Page 54 of Tempest

“My magic creates things that kill,” Iason corrected, soaking wet and looking exhausted. “Trees that trap you in bark. Poisoned gardens.”

“Coral is vital to sea life,” Levi pointed out. “Who is that going to kill? At worst, someone will cut their foot or get tangled in a plant while swimming.”

“And then drown, or their cut will get infected,” Iason said. “There are fish in coral reefs that can kill you with a touch. I know. I’ve made poison from them.”

“So you’re putting back what you took,” Levi said, waving a hand. “I told you. Creation and destruction, you can’t have one without the other. And there are healers for infections, here.” The sky began to rumble again. Levi smiled. “It worked, at any rate. That isn’t my storm brewing on the horizon. It’s my brother’s. He’ll be here soon.” Levi took Iason’s arm and helped him up to sit on a rock, so he could gather the strength he’d lost summoning Azaiah.

It didn’t take long. The storm that heralded the Reaper’s approach wasn’t like Levi’s; it brought no life-giving rains, no wind to carry pollen to new fields, no lightning that burned old forests to make way for new ones. It was the ominous rumble of thunder, lightning that flashed in the thick clouds but never broke through.

After a particularly loud clap, there they were: Azaiah, in his cloak and scythe as he strode across the sand in the same pair of dusty boots he’d worn since the day Levi first met him. Beside him, as usual, walked his companion.

“Leviathan,” Azaiah said, his preternaturally lovely features twisted in concern. “Are you in danger?”

“What? No. I simply wanted to speak to you, but I… couldn’t summon you as I usually do, and I didn’t have time to set up a Winter board and wait for you to notice.” Levi embraced Azaiah, inhaling the same scent of flowers and ozone that Iason likely smelled when he found their bond.

“Oh.” Azaiah drew back, concern giving way to his usual serene smile. “That’s all right, then. I was worried. We’ll have to send word to Astra, my soldier. We were visiting him and his companion, Cillian—did you know we have a new sibling, brother? The god of art is our brother Astra’s new companion.”

“Yes, he told me. I saw him in a dream. Astra, I mean. Not his man.”

“He’s very nice,” said Azaiah, who, to Levi’s knowledge, was unable to dislike anyone. “Astra is very taken with him. It’s sweet.” He patted Levi’s shoulder, his touch chilly, as it always was. “What did you need of me?”

“I think I have one, too,” Levi said, gesturing toward Iason, who was standing by the rock now instead of sitting on it… though he had one hand out to brace himself, which Levi supposed made sense for a human—mortal or otherwise—in the presence of Death himself.

“One what?” Nyx asked, quiet as usual, dressed in his traveling leathers and his favorite coat. He gave Iason a speculative look.

“A companion,” Levi said. “Azaiah, Nyx, this is Iason. I told you about him, on Arwyn’s boat.”

“The one you were going to eat,” Nyx said dryly. He studied Iason, then held out a hand. “I’m Nyx. And I know what you are.”

“What am I?” Iason asked, voice a sharp rasp, dominance heavy in his words as he looked at Nyx’s hand without taking it.

“A killer,” Nyx said without flinching, an equal weight of dominance in his own voice. Azaiah, who’d retained his mortal submissiveness, shivered and ducked his head, a smile playing about his full mouth. “And a good one… who wishes he were neither. I was one, too.”

Iason considered this for a long time, then reached out and took Nyx’s hand. “Iason Ellas. I was an assassin. I’m not anymore.”

“Nyx. I was a mercenary. I’m not anymore, either.”

Azaiah beamed. “How nice that you have something in common. But I thought you wanted to eat him, Leviathan?”

“I did,” Levi said. “We can discuss this, but maybe not at home. Sophie will try to braid your hair.”

“Definitely not at home,” Iason snapped, standoffish again. “I didn’t bind myself to a god to save her, only to bring Death to her doorstep.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Azaiah assured him, clearly not offended by the sudden waspish tone. “But wherever is fine. We haven’t been here in a bit, have we, Nyx? The last time, there was quite a lot of fire.”

“Yeah,” Nyx said. “There was.”

“You were here for the revolt?” Iason asked, shoulders rising up toward his ears.

“Yes,” Azaiah said. “I go where I am needed, and too many souls came to my river that day for my ferrymen to handle. And demons. When they die they need a special light, and—oh. I’m terribly sorry. This must be hard to hear, it being your homeland.”

Iason’s voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s fine. I would have met you, had I been there. I wasn’t on the right side.”

“We don’t have sides,” Nyx said.

Azaiah smiled at his companion. “My boat has seats for all, Iason Ellas. Death welcomes all who come to his shores.”

“Azaiah, you’re doing that thing again,” Nyx said. To Iason, he added, “He doesn’t try to sound like that, it’s just how he is.”

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