pretty boy

     “If anything, I am the more handsome.” After all Raz could take on any face they wanted, the prettiest faces in the universe, and they did not think it to be fair that Mahendra’s magical charm counted for this. But they just rolled their eyes at the other, deciding to drop an argument they clearly could not win anyway. “Fine, be stupid and go ahead, make your mistakes. But if you come crying to me, I’ll say that famous line I told you so. And if she hurts you, she will suffer.”

-

“I would never deny you the pleasure of saying I told you so. I get to say it all the time, so.” He smiled for one final time, glad to have Raz’s approval in some small way - a promise for swift vengeance was the most he could have hoped for. “Unfortunately for you I’m never wrong.” Mahendra said glibly before he poured them both another glass of champagne. “Now come on, I stole some childhood memories from a woman the other day and I wanna give them to that handsome, studly deckhand to see what it does to his ego.”

.

“I would,” she said, though such things weren’t possible. Selene’s residency in her home was not to be permanent, while she did enjoy the warmth of company and the a home that wasn’t empty at all times— she could not bear the fact that she was housing a woman that had bore the lineage that would so easily see Mahendra and his kind extinguished. She enjoyed the company of the cubi, they sat in her heart in the same place as the kobaloi; wily and wicked, they were creatures that she found herself becoming fond of often. “I understand,” Penelope responded, and her thumb brushed against the back of his hand. “Though it is a shame about that cow-shaped ottoman. I was looking forward to it.” She had never known him to be a particularly loyal person, in fact her memory of Mahendra had been betrayed by the defining trait that he was wholly disloyal: but she would not be the one to carve out his heart and point a knife towards his kin. “Selene will find her own place soon, but until then,” one of her hands curved around his lapels, toying with the fabric. “I think I just might have to.”

-

“The cow-shaped ottoman will be waiting for us.” Mahendra promised, “I won’t be denied my aesthetic pleasures forever, I refuse.” Smooth hands wound around Penelope’s frame once more, there was nothing that he would not do for her, but he was no warrior. The incubus was not like the veteran and King Odysseus, it was not with a sword that he won altercations but his mind and his ability to persuade. Even for an incubus, Mahendra was very charming. Perhaps Penelope was proof of that. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers once more, the ocean their backdrop as it waited to welcome them both home. Like the waves that crashed against the shore, he would break against her again and again. “Then come on then,” Mahendra very suddenly picked her up, smiling as he did so and turning across the sand. “I’ve wasted too many years apart from you already.”

.

“Hell can’t be that bad, for all that everyone says. Sounds like all the fun people are there, it’s nice and warm— even the Devil sounds like he can hang.” Milos gestured, “I reckon it’s probably just a big forbidden party where the drinks are a little bit foamy and gross, kind of like that full moon one that they’ve got in Thailand.” This was blasphemy, and he was sure that he would regret the words later, but for now he was grinning, glancing over at the cubi with his crooked expression. “I’m hoping that he finds me just a little bit delightful, that might work a bit better in my favour. I made a promise to a werewolf that I wouldn’t die, and I intend to keep it for her sake.” He snorted, “Yeah, that’s the stuff. I feel like I could use it as oven cleaner and be better off than when I actually swallow it, but it does do the trick— at least it’s strong.”

-

The steam about the bathhouse lingered as Mahendra opted to sink a bit further into the tub, blowing bubbles under the water as he half-listened to Milos. He thought after how filthy the baths must be and wiped his mouth as he came back up. “I do hope he carries a pitchfork and has one of those pointy tales, oh and horns!” Mahendra added cheekily, “I’ve always been a bit of a slut for a horny bastard.” The incubus smirked as he rest his arms behind himself once again, “Is this an invitation for me to watch? If you end up getting railed by him I wouldn’t mind a front row seat. Or a turn if that’s an option.” Mahendra said, only partially joking. For all his quips and sarcasm he cared a great deal for his friends, he’d lost so many already and the last thing he wanted was for this to go South. Who knew, maybe the God of Madness could be charmed into agreement. 

.

