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Though Cook was considered large by society’s standards, she wore her size well. She had the beauty and confidence of an eccentric, wardrobe-challenged countess.
She sat in a chair beside me, her dark hair hanging in long ringlets down her back, her huge blue eyes concentrating on the pages before her.
He’d showered, but had yet to shave. Or comb his hair. Or groom himself in any way. Gawd, he was sexy.
He was here. Mr. Wong was hovering in a corner of my living room, just like back at my apartment in Albuquerque.
I could tell right then and there he wondered what she saw in him. And I wanted to tell him: That. That humbleness. That appreciation of her. That love for both her and Amber. No, not just love. Respect. He respected her. He respected Amber. He was truly grateful for them both. There was no greater gift.
He was like Tarzan, Clark Kent, and James Bond all rolled into one.
“We watch movies while Uncle Reyes makes cockporn.” Everyone in the immediate area stilled while Reyes and I pressed our mouths together, trying not to crack up.
Gemma walked up behind her and did the crazy sign, which since she was a psychiatrist seemed very unprofessional.
Damn it. I hated being left out of the loop. I loved loops. People didn’t understand that about me.
“Okay, here’s what I know: There were seven gods, or what we would call gods, in your dimension. They were the original gods. They created everything there, like the God of this dimension created everything here.”
They could procreate, but only once.” “Okay, I’ll bite. Why only once?” “Because once they created another god, what I’m calling a ghost god, they melded together and became one. They ceased to exist. Their union created another being—” “Like Beep!” “—like Beep, only they converged into one being, a single ghost god, with all the power of the two that merged to produce it. Therefore, the new entity is more powerful than the individual gods that created it. It’s like two stars colliding to create a single supernova, one that can live forever and has an endless supply of energy.
For the first time, two ghost gods, with the power of all those who came before them, merged and you were created from their union.”
“So, to answer your question,” Reyes said, “you are the first pure ghost god, the only one created from two ghost gods. And because there are no more, you are also the last.”
“Go stand in the corner with Mr. Wong.”
“You can brand a soul for heaven or for hell. You can brand a soul for termination, which is essentially what you do when you mark one for me. It’s kind of like free game. You can mark one as a wanderer, a soul with no home who must wander the wilds of the supernatural realm, forever considering their mistakes. And you can give the mark of designation.” “Designation?” “You can assign that soul a special purpose on earth, and no other supernatural being can argue with your decision.”
I felt as though my eyes were glued to her. I couldn’t stop gazing at this little person we’d been waiting so long to see.
“No,” he said before I could even get a word out. “But you haven’t heard—” “No,” he said again, standing up with his arms full of leftovers. “And that’s final.”
Spiritualist, I thought as I looked at her. It seemed appropriate. Important, even.
He looked down at Beep. “Your mother is like everyone at the nuthouse rolled into one. She’s a nut roll. Can you say ‘nut roll’?”
The skin drifting off them was like fireflies at night. Horrific yet magical.
I forgot to tell him something I’d learned while in his world: Lucifer was no longer in hell. He was here. He was on earth.
Maybe it was a portal to hell. Or a broom closet. I always felt broom closets were a little shady. Why would a broom need its own closet?
“I know that you are the first god of pure light, the first pure ghost god born of two ghost gods ever to exist. I know you are the thirteenth. I know you have inherited all the power from all the gods ever to exist in your realm, and yet here you are, playing games with me. I am honored and appalled that you would think so much of these humans to risk your life for them. You must realize you have left your realm vulnerable. No telling what you’ll go back to.”
One of the hounds nudged him, and he rested a hand on its head before disappearing into the shadows again. He was clad in armor like a prince from an ancient Asian dynasty. “Mr. Wong,” I said as I stood stunned by the mere thought of it.
“Who sent you?” I asked Mr. Wong. “You did. Before you became human, you sent me to be your protector, your sentry until you finished your duties here and went home.”
Just like Reyes told me, with the knowledge of my name came billions of memories. I remembered my realm, my people, the gods that came before me. The memories were like flashes of camera light, only a million at a time. Then another million. Then the next. I remembered the creation of my universe and every universe thereafter. I remembered the wars. So many wars.
Though Reyes had seen me centuries ago, I saw him first. Knew he was capable of greatness. Called dibs.
He told me his name the moment he was born. Rey’aziel.” “‘The beautiful one,’” I said, translating his name. “Yes. That is one interpretation,” Mr. Loehr said. “But it actually means ‘God’s secret.’”
I marked them all as we led the Loehrs to their car. The sentry, the scholar, the spiritualist, the healer. I even marked the three guardians, and it just goes to show that the bravest hearts often lie in the least likely candidates.
I looked at the Thirteenth Warrior, the one who, according to prophecy, would tip the scales either for or against her. The one who would be the doom of every being on earth if he failed: Osh’ekiel.
My celestial father, for all intents and purposes, was named Ran-Eeth-Bijou. My mother, Ayn-Eethial. And my name, the name they gave me when I was created, was Elle-Ryn-Ahleethia.
