Logan International Airport is always packed, but I make sure to get there with plenty of time to kill so I’m not worried about missing my flight. Regardless, going through security is a nightmare because the general atmosphere is borderline toxic. People are harried, in a rush, trying to push their way ahead of others because “I don’t want to miss my flight!” as if their poor planning is everyone else’s problem. It’s a relief to kick off my shoes, put my carryon on the rack and step through the scanner. I do have my enchanted dagger with me, but said enchanted nature means TSA isn’t going to be able to detect it in my luggage. I get through without any incidents and now that I’m through the worst of it, I take my time getting to my gate.
The Order paid for the flight, it won’t cover food, and I cringe when I get to the area of the airport I need to be in and order some McDonalds at twice the price it should be. It doesn’t taste any better, but at least it sates my hunger and will probably leave me queasy enough to not want any overpriced snacks during the flight.
“Oh hey!” a somewhat familiar voice exclaims.
I look towards the rush of people moving in both directions towards their gates and see Peter standing there, oblivious to the annoyed looks of people maneuvering around him.
“Hey,” I say, waving him over to my table before someone decides to forcibly move him out of the way.
He joins me in the seating area, dropping his full backpack to the floor and sitting back with a sigh. “Crazy, huh? All of us going on a trip together?”
“Pretty much,” I agree. “Is anyone else on this flight? Do you know?”
“Nah, I don’t,” he says. “Probably not, I bet the other two are on private jets or something.”
“While us poor bastards get stuck in coach,” I sigh. “Wait. You are in coach, right? Or did they spring for first class?”
“Ha! First class. Yeah right.”
“I’m glad the Order isn’t the only stingy one then.”
“You’re a misery loves company type, I see.”
“Absolutely.”
"Refreshingly honest though, I love it.”
“That’s me.”
“Let me guess…Order fuck up too?” Peter grins.
“I would say no,” I reply. “Everyone else though…”
“Hey, it’s cool. I’m the Dearden fuck up too.”
“Putting two fuck ups on the case,” I chuckle. “You’d think they’re just trying to get us killed and be done with it.”
“Could be,” Peter says nonchalantly. “At least if we do die during this trip, it’ll be somewhere exotic.”
“Or the shack of some ancient deity,” I point out.
“Yeah, but then we can say we got killed by a god.”
“Who are we going to tell?”
“Uh…God?”
We both shake our heads. It’s a dizzying topic and I’m trying to avoid the inevitable question of my expired faith. If gods from various mythologies are real and still around, some of them anyway, does that mean that the God I followed in my youth is as tangible? It’s highly uncomfortable, and I fidget in my seat wishing I had more cash for the ludicrously expensive drinks being served in the airport.
“How long have you been part of the coven?” I ask more earnestly than necessary.
Peter doesn’t notice, or he’s feeling the same kind of way and is just as happy for the change of subject. “Five years,” he replies. “I was actually going to try and join the Moliere Coven, because word was it was the strongest, but Willow…” a dreamy look crosses his face. “Willow convinced me otherwise.”
“Do I want to know more?” I ask.
“If you’re into that kind of thing.”
“I’m good.”
“How long have you been in the Order?” he asks.
“It’s been eight years.”
“What made you join in the first place?”
I shrug a little. “How do you pretend the world is normal after you find out it isn’t?” I reply. “There didn’t seem like an option not to. Not that I was coerced with sexual favors,” I smirk, hoping he takes it as the joke it’s meant to be. His sly grin says he does. “Just that I would spend the rest of my life regretting it if I didn’t.”
The food court is close enough to our gate that we hear our flight being called for boarding. Neither of us are in the first group to board, so we don’t rush to get back over there. I toss the McDonalds trash in the bin, stretch languidly, then grab the handle of my carryon while Peter slings the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
“Where are you sitting?” he asks.
I show him my boarding pass and he frowns. “Hm, I don’t want to be stuck with a boring old mundane. I’ll compel your seatmate to switch with me.”
“Are you allowed to do that?”
“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” he says.
