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)
I wonder if we’re ever going to get back to that place. To casually kissing one another. To him grabbing me and kissing me because he can’t stand another moment without touching me.
His thumb strokes my skin, and goosebumps prickle up my arm. His gaze flicks to my mouth, and I wonder for a moment if he’s going to lean over and kiss me.
Instead, Kalos says, “If I were not here, you’d be with your brother, back in your world.”
It’s like a mental splash of cold water, to be reminded of my brother.
If I were back in my world with David, he’d be dying. Being here, keeping Kalos alive, is keeping David alive, too. I slide my hand out of his grip and pretend interest in the goats. Omos’s little goats are fat, happy creatures. Dingle’s still a baby, but he’s bigger than them, and he’s going to be a very large goat when he’s fully grown. He frolics with them, butting heads and dancing away and having the time of his little goat life. “We should feed them. Omos went to the village, and I don’t know how long he’s going to be gone.”
“Mm.” Kalos is back to being bored.
I start climbing the fence, hauling a leg and my skirts over the rickety wooden railing. I’ll have to find where their food is, but for now, their water bucket is empty and turned over. I can fill that at least. I pick my way across the mud. “He’s delivering herbs to sick nearby, which I think is very sweet of him. It doesn’t sound like it was sickness from one of your Aspects, though. Just run-of-the-mill illness, I suppose.” I take the bucket by the rope handle and lift it from the mud, wrinkling my nose. “You’ll stop him from getting sick, right? Omos? I like him and I’d hate for him to suffer if we can do something about it.”
Kalos shoots me an incredulous look. “What sort of monster do you take me for?”
Is he joking? “I take you as a god who doesn’t give a shit who lives or dies, as you’ve said yourself. Wanna prove me wrong?”
He just grunts, and I think I’ve won the conversation.
After I feed the goats and give them fresh water, I notice the god is still sitting in his same spot on the railing. His eyes are glazed, that vacant, distant look in them. Another wave of apathy. My poor Kalos.
“Come on,” I say softly, taking his hand in mine. “Let’s get you inside and out of the sun, all right? We’ll put your chair by the fire and make you comfortable.”
He lets me lead him into the monastery, his steps slow and measured, as if even his body is fighting the urge to do anything. I murmur encouragement to him along the way, because it’s not his fault that he’s this way. It’s just something he must live with, like anyone else with a chronic illness. All we can do is manage the bad days and enjoy the good ones. I settle him in the chair he’d claimed last night, in the best spot in the house, and pull his boots off for him as I talk, sharing stories of my brother as I do. When David had first started chemo, he’d been weak and sick, and he’d crashed into everything in the apartment, knocking over lamps and picture frames. I’d returned home from my job thinking that we’d been robbed, only to find poor David passed out in the bathroom, snoring. I don’t tell him about how violently ill David had been, because that’s the less charming part of the story.
I think he appreciates my words, though, because as I settle a blanket over his lap, his gaze flicks to me momentarily. A hint of a smile touches his mouth. It’s gone as quickly as it appears, but I’ll take it.
I touch Kalos’s cheek affectionately and set to cleaning up Omos’s living quarters so I can stay near Kalos in case he needs me. “Did I ever tell you about my first job, Kalos? I worked at a fast-food place—a chicken joint. One of the jobs they had me do was making huge vats of coleslaw, and let me tell you, my first attempt was an absolute disaster…”
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Omos returns after dark.
I get to my feet as he enters and takes his bird mask off, smiling briefly at me as he does. He looks tired, his face lined and the hollows under his eyes pronounced. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here when I returned,” he says. “I’m glad to see your faces.”
“We said we’d stay for a few days.”
“Well, yes, but I’ve learned not to have expectations when it comes to the gods.” He says this in a hushed voice as he moves to my side. He glances over at Kalos, then at me, a question in his gaze.