Page 217 of Fangs
“No, I’m just a person.”
He was quiet for a while. “How do you know?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I can die,” I answered, realizing that beyond that, I had no idea.
“Who is the God of Death?”
I shivered. “I don’t know.”
Where were they taking us? Juck usually talked about the Voiceless in Sin City, but after my conversation with Wolf, I realized I had no idea where the God of Death might be. The scope of how much Ididn’tknow felt overwhelming. Talmar had seemed willing to answer all my questions last night. Maybe I could get more answers.
“Hey, you,” I called, my eyes on the Voiceless holding the horse’s reins.
He turned and stared at me, but his lips were stitched closed. I decided to try, anyway.
“Where are we going?”
He looked behind me and signed something with his hands. I glanced back to see a Voiceless with unstitched lips riding toward us. I recognized Talmar as his horse fell alongside ours.
“What is it you need, Goddess?” he asked.
It was so strange looking at them in the daylight. They were still horrifying with their stitched lips and blackened eyes, but they looked more like what they actually were—creepy-ass men with peeling face paint and tattered robes.
“Why hasn’t everyone removed their…” I gestured to my mouth.
“Not everyone has earned that privilege,” he answered.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to knowhowthat privilege was earned. “Where are we going?” I repeated my original question.
“To the God of Death.”
I huffed an annoyed breath. “Whereis that?”
“The Sanctum.”
I glared at him. Was he doing this on purpose? “For fuck’s sake,whereis that?”
His expression remained steady, seemingly unbothered by my attitude. “It has been known as ‘Sin City,’ but the God of Death has renamed it the Sanctum.”
Finally, an actual answer. I remembered Wolf talking about the Sin City Uprising. How long ago had he said it’d been? Ten years?
“Renamed is a shitty way to describe slaughtering innocent people and seizing control.”
“They would not have been harmed if they had not resisted.”
I bit back my fury and instead asked, “Who is the God of Death?”
He blinked, a hint of surprise in his eyes. “You do not know the God of Death?”
I glared, waiting.
“The God of Death is the head of the seven gods, the one true God. Only he can grant the honor of his true name.”
This speaking in cryptic, non-answers thing was going to be the death of me. “Ok, who are the other gods?”
He frowned as though he disapproved of my ignorance but answered, “the Goddess of Fertility, the God of Fire and Destruction, the Goddess of the Harvest, the God of Knowledge, the Goddess of Love and Beauty, and the God of Justice and Order.”
Now, I frowned. The people of Carth worshiped the God of Justice and Order, calling him the true god, but I had no idea he was one of the seven Voiceless gods. Carth had always portrayed the Voiceless as barbaric heathens—a laughingstock. Didtheyknow they shared the same god? Then, another thought occurred to me. “You already have two goddesses. Why can’t one of them be the Goddess of Life?”
