Page 17 of Never Nix Up

Hazel

Going back to my day job feels weird. Tourists move in and out at such a slow pace that I want to shake them, to tell them to wake up and see the true world around them.

I don’t do this, of course. Instead I quietly talk about art styles and commissions and how beautiful the River Arun looks in the spring sunshine, and try and push from my mind the image of Johnny being dragged to the deep.

That only lasts for so long, though, and when nothing is distracting me further, I make my way up to Trisantona’s temple to work on art for her. It’s a different process, more focused, directed, and she’s usually floating around, but not paying much attention to me.

Not today though.

“Your lady fulfilled her word last night,” she comments as I walk into the church. “The energy was wonderful.” She doesn’t thank me or us though, and I feel a sting of resentment. That was our gift to her, and she’s just taken it for granted. “So… how was it?”

I look at her, confused. “Pardon?”

“I assume you did the sex, considering the amount of energy that came my way. Was it pleasant at least?”

“Yes, my Goddess. It was… pleasant.”

“What? I am only asking.”

I put the palette and brush down, and turn to face her. “Why?”

“Why?”

“Why are you asking? You’ve never asked me that before.” I’m angry, really angry. Heat washes through my body and it feels like boiling water in a hot pan, bubbling over. I’m about to bubble over. “All you care about is my painting, the energy I can bring you. Why ask something so personal?”

There is a long silence as my words echo around the abandoned church. Ripples spread across the water from where the Goddess stands, and I truly don’t know what’s wrong with me. How could I be so foolish as to speak to a Goddess like that?

“But are we not friends?” Trisantona sounds confused, and a little hurt. “I ask you about your life, about the goings on in Wyrten Bridge, and you paint for me. Is that not what you call friendship?”

I don’t know what to say. Has she really been trying, all this time, to be my friend? Thinking back to how we met, I forget that she did not press me into her service, was surprised and a little gratified that she had someone who was willing to be an acolyte after all these years.

“You share in my nightmares, Hazel. I thought that at least we understood each other through that.”

“I…” Words fail me and I stare at her. “You’ve been trying to be my friend? I thought you were just using me to spy on the village.”

It’s her turn to stare. “You do remember that I am the Goddess of the River Arun? I see everything that happens along its banks, just as at night I dream of everything that has happened within its depths. I don’tneedyou to tell me minutiae. I asked because I was interested in your life.”

“Fuck.” I’ve never cursed around the Goddess before, and takes her by surprise. The ripples get bigger, turning into small waves that threaten to lap at my feet. I take a step back and put my hands up. “I’m not aiming thatatyou, I just… fuck. I didn’t know.”

There’s a whoosh of water, and I realise that she’s pulled up a chair for me to sit down on. “Perhaps we should talk,” she says, cautiously.

“That would be good,” I answer, and sit down. The chair is surprisingly not wet, considering who pulled it over, and it’s sturdy enough for me to sit on it without it breaking, which is a relief. “So we’re friends.”

“Yes,” said Trisantona. “Partly because I don’t really have anyone else. Maybe Violet, but I suspect that relationship is born of convenience, rather than affection.”

Probably something to do with the compulsion the Goddess had put on Chlo to sleep with Vi. She didn’t like things like that.

“But the two of us,” she continues, “we joke.”

“We do?”

“Yes! I say all the time how inconvenient it would be if you were to die.” She looks outraged.

“That’s a joke? I thought you were being serious.”

“What kind of monster would I be, to say something in such a manner?” She stares at me. “Is this because of your parents?”

“My…?” I don’t know how we’ve gotten here, but here we are. “What about my parents?”

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