'...I think I'm a creep, man.'

Lucian didn't look up from his bucket-the alleged mug. He just chuckled under his moustache. 'You know...if you insult yourself, you're doing half my job. Though at least my insults actually make sense.' The zmeu lightly shook the glass in one hand, and its contents changed from clear to red, plum to grape. 'What'd you do this time? Or-dare I presume?- is it "who"?'

I was only hanging out with him at his palace and wasting my time on this jealous nonsense because my current mission was to hurry up and wait. The only gods in our country, besides God, obviously, were the Dacian ones, and we barely knew more than their names. If they manifested at all, they would be very weak, probably confused to boot. And, after scouring the country from Teleorman to Suceava and from Timiș to Galați, Marcus had told me to take a break from the stake out slash hunt slash god watching, or whatever we'd file it as.

If we survived. The filing cabinets definitely would; they were as impossible to get rid of as the cockroaches who'd probably inherit them, one day.

So, I'd made up some lame excuse about searching zmeu country in case there were any spiteful deities hidden here, and Marcus had pretended to agree and be concerned at the "possibility". In truth, my only other alternative was going home (and my carpets had formed an union to sue me after all the holes I'd paced into them) or lurking around the Omu Peak base like Orlok's Romanian cousin.

Lucian was home that day, luckily. And, among my social circle, he was the best suited to help me deal with whatever was going through my smooth brain.

I took a moment to contemplate going to talk about women with Alex's disembodied, single arse(just as single as mine, in fact) or with pops, who dabbled in romance the same way I washed with incense.

Mihai had advised me to 'take thing slow' after a few questions I'd have liked to consider oblique, citing his decade-long courting of Adriana and the domestic bliss that had resulted from it.

"Dude,' I had texted. "I don't even know how or if I really feel anything, alright? I'm not asking for anyone's hand."

"Really🤔?" had been his reply. "So you haven't gotten tired of yours yet? Damn, Adi will hate losing that bet..."

Then, after half a minute, "I'm just shooting the shit, David. I can only tell you what I'd do in your place, but maybe I'm overly cautious. Your choice."

So, Lucian. Who was still guffawing as I finished my retelling of my little fit of jealousy, or protectiveness, however you want to see it.

'Aaaaaahh~' he stopped to draw his tongue over his teeth, with a sound like knives rasping on stone. 'A pipe? Were you imagining crushing something else, perhaps?'

'Not my fault,' I shrugged, trying to appear less irritated than I was. 'That guy thought he was a hoot.'

And the guffaws returned. 'Fine, fine, but...look,' he put the glass down on the gold table, drawing himself up with a surprisingly clear look in his eyes. I wasn't surprised that he wasn't drunk, or even buzzed-even the weediest zmeu could knock back the world's booze supply without any reaction; they needed special brews to feel anything. I was surprised he was serious. 'David. This isn't dumb lust, if that what you're scared of. Dumb lust is what you'd find next to a picture of me, if you looked it up in the dictionary,' Luci smiled self-deprecatingly, finger-long fangs barred. 'You know my kind are beholden to passions. That's a polite way of saying we're looking to get our rocks off all day, every day,' he held up a clawed finger in warning. 'I've hung out with Mia before, you know. At Lucas' shop. Only damn interesting thing there...anyway, she's not any different. If you do get together, don't fool yourself into thinking it will last forever. Yes, you're both unaging. But zmei aren't made for settling down. Sheer monotony and lust will steer us towards a different partner, after a century, or ten, or a hundred.'

I slouched in my chair as he turned his wine into a tar-thick, purple substance. Distilled from the grass around his palace, by smell. The vapours alone would have killed a man twenty times over.

'It's not that,' I said after he drained half of his glass, which refilled itself. 'I mean...it's...it's that too. But, it's the age gap I'm really worried about. And...the power dynamic. Former power dynamic,' I corrected myself as he raised a thick, bristling black eyebrow, seemingly waiting for me to go on. 'Look, Luci, I'm twenty-six years older than Mia, alright? Old enough to be her father.'

'Well, that will make coming up with pet names easier,' he grinned at my annoyed look, and waved me off with his free hand. 'Lots of supernaturals are older than their partners! Just ask, ah, almost every vamp who ever put it out. Those who stick it in the food, anyway,' he shook his head, still grinning. 'Age gap? David, you know I'm in my mid-sixties, right? Closer to your pops than you. Just 'cause I don't celebrate every birthday doesn't mean they don't exist. And, wanna know a fun fact? Some of my flings could call me grandpa, though most stick to daddy. They could call me father, too.' Another laugh, this one shaking the mountain-sized palace. 'As for the, whatchacallit...so you're her former teacher? So what? That's good, means you know each other already. Not like you started hitting on her in high school or something,' he rolled his yellow, black-slitted eyes at my doubtful expression. 'Mia likes you. Yes, she likes almost everything with a pulse. Lots of things without one. Maybe it's just a phase. You've been to college, she's in it. Experiment.'

'Maybe I will,' haven't been looking for my spine so hard since my fight with the Unscarred. 'We, uh, we talked after my tantrum. She kind of made the same offer you did-'

'Woah! Offer? Easy there, buster. I don't swing both ways, unlike your other scaly friend.'

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

'Fine, hypothesis. Whatever you want to call it,' I steepled my fingers in front of me, staring down at them, looking like the world's most senile mastermind, I was sure. 'You say you meet at the Raised Scale? Regularly?'

