Page 16 of Gods of Prey
“He doesn’t remember who he is,” I confirm, the reality finally sinking in. “He truly believes he’s just Bash.”
Revel shakes his head. “That’s the problem. He’s not just hiding. He’s forgetting.”
“That’s not the worst part,” I hesitantly add. Revel raises his brows, urging me to continue. I’m not entirely sure that I should, and my body recoils a little as the words make their way out.
“He’s still killing,” I finally admit, then explain what I saw in the office. I had hoped that with so much mortal time passing, he moved on from this ridiculous little vendetta he’s holding over my life. But he isn’t, and the effects of his crimes will send waves across the entire cosmic system.
The God of Life does not rip souls from their bodies. It simply doesn't happen.
Add in that he’s been manipulating time, and we’re all screwed. Myelle will have our heads for that alone.
“We need to get through to him,” Revel concludes.
“How do we reach someone who doesn’t want to be found?” I ask, my voice smaller than I’d like.
This is worse than I imagined. Going through it alone before made it easier to excuse away. To convince myself things weren’tthat bad. But now, it seems that Jovie knows. And the horrified expression Revel has been wearing since we got here has me realizing this is worse than I allowed myself to accept.
“We need to find a way to build up his trust,” he says decisively, and for once, I’m grateful for his confidence. Where I appear to be spiraling, he’s remaining steady. “You’re the connection. Maybe if we can make you substantial enough for him to see, to feel, it might break through his self-imposed amnesia.”
“And how exactly do we accomplish that? I’m dead in this realm, Revel. There’s no changing that.” I stare at him, eyes wide and brows tucked against my hairline.
“We’ll figure it out.” Pointing to a large sign across the street advertising rentals available, he smirks. “First, we need a place to stay.”
As we move across the rainy street, I steal glances at him—this man who has been my adversary for centuries, now my only ally. For the first time, I wonder if there’s more to Revel than I’ve allowed myself to see.
I quickly push the thought away. We have a mission to complete, a cosmic balance to restore. Whatever unexpected revelations might be emerging between us must remain secondary to that purpose.
And yet, as we walk side by side through the Seattle night—him solid, me spectral—I can’t help feeling that something fundamental has already begun to shift.
5
Sienna
Ihover by the window of Revel’s newly acquired apartment, staring across at the modern high-rise where my brother now lives. After much debate outside the rental office, we decided it would be easiest to obtain residence here in the mortal plane and fabricate a story for Revel to make him more relatable.
Conjuring up the proof of a life beyond his first few hours here was a fun little exercise to pull me out of my panic, but I think the leasing agent was too distracted with bedding him to care.
He insisted on getting a two-bedroom apartment. To the agent, he explained that he needed an office for work, but when she left us to print out his paperwork, he admitted he got the second bedroom for me.
“I’m hardly evenhere. I don’t need a bedroom,” I argued, hating the genuine concern for me etched across his face. No one is ever concerned about me. “I don’t even sleep.”
“You need a place to retire to that’s your own,” he insisted.
“I don’t need a room. I can just”—I waved my hands around in circles—“float around.”
But his features were set in a determined stare. “That’s ridiculous. You’re a goddess. You’re allowed to have your own room.”
“It’s a waste of money,” I hissed, hating the way his words made my ghostly little heart dance in my chest.
“Mortal money is an illusion, anyway. It’s all fake.” His eyes moved to the glass door, where we could see the leasing agent sashaying toward us. “And it’s already done, so deal with it.”
By some miracle, she got us the keys to a fully furnished, two-bedroom apartment within hours. He’s been on edge since we stepped into the safety of our new space and he could finally drop his act. I have no idea what has his panties so far up his ass, but I truly don’t care enough to ask.
The first thing he did was collapse onto his bed and fall asleep and I’ve been grateful for the reprieve.
Such a weak interim god, unfamiliar with mortal strain.
Rain slides down the glass, distorting the Seattle skyline—a fitting metaphor for how disoriented I feel being back in the mortal realm so soon after my death.
