Decimation, p.4
Decimation, page 4
“How will you know you’ve succeeded?” I asked as Dahlia ordered.
I handed the cashier money when she gave us the total.
With the last week fresh in my mind, and my entire past near the surface, I couldn’t help but examine who I was over the centuries. Magnus explaining Star Wars to me… Watching it with her… My memory of flying a few days ago as if it were for the first time blended with the early days when flight was still an incredible rush.
I missed that appreciation for the world around me. That love of life that I saw in Magnus.
Dahlia pointed toward tables outside. “You’ll know you’ve been unadulted when you stop worrying about pants when you go out.”
“Trousers are important.” I wanted to understand. I truly did.
“Who needs pants when you have legs like these?” Dahlia gestured down, past the bottom of her skirt.
I glanced at her and then myself. “I don’t have legs like those. I do need pants.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.” Magnus tugged on my waistband, pulling me closer. “I think you have sexy legs.”
When Magnus and I were getting to know each other, when we were staying with Bragi, she’d spent more than one night remembering Dahlia. She’d told me Dahlia’s biological parents were Skuld and Vidar.
I had to imagine that for Vidar, seeing this was what Dahlia became, he must have been so furious.
How wonderful for Dahlia.
The two of them kept up the back and forth while we took our food, and found a table outside in the sun. We set the three different plates of food in the center of the table, so that we could all reach.
Magnus plucked a strawberry from the fruit tart.
“It tastes better if you eat it all together,” I said.
“I’m not the one eating it.” She pressed the strawberry to my lips.
I was wrong. This would be delicious. I drew the fruit into my mouth, along with her finger, licking enough to tease before releasing her.
Magnus’s giggle was sweeter than the strawberry.
“Hey. Third wheel here.” Dahlia smudged frosting onto Magnus’s cheek.
Magnus reached for a napkin. “But you love to watch.”
“I love to be watched. Hugely different,” Dahlia said.
I grabbed Magnus’s wrist before she could wipe the frosting away, and leaned in to press my mouth to the mess. I licked the sticky sweetness away.
Magnus’s sigh was contentment where Dahlia’s was frustration.
“You’re so pouty.” Magnus plucked a crumble and blueberry from the muffin and ground it into Dahlia’s nose.
Dahlia’s tongue slid between her lips, growing longer and snakelike as she extended it up, to lick the tip of her own nose clean. Then she stuck her shifted tongue out before it vanished into her mouth.
This was ludicrous, and I wanted to experience more of it. I’d ignored this part of life for so long, and I couldn’t any longer.
Bragi was right about one thing—Magnus was a bright light in the middle of the bleakness, and she made me want to live again, rather than just existing.
When we were done with breakfast, we headed to New Orleans. The building was similar in size to my house, with wooden shutters open wide. The paint on the shutters was chipped and peeling, as were the layers of stucco, revealing the different colors the shop had been over the decades. The sign over the door proclaimed Real Voodoo in neon red letters.
“I thought you were getting a tattoo,” I said.
Magnus quirked her mouth in a half-smile. “We are. Tatiana is a woman of many talents.”
“Is she someone you went to school with?” I’d known probably longer than these two that the gods at TOM were doing horrific things. Known and turned away. Blamed Bragi for perpetuating it, but ignored it myself. Meeting the people it impacted drove that point home.
Dahlia shook her head and pulled us inside. “No. She’s fucked up in her own way.”
“Who is?” The woman behind the counter was about the same age as Magnus and Dahlia. She had dark skin, and was nearly as tall as I was. Slender, and statuesque. The shimmer around her was as chaotic as the shop interior.
I ducked under the assortment of masks and other trinkets that hung from the ceiling.
“You are,” Magnus said. “Hey, girl.”
The woman grinned and stepped from behind a counter covered with corked bottles in various shapes and sizes. “Hey, yourself.” She pulled Magnus into a quick hug and then Dahlia.
