Page 32 of Gods of Prey
Sienna’s form solidifies slightly as she studies my face. “And if this is a terrible mistake?”
“Then it’s my mistake to make.” I hold her gaze steadily. “I’m the interim God of Life, Sienna. If I can’t choose to stand for life—for living fully, forlove—then what’s the point of this power?”
A small smile curves her lips, the first genuine one I’ve seen from her. “That sounds dangerously close to the argument Sebastian and I made that got us punished in the first place.”
“Maybe you were right then, too.”
She floats in a slow circle around me, her spectral clothes rippling in nonexistent wind. “This changes everything, you know. If you’re serious.”
“I am.” I turn to follow her movement, incapable of taking my eyes off her. It’s been years since I saw her act so free. “No more gods and goddesses dying alone. No more endless cycles of punishment. We’ll find another way.”
Sienna stops in front of me, her form more solid than I’ve ever seen it in the mortal realm. “Revel...” she begins, then stops, seeming to search for words.
“Yes?”
She reaches out, her ghostly hand hovering just above my cheek. I can feel the cold radiating from her, but it’s not unpleasant—it’s like the first breath of winter air.
“Thank you,” she says simply. “For seeing us. For seeing me.”
I close my eyes, imagining I can feel her touch. “We’re friends. We’ll figure this out.Together. I promise.”
When I open my eyes, Sienna is smiling—a sad, beautiful smile that transforms her face. The Goddess of Death, finding a reason to hope.
“Let’s go back to Seattle,” she says. “We have a new plan to make.”
As we leave the alley behind, I can’t help but glance back at the unmarked spot where Sienna’s mortal form died. It’s just a patch of dirty concrete to anyone else. But to me, it’s something sacred—the place where everything changed. Where I finally understood that some rules deserve to be broken.
And some punishments need to end.
10
Revel
The plane banks over Seattle, city lights glimmering through the window. I grip the armrest tighter than necessary, though not from fear of flying. My mind is still in New York. Still in that street where Sienna showed me how she died.
She sits beside me now, partially corporeal in the empty seat I purchased for “privacy reasons.”
The flight attendant glances over occasionally, confused by my one-sided conversation. I forgot to pop a headphone in before we took off to pretend I’m on the phone like I had on the first flight. I don’t care though.
“You’re still angry,” Sienna observes, her voice carrying that slight echo it gets when she’s not fully materialized.
“I’m not angry,” I lie, keeping my voice low. “I’m processing.”
“For three hours?” She arches an eyebrow, the gesture so familiar now that I can’t remember a time when it didn’t affect me. “That’s a long processing time, even for you.”
I turn to look at her fully. In the dim cabin lighting, she appears almost solid—a young woman with green eyes and blonde hair lying smoothly across her shoulders. Only the faint translucence at her edges reveals her spectral nature. That, and the absence of breathing.
“They disrespected you,” I say finally, my voice harder than intended. I’ve been stewing in this for hours. “They held you down and forced themselves into you while you bled out.” The words are cruel and harsh, but I have to get used to saying them. I have to let this anger fuel me, or I may lose my nerve. “And that was just death number thirty-three.”
Sienna’s expression doesn’t change, but her form flickers slightly. It’s a tell I’ve learned means she’s uncomfortable. “It was one of the milder ones, actually.”
“Don’t.” The word comes out sharp. “Don’t minimize it.”
She sighs, a habit from her mortal life that carries no actual breath. “What do you want me to say, Revel? That it was terrible? It was. That I’m traumatized? I am. That the Divine Council’s punishment is cruel and unusual? Obviously. This is why we’re fighting against the seventeen lifetimes we still have to go.”
“Nothing is absolute.” I meet her gaze steadily, agreeing. “Especially not now, with the balance already disrupted. We have leverage.”
The flight attendant passes by, giving me a concerned look as she notices me apparently talking to an empty seat. I offer a tight, polite smile and wait for her to move on.
