Nick

Scott and I headed uphill toward the church, and my calves quickly started burning.

“My church back home is smaller than this one,” Scott explained. “And Ralston’s not a big town, so I know tons of the folks who go. All my family’s friends, friends from school too.”

“Did all your friends go to college?” I asked, as we stopped at a crosswalk. A sleek car sped past us, orange flames licking out of its tailpipes. Cool, one of those fire weaver cars.

“Sarah and Candice went back east, Jackson’s over at a university in Sierra Valley. And . . .” He paused as we started crossing the street. “That’s about it.”

We began the trek past the mall’s large parking lot. “I didn’t have many close friends either.”

“You seem like a guy who would have a hundred friends,” Scott said, frowning at the sidewalk.

I didn’t want to talk about this with someone who wouldn’t understand the interplay of Chinese friends versus white friends. I hesitated long enough for me to feel it would be okay to change the subject.

“How much farther?” I asked.

Scott gestured across the mall’s parking lot, where I could see an entirely full parking lot past a row of shrubs. As we walked toward it, couples and families gravitated toward the round building. The sky was starting to darken in the coming sunset enough for light to glow through its stained glass windows. The low, tiled roof gave the church a squat appearance, especially compared to the mall beside us and the apartment towers past the church. I glanced over at Scott. His smile had widened now that we were in sight of the place.

“Is there an entry fee? ’Cause I forgot to get any cash.”

“Fee? No. But they will ask for donations near the end.”

We passed into the church’s parking lot, and though this was unfamiliar territory for me, Scott was excited, which surprised me given the growing crowd. But maybe the familiar surroundings made it easier for him to shield.

I hadn’t been completely oblivious to churches and praying and the gods up to now, but I had accepted Dad’s not-quite-subtle discouragement without much thought. He hadn’t ever prayed or worshiped, not even after what had happened to Mom. And though she had prayed, she hadn’t tried hard to include me in her faith. I wasn’t sure if that was because of Dad’s wishes, or something else. She’d talk to me about the gods if I asked. I didn’t end up asking that much.

Though, Mom had liked my hobby, and thanks to Scott, I was learning how much it related to the gods.

Finally we approached the front stairs, and Scott took my hand as we went inside. The thrill of his contact shot through me, and he gave me a smirk before pulling me through the crowd that had gathered near the entrance.

We cleared the crowd and came upon rows of pews encircling a center podium. The light was subdued, and the air thick with incense, woody and flowery at once. The pews were barely half-full, but the walkway between the pews and outer edges of the church was packed. I could see the statues every few yards, lit with colored lights and flickering candles. But I couldn’t see any statue below the chest, due to all the people in front of each one. Everywhere, people talked, and ate from small paper plates. Young kids, gray-haired folks, couples of all ages, teens, middle-aged women twittering away. I heard snippets of Chinese, and wisps of the royal language, hidden within the din of English. A group of women who looked like they might have been in grad school walked by, their black hair styled and golden skin glowing, their speech in rapid-fire Japanese.

Their passing brought my gaze to cross Scott’s, and he cracked a smile.

“This . . .” I started, gesturing around me. “Wow.”

“I can’t believe this is your first time.”

I scanned the church again, adjusted my glasses. “I don’t remember who’s . . .”

Scott gripped my shoulders with gentle, warm hands and turned me to face one of the statues across the room.

“Natalis the mother, Sanya the healer, Claudia the keeper of time.” He pointed to each one as he recited a nursery rhyme that jogged my memory of elementary school.

“Adela the muse, Flavius the mage, Vogel the counter of dimes.” He pointed behind us for Adela, and I caught his smile and snorted with suppressed laughter.

“Kymerin loves animals and trees, Gnomon invents normally, Laesth remembers and Tulio distributes . . . Everything that is yours and mine.”

“I remember that rhyme. Like, I haven’t heard it in a decade or something.”

Scott nodded, then recited the last line. “Ten they reign, together remain . . . The gods, our holy divine.”

“How do you remember that?”

“My mom sings it as she folds laundry and stuff.”

“Gods, Scott.” I didn’t know if this whole situation was totally dorky, and whether or not that was okay. What was I to say about being dorky when I collected comics and action figures?

Who should we go to first?

I was disoriented by him switching to telepathy, but then again it was getting louder as people entered the church, especially with the addition of children laughing and squealing in the pews. “One of yours, please.”

Scott raised an eyebrow at me. Natalis, then.

He squeezed my hand and led me straight across the church, down one aisle, past the podium and up another, then we maneuvered past the talking, laughing people. Along the back wall was a table covered in homemade food on platters and in plastic containers.

“You said this is up for grabs?” I asked, and Scott nodded, stopping at the table. He grabbed a plate and loaded it with a sandwich wrap, pasta salad, and mixed fruit. I swept up a sandwich and got a plate of pork-fried rice. He then led me a few paces along the circle while we ate. I sampled the rice. Ooh, it was homemade and very, very good.

