Page 73 of Patron of Mercy

“No,” Thanatos said. “Maybe.”

“Well, let me know when you figure it out.” They’d gotten to the harbor. Lach let go of Thanatos’s hand, but only to extricate another pastry for himself.

He was looking down the row of boats wistfully, and a sick pit in his stomach opened up when he thought about Mis. She should’ve been there with them. How was it possible to be so happy and so miserable at the same time? Didn’t feel fair to have anything he wanted when Mis was—

Mis was there. At the end of the dock, and no mistaking. She was a little different than before—a little sturdier, a little bigger—but there wasn’t a damn thing she could ever do that’d make him mistake her for another boat.

He made a sound, high and tight, in the back of his throat and dropped the bag of pastries. The one he’d been reaching for lost flakes on the deck. Thanatos blinked at him. “What?”

“Umpf,” Lach said, best he could manage, and rushed onto the dock. He got close enough to touch her side—white and shining and perfect. His arm span wasn’t quite large enough to hug a boat, but damn if he didn’t want to.

“I was beginning to doubt you’d show,” a droll voice said from above them. Charon sat, legs crossed, all in black with a brown paper bag at his side. Looked like the kind of thing you’d carry when you were trying to sneak booze onto the subway.

“Brother,” Thanatos said. His voice was tight, like he was nervous. In the years they’d been apart, he hadn’t considered that it wasn’t just Thanatos he had to impress. Thanatos might want him, but that hardly meant anyone else would be pleased with the match.

“Isn’t it a little early for that?” Lach asked as Charon lifted the bag and took a swig of whatever was inside.

Charon scoffed. “No rules on the high seas. And I knew I’d be dealing with you. Certain measures had to be taken.”

“Did you come all this way to bring me my boat, Charon?” Lach asked, grinning.

Charon scowled, crossing his arms. “You’re her captain.”

Lach’s smile faded. He was sure what came next would be the implication that Charon shouldn’t havehadto reunite them.

Instead, Charon shrugged. “She told me what happened,” he said, setting the brown bag down beside him again.

If anyone could talk to Mis, Lach supposed it would be Charon, who’d spent millennia ferrying souls across the Styx with no one to talk to but his ferryboat.

“You didn’t abandon her,” Charon said stiffly. The way he avoided looking at his brother was as blatant as if he’d stared directly at him.

“No, I didn’t.” Lach wanted to say that he’d changed, but he’d been around long enough to know that actions were way more important. It’d take time to prove himself to Charon. It’d take time to prove himself to Thanatos, too, but he’d finally realized that he could—Thanatos wanted him there, so they’d find a way to make it work.

“I realized some things are worth sticking by,” Lach added, and he settled his hand on the small of Thanatos’s back. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Thanatos’s skin darken in a flush, so he gave his hip a little squeeze.

“Uh huh.” Charon stood up and turned around. “Well, there’s nowhere in the underworld to stow the soul of a vessel like Misericordia. And for some reason, she wanted to come back to you.”

Above them, Charon gave a pronounced eyeroll and stepped back to disappear below deck.

“He hasn’t smote me yet. Does that mean I’m in?” Lach asked.

Thanatos stared at him. “I sincerely doubt that’s what it means.”

“But it definitely means I haven’t been smote.”

Finally, Thanatos’s lips began to creep into a smile. “Reasonable assessment,” he agreed. Lach hazarded to guess that even if Charon were in a smiting mood, Thanatos wouldn’t let his brother hurt him.

“After you,” Lach said, extending his arm toward the boarding ramp connecting Mis to the dock. Thanatos hesitated, a frown overtaking his soft smile, but Lach understood—Thanatos wanted Lach to have this moment.

He smirked and shook his head. “Seriously, you go first,” Lach insisted. “I want to watch your booty.”

If it were possible to look charmed and completely exasperated at once, Thanatos managed it. They climbed aboard. Everything was mostly the same, but the bench they’d sat on to watch the sunrise now bent in an angle with a table at the corner where they could set their breakfasts. Already, Lach was thinking about abandoning their lumpy pancakes so he could lie Thanatos back across the bench and feed other urges.

They followed Charon below deck. Now, there was room in the kitchen for both of them to cook, though Lach imagined they’d brush against each other often enough to get distracted.

And above the dining room table’s bench, there was a small grim reaper. Lach burst out laughing when he saw it. He leaned over to get a better look at the thing. It was plastic, nothing special, and completely perfect.

“Yeah, I noticed that. It’s grotesque,” Charon said, as if he were determined to be unsatisfied by everything.

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