Page 9 of Patron of Mercy

Live long enough, and Lach’s circle of acquaintances was bound to include some gods. He and Hermes shared a certain predisposition for sticky fingers, and hell, Lach pretty much only had a cell phone because Hermes had insisted. He’d bonded with Poseidon since he’d become immortal—first for getting on Helios’s bad side, then for going on a covert mission, admittedly on accident, with Poseidon’s nymph lover, Nerites.

Nevertheless, gods weren’t concerned with day-to-day trifles, and Lach wasn’t part of any juicy gossip circles. Maybe if he were following Hebe on social media, but that seemed like an awful lot of work, and his flip phone didn’t run apps. In any case, at sea, he had missed out on all the current events. He hadn’t known Prometheus had escaped Tartarus.

The titan god of foresight had been locked away long before Lach had been born, but he’d heard stories of him. Prometheus had given humans power when they’d had none. He’d allowed them a measure of independence from the gods. By all accounts, he was a goddamn hero. Thanatos had certainly liked him.

“So we’re going to New York?” Lach asked, shifting a reusable grocery bag on his shoulder. Persephone had given him some fresh fruit before they left—she and Dionysus weren’t content to sit on their laurels while Demeter let the world burn, at least.

Thanatos cocked a brow at him—there was still some question if there was a “we” involved at all, but Lach had started this. He was going to see it through.

“I suppose,” Thanatos said evenly. It lacked the enthusiasm he’d hoped for, but Lach would take it.

They were standing on the sidewalk outside Persephone’s apartment. That had been a trip. It didn’t seem like a place someone lived, unless you counted all the potted flowers blooming on every shelf as if they were expertly cared for. It was still weird to think that gods lived like people and Persephone had cozy green pajamas.

What kind of pajamas did Thanatos have? Gods above, he imagined they were silk. When they’d been together before, Lach had run his hands over Thanatos’s tunic and marveled that anything could be woven so finely.

His expression must’ve hinted at his wandering thoughts. Thanatos was staring at him, his lips pursed. Under that look, Lach wilted, turned, and started walking.

At first, he didn’t notice that Thanatos wasn’t following him. But there was no stoic presence at his side, no smooth footsteps.

He turned around when he reached the corner. Thanatos continued to stand there watching him.

“You coming?” Lach called.

A frown carved a line between Thanatos’s brows, but in a moment, he moved to catch up.

“Where are you going?” Thanatos asked. “We can just... go.”

Thanatos offered his hand. He’d always had deceptively broad hands—always gentle, but the kind of hands you could trust not to fail. Lach didn’t take it.

He’d momentarily forgotten that particular benefit of godhood—they could travel pretty much anywhere with a thought. Thanatos could jump to a graveyard half a world away. Last he checked, there were a fair few graveyards and funeral homes in New York City.

If he took Thanatos’s hand now, they’d disappear, be there in an instant, and this whole adventure could be over in a single night.

“Absolutely not,” Lach said, leaning back.

“What?” Thanatos looked at him like he’d gone crazy. Clearly, this was the most pragmatic option. In Thanatos land, that made it the best.

“That shit makes me nauseous.”

Thanatos scowled. “No, it doesn’t.”

“It totally does. You don’t remember all the times I asked you to walk me home?”

“I thought you just liked to walk with me.”

In fact, Lach had. Sure, disappearing and reappearing somewhere else in the same instant wasn’t a particularly enjoyable experience, but it was tolerable. He simply hadn’t wanted those nights with Thanatos to end and had dragged them out as long as he could.

“Yeah, I was beingnice.” Lach sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of his wrist. “I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

“Not a concern any more, is it?” Thanatos challenged.

Stubborn as ever, Lach stuck out his chin. “Guess not.”

He wondered at what point Thanatos would lose patience with him and disappear on his own. Not yet.

“Okay,” Thanatos said, “so what’s your plan?”

“We should take my boat, Mis. She’s great”

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