I can’t help but feel like he’s lying, but at the same time if I am going to be stuck next to someone, I’d prefer it to be him. He’s easy to talk to, and he gets the sort of pressure I’m under since he’s sharing it. When my group is called, I head through the gate and into the narrow corridor. I really hate planes. I feel like I’m going to whack someone in the face with my bag or my ass trying to scoot by and it always seems like everyone moves in slow motion. How long does it really take to stuff a bag into the overhead and sit the fuck down?
It’s probably way less time than it feels like when I reach my seat. I get my bag stowed and sit. There’s already a woman seated at the window. She doesn’t look at me and I respect her aversion for any form of contact. A couple of minutes later a man pauses by my row and puts his bag overhead. I step out of the seat and he slides into the middle. I’m just getting situated again when Peter stops by the row and looks directly at the man.
“Hey, let’s switch. This seat is awful for you,” he says.
His voice has taken a sultry tone, eyes half lidded and exuding all the rockstar glory days sex vibes. I wonder if it matters what the man is into, or if there’s just no resisting the thrall of a vampire. Either way, he smiles serenely and starts getting up, which forces me to get up and step aside and push Peter back a little so the man can get out and grab his shit before moving towards the end of the plane.
“See? No harm done,” Peter says, stuffing his bag into place and claiming his new seat.
The woman is staring at him though and he grins. “You heard nothing,” he says, and her eyes go vacant and she stares out the window again.
“Fuck that’s useful,” I sigh.
“Right? Willow says I have a natural talent for it too,” Peter beams.
“You’re a menace.”
“If only my name was Dennis. Oh, speaking of…why were you so surprised to learn my name?”
It feels embarrassing at this point, but I proceed anyway. “I figured with your look it’d be something more stereotypically gothic or whatever. Tristan. Damien. Warlock, I don’t know.”
“I am so offended. You Order types, always assuming.”
“All right, calm down, Peter.”
He makes a face at me and then laughs. By now the flight attendant is getting ready for the safety spiel and I zone out, thankful that it’s not an extremely long flight.
Three and a half hours later the plane touches down in Nassau. By now I’ve gotten to know Peter a little better. It turns out he has five siblings, was raised by his mother after his father took off, and met his sire by chance in the late 80s at a concert and hit it off with her. When she revealed her true nature, Peter asked her to turn him so he could escape his life. When asked if he regretted it at all, he said ‘no’ a bit too quickly, but I don’t know him well enough to pry.
“I need to get a rental,” I say, rubbing my tired eyes gently.
“Might as well get it together,” Peter replies.
“Why?”
“We’re all staying at the townhome? Duh?”
“We are?” There goes my idea of solitary recovery from the absolutely shitty time I’ve been having lately.
“Best sleepover ever,” Peter’s smile says he was also hoping to get his own place.
It makes sense to keep us together, but I’m not really looking forward to it. It is meant to be work, however, so I guess me enjoying it as a vacation was always out of the question anyway. I sigh and we both head off to follow the directions to the rental places in the airport. Peter ends up paying for it, since Willow gave him a substantially larger budget than I have, and we step out into the warm night and look for the sedan.
It’s a nondescript green Toyota Camry. We put our luggage in the trunk, get into our seats and Peter starts up the engine while I take out my phone to plug the address into Google Maps. Once it’s calculated, Peter takes off from the airport. There isn’t much to look at during the drive. I’m sure during the day that’s a different story, but it’s pretty dark now and I catch what the headlights do and not much else. I can’t help being a little excited about being here, even if it’s one of the most bizarre tasks I’ve ever taken on. I’ve never been to the Caribbean, and if Brianna is really planning to take a day to go to the beach, I’m going to find a way to join her.
The townhome is only about fifteen minutes from the airport, and when Peter pulls in to the drive way, we see two other cars already parked. I don’t know why I have such a hard time picturing Orpheus driving, but it’s likely because I only imagine him in that impressive but bulky armor. It’s dark inside for the most part, but I do see the glow of a warm lamp through one of the windows. We get our stuff and approach the door. I’m about to ask if Peter has a key since I sure as hell don’t, but it opens before we get up the last step and reveals Orpheus. He’s using a Glamor, his skin is no longer tinted blue, his features are less elongated, and his dark hair is tied back in a low ponytail. He’s wearing a plain red t-shirt and jeans, looking completely unremarkable.
