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Anger

Once the most elite crew in The Dark Fates, they had grown up and trained together. For as long as Anger can recall, they’ve been comrades. However, none of them have ever been friends, a fault for which he bears responsibility. And regret.

Envy, dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, which slumps open past his navel. Envy, who can seduce any god or goddess with a flick of his finger. Envy, who has seduced nearly every god and goddess, making sport of their lust and pitting them against one another for his diversion.

Sorrow, in a long, shredded skirt and a vest ornamented with stitching needles. Sorrow, with charcoal gray lips and hair, and star flecks trickling beneath her lower eyelashes.

Wonder, with her chestnut tresses, vivid green irises, and curvy proportions outfitted in pants, a billowing blouse, and bare feet.

Each deity has elaborately crafted archery strapped to their back, the quivers loaded with distinct types of arrows.

Envy, glass. Sorrow, ice. Wonder, quartz.

Envy crosses his arms. “Well, old furious one? Don’t you have anything to say to your infamous accomplices?”

Anger does not have anything to fucking say. But he has something to do.

He’s got Envy jammed into a trellis before the archer has time to simper. The henpecking ensues, Wonder and Sorrow clamoring for Anger to “Stop it this instant!” and “Get the hell off him!”

Meanwhile, Envy wears a look of mild cynicism. “Still hot when you’re pissed. I take it this means you’ve missed us. Go ahead, abuse my debonair self.”

Anger sneers. “Does that include your face?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Gracious, Anger.”

Merry. Her voice pulls on him, the sound tugging at his wrists, urging him to release Envy. Though, her calm tone isn’t what subdues Anger. No, it’s something else. Verbally as well as visibly, Merry is composed, hardly surprised to behold these visitors.

One of them, at least. Her warm expression implies she’s seen Wonder before.

Anger releases Envy and backs up, rolling his eyes as the prick smooths down the starched shirt. The vainest of vain gods prefers high-maintenance clothing, scarcely practical for fighting.

Sorrow’s elbow jabs into Anger’s side. She shoulders past him, hustling up to Envy and shoving him. “You had to bait a rage god, didn’t you?”

The male flashes his teeth and collects her hand, pressing it to his pecs. “I love it when you worry about me, Nymph.”

“Obnoxious prick,” the female mutters, hiding a grin behind her hair—and not pulling away from him.

The sight brings Anger up short. “What the fuck? You two?”

“Don’t blame her,” Envy teases. “Everyone finds me irresistible.”

“You just wore me down,” Sorrow argues as they weave their fingers together. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is just a fling, a carnal understanding.”

“Is there any other kind of understanding?”

Lust partners. When did that phenomenon occur?

This pair used to detest each other, bickering on a regular basis. Envy had once considered Sorrow off-limits, one of the rare deities he wouldn’t fuck. The philanderer used to scoff that she would only depress him in bed.

This crew has not changed. Yet they have.

Merry and Wonder whisper to one another until Anger rounds on them, debating whom to glower at first. But with Merry clad in her tiny nightgown, his eyes settle on Wonder. “In three seconds, you’re going to explain how you know each other.”

Wonder tilts her head, in the way Wonder always tilts her head, like she’s musing and concluding simultaneously. “This is The Celestial City, dearest.”

“And I was born a love goddess,” Merry says.

“Why wouldn’t I find out about that?” Wonder contends.

“And get curious,” Merry finishes.

“Stop doing that,” Sorrow pleads.

Anger agrees. And why does their duologue sound rehearsed?

If he knows Wonder, and he does know Wonder, there’s more to this. The goddess likes to call herself a research diva, a hoarder of mythological secrets. She has stuck her two cents into conflicts before, thus disturbing the flow of fate.

Breaching The Hollow Chamber’s restricted section is how she first discovered fated lore—a sacred manuscript that changed everything for their crew. Because Wonder has a taste for forbidden findings and a habit of bestowing them on beneficiaries, she’s the reason Love discovered how to become mortal, how to trade her blessings for a meager existence with a human man.

Respectively, Wonder’s tendencies mirror Malice’s. Albeit a million times less macabre.

She must have advanced on Merry instead of doing her job: targeting humans who have either lost their sense of awe and inspiration, or who are too caught up in enchantments to function. Wonder’s powers have led her to houses of worship, artist communes, and mental institutions, among hundreds of other locations. She has a surplus of tasks to attend to. But instead, she had met Merry for some unknown purpose prior to Anger’s arrival in the city.

