You’re not sure what that lilt in her voice means. It would be flirtatious, but her deep brown eyes are too sharp.

(Her everything is too sharp, too in-focus, as if she is the only real thing in the room.)

She coughs, and you realize you haven’t yet given her an answer. “Do you love me?” she says, and you startle at her husky alto. She’d been a soprano earlier.

She bats ice-blue eyes at you.

You don’t know what to say. You almost want to run, but it’s almost like there’s nowhere to run to.

(There’s not. There’s nothing else here right now.)

Thick, callused fingers, so unlike the fine ones you’d held for the dance, tilt your chin. “Well?” he asks, and he looks uncannily like the boy who sat behind you in your senior year, except his skin is already darkening and one eye is changing color again.

The person in front of you waits, shifting through all manner of skin tones, eye colors, body shapes, hairstyles, gender expressions, acting like you have all the time in the world.

(You do. You just don’t know it.)

Eventually, the shifting will stop, and the person you had been dancing with will look at you with your own eyes, and smile at you, and say, “You don’t understand the question.”

And you will sound sad when you say it.

“It’s like the whole world’s coming apart at the seams,” she muttered.

“Well, considering how many titans and monsters were chained under rocks or turned into landforms, that’s not far off.”

Demeter deliberately didn’t turn to look. “Well, well. It’s been a while, daughter.”

Persephone came to a halt beside her mother. “Still refusing to call me by name?”

“I gave you a perfectly good one-”

“That really doesn’t fit me anymore. Exhibit A: your grandson.”

Demeter snorted. “Okay, point. What are you doing up here, anyway? You haven’t been up for years, not since you tricked your father into reneging on his bargain.”

“I didn’t trick him, really,” Persephone said. “More like it just became really, really clear to him that I wasn’t some little maiden who ought to be leashed to Mother.”

“Still bitter?” Persephone said nothing. Demeter, suddenly angry, turned on her. “Damn you, Kore! You’re my daughter. My daughter. I am your mother, and I deserved to at least know what the hell was going on!”

“Like you’d have let me go my own way anyway.”

“Maybe not. You were still young, no matter how world-wise and sophisticated you thought you were. Cunning as all hell, granted, but dammit, there was a reason I named you Kore, and it had nothing to do with any prurient interest in your sex life!”

Persephone just looked at her.

Demeter seethed. “I didn’t name you Maiden. I named you Daughter, because I had no other name to call you. You had no powers, Kore. You were the most undifferentiated deity I’d ever seen – and I’ve midwifed many a birth.” Demeter took a deep breath, uncertain.

“She also named you Puppet. For much the same reason.” Both women turned to find Amphitrite resting her chin on the sea cliffs. “I just came to see how things were going.”

Mother and daughter looked at each other. Demeter felt for the seeds and cursed. In her inattention, they’d failed.

All of them.

Amphitrite, looking grim, slipped beneath the waves with nary a splash.

Demeter sighed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she said to her daughter.

“I am the queen of the underworld,” Persephone replied, turning a pomegranate over in her hands. Demeter hadn’t noticed it before.

“I suppose you are.” She looked at her daughter, really looked at her, for what seemed like the first time. Maybe it is, she thought to herself. She drew her startled daughter into a hug. “Lack of a power usually leads to mortality, or failure to thrive,” Demeter said softly. “But what the Fates withheld from you, you went and took, and look at you now. I’m proud of you, Persephone.” Reluctantly, Demeter let her go.

Persephone stepped back, nodded uncomfortably, and slipped back into the underworld like ghosts do – somehow unseen, even when stared at. Unconsciously, Demeter took a step forward - 

- And her foot nudged something. Bemused, Demeter picked up the pomegranate … and paused. The weight was off.

Peeling off the rind, she gasped. Inside weren’t the fleshy, ruby-red seeds she’d expected, but a whole array of grains, all practically glowing with vitality.

