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At present, their crew occupies the library courtyard. Constellations twinkle, splashing thin strips of light into the vicinity, and bloated pomegranates hang from the tree. This isn’t the season or climate for them to be ripe, but then many things are untenable these days.

The angle from which Wonder hangs flips the universe on its head. It’s a fine place, and a fine perspective, for meditation. Her locks dangle around her face as she inhales, exhales, inhales.

How dare that hoodlum call her a scholastic bitch! No one insults her aptitude!

Confusion tangles like barbed wire in her gut as she recalls the beating she gave him. When it comes to that trickster, no reaction is ever simple, singular, or straightforward. Currently, he’s back in the vault, quarantined like a monster. And this time, they’ve increased the number of shackles.

Wonder hadn’t watched. Needing time alone, she had retreated shortly after the incident.

Throughout the quad, all is otherwise quiet.

High foliage muffles any residual eventide noises drifting from the city, turning the library into a haven.

The crew would have gathered on Stargazer Hill, but Wonder had already settled in this spot, having inverted herself like a possum when they found her.

She hasn’t kept it a secret. Each of them knows about Malice and what his face signifies to her. Consequently, they’d given Wonder time to grieve over this most recent of episodes.

But predictably, Anger’s patience has worn.

His graphite eyes darken in frustration as he drums his fingers on one thigh, while his free arm encloses Merry.

Sorrow burrows into a bench, legs drawn to her chest, features averted from Envy, who’s leaning against the tree trunk and twirling his glass arrow like a baton.

From their straddle position on the grass, Love and Andrew cast Wonder furtive glances she’s evidently not supposed to notice.

How did Malice get loose? That’s what everyone’s thinking.

They’re also betting on how long it will take Wonder to exorcise the devil out of her system and get back on the ground. She doesn’t have an answer for either.

There are numerous questions to broach, multiple contingency plans to make now that Malice has an inexplicable means of escape.

One he had refused to share, no matter how many blows her crewmates dealt or how many ultimatums they threatened, doing their utmost to get innovative without resorting to the obvious.

Deities are not susceptible to illnesses, neither physical nor mental. The latter ailment is another enigma where Malice’s instability is concerned. But back home, their kind would have no trouble abusing him. For his inexplicable condition would earn little compassion.

At any rate, members of this group have exacted torture before, a harrowing experience they’re not interested in reliving. So thankfully, Wonder hadn’t had to intervene on their prisoner’s behalf.

Moreover, there’s training to master and knowledge to procure.

How to battle a realm of Dark Gods? How to balance fate and free will?

Wonder has made the most of her limited resources, hunting for pearls of wisdom through exile testimonials and human narratives in the library. However, that limits her options.

Not least of all, their crew hasn’t rallied enough allies yet to combat their world, much less enough intel on the opposition’s plan.

And that’s hardly taking into account where this conflict will take place.

As banished deities, they can’t reenter The Dark Fates without some rare form of dark magic, something that will breach the veil and create a channel.

Due to the legends Anger and Merry enacted—and due to Merry’s transfer of the rewards—Anger and Love have immunity, which means they can return at any time without consequences.

Not that this will spare them in battle when it comes to deities defending themselves against the crew.

And not that the crew at large is concerned with immunity.

The point is this advantage provides an outlet no one else possesses.

Nonetheless, Anger and Love cannot go anywhere without backup.

If that weren’t true, Wonder could task them with a mission to find answers in the only other place that holds promise.

However, the danger of trespassing in their world is indeed a reality.

And at any rate, Anger and Love would spend more time arguing than getting anything accomplished, provided either of them had the patience or aptitude for research.

Ultimately, this crew has dignified issues to deal with and a plan to revise. This isn’t a juncture to behave shallowly.

Unfortunately, Envy is the one who breaks the silence. “You need a release.”

“For the last time!” Wonder vents. “I don’t need to be fucked!”

“I beg to differ. On the hill, you gave me leave to be honest. You’re hurt and stressed, therefore this is me being frank and prescribing a healthy dose of endorphins. Having a beautiful cock upon which to ride will do you a wonder of good.”

Anger grimaces. Merry blushes. Love rolls her eyes. Andrew scrubs his face.

Sorrow curls her nose. “How in this messed-up universe did you ever succeed at getting me into the sack.”

