Page 31 of The Gods Will Sing Our Song

“Is that so?” I risk taking another step closer. He may have more life experience, but he doesn’t know me at all, and he certainly isn’t going to tell me what to do again.

“Yeah, it is.” The shadow of the smirk returns. There’s a hint of a dare in his voice. My heart answers, winging away in my chest, a sparrow trapped in the birdcage of my ribs.

“Your poor cheek,” I murmur, and I reach up to touch his face. He’s rigid but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, his head turns slightly, accepting the curve of my palm as my fingers brush the crimson stain. The satchel falls from his shoulder to the ground. I’m going to kiss him, I realize. I’m going to kiss Ren Hamada right here and now.

A scuffling sound comes from behind me. Immediately, I whirl around, face blazing, unsure who’s crept up. Being here has put me on my guard. I also certainly don’t want an elder seeing me kiss anyone. I’m torn between confusion, alarm, and desire so intense that I feel it in every fiber of my being.

But there, standing much too close for comfort, is the man from the creek.

Chapter Nine

Ren

What the…

All I can think is that I better not move or breathe because I’ll wake up and realize this is a fantasy. Because it doesn’t make any sense. Violet found out I’ve been to jail, and instead of staring at me in disgust, she…Is she going to kiss me?

If I kiss this girl, it’s going to wreck me. I’m going to be in that kiss forever and, once we leave here, she’s going to traipse off to a four-bedroom in the suburbs with a white picket fence and a guy who hasn’t been to jail. But holy shit. In this moment, I’ll let her wreck me good.

Then someone swoops in behind Violet.

The man from the creek. I’ve been wanting to find him, but this is when he shows up? What’s more, he’s staring at my fox like it’s the only thing in existence. Violet looks over her shoulder in surprise and steps back. Immediately, my fox goes dead. The man blinks. He turns, as though to leave.

“Hey,” I say, my tongue tangling. My brain is still going haywire. “Hey, wait.” The man lets out a huff and starts walking. My emotions, already wildly heightened, rise even more, confused and disordered. “Stop. I want to talk to you. I’m the one who saved your box.”

It works.

The man freezes in place, his back to us. Then, slowly, he turns around. He comes over to us. Violet takes another step away as he approaches. The crack running down his cheek seems wider than it did at the creek. It cuts deeply into his skin, flaying it open to reveal red muscle and tissue. It’s a grisly sight and a sudden wave of nausea runs over me. He peers closely at me. It’s the first time he seems to register that I’m the owner of the fox.

“You’re the mortal who saved my box?” he asks, and there’s reproach in his voice, as though I’ve confessed to stealing it.

“Yeah,” I say with a shrug. “I did. And I’ve seen you since. Makes me wonder who you are.”

The man’s lips tremble with great emotion. Next to me, Violet exhales sharply. Redness gathers in the man’s face behind its glow. He mouths two words. Then, as though they are being yanked from him by a fishhook, he chokes out, “Thank you.” Immediately, he clamps his hands over his mouth, eyes wide with horror. His gold earring flashes and swings rhythmically like the pendulum on a grandfather clock.

“Oh.” I’m startled. It took this guy so much effort to say the words, you’d think he was going to tell me I’m his long-lost son or something. “Uh, sure thing.”

“I’ve debased myself,” he whispers. “Oh, how far I’ve fallen.” He turns his head to the sky and lets out a howl, the same one he did at the creek. We’re tucked back on the side of the warehouse, but people passing by the front glance over in alarm.

“Hey, calm down,” I say. The general modus operandi of everyone here is to keep our heads down—myself especially. This guy, however, begs for attention at every turn. “I just want to know who you are…and what you can do.”

“Tea.” He turns to me, eyes suddenly as eager and bright as headlights. “I shall serve you tea, and this torturous dance you’ve begun may end.”

“Torturous dance?”

“You helped me. You saved my box.” This guy is as unpredictable as a coin flip, mood changing every few moments. “I must give you something. Tea it is. Please keep it a secret.” He looks suspiciously around and steps close to me. I don’t like him crowding me, but I refuse to show any weakness. Fishy breath mixed with something sweet hits my nose. I wince. “If word ever got out that I was beholden to a mortal, I would be the laughingstock of the cosmos. Even more than I already am.”

“Laughingstock of the cosmos?” Violet asks. All her attention fixes on the man in a mixture of curiosity, shock, and hesitation. But there’s something else, too. A sort of pointed focus like she has a plan. “You’re a yōkai, aren’t you?”

Delight dances through the man’s face, so sudden that it chases away the anguish.

“I am more than that.” He casts his head back and strikes a commanding pose, inviting us to gaze upon him. “I am a god.”

So it’s true. I’ve known magic is real ever since Papa gave me the fox and it came alive in my hands shortly after he left. I’ve worn it around my neck, clutched it too hard. Guess I’ve never doubted it, but I also never considered if there was, well, more of it.

“You must be shocked.” The man continues to hold his theatrical posture, like we’ll start worshipping him or something. “All you mortals are when you learn who I am. You look the same to me, but there are certain ones I like.” Abruptly, he drops his pose and slinks toward us. “Ones who are like the ocean, always moving, never still, no matter how tepid the day is. Their minds hop like birds from one thought to another and their hearts are jittery, as though full of—What is that mortal drink called? The eternal waking brew?”

“Coffee?” Violet supplies helpfully, still sounding breathless.