Perhaps the goddess’s business is private. Nothing to get skeptical over. After all, Wonder is a meandering female with an unreliable attention span that combats her thirst for pondering. It might be as elementary as that.

It is not.

It is very likely not.

Envy appraises the diaphanous nightgown accentuating Merry’s figure. He makes a show of smoldering, his eyes as glossy as caramel, and it doesn’t faze Sorrow when he licks his lips. “Aren’t you an edible sight.”

Anger snarls. His arm lashes out, swiping Merry’s robe off the ground—he’d dropped it while attacking Envy—and whipping the garment at her. His fist chokes the material, blocking her tits from view.

Merry takes the robe gleefully. The members of his crew gawk in his direction.

“What?” Anger barks, because what the fuck do they find so hilarious?

Envy shakes his pompous head. “I’m thrilled that I actually got to see you do that.”

“You are delusional. You have been since birth. I’ve merely neglected to sit you down and tell the truth. Therefore, you saw nothing.”

“I’m offended. Of all illustrious beings, I think I know the difference between modesty and jealousy.” Releasing Sorrow’s fingers, he drags his thumbs up and down his shirt buttons. “You might call me a specialist in envy.”

“You’re jealous?” Merry asks Anger.

Her bright eyes fasten onto him like a pair of search lights. It’s not a pleasant sensation, nor entirely unpleasant.

“What a coup! You haven’t lost that protective disposition.” Wonder claps her hands together—scars shaped like wildflowers mar the flesh—and makes introductions between Merry, Envy, and Sorrow.

Merry’s lengthy dissertation about Envy’s “impeccable magnetism” and Sorrow’s “exquisitely woeful” features give them pause. But her gusto and rhetoric win them over.

Also, she’s Merry. Other than Malice, who wouldn’t like her?

Anger drums his fingers on his belt. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh-oh,” Envy gloats, faking a whisper. “Behold those restless digits. That means he’s getting testy.”

Anger’s hand falters. “I am not testy, you cunt. And I do not have all day.”

“Actually, you have eternity,” Sorrow remarks.

“Gossip circulates. We heard you were here,” Wonder fibs.

“No, you learned I was here,” Anger revises.

It couldn’t have been the carnival battle against their rulers. The Fate Court wouldn’t have spread that news. Not yet, at least.

But despite his success in keeping a low profile, no one matches Wonder’s propensity to snoop, apart from a certain demon god who’s got a few loose arrows. As such, Anger had anticipated his interim wouldn’t last. He just hadn’t expected it to end this quickly.

“The image of our crew leader in the capital of exiles had appeal,” Envy volunteers. “Plus, we were feeling nostalgic.”

“Your devotion is touching,” Anger comments dryly, then redirects his attention to Merry. “And you.”

“And me,” she clips while knotting her robe. “You’ve noticed. It must be my lucky day. Yes, for a moment I relished seeing you covetous of Envy’s attention—until it became clear you’re disgusted by your own jealousy. In which case, my rapture was hasty. I never expected to be enamored of a dickhead, however I suppose it’s more triumphant when bonds are earned, the culmination of trials and tension, so only time will tell if you’ll actually deserve what you have. Until then, keep your hands off my robe, and cease giving me mixed signals. I’m walking away now. Maybe someday you’ll come after me like a proper alpha would, only to find I’m not waiting around for you.”

She flashes an inflated hostess grin at Anger’s comrades. “Wine?”

Then she storms off. Her hands bunch and swing at her sides, the hem of that painfully small nightgown snapping around her thighs.

Sorrow and Envy give him intrigued looks before accepting the hospitality.

Wonder moves to join them, but Anger snatches her elbow. “Why are you really here?”

The goddess peels his fingers aways and pats the side of his face. “Oh, Anger. You worry too much.”

Cheeky as ever. This, despite everything that has ever happened to her, regardless of what their crew did to Wonder in the past.

Anger still cannot glimpse her scarred hands without shuddering, without wanting to crush his own fists to smithereens. There’s that, in addition to another regrettable experience he once shared with her. A personal interlude. A lapse that had revealed too much from both of them. It’s the reason why he’s never been able to conceal his yearnings from Wonder.

He doesn’t stop her from walking away, doesn’t reply when she calls back to him, “Come have a reunion with us.”