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“No, just the one set of wings. I knew there were multiple attackers in the house, that I needed to get to the attic, but I didn’t remember more detail. Not yet anyway.”
“Tell me about the wings you’ve seen here in Syn City.” He glances at the Nymph, takes a draw off the bottle of honey beer that he swiped from Stone’s fridge, and looks at me. “Yours are stunning.”
Not the descriptor I would’ve expected. Scary? Witchy? Freaky? Sure. But stunning? “Wings match the colors of their Houses. Ours are black.” I nod toward the Nymph. “Theirs come in all shades of blue. The Muses’ wings range from deep purple to almost magenta. The ones I saw before I died? They could’ve been tree branches stretched out and stripped of their leaves.”
“Creepy.”
“Yeah.” A chill runs through me, spreading goosebumps across my skin. “Or bones.” The thought has my chest going tight. “Wings made of bone. My baby sister drew something like that in her book of shadows.”
“I saw it, but didn’t know what to make of it,” he admits. “Your mom said Mabel had promise of becoming a great Seer.”
“Mabel had visions of the future. Sometimes she saw happy ones, but most gave her nightmares. What if she saw our deaths?”
He doesn’t answer, just stares at the Nymphs as though he’s processing the awful possibility.
Kiva lands with a thump in the middle of the sparring Nymphs, sending them scattering. She glances my way with simmering rage in her eyes. I hurry her direction.
“The Syndicate passed a ruling on the riot,” she says. “They decided the madness at the Hack and Ale was induced by drugs slipped in the bar snacks and triggered by the scream of a wild boar.”
I can’t believe it. “They’re blaming the murdered shifter?”
She nods. “The sow. Who didn’t have any history of violence.”
“It makes no sense. No shifter scream can do that.” With Nashville considered a city where humans and supernaturals lived together, my junior high science class covered shifter basics from animal coexistence to enhanced speed, strength, and healing. “That’s the stuff of gods or real magic slingers.”
Kiva gives a derisive snort. “We know the magic wielders aren’t leaving their sanctuaries. So unless the poor woman had a war-invoking squeal or hid a monstrous other side—”
“Like the Calydonian boar,” the Nymph who strangled her spear the same as a baseball bat says.
“The what now?” Kiva asks and looks at me.
“I have no idea.” I glance at the Nymph whose wings practically vibrate as if she’s excited she can add to the conversation.
“From Greek mythology.” She hands her spear to Stone when he reaches for it, saying it was better than chancing she might stick herself with it. “You know, the legend of the Calydonian boar hunt.”
“Can’t say that I know that bedtime story,” Kiva says.
Me neither. While we’re deity daughters, Syn City doesn’t give a basic learn the ancient bullshit of your immortal parents course. We sort of wing it—no pun intended—with the mission handed to us by our creators.
The Nymph grins. “Once upon a time—”
“I don’t think that’s how myths start,” Kiva says.
“Shush,” I tell her. “Let her spin the wild pig legend however she wants as long as she covers the key points. Go ahead.”
“Once upon a time,” the Nymph starts again, “a dreadful boar rampaged across the countryside, terrifying the people and devastating the land. The monster roared thunder and belched lightning that scorched the earth.”
“Okay,” Kiva says, “I call bullshit.”
Glaring at her, I point out the obvious. “We died and came back to life able to fly and call magical weapons into our hand with a simple thought. Myths are grounded in magic so suspend reality for a minute…or an hour if you don’t quit interrupting her.” I gesture for the Nymph to continue.
“It’s true,” she insists. “The boar’s mother was a murderous sow, the sister of monsters such as the hydra and chimera.”
I wave a hand. “I believe you. Skip the who begat whom part and get to the action.”
“Okay.” She nods, her blue pigtails bouncing. “A bunch of heroes got together and slew the beast.”
“This story blows,” Kiva mutters.
