“Seriously?”
“Sadly, yes. You’re terribly distracting to me. What was I saying?”
“Oh my God, Falcyn! Really?”
Screwing his face up, he groaned. “Yeah. Where was I going a minute ago? I seem to have lost my way in the deep valley of your shirt plunging between your breasts.”
She popped him lightly on his stomach. “We were talking about driving away doubt. Remember? I said confidence and leaps of faith.”
“Oh yeah… yeah! Had a thought about that. Leaps of Faith. You know?”
Medea scowled at him. He said that as if she should understand some arcane meaning behind that phrase. But it meant nothing to her. “Yeah? Okay…”
He deflated before her eyes, and shook his head. “I keep forgetting you’re an Apollite. With no real experience among the fey.”
“Sorry. We’re not on their party lists.”
“Trust me, you’re better off. Last time they came out to play with your people, they made the Were-Hunter race.”
She scoffed at his oversimplification of that major historical event. “Dagon wasn’t a fey creature. And I do believe, as a Sumerian god, he’d be highly offended at your categorizing him as such.”
“True. But as his brother, I’m morally obligated to bust his chops every chance I get. Which he’d appreciate if he were here and would return said insult with gusto. And probably a punch or god-bolt.”
Her jaw dropped at something she’d been completely unaware of. “You’re not really his brother, are you?”
“I am, indeed. Half, anyway. His mother’s Hekate. But we share the same piece-of-shit sperm donor.”
“Is that why he joined the Sumerian pantheon?”
“That was mostly a bad bout of teenage rebellion… or, more to the point, a bout of midlife crisis for a god.” Falcyn paused to consider it. “Or maybe, given his current extreme old age, it would best be considered a prepubescent tantrum?”
She laughed at the way he summarized things. The dragon had a unique phrasing and perspective. “You have an interesting family tree.”
“Says the woman related to Apollo and the king of the Daimons.”
“And you’re off point again.… I’ve noticed that you tend to do that. A lot.” She gestured at the trees around them. “Leaps of faith? Where were you going with that?”
“Oh yeah. Sorry. Faith is a modern word forfey. And ‘leaps of fey’ was once a slang term for fresh, running water gathered in a stream, as opposed to a well.”
“Okay…” She still had no idea where he was going with that.
“I’m thinking if we gather some, we can use it to get rid of them.”
Ah! That made sense. Running water was often used to chase away malevolent spirits. Hence the propensity of throwing holy water for exorcisms. And why some paranormal species couldn’t cross streams or rivers. “It’s worth a shot.”
“It’s what I’m thinking.”
“But what if we don’t find any?” She sighed heavily. “What if it doesn’t work? What if it’s hopeless and we’re stuck like this forever?”
He growled deep in his throat. “You’re doubting me?”
Medea gave him a no-duh stare. “I’m possessed by the spirits of doubt. You think? Of course I’m doubting you. And thanks for this wonderful experience, by the way! So much better than a trip to Disneyland. I can’t believe I left home for this.”
He let out a “heh” at her continued sarcasm. “Just help me find some fey water.”
“That doesn’t explode when we touch it.”
“Exactly.”
