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“Do my dirty work. But my brethren can’t ever know, so you have to keep being a tailor.”
“You want me to deceive the other gods?” Wouldn’t they eventually find out?
“I swore no more interfering, but they don’t understand. While they are off drinking margaritas in Kalamazoo, the world is slowly unraveling.”
“Then why not speak to them? Tell them to come out of retirement.”
“They believe the age of gods is over. No more training wheels. Let humans sink or swim. But I have mortal children, plus a mortal husband. I cannot abandon them and their home like that.”
Damien was not completely buying her story. “Then why not tell me all this to begin with? Why have me running around searching for clues about this fake blast?”
“Oh, I assure you, the blast was real. Just ask MF. But there is no cure. The immortals in the Underworld are never coming back.”
“So you lied to MF?”
“No. No…!” She wagged a bony pale finger in his face. “The blast spared some immortals. Soon the last living vampire will be found. He’s hiding out in South America. But once you find him, he will turn MF if she truly wishes to be immortal again.”
“Me? Find him? I don’t believe I have accepted this role yet. Or fully understand what it entails. Nor have you answered my questions. Why have me hunting down answers for a cure to the blast? Why lie?”
“Because in order to do your job properly, you need to care. Which meant you had to see yourself through the eyes of the creatures you will be helping. You needed a mirror to break your curse.”
“I do not understand.”
“Willamina did not curse you. She was simply telling your future—that you would live on, tormented and feeling afraid to care about anyone ever again.”
“Then how have I remained alive after so long? How does everyone I care for end up dead?”
“You just have really bad luck, but not everyone dies. Your little entourage is full of examples.”
So they were right? “What about Sky’s death?”
“Pet gets the credit for that one. Very nice of you to sew on her wings, by the way.”
“Cimil, how am I still alive?” he growled impatiently.
“Ah! Now there is the fun pickle. Your bloodline was knocked out prematurely by the plague, and when they died, they left their remaining years to you.”
“How is that possible?”
“How do you house two souls in one body? Why does the moon only smell like cheese on Wednesdays? How do baby birds know to fly south for the winter when most skip baby bird kindergarten? The Universe is a mysterious woman, and your kind happens to be very skilled at storing life energy.”
This made no sense. Pure fucking garble! Their bloodline was a genetic anomaly. Wasn’t it?
Cimil went on, “And now comes the kicker. Are you ready for this, Damien? Because it’s a doozy!” Cimil chuckled. “You’re almost out of juice.”
“What?”
“Juice. Oomph. Life light. You’re going to die in two days.”
“I am?” All these years, he’d said he would welcome death. He would run towards the light singing. And now his day was almost here. True peace.
“So you get to choose, Damien. You can die and join the other souls in the great poker hall of the Underworld, or you can pick what’s behind door number two: immortality. For real this time. But just know, if you choose to die, I cannot bring back Sky.”
He frowned. “Why not? Your deal was with her.”
“And, as I told her, if you accept the role, I will give her a second chance at life. But her soul is anchored to yours. If you die in two days’ time, she goes with you to the Underworld.”
“Why can’t you bring her back now? Untether us?”