“Welcome,” he says.
“Thanks,” I reply, stepping past him as he holds the door open for us both. “Nice place. Didn’t realize we were all going to be staying here though.”
“I doubt we will spend much time here,” Orpheus points out.
“Speak for yourself,” Peter replies. “Some of us have an aversion to the sun.”
“Didn’t you pack a parasol? Sunscreen?” I ask. I wince inwardly, thinking of Henry’s ridiculous number of layers whenever I forced him out during the day to meet.
Peter grimaces at me and shakes his head. “I’m not risking it, not here. Just…look for the dude at night, yeah?”
“How limiting,” Orpheus sighs. “I suppose we can focus on other things while you rest.”
"So sorry to be such an inconvenience,” Peter grumbles.
I’m not complaining. That means I can get to the beach, but I’m careful about keeping my expression neutral instead of grinning like an idiot. “What’s the sleeping arrangement like?” I ask innocently.
“Two bedrooms,” Orpheus replies. “One pull-out couch. Brianna has already taken a bedroom; you may have the other Riley. I’m fine on the couch.”
I raise a brow at him, but decide not to ask his reason for giving me the other room. I can hazard a guess, and I suppose I can appreciate the gesture to give me more privacy. Peter, however, lets out a groan.
“What am I supposed to do? Sleep on the foot of a bed?” he whines.
“You can use the couch during the day,” Orpheus replies.
“Hot racking. Awesome.”
“All right, well…I’m going to go sleep,” I say. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help adding, “in an actual bed.”
“Fuck you, Riley, I thought we were bonding,” Peter retorts immediately.
“Welcome to what bonding with Riley means,” I say with a grin before I head up the stairs Orpheus indicates.
One of the doors after the landing is closed while the other is open. I go to the latter and see a queen size bed with fluffy pillows all set in vibrant cases. There are matching prints on the walls, bold colors splashed against canvas, and a set of drawers against the wall. I don’t feel like unpacking right now and instead I kick off my shoes, strip to my boxers, and collapse into bed. It’s soft and comfortable, lulling me to sleep sooner than usual. Normally I can barely sleep in unfamiliar places, but then again, I don’t recall feeling this drained in my life.
I wake to knocking at my door. With a low sigh, I kick off the covers and get out of bed, shuffling to the door and opening it a crack. Brianna is standing on the other side and she smirks when she sees me.
“You going to join us today?” she asks.
“To the beach?” I ask.
“That’s later, lazy ass. Orpheus and I are doing research on Hephaestus, get an idea of who we’re dealing with before rushing in.”
“Okay, yep. I’ll be down there soon.”
I shut the door and toss my luggage onto the bed, rummaging through it for fresh clothes and my hair and tooth brush. There’s only one bathroom in the place, fortunately unoccupied when I get to it so I can splash water on my face and brush my teeth. Feeling slightly more awake, I join the werewolf and the Fae knight in the kitchen. I smell coffee and I make a beeline for the pot, filling it up and dumping in some sugar for an added kick. Then I join the pair at the table, where Orpheus is looking through a book and Brianna scrolls her finger across the screen of a tablet.
“So, what are we dealing with?” I ask, stifling a yawn.
“I mean, a quick search says he’s the god of smithing and fire. He was tossed off Mt. Olympus by his mother, Hera, survived, ended up married to Aphrodite which apparently was a big thing because he was considered so ugly – hence the throwing off the mountain shit, and she was well…Aphrodite.”
“Loving the drama,” I reply.
“Hephaestus was always amiable,” Orpheus adds. “It did not matter what someone was, or where they came from, if they sought his skills and could pay for them, he did not turn them away.”
“Even a murderous plague god like Erra?” I ask.
“Even so.”
“Great. Let’s hope that’s still how he operates so he doesn’t chase us off.”
“Bryn’s letter will ensure he doesn’t.”
I nod, hoping he’s right. “Do we know which island he’s on?”