“Where did she -”

Writing on the inner rind caught Demeter’s eye. There, in her daughter’s haphazard chickenscratch, it said, “All buried things are Mine.”

It would later be said that the battle was won in that moment, for the Titans, hearing Demeter’s joyous, amused laugh, assumed they’d been led to a trap, and fled in fear.

There weren’t two, or three, but nine Mothers. It happened like this: once upon a time, He Who Washes Away Cares saw Flash-of-Lightning and took a liking to her, and took her. Gleam eventually bore the Silver-Swirling nine daughters, all of whom had beautiful wings and beautiful voices.

There was Charming, whose name was a pun, who had the wings of a falcon.

There was Song, the most learned sister, who had the wings of a goose.

There was Glorious Word, whose every utterance was oracular, who had the wings of an owl.

There was Mind-Affecting, who could command and be obeyed, who had the wings of an eagle.

There was Maiden Voice, whose voice was high and sweet, who had the wings of a kingfisher.

There was Clear-Toned, who had the most perfect voice, who had the wings of a sea-eagle.

There was White, who was pale as pearls, who had the wings of a swan.

There was Easy Adapter, who changed fastest of all the sisters, who had the wings of a hawk.

And there was Completion, the last child born, who had the wings of a vulture. After her, their mother the Lightning was gone in a flash, and try as he might, their father never found her again.

They lived happily in the land through which their father ran, and grew to join the service of the Barley Mother, with the job of watching her daughter. But the Unseen One came and stole the Maiden away (though what no one tells is that the Maiden went willingly, and became the Destroyer), and the Barley Mother in her fury forced the sisters to search for her. But the sisters, not born to be slaves to anyone, refused. And so they were banished to a barren spit of rock called the Defilement of Flowers.

There they stayed, singing and fishing and eating that which washed up, when eventually something else washed up. He Who Dashes, the Sea himself, heard of their diet and set out to bind them, but as he drew close he heard their singing, and fell in lust with them instead. He came to the rock time and time again, until all the sisters were pregnant with his children, and still comes back to this day to enjoy their descendants.

And their descendants increased in number, and spread to sea-cliffs and escarpments and even the occasional sea-cave throughout the world, defying the old banishment. And Defilement of Flowers was fertilized with the blood of the washed-up creatures, and seeds blew in, until flowers did bloom there and the place became known simply as Flowery.

Thus did the entwiners, the binders-by-voice, enter this world.

Adrian stared blankly at the featureless gray wall in front of him. “Jacob, let me in. I’m really not in the mood for this shit.”

An eyeball popped out of the wall. Not until I’m sure it’s you.

“It is.”

Really.

“Yes. Now may I please come in, or are you going to leave me out here until the feds come?”

Being stared at by a naked eyeball was fucking creepy. I’ll let you in when I’m sure of you.

Adrian’s cellphone buzzed. He flipped it open. “What?”

[you shouldn't be so hard on him]

“Francis?”

[who else   don't mind this it's just the damage]

Silence descended. In the depths of Adrian’s mind, something stirred.

[so how is roland]

“Not good. Did you know they added a level to the biohazard ratings just for him?”

[level 5   biotoxins fatal to humans no known antitoxin/treatment multiple delivery systems including transference through environment]

“They’re keeping him in the most insanely secure facility I’ve ever seen.”

[so no go then]

…Wait, what?

“No. And, frankly, he’s more than half crazy over the death of his family; besides, as far as we know, Jacob’s not immune to him.”

Um…

[true true]

Silence came back. Jacob sucked his eyeball back in with a pop.

Adrian tapped his cane on the ground impatiently.

[we've agreed to let you in]

“Finally.” With a weird noise that was half twisting metal and half sucking wound, the wall pulled open. Adrian started forward -

[as long as you tell us who's possessing you]

- and nearly missed a step. “What makes you think anyone is?” Adrian asked nervously.

You’ve been sleeping, Jacob replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“…Francis?”

