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“Well just don’t piss anyone off then,” she said, scowling. “Don’t think I haven’t heard of you, Graves. The gods talk, but the Greek pantheon? All gossips. I know everything, and more.”
I rolled my eyes, sighing. “Did you hear about the one where Dionysus poisoned me?”
“Yep.”
“What about Arachne hogtying and basically blackmailing me?”
Artemis chuckled. “She’s a riot. Great sense of humor on that one.” She leaned in. “Don’t worry. None of us have mentioned to Nyx that you’re supposed to bring back a lock of her hair.” Artemis slapped me on the back, so hard that I jerked from the impact. “Good luck with that one.”
“Now if everyone would please pay attention,” Nyx said, the pale orbs of her eyes staring searingly in our direction. “Then perhaps we can begin.” She shrugged. “It’s mostly pomp and ceremony, of course, but it is what it is, Dustin Graves.”
Silently, the entities arranged themselves into two ranks, forming a kind of corridor for Nyx to pass through. It was pretty amazing to watch. No one actually pedaled or swam their way through the atmosphere to get into position. They just sort of leaned, then locked into place effortlessly.
I hated to admit it, since he was so aggressive about making fun of me, but Chernobog looked extra cool doing it, the wisps of black cloud and the drapes of his dark cloak wavering and wafting impossibly in an invisible breeze.
Nyx floated towards me very, very slowly, her hands spread apart.
“So the child of man named Dustin Graves has come in search of our aid. What is the Midnight Convocation’s answer?”
Only silence. None of the entities said a word.
“And the child of man seeks our power in aid of his fight against the Old Ones, the very Eldest themselves, who have turned their sightless eyes on the plane we call home, who threaten our authority, nay, our very existence. Will the Midnight Convocation answer?”
Silence again. I wondered if it was part of the ceremony Nyx mentioned, or if the clanging quiet meant bad things.
“So the child of man has come to claim the Crown of Stars,” Nyx said.
The space between her hands glimmered with tiny stars, and the spaces between those stars filled with thin filaments of white brilliance. Like a cat’s cradle the threads wove and wavered, until they created the shape of a circlet, out of purest light. The Crown of Stars shone and shimmered. From the edge of its corona hung a veil of blackest midnight, one that would hide its wearer’s face.
Nyx was only feet away from me now, bearing the Crown in both hands like a totem, like a precious treasure. And surely it was, being a collaborative relic, the sum of the many fractures of power that the entities of Midnight Convocation had channeled into its creation. She stretched her arms up high, lifting the Crown above us, hovering so temptingly close to me, as if she was about to place it on my head.
I licked my lips in anticipation, my chest a tumult of excitement and fear. I was selling my soul. But for power, for the good of humanity.
But I was still selling my soul.
My breath came in jagged spurts as I waited for my doom, my coronation.
“And is the child of man worthy? Is his head deserving of the Crown of Stars?”
Finally, the Midnight Convocation answered, their voices sounding as one.
“N
o.”
Chapter 22
Wait. What? I thought this was in the bag. Wasn’t a soul more than enough payment?
“A price,” Metzli said. “The boy must pay a price, whether in gold or in gore.”
Chernobog spoke, too. “He must prove his worth, in battle and in blood.”
Nyx looked to her siblings, and I followed suit. I couldn’t negotiate my way out of this one, change that many minds. She must have known, too. So why did she offer me the Crown of Stars? To tease? To test?
“It’s the way of things,” Artemis said when I threw her a questioning look. “And I have to say, the trials we set for potential champions are much tamer by comparison.” She rolled her eyes and whistled. “You should see what the Conclave of the Sun demands.”
I threw my hands up. “It couldn’t be worse than giving up my soul, could it?”
