TWELVE
SAGE
We’re sitting on the couch in the den, within sight of the dining room and the entry hall, waiting for Marius to come home. Aelia is looking at her nails like the secret of the universe might reside in her cuticles. I’m trying not to let the avalanche of questions in my head crush my brain. The uniformed maids are going back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room to set the table.
I’m more than a little relieved when I hear footsteps echo from the back hall. Marius enters the room, and Aelia leaps from the couch and tackles him in a hug.
“Daddy!” she squeals like a little girl. She leans away to look at him and asks, in all seriousness, “What’d you bring me?”
He pulls her close again and kisses the top of her head. “Well, my Lia, I found some lovely Russian nesting dolls.”
She droops. “I wanted Prada.”
“They belonged to the last czar’s daughter. A secret note was hidden inside, written in his own hand.”
She pulls from his arms. “I still say lame.”
He chuckles. “Of course you do. Perhaps next time I’ll find something satisfactory.”
“How long will you stay with us?” she asks.
“Only for dinner. I have work to do.” He looks up at me. “How are you settling in, young Sage?”
Aelia answers for me. “She’s fine.”
Before Marius can ask me to elaborate, a woman enters the room, and he turns to smile at her. I’m a bit surprised—I didn’t realize anyone else was in the house, besides the cook and maids. She walks over to his side and presses into him, kissing his cheek softly. “My love, we’ve missed you.” Her hair is long and golden blond, and her dress is like something out of a glamorous nineteen-fifties style magazine, tightly fitted and glittery with a slit on the side that reaches nearly to her hip. Is she having dinner or going to a casino? “Do you really have to go so soon?”
“I’m afraid so,” Marius says, then he motions to me. “Have you met our new arrival, my dear?”
The blond woman flashes me a glance but doesn’t fully look at me. Instead, she turns and searches the space behind Marius like she’s expecting someone to come in after him. “Well, sure, but where is that young man you said would be joining us? The one with the blue tattoos?”
Aelia rolls her eyes. “Gods, Mom.”
Marius frowns at the blond woman—his wife?—like he doesn’t understand. Then he looks to me again. “Is Faelan not here for dinner?”
I consider how to explain. “Well, he—”
Aelia cuts me off. “He’s resting. Big day with the newborn and all. Training and whatnot.” She hooks her arm into his. “Let’s eat, Daddy. I’m starving.”
I glance sideways at Aelia and try to figure out what’s going on. Why is she lying? And should I let her? Aelia is the last person on earth I want to side with, but Marius seems pretty powerful—I don’t want him to think I’m against him in any way.
When we’re all sitting around the table and I see the family together, my stomach turns sour. I’ve seen a lot of different family dynamics over the years, living in too many foster homes, some with legitimate kids mixed in with the loaners, and some with a full gaggle of bastards and orphans clustered together in less space than these people would probably give to a dog. But this trio takes the cake with the tension and weirdness.
Obviously, the blond woman is Marius’s wife and Aelia’s mother, but the only life or awareness she’s shown was when she perked up about Faelan. Since then, she’s defaulted into some sort of Stepford woman. It’s a lot creepy. Those vacant eyes and perfectly curved smile—it’s like someone told her to grin three weeks ago, and it’s still there, stuck on her face.
Her name is Barbara, and there is a resemblance in Aelia—the same nose and cheekbones. And perfectly glossy hair.
Marius is at the head of the table. He’s wearing a white dress shirt and gray slacks, like he just came out of a business meeting. Over the past several minutes he’s made small talk with Aelia and let her chat his ear off about some event she’s planning. I have to give the man credit: he seems genuinely interested. A careless observer might think he’s pleased with his fake wife and vapid daughter, but my guess is he’s only got that stoic look on his face because he knows that he’ll be leaving us all behind in a half hour or so.
At one point he clears his throat and directs his words to me. “How are you settling in so far?” he asks. He cuts into the thick steak on his plate, the center of it a bloody red. He glances up at me as he takes a dripping bite, waiting for an answer.
I push a piece of lettuce with my fork and try to think of a way to answer him and not lie. Luckily, I’m practiced in half-truths. “I’ve been resting, mostly. And hanging out with Aelia.”
“You two seem to be getting on well,” he says, surprise in his voice.
“Well, of course, Daddy,” Aelia says. “She’s beyond special. A real princess.” It’s an odd thing to say. And she gives me a look that has some sort of hidden message in it, but I can’t tell what it is. Don’t dime me out, maybe? Is she bribing me with flattery? She’s picked the wrong girl for that.
“I have a lot of questions,” I say. “When will I get them answered?”
He takes another bite of steak, and his brow dips a little in confusion. “Faelan is here for such things, to teach you and guide you. And once the arrangement is final, he’ll also be your protector.”
“Final? What arrangement?”
The corner of his mouth turns down on one side. “Has he spoken to you at all about the ceremony?”
My head pulls back. Not liking the sound of that. “Ceremony? What the hell’s that mean?”
Marius turns to his daughter and asks in a low voice, “Where is Faelan, Aelia?”
