Meroquio cocked his head to the side. “Hmm . . . most people who get me alone have the same motives.” He gazed at the nearly empty drink in his hand as if searching for the code to my strange behavior.
“I imagine,” I said tightly. “But you might find my motives a bit different.”
“I see.” Meroquio sat down on the couch, head tilted in a way that highlighted all of his best features. Not that he had bad ones. Oh, sonofa–
“So what
is
it you want my interesting little human? After all, you did manage to lure me away from my loyal worshipers. I’ll entertain a request. I owe you that much.” He took a sip of his drink.
“It’s about the apocalypse.”
Meroquio choked on his drink.
It’s funny, but all of the gods seemed to have the exact same reaction. I needed to practice being less blunt about this whole apocalypse business.
Once the God of Love had finished coughing up his beverage, I relayed to him exactly what I had to Laetatia and explained how devastated his domain would be without us humans to . . . engage in certain activities with. I tried to be as collected as possible, praying all the while he would keep his focus on my face and not areas I didn’t want him to stare at.
When I finished, he studied his lap for a long while, stroking his chin thoughtfully. That’s funny, I didn’t know Meroquio often engaged in long periods of concentrated thought.
“You do make a good argument, love, even though I don’t know how you found about this little issue of ours.” Meroquio finally said, tipping back his head and draining the rest of his glass.
“It’ll be a shame if we lose humans. They’re just so much fun.” He winked and once again, I found myself torn between wanting to swoon and vomit. “I have a lot of worshipers among humans. The young, love-struck maidens, swooning bachelors who just can’t win over their favorite girl . . . or don’t want a girl at all. Anyone who wears my sign over their doorway and on their hearts.”
My shoulders tensed, and I couldn’t help but recall my mother, sleeping in a bed she had shared with too many men to count. I could
see
Meroquio’s symbol carved into the pendant around her neck and into the doorframe over her bedroom. The red stone. The mark of a harlot’s quarters and my last name.
Memories of my mother enabled me to keep my senses, even in the midst of Meroquio’s charming smile, sparkling eyes, and intoxicating scent.
“Nonetheless,” Meroquio continued. “This does sound like awfully grim stuff. I’m just not the one to spread bad news. I’m more of a fun-loving kind of god. You’d be better off trying one of the others.”
“Yeah, like who?” I’d veered into pissed off territory, a surprisingly helpful emotion for keeping my head clear of wanton thoughts. “You’re the most logical option. You’re the one who needs humans to fuel your little love games. The others don’t care as much. The others would rather see us rot. I’ve already talked with Laetatia. You’re the next best pick.”
“Next best, I’m hurt.” Meroquio rested his cheek against his hand. “But panic, death, fear . . . not much fun at all.” He studied me. “I guess what I really mean is what’s in it for me?”
I stared at him as his question echoed through my mind like the beat of a drum echoing through the caverns of the Fortuna mines. After a mining accident, they played that drum six times for each person who had died. The number of Axira. They said it could be heard all throughout the mines.
“What’s in it for me?”
I knew the answer he wanted. I
knew
what he was looking for, and most girls would have agreed in a heartbeat. Maybe if I was normal, I would too.
But my thoughts were clouded with images of my mother, tangled in soiled sheets at home, whimpering in her sleep.
“Tell you what,” Meroquio said when I didn’t reply. He stood and took a few slow steps toward me.
I should have found his smooth demeanor
“I imagine,” I said tightly. “But you might find my motives a bit different.”
“I see.” Meroquio sat down on the couch, head tilted in a way that highlighted all of his best features. Not that he had bad ones. Oh, sonofa–
“So what
is
it you want my interesting little human? After all, you did manage to lure me away from my loyal worshipers. I’ll entertain a request. I owe you that much.” He took a sip of his drink.
“It’s about the apocalypse.”
Meroquio choked on his drink.
It’s funny, but all of the gods seemed to have the exact same reaction. I needed to practice being less blunt about this whole apocalypse business.
Once the God of Love had finished coughing up his beverage, I relayed to him exactly what I had to Laetatia and explained how devastated his domain would be without us humans to . . . engage in certain activities with. I tried to be as collected as possible, praying all the while he would keep his focus on my face and not areas I didn’t want him to stare at.
When I finished, he studied his lap for a long while, stroking his chin thoughtfully. That’s funny, I didn’t know Meroquio often engaged in long periods of concentrated thought.
“You do make a good argument, love, even though I don’t know how you found about this little issue of ours.” Meroquio finally said, tipping back his head and draining the rest of his glass.
“It’ll be a shame if we lose humans. They’re just so much fun.” He winked and once again, I found myself torn between wanting to swoon and vomit. “I have a lot of worshipers among humans. The young, love-struck maidens, swooning bachelors who just can’t win over their favorite girl . . . or don’t want a girl at all. Anyone who wears my sign over their doorway and on their hearts.”
My shoulders tensed, and I couldn’t help but recall my mother, sleeping in a bed she had shared with too many men to count. I could
see
Meroquio’s symbol carved into the pendant around her neck and into the doorframe over her bedroom. The red stone. The mark of a harlot’s quarters and my last name.
Memories of my mother enabled me to keep my senses, even in the midst of Meroquio’s charming smile, sparkling eyes, and intoxicating scent.
“Nonetheless,” Meroquio continued. “This does sound like awfully grim stuff. I’m just not the one to spread bad news. I’m more of a fun-loving kind of god. You’d be better off trying one of the others.”
“Yeah, like who?” I’d veered into pissed off territory, a surprisingly helpful emotion for keeping my head clear of wanton thoughts. “You’re the most logical option. You’re the one who needs humans to fuel your little love games. The others don’t care as much. The others would rather see us rot. I’ve already talked with Laetatia. You’re the next best pick.”
“Next best, I’m hurt.” Meroquio rested his cheek against his hand. “But panic, death, fear . . . not much fun at all.” He studied me. “I guess what I really mean is what’s in it for me?”
I stared at him as his question echoed through my mind like the beat of a drum echoing through the caverns of the Fortuna mines. After a mining accident, they played that drum six times for each person who had died. The number of Axira. They said it could be heard all throughout the mines.
“What’s in it for me?”
I knew the answer he wanted. I
knew
what he was looking for, and most girls would have agreed in a heartbeat. Maybe if I was normal, I would too.
But my thoughts were clouded with images of my mother, tangled in soiled sheets at home, whimpering in her sleep.
“Tell you what,” Meroquio said when I didn’t reply. He stood and took a few slow steps toward me.
I should have found his smooth demeanor
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