“Her jar,” Penelope corrected breezily, and her chin lifted so that her gaze met Mahendra’s, “And absolutely.” She reached up, touching at his temple before drawing her fingers along the sharp line of his jaw. He was beautiful, like something tugged out of a painting, or a sculpture come to life: the rift found it difficult to keep her hands from mapping out the familiar planes of his face. “I loved her once, you know. Between her and Athena, the island wasn’t as lonely as the stories say.” His laughter didn’t go unnoticed and she smiled with a hitch, “But that was a long time ago, and I think she is happy now, as am I.” The bird was more likely to dive bomb at Mahendra upon his entrance of her home, but he was adaptable and would eventually return to singing songs as he did in Penelope’s presence. The change in the cubi was night and day, and she felt the chill of distance between them as he moved, looking at her with horror in his eyes. “Then she will not.” It was decided with finality— her tone was authoritative, a hallmark of one who had once been a queen. “It is a great favour I have done her and her siblings, they would be wise not to return it with harming someone I care for.” Penelope reached for his hand to comfort whatever fear had billowed from a man who usually oozed confidence, “I won’t allow it.”

-

“If only you could speak for all of them.” Mahendra said with a sigh, even if Penelope’s chosen roommate opted not to kill the incubus or anymore of his friends, she had siblings, and shifters abound that would undoubtedly come flocking to her. He wanted no part of any of them, no matter what the former queen promised he wouldn’t put his life in someone else’s hands. Mahendra had too much to lose considering what was awaiting him. Whatever fight riled within him died under her promises though, her hand in his as she vowed to chase away the demons that would undoubtedly come for him. “Forgive me,” Mahendra asked in earnest, “but I won’t live under the same roof as one of her kind.” Scylla had created so many that had ultimately come to hunt and kill people that Mahendra cared for, regardless of how protected he was in his association with Penelope, it would feel like a betrayal to their memory. Mahendra smiled, ready to play it off, “You should just come home with me instead. Problem solved.”

“Well, if I can fit my whole fist in there, the dick should be a no brainer.” If anyone had seen it firsthand, it was probably Mahendra and Gabriel. Oh, the antics they had gotten up to back in the day. Kaan just wasn’t the same person anymore, but he was sure it was for the better. That was what he would keep telling himself and nobody was there to tell him different. The only thing he was really worried about was the fact that he was a manticore now. That was the most stressful part about his life currently. Thankfully, Vika was around now to remind him of the old times enough. Plus, they were both manticores. It was easier when he had someone else with him that understood. “Tartarus was the worst. I wouldn’t say being monogamous is all that disappointing. When you find the right one, it makes more sense.”

-

“You’re right about the no brains.” Mahendra offered as he tapped the handsome manticore on the temple, it was a real shame that he was spoken for. Had it been a century yet? The incubus didn’t really believe that the other’s relationship would last that long, but he wasn’t going to say as much out loud. “The right one.” Mahendra made a face, “I wish you could hear yourself right now. You sound like you’re reading the back of a romcom. Maybe I should be writing this down, I’ll be the next Shonda Rhimes if you keep going.”

.

She leaned up on her toes, stretching up to wrap her arms around the back of his neck, hanging there for a moment as she looked up at him. “I’ve got a place, a nice one.” Penelope canted a brow, “Unless of course, you think that your taste can compete with Pandora’s— which I’d be wise to not tell her whenever she returns to Corinth, then I’ll gladly come to yours.” Her fingers toyed with his dark hair, and her lips curved at the idea of a cow-shaped foot rest. She’d always wanted one, how had he known? “Bring the ottoman, live with me. The guest room is occupied, but I doubt that you would have found yourself very happy there anyways.” No, not when her bed was big enough for two. “Raz can visit any time, but you’ll just have to mind the bird, he’s a bit of a bastard but when he gets to know you he’s quite lovely.” Mahendra’s expression was wicked and she laughed gleefully, shaking her head. “Perhaps its supposed to be a secret, but—“ Penelope hardly paused, continuing. “Scylla. I’m helping her get back onto her feet since she’s returned from Elysium.”

-

“So is it Pandora and her box I should be jealous of then?” Mahendra asked, snickering as he did. “Is there something you want to tell me Penelope. Just what am I getting myself into now, hm?” Soft hands brushed her upper arms, grazed her shoulders, then slid down once more. Raz would be put out but they would have to notice first, that would take some time, oneiroi were flighty and violent creatures. It was why he loved them so much. “Sounds like this Bastard and I will have loads in common.” Mahendra offered, though his eyes went wide at the remark. Scylla. An original shifter. “Her siblings and their damned shifters have just about hunted me and my kind to extinction.” He took a step back, while arrogance permeated the air about him usually that was replaced now by fear. Mahendra survived by remaining one step ahead of everyone else, walking into the line of sight of Scylla of all people was like sticking his neck out for an executioner’s axe. “She can’t know about me. None of them can.”