“Bryn suggested we start by going to Shark Creek beach. That is where he frequents the most.”
“Kind of an ominous name for a beach,” Brianna huffs.
“For real,” I agree. “Where is that anyway?”
“The Berry Islands, north of here,” Orpheus explains. “It’s a smaller one, but that is what we should focus on. Hephaestus seems to prefer those to the larger, more populated ones.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“A fellow recluse,” I muse. “Excellent.”
“We have a starting point then,” Brianna says. “Which means we just have to wait for that pasty twig to wake up so we can go.”
“Yes,” Orpheus replies. “Much as I would rather go now, it would be a slight against the Dearden and O’Ceallaigh covens.”
“I guess we’ll just have to spend the day doing whatever,” I smile lightly. “Like…going to the beach.”
“My responsible side says we shouldn’t, but my logical side says what the hell else are we going to do?” Brianna says, getting up with gusto. “I’m going. There’s a private beach in walking distance. You coming, Orpheus?”
“No, thank you.”
“Your loss,” she says with a shrug. “Move your ass, Riley. Let’s do this.”
***
I can’t remember the last time I feel so relaxed. At the beach I laid out and soaked in the sun, swam in the warm waters, chatted with Brianna, and for the most part didn’t think about anything but that present moment. I focus on the call of birds, the sound of other people, the ocean waves, distant ship horns…the only thing that broke the serenity was planes coming in for landings, but even that was a sight to see considering how close the beach is to the airport.
When we get hungry, we return to the townhome for food, and once finished, head back to the beach for another hour or so. We leave with enough time to wash up and take a nap, rising as the sun begins to dip below the horizon and getting ready for tonight.
The sky still has some light in it when Peter rouses from the couch and joins us in the kitchen. With him awake, there’s no more reason to stay put. I’m not sure if the others are bringing any sort of weapons, but I have my enchanted blade…just in case. I hope that Hephaestus is as nice as he’s meant to be and I won’t need it.
“Take a look at this,” Orpheus says to me and Peter, handing me a photo. “That is who we are looking for.”
I hold it so that the vampire can look too, getting our first impression of an ancient deity. He just looks…normal. Like a man in his late 50s, with a gray beard, short gray hair, warm eyes, and built like a brick house. He’s smiling in the photo, and it looks genuine. Despite his broad size, he looks like a good guy, and that gives me hope that Bryn didn’t exaggerate when he told us not to worry about undue hostility.
“Are there any boats going around at this time?” I ask, handing back the picture.
“No, not any time soon,” Orpheus replies. “We will instead take another flight.”
“Oh, great,” Peter sighs.
“It is only fifteen minutes,” the Fae chastises.
Since we all fit in one rental car, we don’t bother splitting up and soon we’re back at the airport heading for Le Air airways, which apparently runs two flights out to the Berry Islands. Orpheus and Brianna already secured tickets while they were waiting for me and Peter to reach the Bahamas, so we don’t have to worry about that. It’s a much smaller plane too, although as we get to the gate, we’re advised it’s going to be a little late.
A little late is more like an hour, and I’m glad we’re not counting on it to make a connecting flight or anything. Some of the passengers are, because they’re fuming and terse with the flight attendants as they board the propeller plane. I tune them and their negativity out so my anxiety doesn’t get worse than it is already. If Hephaestus agrees to help us then we’ll be taking one big step forward. If he really is powerful enough that he was seen as a god, surely he must know of a way to separate Erra from Henry too. I know Brianna will have my back when I ask him about it, I’m not sure about Orpheus and Peter.
I don’t bother asking either of them as the plane takes off. We’re seated near the engines and it’s loud, besides I think this will be a better ‘ask forgiveness instead of permission’ situation. I know I’m on thin fucking ice with Sheldon, but Sheldon isn’t here and from what I saw at the Council, he’s not really all that popular among the supernatural communities either. Hopefully that means none of my companions will mention every single question we ask Hephaestus. Maybe I should focus my hope on finding the guy first though. It would be just our luck for our quarry to move on from the Caribbean altogether. If he’s fucked off to another island chain, we’re going to be out of luck unless Bryn can get in touch with him. How much time will they dedicate to this plan?
