The Goddess Test (14 page)

“Because.” She turned back to hanging ornaments, shaking the whole tree as she tugged. After another ornament fell, she
sat down heavily on the floor. “I think Xander only likes me ’cause I’ll sleep with him.”

“Why do you think that?” I said carefully as I knelt down beside her. Chances were good that she was right, but that didn’t mean it was the only reason. Except for Henry, all of the guys eyed her everywhere she went, so I wasn’t sure what else she’d been expecting.

“I don’t know,” she said. “He never talks to me. He’ll talk at me or show me things or kiss me, but if I don’t sleep with him, he suddenly finds other things to do. Or he’ll try to make me jealous with other girls.”

“Then he’s a jerk,” I said flatly. “And you’re better off without him.”

She sniffed. “You think?”

“Yeah, I think.” I paused. “What about Theo? He was nice, wasn’t he?”

Ava rolled her eyes. “He was so protective, it was like he never let me breathe. But yeah,” she added softly, “he was nice. Sensitive, but nice.”

“Then why don’t you break up with Xander?” I said. “Especially if you’ll be happier without him.”

“But I wouldn’t be.” She looked at me tearfully. “It’s lonely here, Kate, you know that. You’re so busy all the time, and Ella doesn’t like me, and I don’t like Calliope, and—if I don’t have Xander, who else do I have?”

I tried to think of the right words to say, but nothing came. Ava was as alone here as I was, and while we had each other, sort of, she’d suffered just as much of a loss as I had when she’d died. She’d lost her parents, and even though she was hiding it well, it was moments like these that reminded me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, hugging her. “Even if I’m busy sometimes,
I’m always here for you, and you’ll always have me. I promise. Just be careful, okay?”

She didn’t react for several seconds, but when she did, she buried her face in the crook of my neck and wrapped her arms around me. Her shoulders shook and her breath came in gasps as she started to cry properly, and I rubbed her back as soothingly as I could, wishing I were better with this sort of thing. No one I’d known back in New York had ever broken down like this in front of me. But it seemed to help, so I stayed still, waiting for her to cry herself out.

Finally she loosened her grip and pulled back enough to look at me. When I saw the pout on her face, I knew that the worst had passed. “How can we be friends when you won’t even let me teach you how to swim?” she said, delicately wiping her eyes.

“That doesn’t work on me, Ava,” I warned. “I don’t care how much practice you’ve had on your boyfriends.”

Her shoulders slumped again, and I sighed.

“I don’t want to learn how to swim—not because I don’t like you or want to spend time with you, but because I’m afraid of the water. It isn’t some easy thing for me to jump on in and learn, okay?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re afraid of the water? Honest to God afraid?”

She was determined to make this as embarrassing as possible. “Terrified,” I said. “When I was four or five, I thought it’d be fun to swim in the lake at Central Park, and I jumped in and sank like a rock. My mother had to jump in and save me. Ever since, I can’t bring myself to try.”

Speaking about my mother so casually made my throat
tighten, but luckily Ava didn’t seem to notice. Instead she eyed me calculatingly, and I knew I was in trouble.

“Tell you what,” she said, straightening up. “When the weather gets warmer, I’ll teach you how to swim, and you can…I don’t know. I’ll owe you a huge favor, how about that?”

“There isn’t anything you could possibly offer me that would make me willing to get in the water.” I stood again and picked up the ornaments. There were only a few left, and nestled underneath was a small, heart-shaped box wrapped in delicate pink tissue paper. On a tag in flowery script was my name. Frowning, I picked it up. “Is this from you?”

Ava eyed it. “No. Where’d you find it?”

“With the ornaments.” I untied the ribbon, but Ava snatched it out of my hand. “Hey—”

“Don’t touch it,” she said, setting it on the bed as if it were a bomb about to go off. “You don’t know where it came from.”

Irritated, I turned back to the ornaments. “It’s a Christmas present, Ava. Ever heard of them?” James’s warning rang in my head, but all I’d tried to do was unwrap it. I wasn’t stupid enough to eat something or put it on without knowing where it came from. Besides, maybe there was a signed card inside. “Yours is under the bed, if you want it.”

