Page 29 of Gods of Prey (Parallel Prey #3)

Sienna

W e’re only on the third day of watching my brother play mortal teacher and he’s driving me insane.

I hover near the ceiling of Sebastian and Jovie’s apartment, invisible to them both as he carefully explains the concept of divine energy to his mortal wife. She sits cross-legged on their couch, eyes bright with fascination as he demonstrates by making a houseplant bloom with impossible speed.

“Try it,” Sebastian encourages with a gentleness in his tone that I haven’t heard in years, placing his hand over hers. “Feel for the life force in the plant. You won’t be able to manipulate it yet, but you should be able to sense it.”

Jovie closes her eyes, concentrating. After a moment, she gasps. “I can feel it. It’s like warmth, maybe? But also movement?”

“Exactly.” Sebastian’s smile is radiant, proud. “That’s the first step to understanding how Aurelys works.”

I drift to the window, checking the sky. The clouds have been gathering wrong for days now, swirling in patterns that don’t follow natural weather systems. Revel and I have been tracking the signs, and they’re getting worse.

“How long did it take you to learn this?” Jovie asks.

“I was born with this power,” Sebastian says, then catches himself. “I mean, born as a god and bred to be the God of Life. My mortal lives were different. In those, I had to relearn everything each time.”

“Must have been confusing,” Jovie murmurs. “Remembering who you really are.”

“It was.” His voice grows distant. “But this time was different. This time, I had you to ground me.”

I roll my eyes and phase through the wall to escape the domestic bliss. Revel is in his apartment, standing at his own window with a deep frown creasing his brow.

“It’s getting worse,” I say, materializing beside him.

He doesn’t look away from the street below. “Three car accidents in two blocks this morning. All involving people who should have died last week but didn’t.”

“The morgue downtown is overflowing,” I add. “I checked. People who should be crossing over are just lingering. Their souls can’t find the path to Umbraeth. I’m sure Erebus is having a fit, but I’m terrified to send a messenger to ask.”

I told him about my time in Umbraeth after he woke up the following day. We agreed that telling Sebastian would only make him more volatile, but Revel’s mood has taken a nosedive as we realize the end approaches.

It’s odd to admit, but I sort of miss the version of him I’ve come to know in this realm. Even though we’re still here, it feels like his loyalties have shifted back to where they always were: With Sebastian.

He finally turns to me, his eyes dark with worry. “How much longer can we contain this?”

I shake my head. “It’s not about containment, really. It’s about how long it’ll take them to decide on a punishment. Maybe a few more days.”

“He’s stalling,” he says quietly.

“Obviously.” I drift closer to the window, watching the unnatural cloud formations spiral overhead. “The question is why. He knows the consequences of staying.”

“Maybe he’s scared she won’t adapt well,” Revel suggests, but his tone tells me he doesn’t believe it.

I laugh bitterly. “Please. Jovie is stronger than half the gods I know. Sebastian’s not worried about her adaptation.”

“Then, what?”

Before I can answer, there’s a knock at Revel’s door. We exchange a look—Sebastian and Jovie are supposed to be in the middle of a lesson.

Revel opens the door to find her standing there alone, looking determined.

“Can I talk to both of you?” she asks, then pauses, looking around the empty apartment. “I mean, I assume Sienna is here, too.”

I materialize, curious. “How did you know?”

“Sebastian’s been teaching me to sense energy signatures,” she says, stepping inside. “Yours feels different from Revel’s. Colder.” When I raise an eyebrow at that, she rushes to add, “but not in a bad way. More like...moonlight.”

Revel closes the door behind her. “Where’s Sebastian?”

“Taking a shower. He thinks I’m meditating.” Jovie moves to the center of the room, wrapping her arms around herself. “I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me.”

I exchange another look with Revel. This feels like dangerous territory.

“What is it?” Revel asks carefully.

“How bad is it? The imbalance, I mean.” Her voice is steady, but I can see the worry in her eyes.

“Sebastian keeps saying we have time, that I need to learn slowly, but...I can feel it.” She gestures toward the chaos outside.

“I mean, obviously, I can see it too. Not as much as you can. But even as a mortal, I can feel something wrong with the world.”

I drift closer, studying her face. “What do you feel?”

“Everything’s...sticky,” she says, struggling for words. “Like the universe is holding its breath. And sometimes I see things, like shadows where there shouldn’t be shadows, lights that don’t have sources.” She looks directly at me. “People who should be dead but aren’t quite gone yet.”