“Have you ever prayed?” Scott asked. Beside us was a statue of a young woman with long, pointed ears and circlet of cherry blossoms. This may have been the deer one. Kymerin?

“Can’t say that I have,” I started, vaguely aware that my sandwich was still floating by my shoulder. “At least beyond stuff like ‘to the gods.’”

Scott laughed through a mouthful. “Fair enough.”

“If I did . . . What would I say?”

“Whatever you want, really. You could pretend you’re talking to one of your professors about a subject you’re having trouble with.”

I nodded like I was following, even though I sort of wasn’t. Scott flashed me a smile and pushed through the next crowd, and I followed. There was some space in front of one of the statues. A few people knelt at the statue’s raised base.

Scott let go of my hand. You can stay right here and watch if you want. I’m going to go pray to Natalis.

Watching was fine. I’d continue working through my dinner.

Scott stepped forward and pulled a lighter out of his pocket. He lit a candle, then reached out to the statue and touched its outstretched hand. As he bowed his head, I looked up. Natalis was life-sized and carved from a white stone. Incredible detail had been put into the flower design on her skirt, the locks of her wavy hair, the definition of her collarbones. She leaned forward enough that her fingers were accessible to children or people in wheelchairs. That was a considerate design. Though, maybe that suggested more about the nature of this goddess than the consideration of the statue’s carver, huh?

I refocused on Scott. His head was still bowed, so I watched the back of his neck, his shoulders, his back, his ass in those jeans. He was kneeling now, so I could see that the soles of his sneakers were worn and dirty, though, comfortable was probably how he’d describe them. His shoulders slumped visibly.

Finally, he stood, and turned back to meet my gaze with a conflicted expression.

If we go clockwise this way, we can hit Vogel and then Laesth. That’ll be all we have time for before the sermon starts.

He grabbed my hand again, and I enjoyed the warmth it stirred in me.

We meandered through the crowd, skipping Flavius, with his phoenix wings and with what appeared to be a blown-glass flame in his upturned palm. I floated our empty plates to a trash can against the wall as we walked, and Scott gave me an appreciative nod. Past another group of a few dozen people, we stopped.

The statue of Vogel stood lean and tall, with his thin arms covered in long, flight feathers. His expression was stern with a prominent brow, but there was a sense of opportunity in it. Determination, maybe. He had a thick beard that became feathers on his cheeks. His hair was entirely feathers, long and downy. He wore a buttoned vest and trousers and knee-high boots that laced up the sides.

Do you want to say hi to the god of telekinesis?

The statue’s shadowed eyes bored into me, like it was saying that instead of Scott. Would Mom want me to? Did it matter that Dad wouldn’t? Excitement tickled deep inside me, the intrigue of this new experience overriding my embarrassment at being so oblivious to it all.

“How do I do it?” I finally asked.

Scott held out his lighter. You go up there, light a candle, say hello. Then talk about what’s troubling you. Or tell him about your life.

I swallowed down a yelp. “But why would he care?” And only after the words were out of my mouth did I realize I hadn’t said the obvious, “It’s just a statue.”

Scott gripped my shoulder, his gaze intense. “His job is to care.”

Okay, he had a point. If Vogel was real, he would care in a way that Dad never had. But if the gods were real, why did Mom—

No, I wasn’t going to think that.

I took the lighter and approached the statue. People were kneeling around his base: an old man, a middle-aged woman, two androgynous teens. I chose a vacant spot next to them and stepped forward. The statue was tall with harsh shadows. I felt intimidated with those dark eyes staring down at me.

“Not knocking it until after I try it,” I whispered, as I reached out, flicked the lighter, and lit a thin yellow candle.

“Uh.” Do I speak or think? What were the people around me doing? The teens were moving their lips but silent. The old man was mumbling. It was loud enough in here that mumbles wouldn’t be heard by anyone but myself.

And maybe a god represented by carved stone.

“Hello, Vogel. Sir. I’m, uh. Nick. You don’t know me. But I have your gift.”

My cheeks were burning. I felt stupid, but Mom would have said I didn’t need to feel that way. I wasn’t sure what she would have thought of me going to church, but I could feel Scott’s happiness from twenty feet away. We had barely arrived and here I was, talking to candles and a piece of rock.

Talking to a god.

“I’m glad Scott asked me to come out here and see how the other side lives. Dad wouldn’t approve. And I’m not totally sure why? Because it doesn’t help you get a good education and a good job? But. Here I am now.

“In another life, Mom probably would have raised me to be used to this. She had an altar. She would pray on the solstices and equinoxes. Sometimes on the full moons. But that was it for divine influence in my household. Dad believes in hard work, but Gnomon still doesn’t jibe with him.”

I stopped. Released a breath. “You probably already know all of this. If you exist.”

A sense of compassion wafted through me that was presumably bleeding through from Scott. It gave me a strange boost of confidence.

