Page 9 of Holy Shift (New Orleans Nocturnes #8)

CHAPTER NINE

“You are, indeed, the Easter Bunny.” Eostre sat at the table across from them, and Destiny took a deep breath to slow her racing heart.

She’d never met an actual goddess before, but the stories of their celestial beauty and commanding presence barely nicked the surface of a description. To say she was in awe would be a massive understatement.

Yes, Destiny was an angel and ethereal herself. She had her own otherworldly beauty and calming presence that awed the people in this realm. Big deal. Eostre was way further up the hierarchy than any earthbound angel, and she reigned in a different pantheon. As Crimson said before, the fae were an entirely different animal.

“You have to believe me now. Why else would a goddess be here?” Destiny rested her hand atop Pete’s, and he immediately turned his over, lacing his fingers through hers. Warmth expanded in her chest with his touch, and she didn’t know whether to yank her hand away or hold him tighter.

“And you have to believe what you did to him was meant to happen.” Eostre’s gaze drifted to their entwined hands. “However inconvenient it may be.”

Destiny pulled from his grasp. “I’ve done nothing but screw things up from the moment I met him.”

“Exactly,” the goddess said. “There is a prophecy in our realm, and it’s coming to fruition. You’re as much a part of it as Pete and I are.”

“That’s impossible.” She wiped her sweaty palms on her dress.

“This is what Frigg told me.” Eostre rested her hands on the table. “‘Balance dies when birds lie. Forget the past. Destiny is awry. An act of hubris is all it takes to bring about the end of days. A goddess, nay, her right-hand man will leave this land to devise a plan. A…’” She cleared her throat. “As Fate has willed it, so mote it be.”

Eostre paused, her gaze flicking from Destiny to Pete and back again. “She didn’t mean destiny in general. She meant you.”

Destiny blinked the dryness from her eyes and stared straight ahead. How in heaven’s name could a faery prophecy include an angel? Unless she was meant to destroy their oligarchy so the angels could finally claim their realm, it was simply… “Impossible.”

“Not really,” Sophie said. “Birds lie on the ground when they die. I assume that goes for your chickens as well, right?”

“Indeed,” Eostre said. “And three more have since been attacked.”

“But they’re fae hens,” Destiny said. “The fae are immortal, so they can’t?—”

“They’re only immortal to a certain extent.” Eostre looked at Pete, who sat silently, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Unless a fae has been blessed by a goddess…” She glanced at him again. “They are subject to similar laws of life as the vampires in your realm. Aside from sunlight, a fae can be killed by beheading, piercing the heart with iron, and draining of blood.”

“This is…” She wanted to say crazy, that the idea of her being part of a fae prophecy was totally bonkers. But Pete thought it ludicrous to say he was the Easter Bunny. If she wanted him to believe, she would have to dive halo first into the insanity too.

Eostre looked at Destiny, her brow pinching, a strange countenance falling across her features. Was it sadness, or maybe longing? She couldn’t decipher the goddess’s expression, but it made her want to squirm in her seat, so she looked away.

“Pete, do you remember speaking with your vampire friend?” Eostre folded her hands on the table.

He flattened his. “Vaguely. Two vampires were in Destiny’s bakery when…when it happened.” He waved a hand by his head. “But I don’t remember what we talked about.”

“Is it dark out yet?” Eostre turned to Crimson, who’d been sitting silently on a stool at the kitchen counter. “I need to speak with the vampire.”

“Just about. I’ll call Gaston.” She rose and strode into the bedroom.

The goddess stood and pushed her chair beneath the table. “I must take Pete home. I have already added disruption to the balance by meeting with you.”

Destiny knew all about the importance of balance, but the idea of Pete going “home” sat in her gut like a brick of two-week-old meatloaf. Why she felt so strongly about it, she couldn’t say, but she knew, deep in her heart, she didn’t want him to leave.

“I am home,” he said, and her breath caught.

Eostre smiled sadly. “I need you, Peter. Easter must happen. Our entire pantheon is at stake.”

“Bad news,” Crimson said as she returned to the kitchen. “I couldn’t get ahold of Gaston or Jane, so I called his wife, Maeve. The Magistrate sequestered the council members and their advisors to work out some kind of something or other. They’ll be out of pocket for the next two nights.”

“Did he tell Maeve anything else?” Eostre asked.

“Just what you already know about the hens.” She sank onto a stool.

“Come, Pete.” The goddess took his hand, tugging him to his feet. He followed her to the middle of the room, a look of confusion crumpling his brow.

“I don’t want to go. I belong here.” He looked at Destiny. “With her.”

“We’ll discuss it later. There’s simply no time to spare.” Eostre nodded at Destiny, and silver sparkles gathered around her. Her body turned translucent as she prepared to make the jump from the earthly realm to her own, but Pete remained solid. She tugged his hand, attempting to pull him into the magic, but he didn’t budge.