      “Bla bla bla.” Raz rolled their eyes, shaking their head at Mahendra’s words. “That’s all I hear out of your mouth. Just a lot of bla that is of no interest to me.” While Peirasmós would never know what a real family or having siblings felt like but they intuitively treated Mahendra like an older brother. A very annoying older brother. “I’m already taking your advice whenever I want to. That should be more than enough in my opinion.” Raz pushed their sunglasses back up their nose and leaned back to keep pretending to tan. “I get it. But you’re important to me. And that’s why I don’t want her to hurt you, okay?”

-

“Your opinion almost got you killed before.” Mahendra usefully pointed out once more, “I’m the right one, you should just accept this. I’m the more right, more handsome, and probably more wealthy of the two of us.” The incubus could go on like this for hours, and had done so several times in the past. Though the wry smirk at the corner of their lips was evidence enough of their humor behind the gest. Raz was free to do whatever they wanted, but that did not mean Mahendra wouldn’t do whatever was necessary to protect them. “No one can hurt me.” Except himself, apparently. “I’ll be alright Raz, really. But I appreciate it.”

“Come on, Mahendra. I would never do something to get in the burn book. And I wouldn’t allow myself to be called a fugly slut either.” He couldn’t help the laugh that trickled out as soon as the hoop earring were mentioned. Maybe the incubus watched far too much Mean Girls. Kaan couldn’t really say he was surprised. If anything, it related too much to the three of them to the point where it seemed like Tina Fey had written female versions of them. Unfortunately, Kaan was Karen Smith in this scenario, but he was trying his best. “As long as you know I can fit my whole fist in my mouth.” He waved off the question. “Gods, no. You think I would be having this normal of a conversation if it did? That’s the one good thing that I can say about Tartarus. They didn’t fuck up my dick.” He let out a sigh. “Somewhat. The fear of others though. So very much opposite of being an incubus.”

-

“You can fit a whole dick in there too” Mahendra knew, he and Gabriel had both seen it firsthand. All jokes aside Kaan’s transformation was... Terrifying, in a way. Sent to Tartarus and mutilated into what he was now, not his body but his soul, his essence. Mahendra had long adopted to this way of living in and endless cycle of desire and feeding. Consumption was a way of life and he’d been going through it for over a thousand years at this point. He’d outlived Kaan, apparently. And Vike too. Who was next? Mahendra didn’t want to think about it so he distracted himself with humor instead. “Little disappointing, so now you’re monogamous and you don’t have any interesting monster parts to pleasure. A real shame. Tartarus sounds like the worst.”

.

She would pull him from the arms of the jailers below, that was a promise she would whisper later against his skin— death would not be the end of Mahendra Varma, not if Penelope lived— but her own death: her first had come unexpected, a blade between her ribs that had been held in the shaking hands of her first son, she wondered often if when the next came, it would be just as much of a surprise. She had awoken from the first as though it had been a bad dream, only realizing that Athena had lulled her back into her body years after, when the goddess admitted that she had saved her. Clever Penelope, the stories said, but it seemed that too often she missed what was important. “Peirasmós,” she said, “Cheeky thing. I’ve seen them about, but I didn’t manage to get an invitation onto that yacht of theirs.” Penelope’s smile hitched impishly and she took his hand. “I have a guest in my home though, I can’t stay long.”

-

“That’s not what I mean.” Mahendra offered. “Stay with me, forever. Move in.” The incubus understood that maybe it was soon, but they had already been apart for so long, they were in love, why shouldn’t they be together? He sighed. “Or if you prefer I can move into yours, I have an ottoman in cow-print on the way that I’ve been eyeing for a while now. It’ll have to find a home among your things - and Raz may never forgive me if they notice.” Mahendra said, a short grin on the edge of his lips before he quirked his brow at Penelope, curious. “Who’s the guest?” They had only just reconnected, Penelope was intelligent, beautiful, and naturally charming. A lover would make sense, though if their soul was not protected he’d make short work of getting them out of his way. Mahendra aimed his smile to kill, leaning in to whisper darkly, “Should I be jealous?”

.

