Page 74 of Patron of Mercy

“Is not,” Lach protested. When he tapped the grim reaper’s head, the whole thing bobbled like one of those hula girls people stuck on their dashboards in the nineties. He grinned. “It’s an icon.” He spun toward Thanatos. “A little piece of death so you can always find us.”

“I do not look like that,” Thanatos said softly.

Of course, the grim reaper in common wisdom was terrifying. Thanatos was anything but—sweet and gentle, with no pale, stretched features and promise of doom.

Lach gave him a once over, from his silk suit jacket to his polished black shoes. Where he was luminous, the little grim reaper was so pale he was almost gray. The icon was absurd in its difference, but that was the point. There was nothing in the whole world that could mirror a god like Thanatos.

“No, you don’t,” Lach agreed. He sidled up to Thanatos and slipped his arms around his hips. “But you can’t expect a toy to capture how gorgeous you are. Anyway, it’s cute.”

“Not creepy or terrifying?” Thanatos asked. His eyes had begun to twinkle, and when he smiled, Lach thought they might get to keep the bobble grim.

“Not even a little.”

He leaned in and stole a kiss. He’d gotten close to dying, but right there on the edge, the scariest thing had been losing this—losing Thanatos when he’d only just gotten his second chance.

“I cannot stay here and watch this,” Charon griped, grabbing his things, which amounted to a half-drunk bottle of the wine that Lach had picked up in Ibiza.

Lach frowned. “You drank our wine?”

“I returned your boat,” Charon replied smoothly.

After a moment, Lach shrugged. That seemed more than a fair trade. He looked up at Thanatos and bit his lip. “You up for another trip to Spain to restock?”

Thanatos took a slow breath and looked up like he was considering it. “IsupposeI could make time for that.”

Charon groaned, tucking the bottle into his jacket. Though he and Thanatos shared a color palate, Thanatos’s appearance was immaculate. Charon looked like a bum and sported the kinds of pockets you could tuck entire bottles of wine into. “Thanatos, you staying?” he asked, shifting his oversize jacket back into place.

“Yeah,” Thanatos said. Lach was gratified when he left his arm around him, even though his brother was clearly less than pleased.

Before Charon made it to the stairs, Lach stopped him. “Hey, Charon?”

The ferryman turned around and cocked a brow.

“I imagine you’re pretty familiar with the concept of spending a lot of time alone on a boat, right?”

Charon looked at him like he’d gone crazy. “Sure. Think I’ve got that down pat.”

“Really puts things in perspective, don’t you think? A lot of time to mull things over when you’re out on the water.”

For a few long seconds, Charon considered him. Finally, he inclined his head. “A lot of time to think, yeah.”

“I might make a mess of everything, but I won’t make the same mistakes twice.” Lach meant it to sound like a promise, but he chewed his tongue. “Okay, sometimes I make the same mistakes twice. But not here. Not with this. You know. Something important. Someoneimportant.”

Okay, speaking frankly about his intentions and making promises he intended to keep were not Lach’s strong suits; he was bound to be awkward at it. But there was no reason for Charon to groan and roll his eyes like he did.

“Thanatos,” he said, refusing to acknowledge Lach’s earnest pledge and turning to his brother, “lunch next week?”

Thanatos bit his tongue to try and hide his smile. He didn’t manage it. “Sure. I’ll bring the pirate.”

Lunch Plans

“So...” Lach said.

Charon had left some time earlier, and Lach had been wandering around Misericordia, reacquainting himself with all of her altered and unaltered aspects. Now, though, he looked like Hermes when he wanted a favor, and it was unsettling.

“Yes?” Thanatos asked when Lach didn’t continue.

“Is there any way you could talk to Gaia? I mean, I know you can all talk to each other, I just—I’m worried about Martina.”

---