I think the lightning must have mixed with the water and killed the guy… except he wasn’t a guy, not really. And I fucking killed him by accident.” I lean forward, putting my head between my legs. I suddenly feel lightheaded, as if explaining everything that happened somehow makes it more real. There’s a ringing in my ears, and I tell myself to breathe, but that’s difficult when it feels like the world is falling apart. “Fuck,” I say again, and then look back up at Peyton. “Oh my god, they are going to send me to that correctional facility that no one ever comes out of.” My eyes widen, my heart beginning to hammer in my chest. I realize I’m breathing hard, and I probably look like a crazy person. It dawns on me that this is the second outfit I’ve ruined in the past twenty-four hours, and the thought is almost enough to make me laugh hysterically. But not quite.
The supernatural prison isn’t the kind of place anyone wants to be. It’s where the gods of justice put all the bad gods, all the monsters of the world. It’s more or less lawless, the kind of place people never get out of. There’s no such thing as unfair punishment in the magical world, and given the nature of the higher gods, it’s not like I’m going to get a fair trial if they get their hands on me. No - if they do, I’m never coming out, and I won’t last a day. My attitude in life has always been to run away the second things start to look difficult or impossible to survive. That place would make my life motto pretty shite.
The prospect of me getting thrown in jail for the rest of my life is enough to snap Peyton out of his panic, and a look of determination appears on my face as he puts a hand on my shoulder. "No,” he says firmly. “They are not going to blame you for this. That higher god had bad karma coming his way, god or not. Just because he’s a god, that doesn’t mean he’s exempt from the rules of the universe, right?” I open my mouth to respond, but he continues. “I mean, it was an accident, and they have to see that.”
“How?” I ask, throwing my hands up. “How the hell are we supposed to do that, Peyton? We’re just a couple of lesser gods, and we don’t even know the specifics of the situation yet!”
“That doesn’t matter,” Peyton insists, and I can already see the wheels turning in his head as he begins to pace back and forth. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he says. “We’re going to get a meeting with the higher gods on their island to fight your cause.”
“And then what?” I know I’m being pessimistic, but I can’t help it - there are too many questions, and not enough answers. “Just ask them nicely to spare me their wrath because I didn’t know I had been sent after one of their own?”
“Yes,” Peyton says without a hint of sarcasm. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Until then,” he continues, “you’re just going to have to make sure the twin gods of justice don’t catch you before then.” He gives me a long look before moving closer and pulling me into a tight hug once again. I cling to him, feeling like a little girl again, on one of the many times I fell and skinned my knee or messed up a spell. “I won’t let my sister face a life sentence in a hell hole,” he tells me, stroking my hair soothingly. “Okay? None of our family will let that happen.”
I appreciate the comfort, but even Peyton’s reassurances aren’t enough to make me calm down. “This is all assuming the higher gods will even see me,” I say. “Everyone knows they don’t listen to anyone. Going to plead a case with them is pretty much useless. I mean, I might as well walk myself to the prison," I mutter, pushing away from him. I feel like if I have to spend one more second looking into his big, watchful eyes, he he is going to make me cry. Tears aren’t useful right now, and I never cry.
“Look,” Peyton says, not letting me turn away, “this is an unprecedented situation, okay? "There has never been a higher god killed before. I thought it was impossible to kill them, but