She coughs, choking on her sip of wine. “I told you, he’s sleeping.”
His gaze narrows.
She does a very convincing shrug, making it all seem like none of her business. “As if I know anything, Daddy. You and your brigade of men are the ones who fix all this stuff.” She takes another sip of wine and focuses on her plate.
He draws in a breath, then asks me, “What have you and the hunter spoken of?”
“I, uh . . .” The vision of Faelan’s naked body climbing over the rim of the nest flashes through my head again. I swallow hard and try to blink it away. Have we even talked at all? But then I remember: the car. We talked in the car. “He, well, he told me about you. How you’re the son of, um . . . a sea god.” And I already forgot the name. Great. This is why I should’ve paid attention in World Civ. “And he explained how your world and the human world overlap. How my mother was the goddess Brighid. My whole life’s been a lie. And all that stuff.”
Marius waits, like he’s thinking I’ll say more, but I’ve given him everything I can remember. That I can tell him.
“I see,” is all he says. And I swear that the air chills, the hair on my arms prickling.
“Did you know that an avocado has fat in it?” Barbara pipes up.
Every eye at the table moves to her—she hasn’t said a word since we sat down.
“Why would the trainer order me to add one to my shakes? I’m telling you, that’s the extra three hip pounds. I just can’t peel them off.” She shakes her head, the strange faux smile clinging to her lips. Maybe the plastic face is because of Botox or something.
“Enough with the three hip pounds, Barb,” Aelia mutters.
Barbara reaches out and places a hand on Marius’s arm. “I only wish you would help me, dear. Can’t you do one of your manipulation spells or whatever it is? I know you’ve done it for your other wives, I’ve seen the pictures of—”
Aelia drops her fork on her plate. “The cursed three pounds aren’t going anywhere, Barb, because they’re in your head.”
Barb’s stiff features shift into an offended slant. “You’ll live three hundred years without a blemish, Aelia. The least you could do is have a little pity on your mortal mother.”
“Enough,” Marius says, his voice low with warning. “Both of you.”
The women give a silent response to each other, squinting their eyes and pinching their lips together, then they return to their plates.
Marius waits an extra beat before taking another bite of steak. He chews for a few tense seconds and then focuses on me again. “Faelan has disappointed me. He’s told you very little.”
“No, he’s done fine,” I say, quickly. It’s my fault the guy’s out of it. “I never did that good in school. The student role isn’t my best look. I’ve got crap focus.” Which isn’t really true; I actually managed a tolerable 3.0 most of the time, in spite of how rarely I made it to class, but he doesn’t have to know that.
Marius raises an eyebrow. “His task for the day was not complicated. All he needed to do was inform you of the ceremony. Apparently this never came up?”
“We’ve barely seen each—” I start to say before I realize I’m officially a snitch. First I put him in a coma, and now I’m throwing him under the bus. “I mean . . . there was so much talking. He said some stuff, lots of stuff, but maybe I didn’t hear it.”
“It’s good that you’re loyal to him,” Marius says. “But there’s no need for excuses.”
Aelia stares into the golden wine she’s swirling around her glass. “My dad’s talking about the ceremony of Emergence. It’s like a creepy birthday party. But with chanting.”
“Thank you, Aelia,” Marius says. “However, that’s not helpful.”
“Whatever. She’s not going to understand it.” She rolls her eyes. “The newblood’s been in blind-ville too long. And our resident hunter has a huge stick up his ass, so he’s not going to be straight with her.”
Barb bobs her fork in the air, a dreamy look filling her eyes at the mention of Faelan. “Last time I saw him, he seemed like a smart young man.”
“He’s not young, Mom,” Aelia says. “He’s, like, nine million years old.”
I drop my fork. “What?”
“That’s ludicrous hyperbole,” Marius says. “He was born in the fourteenth century.”
“Same thing,” Aelia says.
The fourteenth century . . . that was . . . a long time ago.
Barb almost lets the spot above her nose crinkle. “I’d say he’s quite young compared to your father.”
My gaze snaps to Marius again. I study him more closely, scrutinizing his perfect, unblemished skin. I think of Faelan . . . He’s more than seven hundred years old? He doesn’t look a day over twenty-three. How old is Marius if he looks thirty? And how does it work—are they immortal or something? Oh wow, does that mean I’m going to live hundreds of years too?
Even as the thought comes, my brain rejects it. Because if that is my reality now . . . what do I do with something like that?
“The point is that you need to understand what’s expected of you as a demi,” Marius says, breaking through my amazement. “There’s much you’ve yet to learn, and the hour is late.”
Aelia says with a smirk, “Like, three or four years late.”
“Excuse me?” What’s that mean?
“She will do fine,” Marius says. “Once the Introduction is done tomorrow evening, she’ll have a little time to learn.”
I lean forward, gripping the table. “How am I three or four years late? Late to what?”
“You’re a demigoddess,” Marius says.
Like I don’t know that already! “We covered that.”