“Loki on a lemur, you have got to be kidding.” Eostre stopped sparkling and fully returned to the room. She dropped Pete’s hand and pressed her palms together, closing her eyes and tapping into her form of the collective consciousness. Or so Destiny assumed.

Funny how they came from different realms, different pantheons, yet their methods were so similar. Being the goddess of spring, Eostre was probably on the same level as Michelle in the angelic hierarchy. Maybe even higher. She could’ve been conversing with the allfather himself, right there in Crimson’s living room.

“I’ve disrupted the balance too much.” Eostre opened her eyes and parked her hands on her hips. “I can’t take you home until you remember how to get there yourself.”

Crimson arched a brow. “Your leaders won’t let you take him home, even though the prophecy talks about the end of days?”

“It’s not about letting me bring him home. I physically can’t. This is all part of Fate’s plan.” The goddess waved a hand, gesturing to…well, to everything.

The end of days? Destiny’s heart sank. In her attempt to convince herself the prophecy couldn’t possibly include her, she hadn’t paid close enough attention to the words. The end of days meant the end of the world in faery speak. Did she really bring that to their doorstep?

No, she couldn’t let it happen.

“I know angels and fae gods aren’t supposed to interact, but honestly, I’m a nobody.” She stood and clasped her hands. “My boss bound my magic because of all my screwups, so I’m basically human. Surely your higher ups will see that and let you…”

Eostre shook her head. “Destiny, my child, you must restore his memory.”

“I would if I could, but I’m magicless.”

“Then you have to find another way.” She crossed her arms over her chest, holding herself as if she were afraid she might fall to pieces.

“I have a question,” Sophie said, raising her hand. “Can’t you fix his memory? I mean, you’re a goddess and all.”

“I’m afraid not. Fae magic, even that of a goddess, cannot undo what an angel has done. Not when Fate has willed it to happen.” She straightened her spine, giving Destiny a pointed look.

“Helga, the golden goose, has offered help with the eggs,” Eostre said. “Her flock will provide enough this year, but Pete must be the one to deliver them. He can’t do that until you undo the bind you’ve put on him.”

A lump the size of a goose egg formed in Destiny’s throat. She tried to swallow it, but she couldn’t force it down. “I don’t know how,” she whispered.

“Can’t someone else deliver them this year?” Sophie asked. “Surely Pete has helpers. Or what about Santa? Maybe he can do it.”

Destiny shook her head. “Santa wouldn’t hide the eggs. He’d just leave them beneath a tree.”

“That’s no fun.” Sophie tapped a finger against her jaw. “The tooth faery?”

“The eggs would get squished beneath the kids’ pillows,” Crimson said.

Sophie shrugged. “I’m just spitballing here. Help me out.”

“It must be Pete.” The goddess crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg. “He is the elfen I chose, and I granted him this power. My life is tied to his, and they are both at stake.”

“It’ll be okay.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure something out.”

Destiny held her breath, waiting for his memories to come flooding back. No one in any realm would assume themselves so familiar with a goddess that they could touch her. Yet Pete did so as if he’d known her for millennia.

Which he probably had.

Eostre placed her hand on his. “Do you truly not remember me at all, mijn elfen ?”

He blinked, his brow furrowing as if her words had knocked loose a shred of memory before he tugged from her grasp. “Why are our lives at stake?”

“If the Easter celebrations fail to happen, you will lose everything.” Sympathy rounded her eyes. “No more human or rabbit form. You’ll become a mortal robin.”

He nodded, his mouth tightening. “And you?”

“I’ll be cast out of the realm, and…” She looked at Destiny. “If I no longer hold my seat in the pantheon, the balance will shift.”

“And bring about the end of days…thanks to an angel’s mistake.” Destiny pressed a hand to her chest. “Did I just start a war?”

“I have already said too much and been here too long. Pete must deliver the eggs on Easter morning.” Silver sparkles gathered around her. “Together is the only way you can make it happen.”

The goddess disappeared, the glitter fading until no remnants of her presence remained.

Heat crept from Destiny’s chest to her neck before spreading across her face and making her ears burn. She truly had committed the flub to end all flubs. Forget her own immortality. That paled in comparison to the consequences Pete and Eostre…the entire fae realm…would face. She’d written them death sentences.

“Destiny.” Pete strode toward her, his arms extended like he wanted to hug her, and for half a second, she considered letting him.

But she didn’t deserve his sympathy.

She held up her hands to stop him, and tears gathered on her lower lids, her throat thickening until she could barely force out the words, “I have to go. I’ll figure out a way to fix this if it kills me.”

She darted toward the staircase and stopped on the first step. “Thank you for dinner and for trying to help,” she muttered before racing down and returning to her home.