Page 408 of The First Taste

“I’ll be right bloody there.”

I walk out into the bright sunlight. Shielding my eyes, I see that my brothers have driven the big tan cargo vehicles right up to the gravel driveway and parked them in front of the house. Ares slumps against the side of his truck, looking at his phone.

Eros is nowhere to be found, his truck door hanging open, the seat empty.

“What the fuck?” I ask, jogging down the stairs. “Are ye two stupid?”

Ares scrunches his face up, straightening his body. His jaw tenses and his chest swells a little bit.

“There was nowhere else that we could drive them.” He looks around for Eros, shrugging. “When we picked up the trucks, they had already started locking up the docks where they were kept. It was either take them now or when they open tomorrow.”

“Ye didn’t think that maybe ye should call me? I know at least a dozen other places in the city that ye can park a truck.”

He rolls his eyes, his expression sour. “We had to leave. We came straight here.”

Glaring at him, I shake my head as I walk around to the back of the truck. The trucks are open at the top and there is a large canvas flap at the back that I lift up, peering inside. Even at my height I can’t see much over the tall back door.

I toss the canvas back and tug at the door.

“I wouldn’t do that—” Ares starts.

The back door springs open and a mountain of dried lava beans flood out. I raise my hands to my head, my fury only growing.

And then I see the glint of shiny black gunmetal. I lean closer, my brows arching. I can just make out the outline of an assault rifle buried in the lava beans.

Rage boils over in my blood. Whipping around, I spear my brother with a furious glare. “Jesus mother of fuck, Ares! Did ye not even check the cargo before ye drove the truck all the way here? Anybody that even glanced in the back would have seen what we are carrying!” I lash out, banging my hand against the truck’s back door. More lava beans spew forth and one of the assault rifles slides along onto the ground.

Ares looks like he’s ready to take a swing at me. “Eros checked the trucks, not me.”

I bend over, picking up the heavy gun, and sock it back into the giant pile of lava beans. “Sort this out, right god damn now. If it’s really Eros’s fault, maybe he can come up with a better way to hide these. Jesus, Mary, and Josef too. The trucks have to be able to pass at least a brief inspection!”

Penny chooses this exact moment to come running out of the building, her mouth open like she is about to yell at me. But she slows when she sees Ares and the truck. She cocks her head, walking forward a few paces until she sees the contents of the back of the truck. She stills, paling a little, and darts a nervous glance at me.

“What the fuck are ye looking at!” Ares screams.

Persephone nearly jumps out of her skin, backing away from him and toward me. I step closer, instinctively raising my arm to shield her.

“Fuck off,” I sneer at Ares. “Go take yer anger out on yer brother.”

Ares cuts Penny and I both down with his gaze, stomping away with a growl.

“Fucking idiot.” I rub her upper arm, shaking my head at him. “I swear, I dinnae ken how we came out of the same mother sometimes.”

She gulps, her gaze slipping toward the back of the truck. I can tell she’s about to ask a question about it. So I turn her around, marching her back into the palace.

Over the next few days, I alternate between watching Persephone work and helping my brothers hide our cargo trucks far away from the house. Every time I get into a petty argument with Ares or an intellectual pissing match with Eros, I retreat inside to the cool chaos of observing Penny.

She has set up four folding card tables and spread her art supplies out, seemingly at random. She never seems to complete any one thing. Rather she spends an hour making folds in stiff paper, then dabs wax onto the page, then spends half an hour shuffling through a cardboard box of charcoals.

All the while, her card tables get more and more messy. A bottle of glue with no cap. A palette of earth toned shades. Multiple pieces of sheer contact paper, cut into small, jagged pieces. I look at her, glance back to the disorganized table, and start to have doubts.

What if she’s actually a terrible artist? God help me, but I’ve spent a month assuming that she was incredible. I can’t actually imagine having to tell her that I’m not going to use her work.

The pain in her eyes would be… unthinkable. I suck in my lower lip, wondering how on earth I’m supposed to do that.

If I don’t though, if I just use a bad passport in the wrong place… I’m risking my life. The lives of my brothers, too.

At the moment, Penny purses her lips as she flips through stacks of identification photos. I cross my arms and cross the empty, mostly dark ballroom.