Tatiana stepped back to take a second look at Magnus. “You’re pregnant.”
“Fuck me, can everyone tell?” Magnus sounded exasperated.
“I don’t know about everyone, but I can see two other faint auras, and oh my God, congratulations.” Tatiana finished with a squeal. “Can I say a prayer for them? To protect them?”
Odd request for someone who knew gods were real.
Magnus scowled. “Prayers don’t work.”
“Agree to disagree,” Tatiana said.
Magnus’s nostrils flared with her exhale. “This is a matter of whether or not I believe. We all know gods. We know—”
“If you don’t believe, then it doesn’t hurt you.” Tatiana’s voice softened. “Let me do it for my own sanity?”
“For the record, I hate that argument,” Magnus said. “But you’re awesome, so if it will make you feel better okay.”
Tatiana hovered her hands over Magnus’s stomach, and her mouth moved in silent words. The faintest glow radiated from her hands, vibrant green and soothing. When Tatiana pulled her hands away, she turned to me.
“Who’s the pretty boy?”
I extended my hand. “Nicodemus. You can call me Nico.”
As she shook my hand, and a blank look settled on her face. She shook it off with a furrowed brow, while studying me. “You’ve lived a lot of lives.”
“You can see that?”
“In a way. Mostly I sense it.”
“He’s a phoenix,” Magnus offered. “Nico, Tatiana is a Valkyrie.”
Fascinating.
“Pleasure to meet you, Mister Phoenix,” Tatiana said, then turned to Magnus. “You’re here for you, though.”
Magnus nodded. “Can you do it?”
“It took some digging to find what you were asking for, but yes.” Tatiana nodded toward a beaded curtain.
I took in as much of our surroundings as I could as we headed through the shop. The craftwork in figurines and bottles and masks was stunning and unique, and the scents were potent. Chatter drifted in from the street and combined with a music barely audible through hidden speakers.
I’d been hidden away for so long that this was all new to me.
In the next room, Tatiana set Magnus up in a large chair, and indicated that Dahlia and I could take seats on a bench by the wall.
“These won’t stop what you’re experiencing with the power surges,” Tatiana explained while she arranged her workspace. “They’re more like a leaky faucet. I need the right side of your neck exposed.”
Magnus undid the first few buttons on her shirt and slipped it down her shoulder, showing off her long, elegant neck. “That’s not encouraging.”
“I’m looking into something stronger, but this will make a difference for now. You’ll still have control over what gets through. It’ll keep you from dealing with a non-stop onslaught.” Tatiana scooted her chair up to Magnus, and prepped the area for the tattoo. “The glyphs are meant to stop a smaller power, rather than being for someone hosting two other magical entities.”
She meant the babies.
Magnus’s nostrils flared with the deep breath she took. “Understood. Let’s do it.”
Tatiana used a pen to draw a series of glyphs onto Magnus’s skin, while glancing between her phone screen and her human canvas. I didn’t recognize the symbols, but I knew enough about various written languages to see the precision in Tatiana’s work.
A pale glow buzzed around her tattoo gun as she began the actual inking. While she worked, we all chatted. Banal conversation at first. How had everyone been? Had anyone seen or read anything good lately? Why was Magnus deciding now to do this?
The longer we talked, the more Tatiana’s accent changed. What started as if she’d learned to talk from a Hollywood movie had more of a French or Cajun twang to it.
“…and then Vidar…” Dahlia trailed off with a frown, and Magnus clenched her jaw.
“You need to relax the neck, Boo.” Warning slid into Tatiana’s voice.
Correction—distinctly Cajun. Something I saw with older immortals was that some adopted the accent or dialect of whatever region they were in, to keep a low profile. However, when they were around friends, they would slide back into their preferred language.
It made me a bit sad for this young woman that she’d learned that lesson so early.
Magnus drew in a few breaths, and the tension visibly faded from her body.