She ducked underneath the bed and pulled out a jewelry box wrapped in blue with her name on it. I watched her open it and reveal the gold hoop earrings inside, but while she made an effort to look excited, her eyes kept darting over toward my unexpected gift.

“Thanks,” she said, putting them on. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome.” I walked toward the bed. “Really, Ava, it’s just a present. I’m sure it isn’t going to try to bite me or—”

“Stop.”

Henry’s voice cut through the room, and my hand froze inches away from the pink wrapping paper. He stood framed in the doorway, half a dozen guards behind him, each with their hands on their weapons. Power radiated from him in waves, and the temperature dropped so low I thought I could see my breath. For the first time I understood why everyone seemed to keep a respectful distance from him, especially when he was angry.

I swallowed my unease. “It’s a present—”

“Kate,” said Henry coldly. “Step away.”

I did as he said, but I wasn’t happy about it. Crossing my arms over my chest, I watched as he picked up the present. A shimmering bubble formed, enclosing it completely, and my mouth dropped open.

“How did you—”

“I need to open it,” he said. “This is the safest way.”

Without anything to guide it, the lid rose from the box. Nestled inside was a collection of chocolates, each a different color and shape. One with a purple flower rose above the others, and it broke in half.

Instead of nougat or strawberry filling, there was green liquid inside, and as it dripped onto the pink tissue, it made a hissing noise I could hear from several feet away.

“Cancel dinner,” said Henry to the guards. “Make sure everyone is in their room. I want a complete search of the manor.”

It took me a moment to regain the ability to speak, and
when I did, my voice came out as a croak. “You can’t cancel Christmas dinner.”

“I can, and I will,” he said. “And you will stay in your room tonight, do you understand?”

Did I understand? Was he crazy? “I’ll stay in my room under two conditions,” I said sharply. “One, after you’re done searching the manor, you let everyone have Christmas dinner. There should be plenty of time for both.”

His mouth twitched in annoyance, but he nodded. “Fine. Your second condition?”

I hesitated. There was more on the line than a happy holiday, and if he rejected it—but I had to at least try. “Two, you spend the evening with me. And enjoy it as much as you can. And,” I added, “stop acting so damn cranky all the time. It’s getting on my nerves.”

He didn’t answer for several moments, and when he did, he simply nodded again. But for a split second, I thought I saw the barest hint of a smile. “I will be here after the manor is secured. In the meantime, do not open any strange packages.”

As he walked out the door, he gestured for Ava to follow. Shrugging apologetically, she touched her new earrings and winked before following after him, leaving me alone in my suite. I sighed and collapsed on the bed, trying not to think about how long it would take them to search the manor—or how Ava had known to be suspicious of the poisoned present in the first place.

I spent the rest of the afternoon decorating my room in order to keep my mind off of what had happened. With the lights down low, the tree looked magnificent, and I’d even managed to get a star on top. But the best part was the strings
of twinkling lights stretched out across my bedroom, and as I walked through it, I could see the colors reflected on my skin. It even smelled like sugar cookies, and all that was missing was music.

By the time I’d finished, I was convinced Henry wouldn’t show. It was dark out and so late that my stomach was rumbling, and no matter how many times I asked my guards, no one seemed to be willing to tell me when he was coming.

Expecting to spend Christmas alone, I changed into my pajamas and constructed a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the floor. As I settled down, however, I heard the door open. Henry entered, carrying a silver tray laden with savory food, and Cerberus and Pogo were hot on his heels. Silently he offered me a cup of hot chocolate.

I took the mug from him and sipped, spotting what looked like baklava on the tray. It smelled exactly like my mother used to make, and my mouth watered.

“As you missed dinner, I thought you might be hungry.” His tone was painfully neutral, as if he was making every effort to be polite, and he glanced uncertainly at my makeshift pile of blankets. “Is there room for one more?”

“Plenty,” I said, trying to sound inviting. “If sitting on the floor isn’t your thing, you can pull up a chair. It works almost as well.”

After hesitating, he sat down next to me, and I scooted over to make room. He shifted around, looking awkward, but finally he settled.

“Do you and your mother do this every year?” said Henry. “Gather your pillows and watch the lights?”

