Page 25 of Midnight in the Garden of Okay and Meh
There was nothing left for me to say, so I left as quickly as I arrived, texted Aisling my flight number and time I’d arrive in London—and accepted her offer to be picked up at the airport—and made it to my flight with a whole two minutes to spare.
It was only when I was in my seat that I allowed myself to relax, and feel guilty at squeezing another week of no-rehearsal from the company. “But unfortunately, my life is not my own,” I said under my breath as I leaned against the window and idly watched the waves of the North Sea pass beneath us.
“Really? Then who does it belong to?”
The woman sitting next to me asked the question. I shot her a quick look, noting the short black hair cut in what I thought of as a 1920s style. Beyond her sat a man with his hair pulled into a curly blob on the back of his head.
“Oh great. Dragons,” I said, my shoulders slumping. “Don’t tell me—Aisling sent you.”
“That’s right,” the woman said with a little laugh. “We thought that since your ... er ... type of person is so rare, we’d better make sure nothing happened to you on the way to find Jim’s mom. I’m May, by the way. This is Gabriel. He’s the wyvern of the silver sept.”
“We are very grateful that you’ve agreed to help us. And the Dark Ones,” Gabriel said in a lyrical Australian accent. “It no doubt seems strange to you that our two cultures have teamed up to tackle this problem, but the circumstances are what they are, and thus, we find ourselves working together.”
“It’s not like it won’t benefit everyone in the end,” May added, leaning toward me to say softly, “Since we need to get the thane off the street where he could potentially harm both mortals and immortals.”
“Thane?” I asked, confused.
“Don’t worry, that’s further down in the plan,” May told me.
“Is he dead?” I asked, wondering just how many people I needed to guide.
“Not that I know of. Gabriel?” May turned to her mate.
He looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure. He was in the Hour that Finch manages, but he’s also a demigod, and I don’t believe those actually die.”
“Right now, we need to concentrate on finding Jim’s parents and engaging them to help us,” May said. “How long have you been ... er ...” She stopped, obviously hesitant to use my title.
“A reaper? Since I was about fourteen, although my mother wouldn’t let me guide anything but pets until I was an adult.”
May’s eyes opened wide before she exchanged glances with her dragon. “Animals get escorted, too?”
“Of course,” I said, wondering if I could squeeze in a quick nap before we landed. Due to Papi’s demand to assist him with some impossible scheme, I wasn’t getting much time to rest. “If they want to go somewhere else, that is. Mostly, they stay where they are, but a few—those who were taken from the wild, or pets who want to be in familiar surroundings—prefer to go to a different location.”
“How sad,” May murmured, shifting in her seat.
I thought about that for a few seconds. “I don’t think of it that way. The animals are much happier when we get to their destination, just as are my human clients. Would you think it’s rude if I put in my earbuds and listened to music? I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Of course not! You go ahead and take a nap. We won’t disturb you,” she promised, and she was as good as her word.
It didn’t help me sleep, however. I simply leaned against the wall of the airplane with my eyes closed, and allowed free rein to the deranged squirrels I always imagined powering my brain..
How on earth was I going to balance Papi trying to involve me in something he declared was a grand scheme guaranteed to lead to wealth beyond my understanding, the demands of the dance company, and occasional reaper calls?
And when, a tiny, normally silent voice called out, when do I finally get to put my own wants and desires first, for a change?
My heart wept for the chaotic mess that was my life, and I fell into an uncomfortable doze contemplating just how hopeless things looked.
SEVEN
Desislav
PERSONAL ACCOUNTING OF DESISLAV, LORD OF ABADDON, DESTROYER OF WORLDS, AND WORSHIPPER AT THE ALTAR OF BEAUTY, GRACE, AND A WICKED SWORD ARM
“She came as I knew she would.” Desi stopped, frowned, then looked at the scribe who sat cross-legged on the floor while writing on a piece of papyrus set upon a wooden tray. “That sounds arrogant. I do not wish to sound arrogant where Parisi is concerned. But I knew the connection between us was strong enough to ensure she would be there, and she was.”
The scribe murmured something that Desi assumed was reassurance that he didn’t sound like an ass when recounting his story.
“For thousands of years we had been meeting every solstice, every equinox at the stone house, snatching for ourselves a few days of solitude and incredibly intense and gratifying bedsport before we had to return to our natural domains. But for this particular solstice some four hundred years ago, I felt Parisi was owed more than a simple stone cottage. Thus, well before solstice, I set twelve of my legions to rebuild the area outside that entrance to Abaddon to reflect the current trend of Roman villas. The area mortals had begun to trade with the Romans, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Rome turned its attention to the local tribes, given their abundance of cattle and iron. It makes little difference to me, but I thought Parisi was the type of woman who would enjoy the benefits of a villa.”
