Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
“We have a goat in our room, don’t we?” He absently touches one of Dingle’s long ears and the goat flicks it in irritation. “The innkeeper simply grew tired of arguing with us.”
“If it makes you feel better, I don’t get tired of arguing with you.”
“Mm. I’m still not entirely certain why you agreed to be my companion. It’s nothing but misery for you, and it won’t even end well. You won’t see him in the afterlife because you’ve been dragged here.”
“Thanks for pointing that out,” I chirp, keeping my secret close to my vest. He doesn’t know that I made a deal with Lachesis to go home once I’m dead. I’m so glad I did, too. I’ll hang out in Purgatory or wherever I need to, as long as I get to see David again. Being away from Kalos is a bonus. “As for why I volunteered, it wasn’t for me. It was for my brother. His cancer returned, and the doctors had warned him that if it spread, it would be fatal. I wanted him to have a chance at life, and Lachesis said if I did this—joined you—that she’d make sure that his life was long and healthy and fulfilling. I wanted that for him…so I came.”
Kalos eyes me, absently stroking Dingle’s head as the goat leans in and chews on the blanket. “Who is Lachesis?”
“She’s a goddess of fate back where I come from. She said she works with your gods of fate.”
His expression turns sour. “So they blackmailed you into sacrificing yourself. I shouldn’t be surprised. The Fates are the most mercenary of all of us. And here you are, the noble martyr, forced to do a job so terrible no one in this world would volunteer.”
“Well, that can’t be entirely true, can it? You have three other Aspects, and they all have to have Anchors, right?”
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he narrows his eyes. “You know I could have cured your brother myself. If he was here in this world, I could heal him with a touch. I could make his cancer dormant with no more than a thought.”
I’m not going to play the what-if game with him. That’s a rabbit hole that will only cause me misery. “You might have the ability, but I’ve seen nothing in you that makes me think that you would have cured him, even if you had the opportunity.”
The god of disease chuckles and scratches at Dingle’s chin. “That’s the irony, isn’t it?”
Is it irony? Or is it just being a shitty person? I get up and move to the other side of the bed. “I need a nap.”
“Oho. Even the lady of perpetual sunshine gets tired of me. I take it you’re done with our conversation?”
I yank the blanket back and climb into bed, my mood as gloomy as his. “Exactly.”
It takes a while for me to fall asleep, though. Instead, I pull the covers tight and wonder about David. Was I manipulated by the gods? And have I been too inwardly apathetic to notice until just now?
Or is this all because I was truly needed at Kalos’s side?
And would Kalos have saved David if he’d had the opportunity? Or would he have just let him die because he didn’t give a shit? I suspect I know the answer to that already, and it depresses me most of all. Because Kalos isn’t a good person. He isn’t even trying to be moderately decent.
And I’m stuck with him, an invisible tether that keeps us together until I die.
And who knows where I go in the afterlife here? With my luck, it’d be right back to Kalos’s side.
I pull the covers over my head as if I can hide from fate itself.
Chapter
Fifteen
Asound wakes me from my sleep. I tug the blankets higher and roll over on the lumpy mattress. It’s dark in the inn room, but just enough moonlight streams in that I can make out a large picture on the wall.
Before my eyes, a long nose eases its way out of the painting, followed by a hoof. A massive horse head appears, eyes glowing red, and it’s obvious he’s coming to get me—
I jerk upright with a scream.
“What? What is it now?” Kalos’s cranky voice pulls me away from the horrifying sight emerging from the picture.
“Horse,” I wheeze, terrified. I point a trembling finger at the wall. “Horse is coming out of the painting.”
“Oh, by the High Father’s hefty ball-sack.” Kalos gets to his feet and moves toward the painting. My sleep-fogged brain is filled with fear…and then confusion as he raps on the wooden frame and turns back to glare at me. “This painting? This painting of a tree? This painting with absolutely no horses in it?”
“There was a horse,” I mumble, my heart still racing. “I know what I saw.”