“Anytime y’all talk about homme, y’all be boudein’,” Tatiana said. “Co faire? Dahlia tells me. Magnus stops talking so I can work.”
Dahlia blew out a noise raspberry. “Short version? He’s an asshole god.”
“Gonna need a few more details than that.” Tatiana was focused on her work again.
“He was one of our teachers in school,” Dahlia said. “He had that kind of air around him that made people flock to him and follow him. He never hesitates to use it. Turns out he’s a power-hungry asshole who’s willing to roll over anyone and everyone to get more power.”
“What’s he doing with it?” Tatiana glanced over her shoulder at Dahlia for the briefest moment.
I knew what he’d told Bragi, but wasn’t sure if it was reality, or just another story. “He used to say he wanted to turn the world into the paradise it used to be.”
Tatiana snorted. “I don’t get it. How does a guy like that get so many people to follow him? Not judging y’all, but I also am. How does a zeerah vieux like that convince anyone he’s a podna?”
I wasn’t familiar with the words she was using, but I could guess her meaning well enough to mostly fill in the blanks. She thought Vidar was bad, and didn’t know how he’d tricked people into thinking otherwise.
Dahlia worked her jaw. “It’s weird to say now, but he’s charismatic. Attractive. Confident…” She didn’t sound certain of anything she was saying.
“Still dun buy it,” Tatiana said.
It was difficult to explain to someone who hadn’t been there, but I was willing to try. “I’ve known him for a long time. I never called him friend, but for centuries, he was good friends with the man I loved.”
Magnus flinched.
Because of the reminder of Bragi, or Vidar’s influence, or something else?
“Vidar doesn’t walk up to anyone and introduce himself by saying I want to destroy the world you know and you’re going to help,” I said. “Not unless he’s given up on making an ally of you, and he wants you to think he no longer sees you as a threat.”
Tatiana sighed and shook her head. “I still don’t get it.”
I hadn’t either. Not for a long time. I currently had a unique perspective that allowed me to explain Vidar’s draw better than I ever wanted to.
SIX
MAGNUS
I didn’t like talking about Vidar this way, because Tatiana was right—I should’ve seen it from the start. How manipulative he was. How horrible he was.
But I’d been sucked into the stories he wove about a better world, and how we’d help build it. I wanted so badly for what he described to be real that I was willing to excuse red flags. It was easy to see looking back, but hindsight and all that.
That same knowledge I had now made it hard for me to excuse my actions then.
It also made me wonder… Was I making the same mistake with Bragi? Trusting him again and again?
No. Because I didn’t trust him now.
I wanted Nico to explain this in a way that let me forgive myself for the past, but that didn’t seem likely.
“Talking to Vidar when he considers someone necessary is similar to the way we’re all talking now,” Nico said. “He’s warm, friendly, and sympathetic. He’s good at reading a person and determining what drives them, and a master at using that for his own gains.”
That was all accurate. I could agree.
Nico continued. “As I understand it, you’re a Valkyrie because you chose to be.”
I’d explained how I got my power when we were staying with Bragi. When I was recovering. When I thought Dahlia was dead.
“Kirby said you can be this and you said yes. Why?” Nico asked.
Tatiana hesitated from the briefest moment, her gun poised above my skin. She resumed her work. “It’s complicated.”
“Give me one reason.” Nico’s tone was coaxing rather than commanding.
Though the rapid-fire jabs from the needle were painful, I welcomed them. They kept my mind off the jumble of emotion around me, and the way it polluted and amplified my own feelings on a complicated subject. If we were sitting around a table having this conversation, I’d be climbing out of my skull from ambient feelings.
“The world is a shitty place.” Tatiana lifted the gun long enough to move to a new spot. “A lot of people make it shittier by only caring about themselves. The more of us who are acting in opposition to that, the better things get.”
Nico’s mood shifted toward contemplative at the words. He’d been doing that a lot today.
