Persuasion (Curse of the Gods, #2)

by Jaymin Eve

The Persuasion-gifted god was never soft. He was snarly, competitive, confusing, and he probably tortured soft things like me as a fun morning activity.

I wasn’t good at many things, but I was excellent at getting in the way. Especially if it was ‘in the way’ of something dangerous. Like a freaking curse that would split my soul into six pieces, leaving me only a tiny little morsel while delivering the other five slices to the five sacred beings who had been standing closest to me.

I didn’t like being pushed around, and I’d always thought that I’d go down fighting when my time to die finally arrived. I’d probably be fighting a pillar or a stone floor as I fell on my face, but it still counted.

We were all the same way: a little too impulsive, a little too reactive, a little too rough around the edges. It was why I let them stick around.

My random change of subject didn’t seem to faze them at all. They were probably used to it by now.

They had been going on about the pact and my boobs since we stepped into the room. All of them except Siret. He had simply crossed his arms and declared that my boobs were his favourite part of every sun-cycle on Minatsol, and that he was not okay with them being hidden. He was going to get slapped twice the very next time I found a chair so that I could reach his face.

Aros groaned then. It was this low rumbling sound which had my voice wavering and my knees weakening. “She’s impossible. I swear to those asshole gods, she was sent here as part of our punishment.” A twinge of hurt in my chest followed those words. Only a twinge because I did understand what he meant. Most people considered me to be nothing more than an annoyance. A nuisance.

And shit … I’d just pushed him a little too far. Standing up for yourself was overrated anyway. I ran, turning as fast as I could and diving between Rome and Siret to get out of the room.

“What have we told you about doors?” he asked. “They move … so I shouldn’t lean on them.”

I also couldn’t report the incident, because no excuse would be good enough. The sacred sol was pretending to be my best friend, so that she could stab me, but my bowl of spaghetti saved me, and then she head-butted it, and now she’s unconscious.

My bravery was a very fickle thing: it mostly only existed until common sense had a chance to sink in.

“Hugging is flirting?” I asked, my voice muffled against his back. “I didn’t start this. This isn’t my fault. It feels nice to touch you guys because you kidnapped my soul. I’m actually hugging my soul right now. This is a private moment. Butt out.”

They were always trying to assert dominion over each other, and I had become their favourite tool for dominion-asserting. Whoever had ‘possession’ of me seemed to automatically become the center of dissension, as though they were taking more than their fair share of things. I had tried diffusing a few fights by reasoning that I wasn’t a thing to share, but they responded the same way every single time. They told me that I was their dweller; assigned to them, fair and square. There was even paperwork to prove it. Also, my soul was living inside them, free-of-charge, so apparently, that translated into ownership of my person.

“Standing right here,” I snorted out, lifting our joined hands. “No need to talk about me like I’m a piece of naughty furniture you just traded a bunch of tokens for, only to realise it doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do.” Yael shook his head, his dark hair sliding across his forehead. “A piece of furniture would talk less and be of more use to us. Something for you to consider, Rocks.”

“You let sols and dwellers look at her like that?” Coen’s words were low and angry. Filled with power and pain. “They saw her dressed in almost nothing! It’s bad enough when she loses her clothes through whatever special magic she possesses, but this was you. You allowed this to happen!”

I snorted. “She got that. She’s just lucky I didn’t have a knife on me. She was going to be the second person I stabbed by accident on purpose.”

“I’m sorry, Willa. I couldn’t think of another way … your pain is …” He trailed off and Coen picked up the rest of the sentence. “When you’re hurting, we’re hurting.” “My pain doesn’t bother me,” Siret added, “but for some reason, yours …” “It bothers us a lot,” Yael finished.

A half-grin tipped up the corner of my lips. “I knew you five liked me.” Yael cast a half-slanted brow in my direction. “Don’t push it. We could probably learn to unlike you just as quickly.”

“Now they’re going to come down and fight. And that stupid box might be full of the most angry and dangerous and revengey gods in Topia.” “Revengey?” Siret caught both of my hands, wrestling me back into my seat again. “What the hell are you trying to say?” “I think she means vengeful,” Yael noted, sounding vaguely amused as he turned his attention back to the fight again.

It’s been at the back of my mind for a while, but I usually ignore the back of my mind because I don’t like nasty surprises and that’s what it always gives me—” “Rambling,” Aros cut in, his eyes flicking from the arena to me. At least this time he looked amused. “You’re rambling again, sweetheart. Get to the point.”

“That’s what you came up with?” Siret asked, laughing down at me. “All that internal monologue about how you needed to fake being interested and that is what you eventually say? Seriously?” “Get out of my head!” I punched him squarely in the stomach, and then howled as though my whole arm had been run over by a wagon full of really fat sols.

“So … penises, right? I mean … just wow, so many penises. What would a girl even do with that many penises together in one place?” Shut up Willa. What the hell is wrong with you?

