The Goddess Test (Goddess Test #1)(43)
Author: Aimee Carter

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 hospital 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?”