Page 9 of Dead End

“We’ve met before,” I said to the silver-haired god. He’d interrupted my meeting with Posy during my first visit. “Skanda, right? Hindu god of war.”

Skanda sipped from a steaming mug. “Good memory. How are you settling in? Are your accommodations satisfactory?”

“Well, it isn’t a cage, so I’m already one step above Pakhet, Invidia, and the other gods you treated like wild animals.”

An uncomfortable silence followed my statement. Skanda cleared his throat. “Listen, Melinoe. We understand thereasons for your hostility, but we’d like to keep this meeting professional and productive.”

“Then I guess you can start by introducing me to the rest of the group.”

“We’re the members of the Executive Committee,” Skanda said, with a weak attempt at a welcoming smile.

“In other words, you’re the ones not powerful enough to get a coveted spot on the Board of Directors.”

His smile didn’t falter. “We have plans for you, Melinoe. Big plans. We’d prefer that you cooperate willingly, but we have options available to us if you don’t.”

I tapped my collar. “I believe you’ve already exercised that option.”

He barked a laugh. “If you think that’s the extent of our options, you’re in for a bigger shock than that thing will give you.”

The goddess to his right gave him a look that could cut glass. “Professional and productive, Skanda, remember?” Her face softened as she returned her attention to me. “I’m Epona.”

Roman goddess of horses. Interesting choice for the Executive Committee.

“I’m Esege Malan,” the god with the handlebar mustache said.

I hadn’t heard of him. “And what’s your claim to fame?”

“I lord over the western sky.”

“That’s very specific.”

“Depends on your definition of western,” he replied, stone-faced.

“I’m Fuchi,” the goddess beside him said. Japanese fire deity. Powerful and dangerous.

“I am Feng Po,” the raven-haired god said. “I command wind.”

“I believe we all have that ability,” I said.

Fuchi stifled a laugh. A sense of humor, too. Under different circumstances, I’d be thrilled to make her acquaintance.

“Are there also five board members?” I asked.

“Eight,” Epona said.

Infinity. It figured. “Should we wait for them before we get started?” I didn’t miss the look that passed between Epona and Fuchi.

“As members of the Executive Committee, we handle the day-to-day operations,” Feng Po said.

“In other words, the board tells you to jump, and you write a memo that weights the costs and benefits of the possible distances.”

“I’ve never written a memo in my immortal life,” Skanda said. “Feng Po will type up the minutes of this meeting and share them with the board.”

“And who sits on the board?”

Skanda looked ready to dunk my head in his steaming mug. “Does it matter?”

“My grandfather always said know with whom you’re having the pleasure.”

---