I spend the flight worrying about how this is going to play out, and wipe my clammy hands on my cargo shorts as it begins to descend for the landing. The airport itself isn’t huge, the plane touches down, slows and stops before a pale blue building. It still looks new, and as we step off the plane and approach it, I see ‘established 2022’ on the sign. While it may be good for the Berry Islands, it does make me worry that my fear of Hephaestus moving on double. If he didn’t like crowds and the government was trying to revitalize the island for tourism, there is a good chance he's bounced by now. I say nothing of my concerns as we walk through the pristine building – it really is nice, and any other time I would commend it for not holding the dread and anxiety most airports do – but I do pick up the pace, thankful none of my companions ask what the rush is.
“So…do we just start walking and hope we bump into him?” Peter asks once we step outside.
“Let’s start at that beach,” I suggest. “And work our way out from there.”
“We probably need another car,” Brianna sighs, looking at her phone. “It’s an hour walk otherwise.”
“The distance is short enough that we may walk the path of my people,” Orpheus says. “I can sense things better there, even if he hides his aura I would feel it.”
“What about Erra?” Brianna asks.
“At this point, we should be far enough away and our distance short enough that he won’t notice anything.”
“You don’t think Hephaestus will sense us coming?” I ask.
“He may, but we are not trying to surprise him,” the knight replies.
I’m not used to such blatant approaches when it comes to my job. With that decided, Orpheus steps into the light shining from the airport. His shadow lays before him and I watch as it takes the shape of a rectangle before it lifts from the sand-strewn pavement, a doorway to darkness. It looks ominous, but Orpheus isn’t giving us time to assess it as he strides into the depths. With a grimace, I follow him, hearing Brianna and Peter close behind me.
It’s bizarre walking the path of the Fae. It looks like the color has been drained from the world, and while I can still see the building and surrounding features of the airport, they seem hazy and dimmed. It reminds me of what it’s like looking at Billy now, and I can’t help but wonder if he would look more like he did if he walked with us here. Sound is amplified, but at the same time it somehow sounds muffled. Heartbeats under water comes to mind. There are also faint shapes that emerge and disappear, some more vibrant than others, some more recognizable. I see the outlines of people, plants, and animals – echoes of them around us, but never crossing our path.
“Do not pay them mind,” Orpheus says without looking back at us. “They would see you trapped here with them.”
I stop looking for figures to discern after the warning. Of course there is some foul trap to the place, when is there not? Or maybe I’m just feeling more pessimistic than usual. I sigh and mentally shake myself to clear my head.
What I can’t shake off is the sense of fatigue the longer we move through this plane. I frown, and look at Brianna and Peter. “Is it me—”
“Probably,” Brianna cuts in.
I deign not to acknowledge the interruption, or Peter’s stifled snort of amusement. “Is this place making anyone else feel…drained?”
“No,” Peter replies.
“A little bit,” Brianna says.
“Orpheus, why do me and Brianna feel shitty?”
“These roads were not meant for you.”
"How come I feel fine?” Peter asks.
“You are not among the living.”
“But you are,” Brianna points out.
“Yes, but I was never human,” Orpheus says. “Worry not, I think we are close to our destination.”
We go no more than five feet when my pendant starts to vibrate in a pattern I don’t recognize. Peter looks nervous suddenly, and Brianna looks on edge. Only Orpheus seems completely unphased by the growing force of power around us. Ahead, I see the blocky shape of a building, not wholly corporeal and I can’t make out its distinct details. Orpheus pauses here, however, nods and then steps a little to the side as another rectangular opening appears. Now I see the building clearly, it’s a little shack in the middle of nowhere and I give Peter a knowing look. If we die, I’m going to be right about the less glamorous ending.
We step out of the Fae’s path and Orpheus closes the way behind him. There are no lights on in the shack, but there are signs of activity. A firepit has recently burned wood in it, there is a fish drying rack nearby that is nearly full, and a woven lounge chair with a towel draped over the back. We exchange a glance, and for once I’m glad I’m no longer in a leadership role because it means I don’t have to be the asshole to knock on a god’s door.
