Page 7 of Immortal Sun

“Sure.” Ethan rasps. “We believe you.”

Alex chooses that time to pull her luggage away and walk towards us, grabbing the bottle of whiskey in my hand and dumping it down his wide mouth before swiping the drips from his chin. “Sorry I didn’t want to drink and drive. I waited, like a good boy.”

“You literally can’t even get drunk.” I swipe the bottle out of his hands.

He frowns. “It tastes good.”

Another immortal walks in. I’m already tired, and here we go. “Mine.” He swipes the whiskey and growls in Alex’s face.

“Ah, Mason, please don’t tell me you flew all the way from Scotland.”Really. Please. Don’t.

His grin is almost as annoying as his shoulder length brown messy hair. “Someone had to throw the final party for you, and I do love a good party. Don’t all werewolf---” He stops himself and actually does a small head bow to Cleo. “Sorry were discussing a children’s story.”

Alex chokes on a laugh while Horus elbows him.

Yes, a story about werewolves, gods, demons, vampires, fae, fallen angels, and elves. It’s very comical, no bloodshed whatsoever, we can barely remember the body count.

And as luck would have it.

She’s normal.

As in, she’s pretty like I knew she would be, but there is nothing specifically that stands out about her. Her brown eyes look like mud except for the flecks of yellow in them. Shoulder length black hair flows down her black sweatshirt paired with loose jeans. Nothing screams chaos and yet, she is. I smell waves of him in her, one that my soul—if I still even have one—recognizes as an almost twin flame. It would make sense; there’s always a familiarity with the descendants of Chaos. We will always be at odds, drawn to one another only to end each other.

Her eyes are big though. Her posture screams innocent, weak, probably because that’s all she’s believed her entire life, that she can’t control things around her, she just exists in the time and space she’s been given.

A survivor. Nothing more, merely clinging to the heat of the sun.

I inhale deeply. She smells of the Nile—of where she will return one day.

This desperation will make things easier, I think, the fact that she’s almost given up on life in general. In the end. It’s harder to cover up the light anyway, so pushing her toward the opposite end is the only thing that truly makes sense, besides, it’s not her fault.

Something about her is raw and exposed, she smells of both fear and perseverance. Then again, I didn’t expect anything less than that. I hoped for it. I wished for it. Now I have it.

I haveher.

My final challenge.

“Hello.” I force my most comforting smile which isn’t hard considering who I am. I hold out my hand. “I’m Cyrus.”

“Oh!” She hurries and shakes it. “I thought I’d just be meeting the manager not the owner of the bar. Nice to meet you.” Her grip is surprisingly strong, her fingers warm. It’s a rarity I feel my own heat used against me, damn it. I feel it all the way down my body. Oh no. Nope. Chaos won’t be pulling that trick on me. Nice try. I quickly drop her hand and wipe it on my pants. I ignore the shaking. The sooner I get back to Olympus the better.

“Yes, well, something came up, one of my managers had a cough. He should probably go home now, hmmm?” I glance at Ethan. He glares back at me. He’s not even a manager nor can he get sick.

He coughs lamely into his hand. “Yes, I think it’s contagious.” He swats Enki on the back of the head who trips Mason the minute he starts to take another step towards us.

The maturity level of the group has digressed—we’ve decided that once you’ve been alive so long you simply no longer measure up to your old level of maturity, or at least that’s the excuse I keep getting.

Once they’re gone, the barstools are all empty except for one. He sits there in his cop uniform staring straight into his glass of whiskey like he does every day, like he always has since he failed his trials. This is his only safe space; he lashes out often but he’s harmless. Sometimes I wish he knew that those who are most broken the have greatest power. I take a deep breath and stare back at Cleo. “All right, let’s get you settled and then we can start your training. It won’t be difficult to pick up considering your previous experience.”

“Um, yeah.” Her smile seems forced, she grabs her rolling suitcase and pulls it out of the way, but one wheel catches on a floor board and snags, tripping her.

I grip her shoulders to steady her. My fingers burn with the need to immediately incinerate her. It would be so easy, almost effortless to end her life. But she surprises me by looking up directly into my eyes and smiles. “Sorry.”

So trusting.

And I’m still holding her. I drop my hands and clench them by my sides. Normally, fear leaves a bitter flavor in the air—but her truth smells like sweetness and purity, like something you want to inhale and taste. I don’t jerk back, but I want to. Everything that was normal about her is suddenly blanketed in light—blanketed in my sun, my entire body begs to see that smile again.

That’s what Chaos does, though; it confuses even the strongest of gods. Well done, Chaos. This final chess piece of her life and I won’t be distracted.

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