Page 25 of Patron of Mercy

Lach’s answering smile was as bright as the sun.

“Aren’t you eating?”

“I thought I’d test it out on you,” Lach said, cocking a hip and leaning against the bench. “You know, make sure it wasn’t poisonous first.”

Thanatos rolled his eyes. “You’ve been providing your own food for thousands of years. I think you’re well aware that you’re capable of cooking.”

“I don’t do it much, actually,” Lach mumbled. Then his voice went bright, and the cocky smile returned. “But it’s great, right? Because I’m awesome.”

He couldn’t help it; he laughed. Lach hadn’t changed at all. There was all the careless bravado that had sucked Thanatos in the first time.

And for some reason, for this one morning, he decided he was going to let himself enjoy that. It was probably a slippery slope, and he’d be sorry for it eventually, but he was so tired of the same bleak days of work and more work, with only the occasional bright spot of a meal with his brother or a horrible party in Hades.

Thanatos deserved this moment, warm and familiar and comforting. For once, he was going to let himself have it, tomorrow’s inevitable heartbreak be damned. He cut a piece of lumpy pancake, and it was the finest pancake he’d eaten in his entire existence.

Films & Fish Guts

It was some kind of epic karmic bullshit that Lach lied about getting queasy when Thanatos god-ported them to the other side of the planet, and now Thanatos was miserable and sick. Lach had been made immortal by mistake—he didn’t believe that the Fates were all powerful and all knowing—but damn if it didn’t seem like they were out to get him sometimes.

They spent the day on deck, Lach sailing and Thanatos staring out at the horizon. After a while, he started to look less peaked.

“I didn’t realize gods could get sick,” Lach said. In the late afternoon, when their course was set and there was less to do, he’d fished off the back of the boat. Now he sat over the water on a tiny stool, cleaning his catch on a small table in front of him.

“I’m not sick,” Thanatos said. “It’s disorienting, putting your feet somewhere unstable.”

“Ah, so you’re saying you have control issues,” Lach teased. “I buy that.”

Thanatos shot him a narrow-eyed look, but Lach didn’t feel any anger behind it as he sliced the fish open from tail to head.

“But if you don’t stop that, I might get actually sick,” Thanatos griped, grimacing as Lach dumped the fish guts into the water.

Chuckling, Lach shook his head. “I’d have thought you’d be a little more comfortable with this kind of thing, you know, considering.” He waved his knife in Thanatos’s general direction.

“I might be acquainted with death, but that does not mean I want to witness the particulars of it here.”

“Fair enough.” Lach slapped the fish down on the table. “I might suggest you turn around.”

With a heavy sigh, Thanatos sank down on his bench and turned his face toward the purpling sky.

Lach finished scaling the fish. “I’m going to go cook this. You gonna be hungry for dinner?”

Thanatos had never had to eat, but just because he didn’t have to to survive didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it. Common wisdom held that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach; Lach wanted to see if it worked for gods.

The god in question didn’t lift his head so much as tuck his chin down so that he could look directly at Lach. “I guess. That seemed like quite the ordeal for the poor fish. Shame to let it go to waste.”

Lach smirked. “Would be. I’ll be back.”

He seared the fish in lemon and olive oil—not the most ambitious, maybe, but it tasted like home. With a side of sautéed spinach, it looked like the kind of meal Thanatos wouldn’t chuck directly into the open ocean. Lach couldn’t cook pretty, but he hoped substance would win out.

When he got back on deck, the stars were scattered across the sky. Thanatos was still staring up.

“Bon appétit,” Lach said.

When Thanatos looked at him, he smiled. It was the first one that Lach had seen since Thanatos had looked at Prometheus. His heart flopped anxiously in his chest.

“You want to eat up here?” Lach asked.

“Yeah. It’s a nice night.”

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