“If we remain united.”
“So, your reunion with Lucius in the Underworld wasn’t quite as happy as he hoped?”
“No, it was,” she sighed, a look of guilt flashing across her face. “It was perfect, actually. For the first time in our lives, we were committed to working through our antagonistic past, instead of me running and him following behind me, setting the world ablaze.”
“What happened?”
“Discordia killed us both. We reincarnated separately and before he could find me again, I found David. He and I reunited instead, both of us completely unaware of the decision I’d made in the Underworld.”
“Oh.” Anubis winced.
“The worst part was that David and I found out together, and Lucius found out shortly after that, which painted me back into the corner I seem to be perpetually trapped in.” She sighed again, deciding to resume her spot back on the couch.
“Then paint yourself out of it,” he suggested.
“Do you believe Lucius has truly changed?” she asked him, searching his eyes. “He told me that you forgave him for all that transpired.”
“I don't believe living creatures are capable of change,” Anubis replied, honestly. “We are who we are. I think Lucius has always been a mix of darkness and light, but has let his rage take him to places many of us never see. I also believe David is capable of doing the same, even more so because he has never truly examined and confronted the darker part of himself.”
Morrigan stared at him.
“Think about it. All of us—you, Lucius, Libraean, and I—have examined the shadows of who we are, whether we wanted to or not. We all felt our rage, waged our wars, made our mistakes. It made us strong. Isis, on the other hand, was so intent on being a beacon of light that it left her vulnerable to the darkness. David has that same quality about him—he runs solely on guilt and his own concept of morality. It is why he struggles to understand you and Lucius, why he falls into spells of discontent, why he is prone to anesthetize. He fits easily into the role of a hero—but only when Lucius plays the villain. But Lucius has faced his darkest parts and risen above them; he chooses to do right now because he wants to, not because he feels he has to. His existence in this life challenges David and causes him to question everything he has ever known about himself. It is up to them to resolve this dynamic between them, regardless of you being caught in the middle.”
Morrigan gazed at him with adoring eyes. “I have to admit, the way your mind works reminds me of Lucius.”
“Well, we are family.” Anubis shrugged, her open adoration threatening to make him blush. “I honestly don’t think they were supposed to separate like you and Isis did,” he continued. “They have trouble existing in the same space without constant discord. You have been trapped in between them for so long because you can never resolve your own conflict, never make your own choice. Ultimately, it has always been up to you, but you are just like David in that way—you are controlled by guilt and what you think is the right thing to do. If you separate yourself from what you believe you should do, you will see what you ought to do.”
Morrigan was speechless.
Anubis flushed, suddenly afraid he had crossed a line. “Please forgive me. I’ve had a lot of time to think in the Underworld.”
“No, I’m grateful you can make things clearer for me,” she assured him. “I’m not unintelligent, but my emotions tend to blind me, especially in this situation. I love them both.”
“And here I thought my love life was complicated,” Anubis joked as he rose from his chair to discard his empty glass.
Morrigan brightened. “You have someone in your life?”
Anubis fumbled, suddenly wishing he hadn’t said anything. “Not quite…”
“Not quite?” Helena’s voice tore through the room as she appeared in it, apprehending Morrigan with open disdain. “Did you really think I wouldn't discover you seducing another woman in your own home?”
Anubis felt his cheeks grow hot. “Helena, this is my mother.”
Her eyes widened as she looked back at Morrigan, who rose up from the couch.
“You are the ghost of a goddess,” Morrigan observed in wonder. “How can that be?”
“Unlike many gods, somehow Helena did not disappear completely after she died,” Anubis explained. “She is an earthbound spirit who can travel the astral planes. That is how we were able to discover David and warn Cahira years ago, after you lit the way for us.”
“We have to tell the others,” Morrigan said suddenly. “There could be more gods alive out there—perhaps Dan is still alive.” Without another word, she flew out of the room so fast, it seemed as though she had disappeared.
Helena looked after her. “Suddenly your temperament makes a lot more sense to me.”
“They arrived a few hours ago,” Anubis told her. “I was going to let them rest before summoning you here so we could all speak. Can I depend on you joining us?”
Helena groaned. “Isn’t meeting your mother enough?”
Anubis chuckled. “I would also like you to meet my father, uncle, and brother, maybe even the woman who holds my aunt’s soul.”
“I am not a woman who appreciates family,” she reminded him, her eyes settling on the open bottle of rum. “You were drinking without me, no less?”
“There is plenty left,” he assured her. “I was also planning on heading to bed soon.”
Helena gave him a look. “How romantic.”
“Would you still want me if I was romantic?”
She didn’t respond, brushing past him as she marched into his bedroom. “Leave the bottle.”
CHAPTER 7
THE SPACES BETWEEN THE KINGDOM OF DAHOMEY, 1858
morrigan
The halls were quiet as she wafted through them, each guest sharing a collective exhaustion from the long journey at sea. She had yet to formally meet Anubis’s friend, but she appreciated his foresight in putting the brothers at opposite ends of the house. Both their scents drifted through the air as she stood at the intersection of hallways where one of Anubis’s altars had been arranged. She stopped and cursed, realizing she couldn’t move confidently towards either one, choosing instead to examine the space that was carved into the treated mudbrick that constructed Anubis’s home. A statue of a man with horns seated on a stone bench sat at the center of the niche, surrounded by candles and dried tobacco with an unopened bottle of rum situated behind him. Above the altar, a symbol was carved into the wall, reinforced with black paint so it stood out against the pale brick. It was magic she didn’t recognize, but she could feel its power, transfixed by the statue that looked as though it had been sculpted centuries before.