“I’m sure they’d love to pull that smug look from that face of yours for saying such a thing,” Milos countered, though there was truth in the cubi’s words. The gods had grown idle and uninvolved and as a result, they had grown weak. It was blasphemous, but he had even begun to see such a thing with his own idol: Dionysus’s silence worried the kobaloi, it meant that should they call for him, he was likely not to answer. “God of wine,” he affirmed, before grinning crookedly. “And madness.” A bribe was likely not going to work, even if they managed the feat of snagging his attention and lending his ear down to earth. They had been dutiful, but gods did not give favours easily and they did not take likely to being tricked into having someone else’s bidding done in the guise of their own: no matter how silver tongued Milos thought himself to be. “If that’s the case, I’ll bottle it up and send it to my cousin’s winery. He’s bound to make more money selling that than the swill he calls wine.”

-

“They’re welcome to try.” Mahendra looked up and made a gesture as if he was waiting for something to happen, and then shrugged. “I’m already cursed, and when I die I’m going straight to hell. They can get their rocks off over maiming my pretty face then.” The incubus didn’t fear the Gods, not anymore, even as a mortal he hadn’t respected them as he should have. Now this was the result. “You two will get along great then, because your idea is insane  but maybe he’ll appreciate that.” Mahendra pointed out, every story... pretty much ever that dealt with the mortals and Gods ended similarly. Hopefully Milos would survive the encounter, but if not they could meet up in the trickster’s next cycle. “Is that the stuff they’re always giving away at the festivals? Worst shit I’ve ever tasted, way too spicy for me.”

.

Perhaps he could weather loss in stride, but for Penelope each life that slipped out of reach was another scar, another cut that would bleed long before it could ever heal. It had started with twelve maidens, who looked at her outstretched hand as reached into the veil and rejected the offering: Elysium was preferable to a life with her, and that was a wound that she felt just as deeply as their deaths. He sparked a laugh in her, something low to break the seriousness, a gentle sound— “You’ve never been afraid of anything, I don’t think.” She knew what it was like to swallow down fear, to hold it in her chest as the world burned down and the rest threatened to kick down the door, that was her story: one of grace under pressure. “It’s tempting,” she said, looking out at the sea, at the places that they could spend out their lives together. There was warmth in the thought, in memories they had once, but she shook her head. “But I cannot.” A breath left her, “You should not leave your friends, and I will not leave mine. They will need us, and I won’t have them look to see that I have fled.” Penelope gave his hands one last squeeze. “When it is all over, I wish to know peace. We can find our island then.”

-

“That’s not wholly true.” Everyone feared something, humanity was perhaps the thing he feared most of all. Mediocrity shortly behind. Mahendra had clawed his way from a gutter and stepped on whomever he needed to become the man that was deserving of a God’s ire. He regretted no part of it, not until he’d wounded the woman who only now hesitantly welcomed him back into her life. “I would fear losing you, and what waits for me beyond this world. Any sane man would fear either.” The incubus’ remark was cheeky, the corner of his mouth quirked into a smile as he did. Mahendra had known that it would be a long shot to try and convince the woman to leave this place with him, she was rooted here and clearly a better person than he. He sighed, “If you insist, we can stay here. I have a place here with that old spirit companion of mine, Raz. They’re usually on their yacht though.” Mahendra claimed, bragging humbly. “Come home with me, we should stay together.”

.

“No,” Penelope returned, though her smile matched his. “But it is nothing that you don’t already know.” The cubi were a species that were favoured by very few, and were considered to be just as parasitic as vampires, feeding off of something as essential as blood. “This is the curse of immortality,” the rift said, drawing her hand idly over his, tracing the lines of his palm with the tip of her finger. She had learned what the lines meant once from a witch in Spain, but she curved her hand over Mahendra’s before she tried to divine his future. Some things were better left unknown, she had been alive long enough to know that as well. “We outlive those who we love, and bear the burden of being left behind. There is no glory in being the last ones left, only loss.” She brought his hand up, pressing her lips to the knuckles. Soft hands, his cruelty had been done with words and trickery, perhaps the worst kind of all. “Such strong words,” she mused, smiling sadly. “We are headed into dark times, I suppose now is the time for them.” Her projections revealed things to her, plans for end days that were made with not so idle hands, goddesses that had left the Underworld to roam the city in the skin of another. Still, Penelope guarded her secrets and watched, daring not to voice what she knew. “Be gentle with this heart,” she murmured her own strong words, “Because you wished for it, it now belongs to you.”