“I didn’t,” he jibes, tossing her a flippant once-over. “If I recall, we never made it to a bed. Each time, you came long before we reached that destination.”

“Enough!” Wonder upbraids, pointing between the two. “Whatever your ego and your angst have against each other, find a way to resolve it. And Envy, why must you make every solution about sex? This isn’t about sex!”

“That’s because you’re the only one not having any,” he undermines.

“Envy!” Merry lectures.

Meanwhile, Sorrow and Love take a less verbal approach. They manifest on either side of Envy and slap him upside the head, causing the god to drop his glass arrow.

“What?” he asks, playing innocent.

“You know what,” Love grits. “Do not be a shithead.”

“Correction, my Little Myth.” Andrew sits upright and shakes his head. “I have to disagree there. He’s not being a shithead.”

Envy flashes a pompous grin. “Thank you.”

“The word for it is dickhead.”

The grin vanishes. “Are you trying to get on my bad side, human?”

“Not trying.” Andrew smirks. “It’s just happening.”

“Gracious, Envy,” Merry snaps. “Have you no sympathy? Wonder was just attacked by the love of her life!”

That shuts everyone up.

Wonder’s thighs tighten around the branch, and blood rushes to her inverted head.

However sensitive Merry’s perception, Wonder has never confessed to loving Malice.

Rather, she has testified to loving a mortal man from history, the mask of whom Malice wears.

There’s a graveyard’s worth of difference.

Before she can invoke a proper defense, Envy is apologizing, Merry is offering condolences to her, and Love is suggesting everyone give Wonder more space.

More than anyone, the latter goddess comprehends the magnitude of a such a grand statement and the necessity to deliberate whether it’s actually true.

Which it isn’t. Wonder knows her worth. That demon merits none of her affection, including the most potent of all emotions. He’s incapable of feeling love, much less giving or earning it.

But although Wonder appreciates Love’s gesture, each female exemplifies the makings of passion, affection, and sadness. All of which, Wonder yearns to reconcile. Thus, she finds herself telling the goddesses, “Stay.”

So they do. When every ounce of immortal testosterone has vacated the premises, Wonder drops from the tree and joins her fellow deities.

Merry drapes herself across the grass, inviting Love to rest her head atop Merry’s lap.

Love paws like a needy feline until Merry obliges, brushing through her friend’s hair.

Sorrow flops onto her back, landing in a puddle of shredded skirt layers. Absently, she mimics Envy’s previous performance by twirling one of her ice arrows.

Wonder is the last to recline as they watch the sky. Together, they form a mesh of color, from Merry’s pink layers, to Love’s ebony tresses, to Sorrow’s dark grey strands, to Wonder’s chestnut locks.

“Don’t listen to Envy,” Sorrow grouches. “He’s nothing but a sexually frustrated harlot blowing hot air. Talk about one for the history books.”

“Oh,” Merry exclaims, baffled. “But I thought you were—”

“We are.” Sorrow clears her throat and amends, “We were having sex, but you know. He’s Envy: wandering eye, wandering dick.

It’s not a special arrangement.” Impulsively, she swings her attention to Love.

“By the way, what’s it like to fuck an immortal human?

” Then her eyes gleam with inspiration. “What’s Andrew’s human cock like? ”

Merry squeaks as if she’s never met outspoken Sorrow, whereas Love flashes a naughty grin, illustrating a plethora of unspoken spicy details.

“Oh please,” Sorrow begs through puckered lips. “One hint. A deity riding a human must enhance things. Besides, look at him! Based on the whole masculine package, plus your smug expression, Andrew can’t possibly disappoint.”

“Disappoint?” Love galls as if the concept is absurd. “He excels. His erotic writing has prepared him well, to say nothing of what he can achieve with his tongue.”

“How long do you two last in one go?”

“Sometimes half a day.”

“And each orgasm?”

“About an hour.”

“Impressive,” Sorrow says, then detours her attention to Merry. “And Anger—”

“No,” Merry replies, raising a discreet palm to shut down the inquisition.

However, a small smile creeps across her features anyway, before giving way to a dreamy sigh.

“Making love with Anger is powerful, energetic, vigorous. And he does this move with his ass that shoves—” Then she shakes herself and squints at Sorrow’s gleeful features. “We were talking about you and Envy.”