Page 22 of These Godly Lies
“Yes.”
“Good. The last thing we need is to battle time along with her blades.” She ushers them inside, nodding toward the boy slung over Khiran’s shoulder. “Set the boy in the chair. I’ll assist him while you grab what you need.”
Anna’s hand reaches out, snagging the ancient woman’s sleeve. “I don’t think he’ll make it down the path. Not on his own.”
“Silas is already here. We’ve been expecting you.”
Anna’s first reaction is one of relief—the uncoiling of a breath held too tight. The second is more subtle. A trickle of unease that grows stronger the longer it sits with her. She has no idea how Silas would have known to be here, but the fact that he is can’t possibly be good.
She swallows, nodding, and lets Eira usher her inside. When she meets her old friend’s dark gaze, he doesn’t smile. There’s a tension in the line of Silas’ spine, one that echoes danger. The last time she saw him wear such an expression, they were dodging discovery in Louisiana and waiting for the moment their luck was sure to run out.
Jiro sits in an upholstered chair in front of the empty fireplace, his elbows planted on his knees and his head cradled in his hands as he releases a miserable groan.
“The room is still spinning.”
Anna flinches. “I know, I’m sorry. I promise it will pass.” Her eyes lift to Silas, an unspoken plea.
Watch him?
There’s a promise in the solemn dip of his chin. “Go. Khiran is in the bedroom gathering what you’ll need.”
The tone of his voice, the lack of warmth, makes her blood runcold—the chill of fear dipping so low itburns. She releases a stuttering breath, her skin prickling with nerves as she rushes to the bedroom. Khiran is already pulling a bag over his shoulder, a long charcoal coat she doesn’t recognize draped over his frame. In his hands is a similar one a few sizes smaller. “Put this on,” he says, with the edge of an order. As he helps her pull it over her shoulders, Anna’s surprised to find it feels heavier than it should. He catches her look. “I had Eira sew gold into the hem.”
Of course. They don’t know where they’ll be going, let alone how long they’ll be able to stay there. Gold is a currency that has no nationality—no borders.
Coat settled on her shoulders, Khiran takes her hand. There are warnings in his eyes, fear tightening the line of his jaw. “We cannot linger, Anna.”
She nods, trying to swallow past the tightness in her throat. There can be no long, drawn out goodbyes. No lingering embraces. The safety of everyone hinges on how quickly they leave. “Jiro first,” she murmurs. “Silas needs to take Jiro first.”
He doesn’t deserve the mess he’s found himself in—a mortal caught up in the pettiness of gods.
Khiran’s hand squeezes her own, the anxious edge of his expression softening. “Of course.”
The living room is silent when they return, tension blanketing the room so thickly it’s suffocating. Jiro still looks pale and clammy, leaning his weight on the back of the chair, but Anna is relieved to find him standing. She knows Silas’ speed and strength is no more than a mortal man’s. Had he needed to physically carry Jiro to safety, it would have slowed him down considerably.
Anna takes the teen by the shoulders, tries to commit him to memory while bracing herself for the likelihood that memory is all she’ll ever have of him. “Silas has agreed to take you somewhere safe.”
Jiro looks between them, shock bleeding into disbelief. He recoils from her touch. “Wait. What are you talking about?! If you think I’m not going with you—”
Anna breaks his hopes before Khiran can. “No.” The word isweighted with regret, heavy on her tongue, but she wills it to hold firm. She can crumble later, when he’s safe from all the danger she would bring him. “We’re running, Jiro. I don’t know when or where we’ll stop.Ifwe’ll stop.” The smile she offers is weak. Strained with bittersweet goodbyes. “We—we aren’t coming back.”
He stares at her, his eyes wide with the trembling beginnings of grief. He’s gotten so much taller over the years, they’re now eye to eye. His lips part, silently, around words he can’t find. After a few failed attempts, he gives up, his mouth closing around a hiccoughed sob as he launches himself into her arms.
Anna’s throat goes tight, wishing she had more time to make this farewell last. She hugs him back, her arms winding around his shoulders. Jiro cries into her shirt. Anna tries to find the strength to hold in her own. “Silas is a dear friend of mine,” she murmurs, like a promise. “He’ll make sure you’re taken care of. Don’t be afraid.”
His lip curls, bitter and full of a pain that echoes her own. “I’m not worried about that. I’d rather be on the run than—” His voice cuts off, the words too heavy to shape. Anna knows what they are without having to hear them.
Than be alone.
There is an ache in her heart, one she knows she will carry with her until the end. She knows how deep a wound loneliness can carve, has spent centuries healing from the scars it had left on her. The few years Jiro had in her care wasn’t enough to heal the hurt he’s suffered, but Anna can hope that it was enough to give him a fighting chance at finding happiness for himself.
She has to believe he will.
Quickly, she pulls herself from his embrace. Khiran’s warning words are a sharp and brittle echo over her heart.We cannot linger. She looks between Eira, holding her head high and her expression strong. “Jiro and Silas go first.” Her voice holds no room for arguments. Even if it did, she’s already hugging Silas goodbye before either of them can protest. She murmurs in his ear, too soft for Jiro to catch it. “Take care of him.”
When she steps back, he rests his hand on her shoulder, giving areassuring squeeze. It feels like a promise. He looks to Khiran. “Seek out Cassius. He’ll provide you shelter.”
Anna doesn’t know who Cassius is, but the effect it has on Khiran is immediate. His eyes sharpen with distrust, the muscle in his cheek jumping with the strain on his jaw. “You’re mad,” he spits, the words dipped in tar, dark and molten. “If you think—”