“They get you into even more trouble than you manage to get yourself into,” she finally said. I had been silent, because I had felt the lecture brewing up. “I thought that was impossible.” “Yeah, but they also get me out of more trouble than I could get out of myself. That has to count for something.”

Dwellers weren’t good enough to serve the gods. They needed to first have their souls lobotomised and funnelled into serving robots and then they could serve the gods.

Get it together, souls! “Now she’s talking to her soul pieces.” Siret was back to being amused over my weird brain. “Can I keep her?” He turned pleading eyes on his brothers, only for Yael to spin in a flash and deliver a punch right into the centre of his chest. “If anyone is keeping her, it’s me,” he snapped. “I won her fair and square.” Oh for fuc—“Listen up, assholes. For the last time, I’m not a piece of furniture that you guys own, and can trade around when you feel like it—”

“Put me dow—” “No.” Rome grunted the word more than spoke it, and his hand pulled up, landing a sharp smack right on my butt. “Be a good little curse and stay up there where you can’t hurt anyone.” “Don’t you mean where I can’t get hurt?” I grumbled. “Yeah. That too.”

“You need to back off,” Coen snarled at Yael, ignoring me completely. His hands crashing into Yael’s chest, sending him stumbling back several steps. “I saw her first.” “Actually,” Siret interrupted, his voice a low growl. “I saw her first.” “Actually!” I raised my voice above all of them, trying to get their attention. “There was a healer back in the seventh ring who definitely saw me first, although I’m pretty sure she regrets helping my mother give birth to me. Or if she didn’t before, she will once she hears about all the great work I’ve been doing in Blesswood.”

“We don’t have cute nicknames. You have a nickname, and it isn’t cute—” “What isn’t cute about dolls?” I interrupted, before he could even answer my other questions. “You’re a ragdoll, Willa Knight.” Now, he was smiling. And it wasn’t a nice smile. “Your head is filled with straw and you flop around like you have no actual bones. I should try breaking one of them, one of these sun-cycles, just to be sure that you have them.”

“Where did you come up with that idiotic notion?” “It’s a skill,” I snarled, trying to yank my hand free. He only tightened his grip. So I decided to kick him in the balls.

“We’re upset that you removed it,” Yael interrupted. “You … you shweed!” For a moment, not a single person even dared to breathe. Cyrus looked confused, but the others seemed to be torn between rage and amusement. “What …” Coen paused, taking a deep breath, “the hell is a shweed?” “It’s a cross between a shit-head and a weed,” I said, causing everyone to turn to me. “Her idiocy is contagious,” Cyrus stated. He almost looked surprised.

Rau. I didn’t like it, which might have explained the way I shrieked and tried to throw the jug of water on them, only to realise it was empty and all I had actually thrown was the jug. Which smacked into Siret’s head. He swung around with another snarl and I froze, both hands held out in front of me. “Shit! Sorry, I meant to hit Rau … and I meant to throw the water not the jug! And I’m … shit!” Some of Siret’s anger faded away as he watched me panicking, before eventually his lips tilted in a small grin. He shook his head. “Maybe don’t try and help me next time, might be safer if you just cheer from the side.”

My voice was flat when I answered him. “It’s not that I don’t fear you, I just don’t think there’s any point in stressing and actively fearing things that can kill you. If I feared everything that hurt me, I’d never open my eyes in the morning. I’m just going to slot you into the same category as the wild bullsen, who were not very happy when I stumbled into their territory, and leave it at that.”

I prepared for the strike, but Cyrus barely even blinked an eye at his broken lamp. He just waved his hand and then the lamp was back in one piece. “Do you need a job?” I blurted out, my eyes locked on the once again pristine piece of furniture. “Because I might have an opening for someone of your skill set.” Cyrus almost cracked a smile then—I would swear it was there but before I could comment, the stony face returned. “I already have an important job, I don’t have time to follow you around picking up the pieces of the world you break.”

“Your inner monologue is amusing,” Cyrus said, interrupting my thoughts. I snorted. “So I’ve been told.”

Hands landed on my shoulders, spinning me around. Aros. His golden eyes were so close all of a sudden, and for a moment, I was lost. I stepped forward, and accidently hugged him. I swear it was an accident.

“What is wrong with you, Five!” “And this whole time you thought I was the good brother?” he asked with an arch to one perfect brow, tapping me beneath the chin. He was staring at my mouth now, as though he wanted to drag me back up against him. “I’m the brother that makes bad jokes while everyone else is trying to save your life.” “It’s true,” Aros added, sounding a little bit exasperated. “You really should have seen that coming.”

“You hit me,” he said, without inflection. “I have not been struck for more life-cycles than I can remember.” “I’m special,” I declared sarcastically. I actually was special, but not in a kick-the-gods-asses kind of way. More in the dropped-on-my-head-at-birth kind of way.