“No one has heard from Ella or Kirby,” I said, using every ounce of professionalism I could muster. “I think there might have been a meeting with Apep that went sideways. What do you know about him?”
She scoffed. “You mean the god meant to bring about the end of light and life within the mortal universe, plunge the world into darkness, and proceed to take the throne to assert himself over all gods and worlds?”
A beat.
“Shit.”
“Yeah, shit. Why are you asking about him?” she prodded.
It was impossible to look into her eyes without the onslaught of everything we’d endured. I looked away as Ifinished, “Estrid is going stir-crazy. I need you to stay with Nia so that Estrid can make sure Ella is okay.”
She looked at the kettle, and I thought for a minute she might ignore me and get it going. A long moment passed before I understood she had no intention of looking at me. “And that’s all you want from me? To stay with Nia?”
“Yes,” I said on a breath.
“To be clear: You’re talking about an apocalypse chaos god, something I might know a thing or two about, and all you want is for me to sit tight and watch your friend?”
The more she questioned me, the more certain I became. “Yes.”
Statue-still, she asked, “Why didn’t you ask Azrames?”
My lips twitched, withholding painful truths. “He and Caliban have other issues at hand right now.”
Fauna looked over my shoulder as if examining the apartment for the first time. “And Silas?”
“Is helping Alessia Clovis.”
Both brows lifted. I didn’t miss the way she stifled her hand against the counter, though I wasn’t sure what she hoped to accomplish, whether she was trying to keep from reacting to the news of a masculine spirit in a famously feminine space or simply jonesing for coffee. Finally, her features folded, brows pulling up at the center, lower lip puckered.
“Marlow, can we please talk about this?”
I closed my eyes tightly.
“I know you’re mad, but this is serious. This is bigger than hurt feelings.”
“Hurt feelings?” I gasped. She’d manipulated me to end the world. Did she have a different version of reality?
“Those were the wrong words to use. I just mean, if we could talk about it…”
She stopped when my eyes remained closed.
No, we couldn’t. I had nothing to say. Right now, the only use she had to me was in keeping Nia alive. I held up a finger and left her in the kitchen while I took a few minutes tobrush my teeth, pull on pants and a shirt, and grab the broach. I was wrapping my hair into a ponytail when I returned to see that she’d found the bag of sugar and coffee after all. Unlike Silas, she had not procured the honey to make my cup.
“Let’s go,” I said.
She frowned. “Both of us?” Then she looked between the French press and the sack of sugar before asking, “Can I at least have a cup first?”
“I’m sure Nia will make you coffee at hers. She’s a better host than I am.”
Her lips remained tucked in a frown as she watched me for any hope of leniency. She set down the empty mug with a gentle clatter. “It isn’t hard to beat your hospitality,” Fauna grumbled quietly. After an eternity, she stretched a hand toward me as I closed my fist around the broach. Together, we stepped into the dark.
