Page 14 of Gods of Prey
“After you,” he says, gesturing to the portal.
4
Sienna
Ifeel myself materializing in the downtown streets of Seattle. The sensation is disorienting. I’m here but not here. Present yet insubstantial.
It’s not the first time I’ve felt this. Although, in the previous timeline, when I died and returned to Bash’s side, I was much more affected. And lost.
Rain passes through my ghostly form, a constant reminder that I no longer belong in this realm. My murder once again stripped me of physical presence. Now, I’m merely an echo, a wisp of consciousness tethered to lingering memories of pain. Pain that I had to endure as punishment not once, but twice in this particular mortal lifetime.
I’ve manifested a more casual outfit, opting for simple black pants and a sweater I would have worn when I was mortal instead of the formal gown I wear in Umbraeth. My wings are gone too. There’s no one to impress or intimidate here.
Beside me, Revel solidifies into full physical form, his divine essence seamlessly adapting to mortal constraints. The unfairness burns within me.
“You look substantial enough,” I mutter, watching him flex his fingers and adjust to his mortal body. It looks foreign and uncomfortable on him. “Must be nice.”
He runs a hand through his soft hair, his expression hard and unreadable. “I wish I could say the same for you.”
“Bash is this way,” I supply, ignoring his insult and the rush of self-conscious thoughts trying to pry their way in. I point my ghostly finger north and turn that way without checking if he’s behind me.
We move through evening Seattle, me drifting like morning mist while Revel walks beside me, intently listening to every detail I share about this mortal version of Sebastian. He occasionally draws curious glances from passersby who see a handsome man apparently talking to himself. The city feels both intimately familiar and strangely foreign. I’ve been here plenty of times across all my mortal lives. I recognize every street corner, every coffee shop, yet now view them through divine awareness that my mortal self never possessed. Last time I returned in this form, Bash resided in New York. Seattle has a completely different feel.
“What was it like for you?” Revel asks suddenly as we wait for a traffic light to change. “Living in this realm as a mortal? How were things between you and Sebastian?”
The question catches me off guard. “We were close,” I admit reluctantly. “In this life, things got a little tangled up with Jovie.” I bite my lip to stop myself from admitting too much. Instead, I focus on other things. “Our parents were cold and calculating, which gave us a deep mortal bond. I made friends with Jovie at her previous job.” The memories flood back—laughter with Bash over wine, conversations with Jovie at Old Soul Café.
“You miss it,” Revel observes, not a question but a statement.
“I missthem,” I correct him, though he’s not entirely wrong. “This life was...good. Until it wasn’t.”
Until I had to relive it and no one else but Bash, and eventually Jovie, realized it was happening.
We turn down a street, and I feel a pull toward a close residential building. Fourth floor, corner apartment with the small balcony overcrowded with plants. I tell him what I’m sensing and he silently gestures for me to lead the way.
“You know,” he says hesitantly, “I’ve watched both of you, through all your lifetimes. From Aurelys. I never knew any details, though.”
I stop abruptly, my ghostly form rippling with indignation. “You spied on us?”
“Not spied,” he corrects quickly. “It’s my responsibility to monitor Sebastian’s mortal journeys. You were simply there, too.”
I want to be angry at this invasion, but curiosity wins out. With a skeptical glare, I ask, “And what fascinating insights did you gather from your observations, interim god?”
Do you know about the secrets I’ve been keeping?
He ignores my sarcasm, carrying on in a clinical tone, like he’s already bored with this conversation. “That you’re different in every life, yet fundamentally the same. In Ancient Egypt, you were a priestess with unbending principles. In Renaissance Italy, a fierce protector of your brother’s artistic talents. During the French Revolution, you died defending him.” His eyes meet mine. “But in every life, your essence remains constant—fierce loyalty, hidden gentleness beneath sharp edges, stubborn to a fault, and a profound capacity for both justice and mercy.”
His words leave me momentarily speechless. I’ve never considered how I appear across my many lives, too focused onenduring each one to see patterns. That Revel has not only noticed but analyzed them so thoughtfully is unsettling.
It feels like my enemy has a leg up on me.
Before I can formulate a response, we arrive at their building. Without thinking, I try to press the elevator button, my finger passing through it uselessly.
“Allow me, goddess,” Revel says with a hint of mockery as he summons the elevator.
On the fourth floor, I pause outside their door, hearing familiar voices within. My heart, or whatever ghostly equivalent I now possess, clenches painfully.
“They’re both here,” I whisper.