“Usually.” I took a sip of my cocoa. “She’s been in the hos
pital for Christmas for the past three years, but we always made do. Did you find anything while searching the manor?”

“No,” he said. “But the staff had their festivities, as promised.”

I nodded, and Henry was silent and tense beside me. But at least he was there. I stared at the tree until the lights burned into my eyes, and when I looked away, I could still see the pattern of colors. “What’s it like to be dead?”

I flushed when I realized what I’d blurted out, and the way he didn’t answer right away only made it worse. “I would not know,” he finally said. “I do not know what it is like to be alive, either.”

I pressed my lips together. Right. Kept forgetting that.

“But if you would like,” he said, “I could tell you about death.”

I glanced up at him. “What’s the difference?”

“Death is the process of dying. Being dead is what happens after death has occurred.”

“Oh.” I’d purposely ignored thoughts of my mother actually dying—whether it’d be painful, if there was a bright light, or if she’d even be aware of it. But Henry wouldn’t be speculating. “Please?”

He tentatively stretched out his arm, and to my surprise, he settled it around my shoulders. He was still stiff, but it was the most contact we’d had in weeks. “It is not as bad as mortals tend to think. It is much the same as going to sleep, or so I have been told. Even when a wound causes pain, it is very brief.”

“What—” I swallowed. “What happens after the going to sleep part? Is there a—a bright light?”

Henry at least had the grace not to laugh. “No, there is no white light. There are gates, however,” he added, giving me
a meaningful look. Whatever he was trying to get me to understand didn’t sink in, however, and he gave up and told me. “The gates at the front of the property.”

I blinked. “Oh.” And then thought about it. “
Oh
. You mean this—”

“Sometimes, when they may be useful,” he said. “The vast majority of the time, they are sent into the beyond.”

“What’s the beyond?”

“The Underworld, where souls stay for eternity.”

“Is there a heaven then?”

His fingers slowly wrapped around my bare arm, and I automatically leaned against him. Maybe my mother had been right—maybe he’d been so distant because he was afraid I wouldn’t make it past Christmas. Or maybe he was just trying to comfort me. Either way, the contact was warm, and I craved it.

“Initially there were many different beliefs, so the realm was undefined,” he said, his voice taking on a clinical tone. “Then came more substantial religions, and with it formed Tartarus and the Elysian Fields, among others. From then on, as religions grew…” He paused, as if choosing his words very carefully. “The afterlife is whatever a soul wishes or believes it to be.”

The endless possibilities swam through my mind, making me dizzy. “Doesn’t that get complicated?”

“It does.” This time he smiled back. “Which is why I cannot rule alone. James has been helping me temporarily.”

My mood immediately turned sour. “If you can’t rule alone, then how is he supposed to if you fade?”

Henry shifted, and for a moment I was afraid he was going to pull away. I set my hand on his, and he stilled. “I do not know. If it comes to that, it will no longer be my concern. Given how
he has acted about you, I would speculate he intends to ask you, but once the council rules, it will be final. If you do not pass for me, you will not pass for him.”

The possibility of James liking me enough to put up with me for eternity just like Henry was offering had never occurred to me, and I took a breath, trying to keep myself from fidgeting. Henry wasn’t necessarily right—James and I were just friends, if even that anymore. He knew that. They both did. “What would I do? I mean, if I pass—how does this work?”

“It is a job, as most else is,” said Henry, and I could see the lights from the tree reflected in his eyes. “Much of it is making rulings in disputes, or when a soul is undecided, we help them come to a greater understanding. We do not interfere unless the soul believes it will be judged.”

“And what happens to them?” I said, trying to remember what my mother was. Methodist? Lutheran? Presbyterian? Would it matter?

“It depends solely on their belief structure,” said Henry. “If they believe they will be walking around in a human form, then that is what occurs. If they believe they will be nothing more than a ball of warmth and light, then so be it.”

“What if what they believe and what they want are two different things?”

“That is also where we come in.”

I was silent. The prospect of spending the rest of forever ruling over the dead seemed impossible, like a faraway thing I would never reach, and I wasn’t so sure I wanted to. I wasn’t doing this for the job or even for immortality. After seeing Henry, I couldn’t imagine how lonely forever could be, and I wasn’t looking forward to experiencing it.