Page 22 of Edge of Stars

“She stands at the cosmic crossroads,” I persist without hesitation. “You know that, man. She can easily pass between Olympus and Dis at will, with stops in Barrow, Boise, and Buena Park along the way. But those are just stops. She has no emotional tie to them, or you, or anything about the ground she’s determined to burn on her way to Zeus’s throne. You’re merely an ego stroke for her, Hermes. That’s it.”

“Desperation,” Hecate nearly sing-songs—though there’s a moment, fleeting but telling, in which a new crack appears in Hermes’s cosmopolitan composure. For another second, he flickers his attention more on me than her. But the goddess takes notice just as fast and takes full advantage. “The human race has given up on me, not the other way around,” she accuses. “Do you deny me this claim, demigod? That the precious art of magic has been turned into nothing but show business stunts? That the cycles of the moon are exploited on dating apps and social media reels? And what about you, Hermes? These days, your name is known more for handbags and perfume than the quest for metallurgic meaning and immortality!”

“But this isn’t the way to get any of it back.” I wrench at the tie that cuts off a lot of needed air. Right now, I need all the damn oxygen I can get. “It hasn’t worked for your realm in the past, Hecate. And it won’t work now.”

Hermes’s Botox-smooth forehead now looks like the trails after the Death Valley sailing stones had a good rager. “In…the past?” He jerks his gaze at his goddess. “You said we were making history. That nobody in Olympus had ever dared to dream so gloriously.”

“Which was the truth!” Hecate injects.

“Technically,” I bite out. “But let’s define glorious.” And then rush on before the goddess grabs another chance to intercede. “Over half of the world’s notable disasters, from fire and floods to typhoons and cyclones, weren’t natural tragedies.” My air quotes are a fast embellishment. “They were the fallout from bickering Olympians.”

Hermes rocks his posture back once more. This time, especially with his fresh eye roll, it’s so reassuring. “I am very aware of that, Professor.”

“So you can jump to the part about imagining what will happen when Earth’s burned up.” It’s an agonizing chore to keep my sights all the way on him, but I don’t dare confront the look Kara must be attaching to her sharp gasp. Trust me, little demon. Please. “When you all have decimated this realm so much, you won’t even have an Iremia porch for your fast vay-cays.”

“Untrue.”

Hecate’s nose pinches back in. She cups one hand into the other at her waist, exposing grinding knuckles. But from the neck up, she’s returned to a former version of herself. The ashram earth mother, regarding my wife as if she still isn’t keeping all of our friends and family in a spectral freezer.

“Kara,” she chides, bright and bell-like. “This has all gotten so blown out of hand…”

My wife erupts with a bitter laugh. “You think?”

“Sweet one. Please. You know how highly I regard you.” Almost like an afterthought, she glances at me. “Both of you. So you must know that my only intention here—”

“Oh, we’re already clearly aware of it,” my wife spits, throwing an agonized nod across the crowd.

“Necessary measures,” Hecate defends, stiffening tighter. “For a divine purpose.”

Kara laughs louder than before. Along with the volume, she draws out her icicles. “That’s what you’re going with? And you think it’ll accomplish…what…exactly?”

“You would have barely glanced at me otherwise!” the goddess erupts. “And all I want to do is talk—”

“Talk.” No more laughter from my bride now, bitter or otherwise. Her voice is a sparse rasp. “Goddess, you have never just wanted to talk with me. Do you think I haven’t suspected that from the start, when you insisted on isolating Maximus and me at the compound?” She slowly shakes her head. “But I didn’t listen to any of those intuitions. Kept telling myself I had to be wrong. I was so relieved that you’d arrived to save me from Hades that night…”

“Hades?”

Hermes startles so hard, the grimoire nearly falls from his hold. As he bolts a new scrutiny to Hecate, he frantically massages the leather binding. While I don’t want to take delight in his odd reaction, I do. It takes me a second to tamp my own relishing chuckle.

“Did your mistress leave that part out?” I prompt unnecessarily. The god’s blatant astonishment already serves up the answer.

“You told me Hades wasn’t a problem,” he accuses the goddess. “You promised me, Hecate. You said you two were amicable and aligned for the cause. That as long as we had the Hollywood media locked up with the support of the Valaris—”

“Whoa.” There goes any shred of temptation for any chuckle left in my body. Though I’m positive they’ve all fled for the red-tinted waves beyond the windows. And beyond.

“Excuse. Me?” But nothing about Kara’s callout is an actual question. My woman is already at the level of command, hurtling it at Hecate as if about add weapons to the mix.

But in split seconds, she exposes her real firepower to us. The outrage so significant, it consumes every available part of her eyes—though not with the photorealistic blazes that I’ve witnessed before. This…is something new. Marauding but magnificent. Shocking but stunning. There’s fire…but more.

At the edges of her optical flames, there are sparks. But not.

Because the sparks are actually stars.

Shimmering like tiny gold comets…until they track beyond the confines beneath her lashes and streak across her cheeks with blazing, searing force. The heat stops at last near her temples, leaving charred residue near her hairline.

“By the seal of Aegis,” Hermes utters.

“Shit,” I add beneath my breath, though barely. Raw terror consumes most of my volume. This can’t be right for her or our Sprout. Healthy blooms don’t happen in the middle of storms. “Kara. Hey. Breathe, sweetheart. You can’t be—”