Page 64 of A Single Thread Of Hope

Cy hissed through his teeth. So it was all or nothing. That didn’t sway me. “What does it entail?”

Brân shook his head, which was odd, since he barely had any neck. Very disconcerting. “I’m afraid that is the first test. A leap of faith. I can’t tell you what it involves—you just have to have faith in yourself, and your worthiness.”

Did I think I was worthy? Maybe. But really, there was no other option for me. “I understand. I still want to go ahead.”

“Ballsy, girlie. Okay, I’ll put out the call. You can start on your worthiness by helping me out here in the bar, to cover room and board for you and the pretty boy. What’s ya name, boy?”

“Cydon. Call me Cy.”

“Demigod, I see. Quite the pair you made, stumbling into my bar. What Pantheon?”

I’d never seen anyone outright ask Cy what Pantheon he was associated with. I assumed it was some kind of faux pas, but maybe this guy was immune from polite society. “I was born Greek, but I ally with the Minoans.”

Both eyebrows climbed up Brân’s forehead. He really did have expressive eyebrows. I guess if that was your only form of body language, you made do. “Minoans, you say? Haven’t seen many of those around these parts in quite a while. Unusual for Mythics to swap too.”

Cy chuckled, but his eyes were flinty. “We are an unusual pair, as you said.”

Someone yelled for a refill on the other side of the room, and one side of Brân’s lips curled. “So I did. I also said you have to work the bar, and I think you have your first customer.”

Sliding from the barstool, Cy kissed my cheek. It was a proprietary move. “I’ll get it.”

I watched him move into the smoky darkness, while the head looked at me shrewdly. “Boyfriend? Husband?”

“Bondmate,” I answered.

“If you fail, you’ll be gone for good. That’s going to be upsetting for him.”

I inclined my head. “You know, I have a son named Bran. He’s less than two months old. Too young to lose a mother. He needs me. They all need me.”

“Bran, you say? A good strong name, if I do say so. Surely, he has a daddy to take care of him, unless it’s the little Demigod over there?”

I shook my head. “He does, of course, but he and his brothers have a big destiny, and I feel like they’ll need me. To love them, to protect them.”

“Brothers, hmmm? All boys? I loved my boys, but they were wild in a way that definitely needed a firmer hand than mine.”

I watched Cy pour beers like he’d been a bartender for decades. “Triplets. Three boys.”

Brân stilled. “Triplets, you say? And your name is Wren? They wouldn’t be the Kuningilin, would they?” He whistled low. “Well, that changes things, doesn’t it? Last I heard, the Moirai had lost their middle sister and their powers along with it, and the new Fates had solidified their position.”

Gritting my teeth, I nodded. “The Moirai weren’t above some petty revenge.” I waved to my now-dead self. “The other two are no more, but now neither am I.”

He stared me dead in the eye, and I got the feeling that this head had seen some things. “Go help Loverboy. I’ll get to calling now.”

I’d learnedthree things from working the bar at the Tar Pits.

One: there were no opening and closing times in the afterlife. I worked until I felt tired and then I slept, before waking and working again. I didn’t even know how many days I’d been working here at this point.

Two: everyone knew everyone else’s business. By the end of the first day, everyone knew who I was, how I came to be at the Tar Pit, and that I was calling a Weighing.

Three: customer service was a little like riding a bike; you fell right back into the old habits as soon as they put you in front of a register. Apparently, regardless of if they were a mortal accountant named Steve, or Ninkasi, who I’d learned was the Sumarian Goddess of Beer, a customer was a customer. Ninkasi was a riot, though. And her beer was amazing.

There were Mythics from every Pantheon here, and they all appeared to get along famously. Brân said that it was because his was the only bar in the afterlife that would serve you alcohol irrespective of whether you were a hero or a villain in the above world. If you got banned from the Tar Pits, enjoy an eternity of cold, hard sobriety.

I could see how that would be a buzzkill.

Everyone and anyone could enjoy a beverage at the Tar Pits, and some Gods were more common than others. Anansi, who Cy informed me was a Trickster God from West Africa, came in regularly and was the life of the party. He could tell a story so good, the whole room would be enthralled.

While there were customers from every pantheon, given the location we saw significantly more Celtic deities, suchCernunnos, the Horned God, who was so fucking beautiful with his ripped body and huge antlers, I honestly thought about crawling into his lap. However, that seductive allure was merely part of his powers, and Cy quickly took over serving him, just to save me from embarrassing myself.

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