'Yeah. Gotta make sure my little big bro hasn't switched his glue with blunts and started eating them.'

Smirking a little guiltily (Lucas deserved all the praise for growing up with Luci as a younger brother and surviving with apparent sanity), I leaned forward. 'Well...please keep an eye on Mia, Luci. Tell her to focus on college. Won't be long before those art classes reach arcane symbology, and it wouldn't do if she was distracted from that by a dusty old man.'

'Sure,' he held up a fist, and we bumped. 'Any...particular reason?'

'I was there when she almost went crazy. Could only wring my hands like a moron and pray I wouldn't have to kill her. At least you had your brother.'

'Hell of a consolation prize, Lucas is,' he sneered, but fondness was palpable under the derision. 'So you still feel the need to protect her? You know she can walk straight through magic and punch mountains to pieces, right?'

'Right. Just...keep her on the straight and narrow, please. For her sake.'

***

Constantin was alone with Him again.

They were never apart, not truly, but human perception still hobbled him.

This wasn't his long dead father, but his Father, after all.

Constantin stood in the Garden, on the mountain-the mountain where the Tablets of Law were sent down, and the one where a father almost sacrificed his son in the folly of blind faith, before the Lord Himself stopped him, and declared no such sacrifices will ever be made in His name.

He stood on the hill where the Son of Man had bled, and at the foot of His Throne as Revelation was prepared.

Perception.

'Forgive me, Father,' he began, hands clasped, head bowed. The floor-the thorns, the rocks, the blades shining with golden flames that swallowed light- tore through his habit and cut his knees.

But Constantin had never been afraid of pain.

'For I have failed in the duty and office You entrusted me. I...' he grasped for words. The Lord was silent, for turning His face alone unmade mountains, and His Voice...His Voice...'The beings some call gods. I know not whether You made them, or whether they are divine-'

'BECAUSE THAT IS NOT YOUR PURPOSE, CONSTANTIN SILVA,' The Lord-Maker, Watcher, Redeemer, Three-In-One and One-Through-Three-spoke. 'YOU TEND TO YOUR FLOCK. THE LAMB THAT WAS CAST ASIDE AND YOU SHEPHERDED, THOUGH HE PASSED THROUGH THE GATES OF DEATH TWICE. THAT IS ENOUGH.'

'Father!' he could not believe this. 'They...they are planning a war! On Earth! Your flock will die, whether targeted or not. Even those who have turned away from You, or have never kept You...' he lowered his head until his brow met the harrowing floor and split shallowly. Maybe this would open his mind. 'I should have turned them from this course by advice or promise of violence. I...I  have failed You.'

'WE SHALL BE THE JUDGES OF THAT,' he Lord, who was not pretending to be One at the moment, sounded faintly amused. 'YOU WOULD RUN YOURSELF RAGGED, CONSTANTIN, TRYING TO HELP EVERYONE, EVEN THOSE WHO DO NOT ASK FOR OR DESIRE YOUR HELP. THAT IS CONTEMPT FOR THE BODY WE HAVE WROUGHT FROM CLAY. THAT IS ABUSE OF YOUR JUDGEMENT. THAT IS NOT WHY WE GAVE YOU FREE WILL.'

Constantin crossed himself, grimacing at his presumption. Of course-why had he believed he knew the Lord's mind? 'How will I know what to do, Father? I must-I  will-defend my world.'

'WE ARE THE LIGHT AND THE WAY. FOLLOW THE TRUTH OF OUR WORDS, NOT WHAT YOU BELIEVE TO BE THEIR MEANING.'

And then, the church doors opened.

***

Pops was prostrating himself before the altar when I entered, and rose to his feet clumsily, blinking bleary eyes. I help up my hands apologetically. 'Trance?'

'Indeed, my son. But, do not worry. I am fine. Why...' he trailed off as his deep brown eyes took in what I was wearing. Or, rather, what I wasn't. 'Your scarf. Did you lose it?'

'Tossed it myself,' I said quietly, tracing a hand that burned along the icons as I walked to him, the other caressing my noose marks lightly. 'There is a war coming, pops.' His nod, rather than determined or dismayed, was resigned. I pursed my lips. Whatever he had been been shown had clearly been no joyous revelation. 'The Dagda started this, and I doubt he will just stand by and watch. He is not thinking straight anymore, or else Nidhogg would be alive.'

'Are you expecting to fight what some call a god, David? Did you come to me for advice?' Constantin tilted his head, tone slightly droll. 'I would offer some on why you shouldn't, if you would listen.'

'Come on, pops. Do you really think I'd kill myself twice? You know I'm always on the lookout for new experiences.' My bleak grin quickly faded. 'The Fae. They will sally out of Britain and Ireland, whether because of the gods there or despite them. And I...have no way to truly, permanently harm them, if we clash.'

And I explained why I had come. Constantin nodded along, face growing more and more concerned as I spoke.

'That will put you in constant pain, David. Your flesh will sting and burn, and never heal. You have only felt pain briefly, rarely, in the last eight years. Do you even remember what it's like?'

'Unpleasant, I think,' I said with forced levity. 'I need this, pops. Iron, and silver too. The shape will be my weapon against my kind, and any other who fear it.'

'..As you wish, my son. It will be ready in seven days, for such things drawn auspicious numbers to them." Pops clasped his hands in front of himself, mouthing a prayer. "And then, it will be your cross to bear.'