It’s never a good thing when Jetta gets that rumble in her voice. “Yes?” I asked, flickering through the cameras until I saw her.

She was right behind me, glaring as best she could with a single eye.

…Then again, being glared at by one normal eye and one gaping hole is pretty fucking creepy.

“Were you messing with my eyeball again?”

Oh, she was very angry. “Why do you ask?”

“Because it’s missing. And it’s still broadcasting. Do you know how disconcerting it is to be seeing the inside of a sewer from the perspective of your missing eye?“

“I have a fairly good idea, actually.”

….

“Oh, really? And why would that be?”

I sighed. “Because I can’t disable the feed. Congratulations, your artificial eye has now gone wireless.”

….

….

“Get it back.” Jetta stalked out.

I sighed again and felt for the feed. I’d have to give it legs, but I could get rid of those again once it was back in her possession…

“Hm.”

Nathan did not spin around. He just turned with alacrity.

The siren warrior lounging on his bed flashed him a broad grin. “Had a bad day?”

Nathan managed one hell of a glare without so much as twitching a muscle. He was not in the mood to deal with more siren allure. Bad enough that they kept giving him the runaround when it came to the whereabouts of their leader.

Nikias huffed out a laugh and jumped lightly to his feet. Before Nathan could move, he was effectively cornered, unless he felt up to walking through walls.

He didn’t.

The siren was exactly as tall as he was, Nathan noted. Nikias was also looking at him. Intently. Like hawks do, Nathan said, feeling an inane urge to giggle.

Really, siren allure was extremely distracting.

The siren was going out of his way not to touch him.

Something was wrong. 

Nathan’s hand snapped up, closing on his watcher’s wrist.

Almost.

The siren had managed to dodge, and Nathan’s fingers brushed just barely over a sleeve, and he caught a brief flash - 

- of overwhelming wind.

He forced himself to stand up straight and stared at Nikias, who was still too close, and still watching.

Neither moved. Neither looked away.

….Until the siren exhaled explosively, diffusing the illusion. He grinned wryly, metal-cutting teeth almost darker than his skin.

An entirely different emotion sparked in Nathan’s eyes. “Warlord Ekion,” he said, bowing. “Your people said you were out these last few weeks.”

I paused in my stirring. There was an undercurrent of amusement in his voice, which never bodes well for anyone. “Where to this time?” I asked, turning to face him.

He didn’t look up from his book. “You might want to keep stirring that soup,” he suggested absently.

…I love my husband dearly, but he’s an ass. Brandishing the wooden spoon at him, I asked, again, “Where to?”

This time he did look up, gold eyes glittering with suppressed laughter. “Purgatory. Nothing big.”

…Wait, what? “Purgatory?!“ I spluttered.

“Mmhm.”

“As in, the city whose entire society is set up as one elaborate sadomasochistic orgy? Where you can’t get in except as a participant, and can’t leave until you’ve passed through all the stages and gained citizenship? That Purgatory?”

Oh, Nathan was definitely laughing now. Probably not obviously enough that anyone else would notice, but still. “Do you know of another Purgatory?”

“Smart ass. You know what I meant. How, exactly, are we meant to get in there?”

“Believe it or not, they do let ambassadors in.”

“…I’m not an ambassador. I’m your guard. And you’re legally forbidden to leave me behind, you know.”

“I know.” He turned another page.

“So how exactly are you planning on getting me in? Or did the governor give you permission to bring a companion?”

Nathan looked at me over the top of the book, eyes crinkling in a barely-suppressed smile. “Something like that.”

I tapped the back of the spoon with one talon. “Still waiting for an elaboration…”

Nathan didn’t blink, but he held the book even closer to his face. I did blink. That smile wasn’t being suppressed at all.

“…Well?” My talon was gouging the wood of the spoon.

The smile widened. Oh, shit, I’m not going to like this…

“…I can get you in as a sex slave…”

“WHAT?!” I flailed, and the spoon went flying into something behind me.