It doesn’t feel like we’re standing around for a long time, but Brianna huffs a sigh of impatience anyway and takes it upon herself to go up to the door. She raises her hand and knocks on the wood firmly. There is nothing but the ambient noise of nature around us for a few seconds and then the audible groan of someone getting to their feet. Heavy footsteps come closer and the door swings outward to reveal the man from the photo; Hephaestus.
He’s not exceptionally tall, I’d put him at 5’11” at the most, but his presence is still enormous. It may be the barrel chest, or the broad face, or the arms that look thick as legs. He’s not dressed how I imagine a god would either. He’s wearing swimming trunks and a tank top; his feet are bare and dusted with sand.
“You Jehovah Witnesses are getting kinda ridiculous,” he speaks in a gruff voice, with the hint of an accent I assume is Greek.
“Nothing stops this Jesus train!” Peter exclaims.
And Hephaestus laughs, all but shattering my nerves that he’s going to turn us away…or worse.
“Shit, okay. I don’t want to risk getting run over and churned to chum,” he says. “But I would appreciate knowing what brings such an eclectic group to my door.”
“We’re here to ask for help,” I begin.
Hephaestus’s smile freezes in place, in a way that tells me he is visibly forcing it to remain. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’d say come in and sit down, but I haven’t tidied in…awhile. Let’s get the fire going and pop down in the sand. You could even introduce yourselves.”
“Perhaps this will serve to put you more at ease,” Orpheus replies, handing Hephaestus the letter from Bryn.
He opens it, bright eyes scanning the script. “Uh huh…uhhhh huh. Well. Fuck. Okay. I guess my actively avoiding civilization was an invitation to get involved in this calamity. Thanks a lot, Bryn. Thanks a fucking lot.”
The firepit suddenly reignites, flames roaring until Hephaestus clears his throat and takes a few deep breaths. When he calms, the fire does too, receding to a more reasonable level. I’m on edge again, ready to grab my blade, and I can see my companions are bracing for hostility too. Hephaestus obviously notices, because he looks at each of us in turn and waves a hand dismissively.
“Oh stop. I have every reason to knock your heads in, but I’m not going to. Sit down, ask what you need to ask, and I’ll see if I can help you. Then, you shall go your merry way and I will keep an eye out for new real estate.”
Hephaestus then plops down in the sand, crossing his legs and waiting for us to join him. We do so cautiously, but it seems his irritation is passing. We introduce ourselves, and I have to bite back my torrent of questions about saving Henry and decide to wait for one of the other three to begin the questions.
“Erra has returned,” Orpheus says.
“Yeahhh I got that from the letter, thanks,” Hephaestus replies. “And I felt him come back anyway.”
“All the way out here?” Peter asks.
“He’s powerful,” Hephaestus says with a shrug. “And I know his energy.”
“Does that mean you know how to stop him too?” Brianna asks. “Riley, tell him about what you found in the Archives already.”
“Yes, do tell,” the ancient being adds.
“My colleague and I were researching and came across something about a weapon you forged, but we couldn’t decipher what kind of weapon it was, and we were wondering if it was enough to do anything against something like Erra. There was also something about cold iron and ash in a different text, something that Erra’s…Lost Children discovered to fight their would-be enemies. We figured that was the Fae, seeing how he was a pestilence and the Fae are attuned to nature and life.”
“Man, you guys are really busting my retirement groove,” Hephaestus sighs. “Yeah. I forged a lot of weapons that would be considered ‘god killers.’ And yeah, maybe I made one that has a high probability of killing someone like Erra.”
“So, you really are a god?” Peter asks.
Hephaestus looks at him, incredulous. “Is that really important?” he asks. “I’m me. I’m an old ass man who has a knack for smithing shit and making fires. You want to know about one subject or chat about my history?”
“He spoke out of turn,” Orpheus says coldly. “Please, continue.”
“Bah.”
“You said maybe,” I point out. “Maybe you made a weapon that could kill Erra. You don’t know?”
“I never tested it,” Hephaestus says, looking dodgy.
