“Oh right, only child,” she said with a chuckle. “Consider yourself lucky.” Horror seeped into her when she recalled his earlier words. “Oh crap, the rest of your clutch die—er, I mean they didn’t…they weren’t…”
“It’s alright, Zara,” he assured her, patting her arm. “Truly. My mother never talked about the other eggs, so I don’t really feel anything about them. I mean, I wish they had survived, but that’s life, right? Life and death, rather.”
“True.”
“So, you and your siblings were raised as humans, but you are geryons, correct?”
“Yes. Sort of,” she qualified. “Like your kind, geryons first came to Vale Crossing. But then, our ancestor lost his magic and his wings, and most of his descendants left for the Upperworld when they were cast out from the geryon stronghold. Somehow, though, we retained our magic.”
“Your blood is strong,” he said. “How does your magic manifest?”
“I can sense emotional residue on objects, but also detect the intentions of people and their emotions if they are particularly strong.”
“Ah, very useful for your mission.”
“Yeah, or spotting scammers at our shop.”
“You own a shop?”
“Yes. We’re artists and we have a studio and shop back in Bolivia.”
“An artist.” Pythorus’s eyes glowed. “I dabble in art as well. Pottery, actually.”
“Really?”
“My mother worked for Thrimarr, the kiln goddess, for about a year and I learned from her sons.” A small smiled touched his lips.
“Can I see some of your work? If you have pictures.”
“Of course.” He fished his phone out of his pocket. “But, only if you show me yours?”
She flashed him a smile. “Sure.”
Seeing Pythorus’s pottery and showing him her own paintings made Zara itch to paint again. Though she did bring her supplies, she hadn’t picked up a brush since she arrived in Vale Crossing, mostly because she’d been exhausted every dayafter their intense training sessions with Hecate. However, now she realized she’d been neglecting that side of her.
“Are you alright, Zara?” Pythorus’s eyebrows drew together in a frown.
“Me? Yeah, I’m good.”
“But?”
“But you made me realize that I haven’t been being true to myself, or at least, my artistic side. I’ve been starving my muse,” she joked. “Being busy with work and all. Thank you for showing me your pottery, they’re amazing. And thank you for reminding me that I can’t just be one part of a trio of magical geryon descendants.”
“You’re very welcome,” he said with a chuckle. “Helping people is what I do. Is there anything else I can assist you with?”
“Yeah, if you know any single basilisks who can pretend they’re my boyfriend, that would be great.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Excuse me?”
Crap, the words spilled out before she could stop herself.
Stupid basilisk alcohol.
“Nothing, don’t mind my drunken babbling.”
“Oh no, now I have to hear about this. Why do you need a pretend basilisk boyfriend?”
Zara sighed. “It’s a long story.”
