân murmured softly, “Santa Muerte. Holy Saint of Death. She has a small offshoot of Christianity, I believe.” When two men walked in behind her, I wasn’t even surprised to see one was blue. I looked at Brân, who rolled his eyes at me. “Yama. He’s the blue one. Big guy in many of the East Asian Pantheons. He gets around. And beside him is Mictlantecuhtli, from the Aztecs.”

The other man was skeletal, but unlike Santa Muerte, he still had skin pulled tight across his bones, so tight he looked like a drum. Looking at him made my brain ache. They congregated together, solemn and filled with power.

The next figure to walk through the door was one I knew. “Nergal?”

The huge, ill-tempered Mythic grunted at me in greeting and went to join the rest of the rulers of the afterlife.

I looked at Brân. “You could have told me he was a God I had to impress.”

Chuckling, the head raised an eyebrow. “Would your manner have changed? I didn’t think so. He runs the Underworld for the Mesopotamians, though there aren’t many of them left now.”

Next was another face I recognized. Donn from Tech Duinn arrived, a man who looked like a lighter version of him at his side.

“Donn!” I yelled, drawing the gaze of all the Gods and Goddesses in the room. He smiled, ducking to get further into the room.

“Wren Mahone. I see you were successful. This is my counterpart from Annwn, Arawn.”

The golden God in question bowed. “I hear I have you to thank for stopping this giant from being as pitiful as a schoolboy with a crush.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Fea?”

Donn scowled at us both, but his eyes danced with happiness. He didn’t confirm or deny, but he didn’t need to. I winked at him, and his lips curled into a smile before he turned and went to stand with the rest of the assembly.

The power in the room was raising the hair on my arms, and Cy had come to stand closer to me.

A booming laugh announced the next Mythics before they’d even pressed through the doors. Two men in suits walked in, though one was smoking and wearing a grin and a top hat. “Brân! Old head, ‘tis been too long.”

Under his breath, Brân sighed. “Baron Samedi, from the Haitian Crossroads. Big partier. I better get out the bigger jugs of ale,” he muttered to himself. “Beside him is?—”

The other man was there immediately. “Lucifer. The Devil.” He flicked his wings behind him, and until that moment, I hadn’t even seen them there. They stretched back behind him in long shadows. He stared down at me in a way that made me feel the size of an ant. “Hmm, I thought they were lying to me, but it’s true. You don’t seem to fit anywhere, despite your early adherence to Christinianity. I thought Peter was just slacking.” He turned to walk toward the rest of the group, but stopped, looking over his shoulder. “Zelda says hello.”

I pulled back, like he was reaching for my throat. “Mrs. B is in Hell? That can’t be right.”

The Devil was instantly back in front of me. “And if she is, would you bargain your soul to take her place, so she could ascend the heavens?”

Would I give all this up for Mrs. B? Would I swap my soul for hers? Guilt still ate at me for her death, and I’d loved her like a mother until the day she died. I owed her so much, and there wasn’t a woman who deserved Heaven more than her. Would I give up my immortality for her, though?

Someone called for Lucifer, and he smirked. “Saved by the bell from an eternity in Hell,” Lucifer purred. “Unfortunately, your soul isn’t up for grabs right now anyway. Maybe later. Though we both know Zelda is talking shit in Heaven. She asked a favor from me and my Reaper, on your death. Only woman I’ve met in a while who could make a deal with the devil and still end up behind the pearly gates. Wily old bat.” A relieved breath rushed out of me, and his laughter echoed around the room as he joined the others.

The last three people came in all at once. A woman stepped in first, with pale skin and deep black hair that fell to the back of her knees. Behind her was a man with equally dark hair, but skin so green, it reminded me of the jungle. His eyes took me in, but his lips remained pressed closed.

“Hel, from… well, Hel. Norse,” Brân muttered. “And beside her is Osiris, from the Egyptian Pantheon.”

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