Page 39 of The Deer and the Dragon
“Oh,” she mumbled into the second cup of molasses she’d attempted to pass off as coffee. “Let’s tackle that later.”
The ground opened up beneath me. My body felt weightless as my soul plunged into the pits of hell. The church I’d spent my life running from, the world I’d denied tooth and nail, was at my door. A high-pitched ringing forced me into a memory. My mother’s panicked words hung heavy in the house as she insisted that my imaginary friend was not of the Lord. It had been so cruel, so heartless, to take my only friend from me, and had planted within me the first seeds of doubt in my mother’s wisdom. She’d accused something so good, something so kind and gentle and beautiful, of being evil. It was the seed of distrust that grew roots over the years so I could see her fanaticism for what it was.
Except she’d been right.
“Are you okay?” Fauna said the words, but they were muffled as the ringing continued.
Sweat prickled over my forehead. My mother was right.Angels and demons. An imaginary friend from hell itself. It couldn’t be true. It had to—
Pain. Sharp, shooting, acute. “Ow!” My hand flew to my bicep. My eyes bulged as I looked in Fauna in horror. She’d pinched me with bruising strength. “God damnit!”
“Did it help?” she asked. At my blank expression, she said, “You looked like you were in the middle of an existential crisis. I’m happy to pinch you as many times as you need. Or even if you don’t need.”
It was the tenth time in twenty-four hours that I’d forgotten how to breathe. I struggled to speak. “It’s a little difficult to hear things that tear a hole in your understanding of the world.”
“Marlow…” She chewed on my name.
My heart skipped an anxious beat as I watched the nymph, my eyes wide. “What now?”
She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t a question. I was just tasting your name. It didn’t make sense at first, but I think I get it now.”
Heart still stuttering, I focused on my breathing while waiting with a quizzical brow.
“Driftwood—the meaning of your name. It seemed irrelevant. But now I see you in our waters, bobbing amid realms. It’s quite poetic, actually. Human parents so rarely consider the implications of things when they name their children, do they? Yet here you are, floating between kingdoms.”
“Call the kingdoms what they are. It’s heaven and hell. That’s what you’re telling me. Oh my god, my mom was right.”
Fauna made a face. “She wasbarelyright. You’re just leaving me and the other pantheons out? Rude.” Then to herself, she muttered, “The narcissism of pretending they’re the only two realms in the universe.”
She probably had a few other choice words under her breath, but I was hung up on repeating a single word to myself over, and over, and over again.
Demon.
She spoke again, breaking my fixation. “Are we here for a history lesson, or should we go see Geir?”
I did, in fact, want a history lesson.
I wanted to talk about mundane things and bury my nose in books and ground myself in literature. I was almost positive that I did not want to meet a centuries-old Nordic creature of lore who’d sired Grandma Dagny. There wouldn’t be enough room on any of my credit cards for the therapy I’d need to recover from such an experience. “No. Right now, all I want is to survive this coffee date. Then maybe I’ll go back home, nap—since it’s still too early for even the birds—and when I wake up this will all have been a dream.”
“Shoot me straight,” she said.
I sipped my coffee and used it as a grounding exercise. When having a panic attack, you were supposed to use the five senses. I tasted a well-brewed pour-over with honey. I smelled ground beans. I heard the clinking of cups and the espresso machine whir. I felt the warm cup. Everything was familiar, everything was anchoring, save for what I saw. Fauna was not of this world, and yet, here she was.
She parted what looked like petal-soft lips and asked, “Are you fighting this because you genuinely think you’re crazy? Or are you pushing back because you don’t want to deal with the consequences of accepting that there is so much more to life than you knew?”
She waited expectantly. My silence procured a smug look on her end before she took a satisfied slurp of her drink.
My eyes narrowed.
“Well, I know when I’m not wanted,” she said brightly. She stood and headed for the door.
“Wait!” My still-inconsistent heart refused to pick a pattern as it slammed into my ribs at the fear that she was leaving. I panicked as I glanced around the coffee shop, realizing she was about to leave me completely and utterly alone. “How will you get home? I drove.”
Her giggle was pointed, and I knew the laugh was an answer in and of itself. She was only present because she chose to be. She’d stayed with me because she’d wanted to. All she needed to do was step into the alleyway, away from prying eyes, and she could disappear.
“Will you come back?”
Fauna flashed a smile brighter than the moon as she said, “Are you kidding? With an angel sniffing around? You can’t be left alone for more than ten minutes. You’re stuck with us now.”