-

“If I’m with you then I can suffer their losses.” Mahendra said, it was a cold thing and perhaps even lacked some truth but the incubus was a survivalist by nature. Her hand curved over his and the feeling was distinctly akin to coming home, this was the place where he could rest his head. Mahendra was a demon of consumption, but she’d taken from him something that he did not even know he ever had: his heart. “Every age has been dark, this one is no different. I’m not afraid, between the two of us we’re smarter than any of the rabble in this city.” Dark eyes met hers, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “We should leave this place, let the troubles of the Corinthians be their own troubles. I can think of a half dozen islands not far from here which we would no doubt more happiness on.” Mahendra would abandon everyone he knew here if it meant that he and Penelope could guarantee a future together. 

-

A scoff escaped before they could plug it. They once wasted souls by the dozen, never worried about skimming off the top when immodesty would leave a of harem of cubi fed and happy for weeks at a time. More always poured in, eager for their own taste of existential bliss, no longer weighted by the burden of a soul. Perhaps the other’s shift towards frugality said less about any moral compromise on Mahendra’s part and more about the growing scarcity of their kind. A skillful movement centered Armando’s attentions back on the man fondling him beneath the water; a slim, mouse-haired thing of about thirty. Armando nosed into his neck, whispering something against his skin that made the man shiver and cast tawny eyes at the cubi opposite them.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten that there’s a world full of flavor and excitement beyond Corinth, Mahendra, and more eager bodies than you could ever fuck into oblivion. Out there, there’s no need to bag leftovers off of some half-empty fishmonger.” Armando’s rich tenor was cut with something between distaste and amusement, smiling as they watched the incubus cross the pool. They prided themselves on carrying a life driven by unpredictability, never lingering anywhere long enough for things to grow stale. Monotony was a curse for the living, for the unsullied. When Mahendra was near enough, the human abandoned Armando’s lap in favor of dividing his charmed attentions between them both. Armando leaned back and toward his companion, dropping his voice so that only Mahendra could hear. “Have you given any thought to Portugal?” They asked, revisiting an earlier proposal.

-

The smell of the soul nuzzled into the cubi’s side was intoxicating, sex lingered in the air of this place and it was one of the many things that Mahendra loved about it. Their survival was muddled also with pleasure and it made them especially dangerous because for the incubus he cared for little else other than satiating his own appetite. He would be young, healthy, and beautiful for eternity - so why not indulge to his heart’s content? The danger lay in the density of hunters here, furies, shifters, things that could kill him if they caught onto his trail. So long as Mahendra stayed in Corinth he needed to at least attempt to keep a low profile. 

“I’m old, but not forgetful.” Mahendra commented as he quirked his brow at the man who shifted to divide his time between them. He was trying to cover his tracks and truthfully Mahendra didn’t need to feed anymore but the offer was clear, and his tainted soul edged him forward. Soft lips, smooth hands, the faint pass as some of the man’s essence passed into him. He broke the exchange as Armando reminded Mahendra of the offer he’d previously made, the incubus caught the human’s eye and could see the twinkle of bliss behind. Between two cubi he must have thought this was paradise, the garden of Eden found in a Corinthian bathhouse - and in the water lurked a pair of snakes. “I’ve thought of little else,” Mahendra answered truthfully, “it would be better hosted abroad as you said. I’ll join you and the others.” He looked at the man who straddled his lap beneath the water, he’d never remember this request but it was amusing anyways. “Would you like to come with us?” Mahendra asked, his fingers stroked wet hair behind the man’s ear. 

.

The words were a balm, soothing over doubts that bubbled in her chest, blocking off airways— he had an effect just as such, and though she had thought herself to be immune to the charm of an incubus, Penelope felt weakened by his, drawing her hand along his chest, seeking out the place where a heart was supposed to lay. I love you. She wouldn’t say it back, not yet, even as it itched at the back of her throat and she felt the pulse of a heart beat beneath her palm. He had hurt her, and while she had offered forgiveness there was still mending to be made; she would not be made into a fool so quickly. “The gods do not favour the cursed,” Penelope said, studying the heavy shadow of his lashes over his eyes. “And your soul does not belong to you, nor does the rest of those like you. Eventually, those who see themselves as righteous will take it completely, like blowing out a candle, the cubi will be gone.” She paused, drawing her brows together before taking his hand. “But not you. I won’t allow it.”