“Why not?” Brianna asks.
“I’m not a war god and I sort of had reason not to turn to the war god I knew since he fucked my wife.”
“How would you ascertain the qualities of such a weapon unless you knew the Sun King?” Orpheus asks.
Hephaestus frowns at the knight. “All right, so I probably knew him.”
“Probably?” I ask.
“I knew him,” he grumbles. “He’s my friend. Or was, I haven’t talked to him in…shit I don’t know, it’s been a really long time.”
We stare at him and he raises his brows. “What? He’s a humorous bastard, loads of fun too.”
“He sounds like a nightmare,” Peter counters.
“Yeah, he’s that too. Why do you think I made a weapon? I know what he is, I’m not fucking stupid and I’m not ready to get wiped out, no night out is that good.”
“What sort of weapon was it?” I ask.
“A sword,” Hephaestus replies. “Enchanted, of course. I named it Sun Setter.”
“Enchanted how?” Brianna asks, sounding disappointed.
“It is the antithesis of Erra. Look, Erra is a master with a halberd. It’d be a miracle to get close enough to him for it to be ineffective. On top of that, he’s got that heat…hot as the sun some say, so even if you were to get close, that heat would force you back.”
“So, what the fuck is a sword going to do against that?” Peter asks.
“It is enchanted” Hephaestus repeats. “You get the sword and bring it to me, I'll show you why I'm so confident in it.”
“There is still the matter of the blight,” Orpheus muses.
“Cold iron and ash,” Hephaestus sighs. “The Unfulfilled Wish. It’s a dagger, and as the name implies, it grants the one who wields it a wish.”
“Any wish?” Peter asks.
“So the legends say,” Hephaestus replies. “You could wish his Blight away.”
“What would happen if we separated Erra from his host?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager. I notice Brianna paying even closer attention than before.
“It’s hard to get the power needed to maintain our actual forms these days,” the blacksmith replies. “He would likely seek another host, but it’s not like demon movies or whatever. We can’t just hop around willy nilly.”
“You got to prime a vessel,” I whisper.
“Yep.”
“Well, actually…most of the demon movies they have to prime the victim too,” Peter says.
“I swear I’m going to bury your head in the sand if you keep making stupid comments,” Brianna snaps.
“I want to save Erra’s vessel,” it feels wrong referring to him like that. “I want to save Henry.”
“Why?” Hephaestus asks.
“Because I love him,” I reply, ignoring the looks from Peter and Orpheus. “Is there a way? Would this Unfulfilled Wish be able to separate them without hurting Henry?”
“I don’t know,” Hephaestus says. “I think it would separate them, and if the intent behind the wish is that no harm’s done…but, I’m not sure. I don’t know what state the vessel—”
“Henry,” I interrupt.
“…Henry would be in. It’s never been done before.”
“What if we separate them and then use your sword to kill Erra?” Brianna asks.
“Uh, good luck stabbing pure energy,” Hephaestus says. “Saving your buddy means letting Erra go. He may not have the means to do much that way, but he’s a resourceful fucker and if he doesn’t find another vessel, he’ll find a way to get enough power to form his true self, horns and all.”
“Where would he even get the power for that?” Peter asks.
“The True Source,” I murmur. “Paradise.”
“That would do it,” Hephaestus says, eyes locked on the fire which has grown a little bigger again.
“Do you know much about the True Source?” Orpheus asks.
“It’s the reason me, Erra, and others were looked upon as gods. We were just…extremely connected to it, and we were the only beings that were back then, so we could do amazing things. Things that defied all logic, and made the mundanes put us on pedestals.”
“So…you’re all essentially just really powerful mages?” I ask.
Hephaestus shook his head. “No, mages and their kind are mundane. I mean, not mundane, obviously, but they are human. I’m not, none of us were.”
We are quiet for a time, all of us processing this information on our own. There’s a chance! There is a chance I can save Henry! Even if it means we can’t destroy Erra right away, we could then focus on a means of doing so once Henry is safe. We could use Sun Setter, even if Hephaestus is doubtful of its usefulness while Erra is out of a host, maybe it would do damage anyway. If not, we can make sure we track him to his next vessel and eliminate him for good before he can reestablish himself in another.
