Fine. A compromise.
He’d give her the skills to protect herself. Blade work. Grappling. She would be prepared for whatever trials awaited.
When Anubis heard the water turn on in the bathroom, he entered her bedroom, materializing clothes on the bed. His hands hovered over the fabric.
He’d dressed the dead for centuries. Choosing clothes for the living felt wrong. Like preparing her for a war she hadn’t asked for. She wasn’t ready. But he’d make sure she would be.
Shaking off his thoughts, he turned to go to the kitchen. He chopped vegetables and measured spices, but his mind wasn’t fully present.
Anubis was very familiar with curses. He’d placed them himself on those who desecrated tombs. And only on those who deserved it. The one affecting Iliana wasdifferent. The sheer complexity of a curse spanning generations, wielding its dark intent across bloodlines, disgusted him.
Whoever cast it was powerful—and cruel enough not to care about the collateral damage.
The image of Iliana last night, covered in blood, threatened to pull him into self-hatred, but he pushed it away. Dwelling on his failures wasn’t helping her. Cooking for her soothed him, but it didn’t solve the problem.
He needed to do something.
Anubis contacted Thoth, explaining what little he knew of the curse. The god of wisdom and magic should be able to untangle its mysteries.
A little of his tension eased, but it wasn’t enough. He considered telling Iliana about Thoth. He shook his head. There was no point in getting her hopes up until he was sure the other god would accept his request.He allowed the rhythm of cooking to center him as the fragrance of cumin and garlic filled the kitchen.
A familiar presence stirred the air beside him. The god of death didn’t speak at first. Thanatos watched as he worked at the counter, inhaling deeply and taking in the meal Anubis was preparing.
After a long moment, he asked, “How are you doing, Ani?”
He gripped the knife tightly. “Fine.”
Thanatos’ silence ate at him.
He then let out a harsh breath. “I am upset with myself.”
“I think we all are.” Thanatos scrutinized him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Anubis snorted. “Not unless you want to hear me tell you everything you already know.” He kept chopping vegetables, the knife thudding against the cutting board. “I would rather talk about what we are going to do. I asked Thoth to look into the curse, but he has not responded yet. Is there anyone else?”
Thanatos considered. “Hecate might know something. If this curse has any connection to dark magic, she would be the best to ask. The Night Wanderer would be very interested in this.”
Anubis let the small kernel of hope settle in his chest. They had a plan, and with it, a sense of relief and a promise of action.
Chapter twenty-eight
HERMES
Hermes watched Anubis as he moved around the kitchen with ease, grabbing spices and utensils as though he’d been doing it for decades. Every item seemed perfectly placed, and Anubis never hesitated, knowing exactly where everything was.
Watching a god cook. It was ridiculous. Why bother measuring flour when you could conjure a feast with a thought? Still, Anubis seemed to revel in it. His movements were precise and deliberate.
Hermes felt the urge to sneer but caught himself. Was it envy eating away at him, or just boredom? He didn’t see the point of cooking like mortals. It seemed as tedious as sleep—necessary, and utterly intolerable to his restless nature. Even so, beneath the disdain, he felt drawn to it.
Except for last night.
He’d stood over Iliana as she slept in Hypnos’ arms and fought the ridiculous urge to lie down next to her. Instead, he’d left. He returned to his usual duties, escorting souls to their final rest and delivering messages to a handful of gods. But even as distractions kept his mind briefly occupied, he couldn’t shake the restlessness.
Hours later, he gave in to his curiosity, returning to watch over Iliana, just in time to see her eyes fill with tears, and Anubis catching her before she could fall apart.
In the living room, Thanatos and Hypnos spoke quietly, their discussion centered on Iliana’s curse. He’d intended to remain an outsider to all this, dropping in when convenient, causing a stir for his own amusement.
But then, she’d screamed.
