Page 107 of The Deer and the Dragon
“How badly do you want to be a mother, Merit Finnegan?”
I swallowed. “More than anything.”
“And that’s exactly what I’ll give to you.”
Maybe it was my wish to freeze time, or my prayer that I’d slow the world around me so that I could absorb every detail, but the cogs in her word choice clicked together, churning as they started a new and wholly startling realization within me.Natural procreation process.In the absence of priestesses, this was how Astarte satiated her need for prostitution, for escorts, for the sexual exploitation of bodies worshipping in her name.
I decided to keep my voice as light as possible as I joked, “Depending on how unconventional your methods, I have to say, these men are easy on the eyes.”
“They’re easy on more than the eyes,” she purred.
A chill wrapped itself around my spinal cord, slithering into a space within my vertebra and puncturing my column, filling every hollow space within me with ice.
When I’d stepped into sex work, it had been for agency, for freedom, for choice. Every date had broken my chains from poverty, bringing me comfort, security, wealth, and the ability to build the future I wanted.
What Astarte wanted…
Discomfort took root. The apricot smell became stifling. I wanted to leave.
My eyes flitted to the bodyguard once more before I asked, “I’m sorry, is she present for all appointments?”
Doctor Ayona opened her mouth as if to answer, but only a thin wisp of air escaped.
“Is who…” She looked over her shoulder long enough for her and the woman to lock stares. She looked back at me with wide-eyed confusion for a moment before her face tightened. The warmth, professionalism, and medical mask dropped from her in an instant. I was struck again with the terror of her ancient power as I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that, without knowing how or why, I had made the worst mistake of my life. The doctor’s teeth set in a grit. Asshe snapped her fingers, the door opened, and I didn’t have to turn to know Jessabelle had entered from behind. The bodyguard took another step closer.
“Jessabelle, Anath,” she said coolly as her eyes narrowed on me.
I didn’t have to know more of Phoenician etymology to know I’d fucked up. I gripped the arms of my chair, knuckles turning white as I turned to look over my shoulder. The world collapsed around me as the Soul Eater approached me on one side while the bodyguard came at me from another. Whatever I’d done, I was no longer safe. I stood and backed up against the window. I pressed myself into the glass, knowing it was mirrored and that Caliban wouldn’t be able to see me.
I’d failed them. I’d been in here for thirty minutes, and I’d failed them.
“I’m sorry, I—”
The women flanked me on either side, each taking an arm. The Soul Eater gripped an elbow while the bodyguard grabbed the other.
“How?” demanded the woman in the black suit.
“Howwhat?” I gasped.
“Search her, Anath,” said the doctor with a wave. I expected them to go through my purse, but instead, the one called Anath grabbed the collar of my shirt and yanked.
“No pendant,” she muttered. She shoved my sleeves up to the middle of my forearms, stopping just short of my tattoo, before saying, “No pendant, no bracelet, no rings. I don’t know how she’s doing it.”
I realized with horrifying clarity that they were looking for the true-sight sigil. That was it, then. I hadn’t been meant to see the woman called Anath while she kept vigil in the corner. I’d tilted my cards, and they knew I was no mere author. My mind raced as I looked for a solution. I felt like my finger hovered above the channel button, pressing it at lightning speed as I flipped through station after station, desperate for a reason, an excuse, a—
“Do you know a Norde called Geir?” My question came out in a rush.
Anath’s hands remained on me, but her eyes lifted to meet mine. I looked back to the desk where the doctor now leaned, perched on the edge of her station. I wasn’t sure where I was going with my tactic, but I’d gained their attention. The Soul Eater leaned in as if to use her glinting teeth to puncture the tender flesh of my jugular. I wasn’t sure if vampires existed but had no idea what she was doing until she inhaled deeply.
“She does smell of it,” said Jessabelle, “but it’s so faint…”
“Wait, let me show you.” I tried to yank my elbow free. The women resisted for a moment, then released me. It was working—what, I didn’t know, but it was working. I wasn’t willing to show my demonic sigil, but I had one more card to play. I took a few cautious steps to where my purse remained on the chair, angling my body so no one could peer over my shoulder. I opened it up, looking at the five precious things inside. A credit card, an ID, a golden poppet, a knife, and a silver sølje. I plucked the broach from the purse and held it up.
“See?”
Doctor Ayona closed the space between us, and no longer could I smell the lovely apricots of the Juliet rose. The woody scents of burnt sugar, smoked sage, and sandalwood were deeper and more powerful than a perfume. It was an ancient and ominous smell, wonderful and terrifying all at once.
“May I?” she asked.