“Where is your magic sword anyway?” Peter asks.
“I don’t know,” Hephaestus replies.
“How do you not know?!”
“I told you. Erra was my friend, I made the weapon as assurance, but I didn’t think I would actually be able to use it against him. I didn’t want to destroy it either, so I had Hermes hide it away somewhere.”
“Goddammit,” I groan. “Where’s Hermes then?”
“Dead, but hey don’t despair on my account,” Hephaestus replies. “He did leave me a cryptic ass book that apparently says where he hid it. I don’t have a head for puzzles and I never had a reason to bother getting it. You can have it and decipher it yourselves.”
“We are grateful,” Orpheus says.
“Yeah, for real,” Brianna adds. “We know you didn’t have to help us at all.”
Hephaestus grunts as he gets to his feet, shrugging his massive shoulders. “I know he needs to be stopped, I know I’m not the one who can do it. I hope you lot are.” He looks at me directly. “And I hope you can save your guy in the process.”
He heads in the direction of his shack and I can’t help feeling sorry for him. This isn’t easy for him, he’s sacrificing those memories of his friend for the sake of everyone else. It makes me wonder about Erra more though. When I dealt with him, he came across as arrogant and malevolent, hardly redeeming qualities for a friend. And yet, the likes of Vasilisa and now Hephaestus would only go so far to help me, unable to completely turn against the King of Sunset. How did Erra win their hearts? Don’t think about it, I tell myself somewhat harshly. Don’t humanize him. Focus on Henry. Because Henry didn’t deserve his fate at all, and even if there is goodness in Erra, it doesn’t negate the fact that he’s taken Henry’s life from his own control.
“Sooo,” Peter drawls. “You and Erra?”
“Not Erra,” I snap. “Henry.”
“Whatever your history with this Henry, there is no guarantee that the dagger will separate them,” Orpheus says. “Hephaestus spoke of legends surrounding the dagger, he did not say anything about knowing its capabilities personally.”
“I’ll find a way to make it a certainty,” I reply.
“We cannot risk it,” the Fae knight sighs. “Better to use it as a back up to slay Erra.”
“Fuck you we can’t.”
“I’m with Riley on this. We find a way to ensure we save Henry,” Brianna says.
Orpheus offers no counterpoint, but I can tell this is far from over. The only reason he doesn’t pursue it is because Hephaestus reemerges from the shack. It’s weird to think of him as a god from Mount Olympus. I can feel echoes of his power, and my pendant is still vibrating somewhat wildly beneath my shirt. The air is charged around this place, but chances are I will never know just how much he’s capable of. For now, nothing he could do is more helpful than his handing the small notebook to me.
“Thank you,” I say, feeling my heart somewhere up in my throat. “You don’t have an idea about the Unfulfilled Wish’s location too, do you?”
“Nope,” Hephaestus replies. “Sorry, that one was never mine. You’ll have to track it yourself.”
“Damn,” I mutter. I think about the passage, about all the information from the texts Chiaki and I read in the Archives. “Is there…an Archives in Iraq?” I ask.
“Not exactly,” Orpheus replies. "There are the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. It isn't organized like the Archives here, but there is much information to be found there."
“I think that’s where the dagger was made, so we can start there.”
“Wherever you start, can you get a move on?” Hephaestus asks. “I was not prepared for heavy topics tonight, and I’d like to enjoy my solitude again.”
“How can we repay you?” Brianna asks.
“Uh, by leaving. Seriously, you would not believe the amount of crap I’ve accumulated over the centuries. I don’t need repayment.”
We thank him anyway, but briefly because no one here wants to annoy a god even if he is ‘retired’ as he put it. Hephaestus waves us away and returns to his shack. As soon as the door shuts, the fire goes out and leaves us in darkness. My mind is buzzing so much I hardly notice, however, and I can’t help the giddy feeling that has me wanting to sprint back to the airport and get to the dagger. I can’t think of the doubts Orpheus pointed out. Right now, I revel inwardly that there’s a chance at all.