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“So . . . attack. Even though it seems foolhardy. Should I ask Aeval for her help?”
Grandmother Coyote dropped the bones back into the bag and cinched it tight. “No. You’ll need her favor down the road. You can do this, if you are smart and if you are cunning.”
As she paused, I steeled myself for the last—and perhaps most frightening—question. “What do you want in return for the information? What payment do we owe you?”
“Oh my dear, the payment is already in motion. Trust that the debt will be paid and the balance will be righted. Sacrifice is the nature of duty. Now go. You have plans to make and battles to fight.” And without explaining what she meant, she vanished down the hall.
We stared at one another.
“I don’t like that last part. Sacrifice is the nature of duty? What’s she talking about?” I was still smarting over being chosen to sacrifice the Black Unicorn. I knew, logically, that I’d done what was necessary—for both of us—but the memory of his blood on my hands still hurt like hell.
“Come on, we’d better get home and start planning how to take on the Bonecrusher. It looks like we have no choice,” Morio said, pushing himself up from his chair. Delilah and I followed suit, and we trailed out into the day again, making our way through the forest back to Morio’s Subaru. None of us said a word on the way home.
Once home, I decided to take a shower. “Meet you guys in the kitchen afterward,” I said, weary and reeking of smoke from the store. “Find Trillian and Roz and tell them to get in here. Smoky, too. We need everybody’s help with this.” We were going on the offensive, and we had to act fast.
Delilah followed me up, needing a shower, too. “Let me come in with you. We can discuss what’s going on,”
I nodded. We stripped and padded over to my shower. After adjusting the temperature, we climbed in and I handed her one of my loofahs, and grabbed the sponge puff for myself. I took the spot under the showerhead since I knew she hated it spraying in her eyes. I was using my vanilla-scented body wash. Delilah chose the tangerine. We scrubbed away at the stench of smoke and soot.
I let out a long sigh as the hot water streamed over my body. The reality of what had happened was just starting to sink in. Henry was dead. My store was in ruins. And we were about to walk into the lamia’s den. A sudden bubble of tears welled up and I let out a sob.
Delilah dropped the loofahs and held me tight. I leaned on her shoulder, crying. “Shush,” she whispered. “You’ve had one hell of a past few days, haven’t you?”
“Not as bad as Henry.” I tried to sidestep the ache in my heart. But it was useless. The numbness had worn off and I slipped out of her arms and sat on the edge of the tub, letting the water beat down on me and splash over the side. “I can’t believe they killed him like that. He wasn’t part of this—he had nothing to do with the spirit seals and yet they came in and deliberately harmed him and left him for dead.”
“I know, I know,” she said, sitting beside me. She picked up the puff and began gently washing my back. “He was caught in the middle. A casualty of war. We knew this could happen, and it will be a lot worse if we let Shadow Wing win. A lot more Henrys will die.”
I let out a ragged sigh. For once, she was taking charge and letting me be the one to fall apart and I appreciated it more than she could ever imagine. “Everything is a mess. I don’t know what to think. The only one I trust anymore—besides our little group—is Grandmother Coyote. I don’t even trust Father now that he’s sleeping with Tanaquar.”
Delilah nodded, rinsing off my back. “Yeah, I’m having problems with that thought, too. I wonder why we’re going to end up aligning ourselves with the Triple Threat. Pretty, these are so intricate.” She fingered the tattoos on my back, then her own on her forehead. “I wonder if there’s any way out of this?. Is destiny always preplanned? Can we avoid our fate, or is it always fate that we meet it?”
Choking back the tears, I tried to wipe my eyes and only succeeded in getting soap in them. “Oww! Hand me that towel,” I said, motioning to the towel I had hung over the shower curtain rod. Delilah handed it to me and I wiped my eyes, then dropped it on the floor.
“You’re asking some pretty deep philosophical questions,” I said. “Why? I mean . . . we are what we are. We’re on the paths the gods set us on. Aren’t we?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Was it my destiny to become a Death Maiden? Will I have to bear the Autumn Lord’s child? Was it our destiny to fight the demons? And now you’re a priestess and have an unknown path opening in front of you. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the randomness of things. Henry’s death is just another one of them. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was our friend—which made him a target. Was it his destiny to die today? Why did they choose him to start their vendetta with? I guess I just hate feeling like a pawn anymore. I want to have a choice in my life.”
I examined the sponge quietly, then rinsed it under the water. “Hand me the shampoo, please.” She did, and I stood up and lathered my hair with the rich scent of cinnamon and apples. “I think we’re beyond having a choice in the current direction we’re pointed in.”
“Then you think this is our destiny?” she asked, taking the shampoo.
As I rinsed the foam out of my hair, I thought about it. Did I really believe in destiny? Did I believe we were meant to walk this path? Did I believe this was Henry’s day to die?
After a moment, I found my answer. “I don’t know, Kitten, but what I do know is this: We’re here now. We’re involved in this war—hell, we’re on the front lines. We’re facing several tough choices and our advisor is one of the Hags of Fate. Destiny or not, I’m listening to her. I’d rather take the chance she’s right—which the Hags of Fate usually are—than muck things up. Because the gods know I’m all too good at doing that. As far as Henry . . .”
My eyes watered again, but I stared into the spray of warm water and let it wash the tears away. “As far as Henry, he was a victim of circumstance. Maybe it was his time to go, maybe not. But it happened, and we lost a friend. And we’re going to make damned sure the motherfuckers who did this meet the end of our swords.”
“Yes,” she said, quietly. “I’m right there with you on that.”
We finished bathing and toweled off. She ran up to her room to dress while I found a clean skirt and bustier, and then headed downstairs. We had a battle to plan, because I sure as hell didn’t want to lose anybody else.
Delilah brought up Google Earth on the computer and we typed in Stacia Bonecrusher’s address. Smoky was on his way—he’d called from a pay phone to let us know—and Trillian and Rozurial had returned home while we’d been in the shower. Iris had bathed, too, and she was grimly fixing sandwiches for everyone.
Trillian was helping her, and they worked quietly at the counter while Roz, Vanzir, Delilah, and I gathered around the kitchen table. Menolly was still asleep, but it wouldn’t be more than a few hours before she was able to join us. Meanwhile, we’d map out our plans and get everything ready to go.
“There she is, right near Marymoor Park, on Oakdale Street. Just through that strip of trees that divides the area from West Sammamish Parkway.” Delilah zoomed in and pointed out the house—a large, gated mansion set back from the street. From here, we could see several outbuildings in the back.
“Can we get there from Sammamish Parkway?”
