“Like my papa’s. He—I have my father’s wings, greater cambion. These are special to his family line. Father!” I called out as the attendants did their best to cover me.
He shoved his head in, eyes full of concern, and stared with open-mouthed wonder at little Ausmius. “Ausmius Faramar Faust.”
Gre had no attachment to Hawthorne, so he agreed to take my name, and our child would be given the Station of Faust and all the respect that earned him.
“He’s perfect.” Gre reached out to stroke one of his slightly pointed ears. “A little warlock. He could pass for a dark fae, couldn’t he?”
“Essentially, he’s just that,” Faunus spoke from the doorway. “A race of people fathered by the gods themselves among mortals. Maybe more like him will come along.”
“Let us hope not,” Bastet spoke as she strode in, Diana at her side. The two stared at the child with delight. “But he needs to return to the mortal plane. I have sent missive to my follower to be on his way.”
I glanced up, unsure of what she meant.
“A certain hellcat. Half demon or no, all cats are my domain.” Bast strode over to stroke the little one’s head. “Blessings be upon you, little one.”
She gave the child a kiss right on his temple, a slight glow behind it. The light within swirled and decorated the child’s arm with a playful little line of hieroglyphs. And so, Diana followed suit, a trail of moons in their phases joining Bastet’s message. Faunus strode forward next, and his bearded kiss left a circle around the babe’s arm; vines twisted.
“And nobody thought to invite me to this birthday party?” A booming voice silenced under a solid smack as Odin and Anubis made their presence known. He held out his hand and gestured toward one of the attendants, who laid something dark, slick, and limp across his palm. Over many seconds, the thing writhed, dried, twisted, and knotted in a concerning series of movements until he handed it to Gre.
“What—” Gre held up what had been Ausmius’s umbilical cord, in his hands a dark noose.
“Use it wisely until Ausmius has need for it. A hangman’s rope, death given at the start of life. He was born with a noose around his neck. This is a powerful tool.” Odin patted Gre’s shoulder and shuffled off before giving me a wink…or was it a blink? One couldn’t tell with old One-Eye.
“My gift is a simple one. Once may they die. Once, and I will send them back. They are near invulnerable, but if mortality kisses their lips, I will send them back once.” Anubis leaned down and pressed his snout to the child’s forehead, making him whimper and flail. “And he will always be welcome in my temple.I have a feeling he will be able to converse with Ammit. He is a caretaker of all creatures, mortal plane or other. Ammit will appreciate the company, I’m sure.”
“Hear that, Ausmius? You’re as important now as you ever wished to be.” I chuckled, and Aus curled his little fingers around the shroud of his blanket and cooed.
“Far more cute, at any rate.” Gre leaned in and gave his own little blessing with a whispered word and a hum of song that told him that if it didn’t kill him, it’d make him stronger.
I kissed my child, the last one to do so, it seemed. Nobody had washed him yet, and I tried to get it out of my head, the thought of my ass being on the lips of some very major deities.
“I love you, my dark moon, Esmeray.” Gre leaned down and breathed me in.
“And I love you, my Mage of Gray.” I closed my eyes and leaned into his side, whole for the first time in a long, long while.
Epilogue
Greginald
Two a.m. was the bane of my existence, my little one crying his little whimpers of distress for his papa, wanting to nurse to his growing body’s content.
Kismet handled everything during the day and weekday, but his days off left us flustered, Esmeray even more so.
Considering this, I woke at his little cries, unswaddled him, changed his nappy, and carried him into the bedroom where a wide-awake Esmeray stared at me with utter defeat slashed across his face. He had his shirt off, scarred skin of his belly still slightly swollen, chest puffy, and nipples raw. “I can’t do it, Gre. I can’t.”
“Can’t do what?” I cradled our whining newborn and slipped into bed beside him, helping him get Ausmius to latch to minimize his work.
“I can’t do this.” He gestured to our hungry little one nursing for dear life, almost sucking the soul itself out of Esmeray’s teat.
I leaned in, a soft sigh over my lips as I kissed his cheek then ear, resting my nose there to take in that slightly tinny smell he had, lined with sulfur. “That’s okay. Would you rather pump and I’ll get him a bottle?”
“No!” Esmeray sobbed as he clutched Ausmius, chest shaking as tears poured over his cheeks. “I don’t want to do this! I don’t want him nursing on my udders like a fucking cow! I don’t like it. I hate having to wake up every two hours. I hate every second of this, and I’m starting to hatehim.”
I’d expected the break to come sooner or later and had prepared accordingly. “Then don’t.”
“But then I’ll be a bad papa! I’ll get judged. I’ll go on my parents’ group and hold up the blue can and ask how muchsulfur and iron I need to add to adapt the formula for my baby and I’ll be attacked by a dozen granola parents telling me I’m giving my son some sort of mental developmental disorder!”
I fought the urge to laugh and tucked Esmeray into my side. “Check the drawer of your nightstand, love.”