I couldn’t agree more with Tatiana.
“Let’s say you’re working the front counter, and a customer comes in,” Nico said.
Tatiana let out a tiny snort. “This Vidar vieux? Old white man in a fancy suit? I’m kicking his ass to the curb before he can say a word.”
“No.” Nico shook his head. “A woman. She’s older than you, but not old. Maybe twenty years? She looks like you. She talks like you. Her mannerisms and actions make you think her life has been similar to yours, or that she’s from a neighborhood like this one. As she chats with you, her stories are like those of the people around you. She’s familiar with their suffering, and the reasons why it’s different from other people’s.”
Tatiana’s grip tightened where she was holding me in place by the shoulder, and her emotions surged. She understood the image he was painting, but she was pushing back against it.
I wrapped my hand loosely around her wrist, and tried to focus on reassurance. Was that possible? I wasn’t sure, but she relaxed her grip and continued to work.
Nico watched us the whole time, the concern on his face not offering nearly as much insight into his thoughts as the sympathy spilling from him. “She doesn’t ask you to give her anything or to join any cause. She’s a paying customer, looking for a way to help a friend. Maybe a prayer for grief. A tincture of comfort. Whatever you recommend, she says. You sell her the appropriate items, and she goes on her way.”
“Where are you going with this?” Tatiana’s voice was hard, to mask self-doubt.
Nico held up a finger. “I’m getting there. She comes back a few weeks later. You may not even recognize her at first, because she was simply another customer. She wants to thank you for your help, and says you have a true gift.”
“I do.”
“She wants to know about it,” Nico said. “About you. She’s not asking you anything invasive, and never too many questions at once. She becomes a regular customer and gets her answers through casual conversation each time she comes in. You’re not doing anything different than you normally would. You’re genuine and kind. Most of what you tell her comes back to the fact that you do this job, so you can help people with your gift.”
I didn’t care for how close to home some of this hit. The setting for Nico’s story was different, the details varied, but the idea was too much like what I’d gone through. It reminded me of how I was sucked into the lies at TOM, and why I was willing to let Dahlia go for a short while, to side with Vidar.
“Dahlia was never sucked into his lies.” Tatiana’s reply was defensive. If Dahlia didn’t buy in, Tatiana would know better too.
Dahlia let out a sharp laugh. “He didn’t think I was worth using, so he never put that kind of effort into winning me over. He was never cruel to me. It was more of an indifference.”
“Which is the way he treated me, as well,” Nico said. “For the purposes of this hypothetical, though. Tatiana begins to look forward to this customer’s visits. They’re random, but friendly. A nice break in the day. Sometimes she buys something for a friend—never for herself—and other times she was just thinking of Tatiana and wanted to say hello.
“This goes on for a year. Then two and three. One day, she’s not acting like herself when she visits. She’s distraught. It takes some work to find out what’s going on, because she’s reluctant to admit it. She’s sick. You want to help, and surprisingly enough, you know the right spell. She refuses—I’ll be fine. You insist. I can do this for you. You do so much for others, let me help just this once.”
As Nico told the tale, his voice shifted an octave higher to indicate other voices. Did he know that Bragi’s influence shone in his storytelling?
Tatiana finished her work, and wiped away the excess fluids.
“Am I done?” I could still feel everyone.
She shook her head, and hovered her fingers over the fresh ink. My skin tingled, then heated to scalding in the impacted area, and then the sensation was gone.
So were the emotional voices. “It’s so quiet in my head.” I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Empathy that had overwhelmed me before was a muted background noise now. Like freeway noise from a house several miles from the road.
“That’s the point.” Tatiana snapped a photo and showed me on her phone. She’d crafted a stunning piece that was mostly runes, but she’d intertwined them into an intricate pattern. “What do you think?”
I reached for the fresh design, but didn’t touch it, while I examined the picture of her work. “It looks freaking epic, but I love it more because it’s working.”
