death I have at sunrise. I don’t want to die here.
I think of the drums, and the voices I heard back in my apartment. I’ve been brought here for a reason. Maybe this is it. Aron’s terrifying, but I’ve worked for asshole bosses before.
And what’s he going to do to me? Kill me? I’m supposed to die at sunrise anyhow. Maybe this absolute raging dick of a god is the King of Pentacles I’m supposed to meet. Maybe it’s because he’s the one that can send me home.
I shoot to my feet. “I’ll do it.”
7
The room sucks in a collective breath, and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake.
But I remain standing, unwilling to back down. I’ve made my choice. If I was brought to this crappy world for a reason, maybe it’s right here, sitting in that throne and glaring at me.
The god looks me up and down. “You?”
Arrogant dick. “Me. I might not be a great servant, but it’s freely given.” I move forward, stepping over the cowering people. It feels a bit like I’m walking right to my death, but I tell myself that’s just their fear getting to me. “That’s your requirement, right?”
“You wish to serve me in all ways?” The tone of his voice is arrogant, his expression practically a sneer. He also makes it sound as if serving him is going to have layered implications, and I can just guess what some of those layers are by his tone.
All ways means exactly what I think it means.
I do my best to look unfazed and make a joke. “Does that mean butt stuff? Because I draw the line at butt stuff.”
Aron snorts, and it’s the first time he’s shown any emotion other than disgust. His blade-sharp mismatched eyes narrow on me. I think for a moment that he’s going to give me a nasty cutdown like he did the prelate.
Instead, he extends his hand, palm up. Waiting.
I swallow hard and wonder if I’m walking into a trap. There has to be a reason why no one else wanted to do this.
But I’m out of options, so I take a deep breath and walk forward, up the steps, and put my hand in his.
CRACK.
Lightning sizzles. It’s like being electrocuted.
Power surges through my body and I’m dimly aware of my choking gasp before I’m flattened to the ground, collapsing at his feet. My jaw smacks against his ankle and I slide down the marble stairs a few steps.
No one comes over to help me.
It takes me a moment. My stunned conscious feels as if the world is collapsing in on itself and there’s both pleasure and pain in this moment. It’s like I’m being split and remade at a cosmic level, and then pushed back into human form again. Everything hurts.
Then everything refocuses, and the world becomes clear once more.
I don’t realize the room is quiet until I hear a low, pleasant voice. Aron. “You are right. That is better.”
I turn my head and look over and the god—I don’t doubt that’s what he is now—flexes his hand again. His color looks a little better than the paper-white shade his skin was before. It’s like he’s taken on some of my healthy glow.
Okay, maybe no one wanted to hitch their wagon to his because he’s a vampire.
I try to get up, but my limbs feel like noodles. I roll onto my side, and then try to push myself up off the floor with my weak arms. Am I drooling? I might be drooling.
“I’m cool,” I mutter. “No one help me get up. I’ve got it.”
“Help her sit up,” the god says coldly. “I don’t like seeing my servant sprawled like that.”
People rush over to my side, and arms grab me and haul me to my feet. I wobble unsteadily.
“Get her something to sit on,” Aron of the Cleaver demands.
“Shall my throne work, my Lord of Storms—”
The god focuses his cold, angry gaze on the prelate and the man goes silent. “You should not have a throne at all, mortal. This is my temple, is it not?” When the man drops to his knees in supplication, the god looks over at me again. “Get her a cushion. She can sit at my feet.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to gripe that he’s far too kind, but really, a cushion sounds pretty good right now. I’m wiped out by whatever just happened. It’s like my body is trying to recalibrate to something and not quite sure how. As