-

“Is this supposed to be comforting?” Mahendra asked, a smirk clear on his face until Penelope led to the point - she would protect him. His soul, his body. Tartarus would not greet him because she was prepared to carry him. Idly, the incubus wondered if she was strong enough for such a burden or if even her spirit would buckle under the weight of his heavy, tainted soul. “The others - those who have died.” His friends, his lovers, arguably some of the only family he’d ever known. This was a weight too. “Even if everyone I’ve ever known was taken from me it would be enough if I was still in this world with you. I have survived this long because I refuse to be hunted and put down like some dog, nothing will take me from you. Not furies, or shifters, or the Gods themselves.”

    “You‘re not even that much older than me. Don‘t make such a big deal out of it.” But Raz knew they would never hear the end of it as long as the both of them existed. And since they wanted that to be eternity, they would just have to deal with it. Maybe part of them didn‘t even mind it that much, because at least it meant he cared about them. “Also, I will never get wrinkly, and neither will my talisman.” As if to prove that point, their fingers brushed over the ring safely stuck on their finger. The memory of losing it was still fresh sometimes and caused them to quickly think of something else. “Why can‘t you accept that I might be right sometimes as well? Chasing her is a waste of your time.”

-

“Old enough to know better.” Mahendra commented playfully, “Years of wisdom that you completely lack.” The incubus added, it was cute that Raz thought they might know better but he knew that they would be completely lost without him. Dead for sure, anyways. “If you don’t start taking my advice it certainly won’t.” Mahendra pointed out, his eyes darted to the ring on Raz’s finger, thankful that the spirit had it secured.  “Because I’m never wrong and you’ve already proven that you’re wrong at least some of the time. This means a lot to me, it’s important.”

.

Her hand reached between them and she cupped at his jaw, weak at the familiarity of him. Of her lovers past, he had been one of the few that mortality had not claimed— their parting was not the result of death, but of betrayal. The promise fell between them, like a silk strand undoing a knot and Penelope gripped onto it eagerly. She had been regarded for so long as someone wise, and though it was true, that it was foolish to place her trust in someone who had taken pleasure once in her ruin: her heart was a weakened, mangled thing and it was too used to being given out to those who asked for it. She sealed the words with the kiss, and he tasted sweet, as she was sure she did of the sea. Penelope folded into him, lost in how after all those years, he had stayed just the same. If this was to be the last love that she bore she hoped that at the end of it the sea would carry her back to her mother, and Athena would have to bring her back to the gods, where she hoped that she would find rest, where she could heal. “I’ve missed you.” The words were a whisper between them, half against his lips as her head tilted up to put them there, “It is too long a life to be alone.”

-

There was no transference of energy when the incubus’ lips touched hers, no power flowed into him but there was a different sort of gratification. One that he had nearly forgotten: pleasure for pleasure’s sake. His lips, his body, these things were tools for his survival, they were how the incubus kept his eternity secure but forever was empty if Mahendra did not have someone to share in it with. She was as he was, unchanged, a frozen reminder of time that there were some things that the passing of years could no weather. “I love you,” Mahendra found himself saying again, words that felt treacherous on his tongue but only because they held his most sacred truth: his corrupted heart could still love, still yearn, despite that it never had when he was mortal. “my friends - my kind... there are so few of us left. I don’t want to spend eternity just surviving, I want to be with you. Forever.”

.

“This devil has it coming, and I won’t even give her the pleasure of getting off before she dies.” Vika looked him over, giving his arm a squeeze when she was satisfied that he had stayed just the same, just as handsome— and unmarred by time. “I never should have left,” she retorted, before looking at him curiously. “Did you find my body? Did anyone even know I was dead?” She had suspected that all of this time, there was a corpse with flaxen hair under the streets of Paris, still buried deep below a rockslide in the catacombs. She had vainly hoped at the very least, that Lada had been told, that her sister had mourned her absence appropriately, instead of allowing her spirit to disappear completely without making so much of a sound. “You know,” she said wickedly, “I’ve got claws now, and can eat furies for my breakfast. I think I levelled up.”

-

“I assumed you were gone when I never heard from you again.” Strange thing with immortals, no public records, no obituaries, no funerals. At least not in the traditional sense. Vika being gone was a blow because it was another of his kind that had been hunted and exterminated and while she was cocky now he still felt uncertain that this form was one that couldn’t be cut down. Everything could die, except perhaps for Gods. “I never found your body, but there’s an empty grave outside Budapest with a tombstone that has your name on it. I went there, now and then.” The pair had fond memories of the city, he liked having somewhere to go that reminded him of her. “Claws or no, I’m glad you’re back. Kaan is a manticore too. How did you two escape?”