Still hiding a grin, Nathan said, “The soup’s boiled over.”

Damn the soup. “Damn the soup,” I said. “I want to hear more about this crazy plan of yours. How, exactly, do you plan to get me in, now? The only people who can bring in outsiders like that are citizens.”

Nathan buried his nose in his damned (possibly literally) book. I snatched it out of his hands, and dropped it before it bit me.

It wasn’t a grin on his face. It was a leer, and it was extremely disturbing. He grabbed one of my hands before I could slip away, and his leer widened. 

This is getting really creepy, I thought.

“Sorry,” he said, trying to swallow the expression. He failed. “But I can set your mind at ease in one respect.” He rubbed my knuckles lightly with his thumb, ducking his head in a (futile) attempt to hide his face. “Do you really think I’d let anyone else bring you into that city?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not a citizen of Purgatory.”

He was grinning widely enough to show his fangs. “Who says?” he asked, and he flicked his free hand over the nape of his neck. A glamor I’d never noticed before faded, revealing the small, unfading tattoo that marked all citizens of the city in question.

Dumbfounded, I ran one talon over the sigil, provoking a shiver. “When?” I asked.

Nathan sat up straight, his face back to its usual expression. “Wildcard training gets interesting,” he said. 

I turned back to the stove, abruptly noticing the impressive mess the ignored soup had made. “Er…”

I glanced back at Nathan. His eyes still practically glowed with not-so-repressed amusement. “Should we go out for dinner?” I asked somewhat sheepishly, reaching for the towels.

“Sure,” Nathan said, picking up his book. Then, oh-so-casually, “Let me go get your collar.”

I dropped my head into my hands. No one will ever let me live this down…

I grinned.

Two kids at the bus stop stared at him. 

“Whoa.”

“How’d you do that?”

Jacob grinned, the expression hidden by his thick scarf. “I’m unusually dense.”

“This is getting ridiculous,” Jetta snapped. “Of course we just happen to run across the Grand Canyon’s long-lost cousin, and of course the only way across it is some rickety bridge.”

“You wanna go back?” Kathleen asked, glaring at the doctor.

“Will it even hold our weight?” Jetta retorted.

It was a fair question, Beowulf thought as he knelt to examine the wooden planks. They really didn’t look stable. A faint rustle caught Beowulf’s attention, and he turned to see Nathan -

- Who was watching Jacob.

Who was approaching the really-horribly-cliched bridge with studied nonchalance. He stepped onto the end, and the resultant protest of aged wood was enough to end the burgeoning argument behind him.

“Uh, Jacob?” Kathleen reached out to pull her former student back.

He turned to look at her, strange magic rippling around the edges of his contacts. “If it holds my weight, it’ll hold all of you.” That said, he slipped off his gloves and casually strolled out over the canyon.

He got a little over a third of the way when the whole bridge splintered apart.

Jacob Carter plummeted like a stone.

- And massive tentacles erupted out of the canyon not ten seconds later, twining around outcroppings, the posts that had formerly anchored the bridge, and half the trees … on both sides of the gap. The eldritch-horror-usually-known-as-Jacob levered himself onto the opposing wall, then beckoned to the others with one shy pseudopod.

Jetta and Kathleen looked at each other. “That works,” the professor said.

Teleika’s eyebrows shot up. Jetta grinned, and Lia started cackling.

“I thought I broke him of that habit,” she said.

Nathan opened his eyes and stared at his mother, his teeth still buried in Ekion’s shoulder.

Lia grinned back at him, entirely unperturbed. “You were what, six, before you stopped greeting everyone you liked with the biggest bite you could muster? You even told me once that kisses were for wimps who lacked decent teeth.”

“If you’ve got ‘em, use ‘em,” Teleika remarked absently as she watched Ekion’s attempts to pry his husband off grow less and less subtle.

“Oh, he does,” the guardsman remarked, then blushed.

Nathan grinned against his shoulder.