“Normally you’d have been brought in when your magic began to surface,” he continues. “Around your thirteenth or fourteenth year is when that usually occurs. Another demi would have felt your Emergence beginning—a process that takes several years to fulfill itself—but it appears that you were cloaked or muffled in some way. I felt your magic begin to spark only three months ago. I sent the pixie and the human to watch you for a time, to see if I was sensing correctly. It was clear fairly quickly to Star what you were. And so an Emergence ceremony was requested for the next new moon. Unfortunately, that leaves very little time to prepare you. Less than I thought, if a whole day was wasted.”
That explanation certainly clarifies the last few months of my life some. But an ache blossoms in my chest when I think of the moment I met Ziggy—how I saved her from that dealer off Chatsworth. Was he a fake too? He nearly shot me—or I thought he was going to. But it was all a ploy to endear me to her. How could I have been so blind? I’m supposed to be the liar. I’m the manipulator, the survivor.
Now I’m the one who’s been duped—my whole life.
“When?” I ask.
“The initial Introduction ceremony will be tomorrow night,” Marius says. “And until then, things are delicate. Your energies will be confused and unfocused. There is a small amount of danger for you until the official protective bonds can be done by the druids. Then you’ll train with your protector until the final Emergence ceremony, which will occur at the next new moon.”
Danger. From me or for me? I already know I’m combustible. That I can burn the shit out of things. And people.
I feel like I’m being smothered by the questions piling up inside of me.
I swallow, then clear my throat. “What happens at this thing tomorrow?” The word ceremony makes me think of some secret society or fraternity. I imagine chickens being slaughtered on an altar or a potion I’ll be forced to drink—something with eye of newt in it.
“It’s merely a formality, but it’s vital for your safety as you come into your powers,” Marius says, his voice gentle, like he can sense my anxiety. “The Introduction ceremony tomorrow will present you to the Otherworld, as well as seal an interim protector for you. That protector’s House will shield you until you choose a permanent loyalty to a deity at the Emergence ceremony on the new moon. I’m hoping you will officially choose Faelan to be this protector tomorrow so the House of your mother, Brighid, will have the privilege of giving you safe haven.”
“Why can’t it just be you who protects me?” I ask.
His brow pinches. “Do you not approve of Faelan?”
“He’s fine,” I say. Except he makes me feel too many things I shouldn’t be feeling. He makes that voice too loud in my head. The one that tells me to take. “But you’re, like, in charge, right?” Which probably means Marius is really powerful. Maybe powerful enough to protect himself from me better than Faelan can.
“I’m not usually one to take on such a role.” He gives me a troubled look. “It is your choice, but I would strongly suggest you choose Faelan. He’s best suited for you, more so than I would be.”
Something about his statement worries me. “What’s this protector supposed to do exactly?”
Aelia leans back in her chair. “Teach you how to feed.” She smirks and takes another sip of wine. “It can get a little . . . weird.”
“Enough, Lia,” Marius scolds. “A protector will teach you how to control and manipulate the goddess energy in your blood properly.” He picks the linen napkin up from his lap and wipes the sides of his mouth, then sets the white cloth on his plate, signaling he’s finished. “This isn’t a game to us, young Sage, as Aelia may make it seem. Consider what I’ve said, and we’ll finish this later. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Where are you going?” Aelia asks, sitting up straight again, all her flippancy gone.
Marius stands. “I need to speak with Faelan.”
She shoots me a worried glance, and I realize I’m a coconspirator in covering up for nearly burning down the cottage. Not good. But if Aelia thinks it would be bad for her dad to know what happened, then I’ll just have to go with it, even though she’s annoying.
Right now, I’m more worried about this whole protector thing. There’s so much I don’t understand about this place, about what’s happening to me, and what I am. And after the fire today, it seems even more crucial that I find out.
“I’ll say goodbye now,” Marius says, “since I’ll be leaving straight away through the passage to meet the Cast after I see Faelan.” He walks over to Aelia and kisses the top of her head. “You’d do well to keep a low profile, daughter, until tomorrow night, at least.”
“Of course, Daddy,” she says.
But it’s clear by the look on Marius’s face that he knows she’s not about to heed his warnings. He walks over to Barbara and she stands, letting him kiss her. Their embrace is oddly sterile, and I have to wonder what the story is between them, why he’s with a simple human—or why he’s married at all—when he’s obviously so powerful. And super old. And with what I saw at his office, that half-naked woman hidden away, it’s even more strange.
Marius focuses on me. He steps closer and touches my hair gently, almost absently. “You, my rare child, are going to be brilliant.” His gaze shifts to mine, and I swear a tingle of electricity runs down my spine. “I know you’re desperate for answers, that this must all seem very foreign to you, but your birth House is here for your safety and your comfort. I will ensure that Faelan treats you with the deference you deserve. Just know you are going to be sought. You are the gem in a sea of coal, and once daylight hits you, once the reality of who and what you are sinks into your heart, your world will completely shift.” He hesitates and then adds, “And perhaps ours will as well.”
I want to ask him what he means, why I can feel the weight of his words in my gut. But before I can get my tongue unstuck, he’s slipped out of the room.