Revel and I are silent. She’s more perceptive than we realized, even with Sebastian sheltering her.

“So I’ll ask again,” Jovie continues. “How bad is it?”

Revel runs a hand through his hair. “Bad. Getting worse every day.”

“How much worse?”

I decide to be blunt. “Seattle’s death toll should have been thirty-seven people this week. Only twelve have actually died. The other twenty-five are stuck in limbo.”

Jovie pales but doesn’t flinch. “And the longer Bash stays . . . ”

“The worse it gets,” Revel finishes. “Eventually, the fabric between realms could tear entirely.”

“How long do we have?”

“Days,” I say quietly. “Maybe a week at most.”

Jovie nods, processing this. “Then we need to speed up my training.”

“Jovie, you can’t—” Revel starts.

“No.” Her voice is firm. “I won’t be the reason reality collapses. If I need to learn faster, then I’ll learn faster.”

I find myself impressed despite everything. “Sebastian won’t like it.”

“Bash is scared,” Jovie says simply. “I know why, but I can’t share it with you yet. Not until he’s ready. But his fear is making him drag this out longer than it should.”

She’s right, and we all know it. Neither of us has been willing to deal with the fit he throws when we confront him over it though.

“What do you suggest?” Revel asks.

“Help me.” Jovie looks between us. “Both of you. Isn’t there some divine way to transfer knowledge? Teach me what I need to know. If Sebastian won’t rush the process, then we’ll do it without him.”

I drift around her, considering. Sebastian won’t appreciate us going around him. He’ll know immediately. But she’s right about the timeline.

“It’s dangerous,” I warn. “Divine knowledge forced too quickly into a mortal mind can cause...problems.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Madness,” Revel says bluntly. “Fragmentation. In extreme cases, complete personality dissolution.”

Jovie swallows hard but doesn’t back down. “And what happens if we don’t try? If the realms tear apart?”

“Universal collapse,” I answer. “Every soul in existence scattered into the void.”

“Then it’s not really a choice, is it?”

I look at Revel, who gives me a slight nod. She’s right.

“All right,” I say. “But we do this carefully. And when Sebastian finds out?—”

“I’ll handle him,” Jovie interrupts. Something in the determined set of her face has Revel and me biting our tongues.

O ver the next three days, we fall into a routine. In the mornings, Sebastian continues his gentle lessons with Jovie. In the afternoons, while he’s at Lancaster Tech handling the business he’s supposedly preparing to leave, Revel and I push Jovie harder.

I’m worried about him. He’s still having a hard time letting his mortal life go and judging by how stubborn he is, I know his reluctance will turn into roadblocks for us.

Jovie is a quick study. Frighteningly so. By day two, she can sense the life force in every living thing within a hundred yards. By day four, she’s successfully channeling small amounts of divine energy.

“Like this?” she asks, her hands glowing with soft golden light as she accelerates the growth of Revel’s dying succulent.

“Perfect,” Revel says, though I can see the strain on his face. We’re pushing too hard, but we don’t have a choice.

I check the window again. The sky is now a sickly greenish color that shouldn’t exist in nature. “The aurora borealis is visible from Seattle,” I report. “That’s not supposed to happen.”

“How much longer?” Jovie asks, sweat beading on her forehead from the energy work.

“Not long at all,” Revel says grimly.

That evening, Sebastian comes home to find Jovie meditating on their couch while Revel prepares their dinner. Jovie does a good job looking serene and only slightly more advanced than when he left.

“How did it go today?” he asks, kissing the top of her head before he plops onto the couch beside her.

“Good,” she lies smoothly. “I think I’m starting to understand the connection between all living things.”

Sebastian tilts his head, lips pursing out into a small frown. “Don’t push yourself, Stardust. We have plenty of time,” he warns in a low, protective tone that I’m sure he thinks we can’t hear.

I want to shake him. We don’t have time. The cosmos are literally coming apart at the seams, and he’s acting like they’re on vacation.

But Jovie smiles politely and nods. “I know.”

We fall into a comfortable silence with the sound of Revel moving around the kitchen filling the space. He’s taken to cooking his own meals ever since he realized he can’t stand the mortal palette. Sebastian and Jovie have tried to muscle their way in and help, but he always shoos them away.

Unsurprisingly, he has to control this aspect of his life as well.

It’s Jovie who breaks the silence when she asks, “What did you do for your punishment?” Her hands are wringing in her lap, eyes wide in curiosity. “You never told me, and I feel like it would be good information to have before trying to plead a case before this council.”