The air compressed, hard and hot, a sun lowering to earth. The bees buzzed, loud and louder, a harmony, a war cry shouted by a thousand wings.
“I’ll help you find the book,” he said, setting this connection as only he could. The bees were flying now, wings moving the air, the world, calling in cooler winds, clearer skies.
“I’ll see that it never falls into the wrong hands again. In return, you give me your loyalty, your word. You will not cross my will, my intent. You alone will not end this contract. Instead, we will exit it upon mutual agreement.”
That was the hard part to swallow. Before, I had insisted that Lula and I could end this connection any time we wanted to. If we did this now, if we agreed to his terms, we wouldn’t be free of the god unless he agreed to dissolve the connection.
“Agreed,” Lula said.
How could I not follow where she led? I shook my head once, my shoulders dropping. “Agreed.”
The first agreement we had made with Cupid had felt like a blessing. Gentle in its hold, quiet as a sunrise. This connection was more. It was a solid thing made of lead arrows and gold bowstrings. It flexed, the tension promising flight, speed, and recoil.
We would not end this connection to the god quickly. We would not escape his hold easily.
“This then, our seal.” Cupid’s words eased the draw, slackened the string, leaving a soothing warmth behind.
“Oh,” Abbi said. She stood next to Cupid—I hadn’t even seen her move—Hado resting across her shoulders, staring up at the god intently.
He dropped his gaze to her.
She tugged his hand, and he bent slightly her way. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.
“For what, little rabbit?”
“For them.” She planted a quick kiss on his cheek, then trotted over to stand next to me. “I like this,” she said. “I like itsofar.”
I wasn’t sure I could agree with her, but the ache and pain I’d been carrying since I’d almost died had lifted away, making me lazy and relaxed. I hadn’t felt this good since I’d come back into flesh.
Lula let out a breath she’d been holding and squeezed my hand gently. I ran my thumb across the soft skin of her knuckles. She shivered and sat back against the chair.
“Good.” Eunice pushed off the counter’s edge. “Now that you’re all family, I think it’s time to have cake.”
“Family?” I asked. “We’re not—”
Lula squeezed my fingers, just as Abbi took my other hand. “A little right?” Her eyes were wide, hopeful. “A little like a family, because we have a reason to stay together. A reason to choose us together and look after each other.”
“It’s not—” I started again.
“You’re right, Abbi,” Lula said. “It’s a little like a family.”
“Brogan?” Abbi asked. “Like a family?”
Lorde padded around the table to Abbi, her mouth open in her doggy smile, her tail wagging. Abbi rested her hand on the dog’s fuzzy shoulders.
I looked between all of them, the Moon Rabbit and her shadow, the happy black dog, the god who was watching all this with a curiously satisfied smile, the Muse, who was hauling the largest chocolate cake I’d seen in my life out of the refrigerator, and finally, my wife.
It was there that I stopped, in her, where I would always find my home.
She smiled, and it was the sunlight that eased my soul, the starlight by which my spirit navigated.
“Family?” I said, a question, a statement.
“Family,” she agreed, a promise, a hope.
“Yes,” I said to Abbi, though I couldn’t look away from Lula. “Like a family.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