“Am I supposed to talk about myself or can I ask for stuff? Because if you exist and all, then I’d like some help figuring out what on earth I want to do with my life. And I’d like some proof that Mom’s not just gone.”

The words were spoken before I had properly realized what I was about to say, and not say it. My throat squeezed, and I blinked tears away. The grief and the anger had come on so fast, I almost couldn’t stop it before I spiraled down. I took a deep breath.

“Maybe, you can start with helping me through this weekend. Help Dad see the benefit of keeping me in school. If we make it past that? Maybe we can talk about the other thing—Mom. You know. Ugh.”

Deep breath. In, out. I didn’t have to torture myself like this. I didn’t have to think about her not being here.

“Anyways. If I need to do something in return, let me know. Or tell Scott to let me know. Thank you . . . for listening.”

I left the candle burning and stood, taking an extra moment to study the statue’s barbs and quills before feeling composed enough to turn back to Scott. He gave me a shy smile, but he emanated pride.

“Whatdya think?”

I shrugged. “I talked to a rock, but it was okay.”

He lowered his gaze and nodded. “Thanks for humoring me.”

“I’m not being sarcastic. It really was okay.”

The shy smile returned. “Do you want to come with me to Laesth or save us a seat?”

I took a glance around us; the pews were filling up. “I should save us a seat,” I said, and Scott squeezed my arm and slipped past a group of elderly people.

It didn’t take too long for me to find a pew near the back. This place was full of people I didn’t completely understand, but they seemed kind enough. Maybe Mom would have taken me out here, if things had been different.

The gods continued to stand solemnly, lit green and red and purple and blue. Voices echoed off the domed ceiling, a collective sound of contentedness that I wished I could feel. I breathed in warm air, pushed it out with the panic that wanted to grip my stomach. I was going to be calm and collected by the time Scott came back. I had to be.

Of course, this evening wasn’t half over; the sermon hadn’t even started. And I had no idea what it would bring.

Scott

It could have been a horrible mistake to leave Nick to fend for himself for a few minutes, but I figured the best way to keep him here was to give him a break to mess around on his phone while I prayed.

My words to Natalis had been rehearsed and yet had still been hard to deliver. I had wavered in asking how to help Mom make the right decision. I had struggled to explain how much Mom needed her help without repeating myself. I continued to agonize over our future on the way to Laesth, hating how helpless I felt. For the umpteenth time, I checked my shields, but they were easier to keep up than I would have expected. Maybe Laesth was helping me.

The feline statue of Laesth only had two people left kneeling at it, as everyone flocked to the pews. I settled on my knees by the candles and took several deep breaths, watching the flames and clearing my mind as well I could. I had something completely different to talk about now: Nick.

Hello, Laesth. I finally said when I felt cleared enough. So this is simple. I need confidence. It’s okay to like a guy when my parents’ relationship is falling apart, right? I definitely like him, and I want to express that, but once we get to a certain point together everything in me loops back to which parent is going to move out? Whose house do I go to for solstice? What about summer breaks? Does Kat have to change schools? You know.

I sucked in a breath and released it slowly. Hoped Nick was faring okay in this strange place without me.

I want to like him without this guilt that my family needs me constantly. I want to like him without worrying about them. I want to have fun with him. Like I should be able to. Isn’t that part of what going away to college is about?

I looked up at the purple light and dark shadows that played across the statue’s surface. The orange-lit dome cast highlights on Laesth’s upraised arm, like he was calling on the combined help of all gods.

That’s it, really. Thank you. Together we love.

I climbed to my feet, and scanned the room for Nick. I texted him, as I probably couldn’t think at him and hope he’d be the only one to get it. He waved, and I settled next to him.

“How’d it go?” he asked, a wisp of telekinesis fluttering up my arm. I shuddered, knocking our knees together, and he gave me a smirk.

“Pretty well.”

“Do you, like . . . hear the gods speaking back to you?”

I shrugged, then ran my fingers down the back of his hand. He turned his palm up, and pushed my hand into his telekinetically. Joy tickled my gut to see our hands together, and I realized he deserved a better answer. “I don’t hear voices, though sometimes priestesses will. But I do get a sense of emotion sometimes. My parents do too.”

“Huh,” Nick said, his tone skeptical. He squeezed my hand. “That’s cool. How common is it?”

“Don’t know. We could look it up, but we’d have to trust people to report that truthfully.”

Nick laughed, though his voice had gotten quieter as the crowd settled. “So what happens now?”

A priestess walked down one of the other aisles, and we watched her procession over the heads of the people in pews in front of us. She wore a deep-green robe that cascaded around her wide hips, the color popping against the richly dark-brown skin of her arms and chest. Her long braids swept around her shoulders as she stepped onto the podium.

I gestured toward her. “That priestess is going to lead the sermon. She’ll talk for half an hour or so, and then break for the choir to sing, and maybe for some musicians to play if they have them here. We have a flutist back home.”

It felt weird for me to still reference myself with my family, when I wasn’t living at home right now. I hoped they were all doing okay tonight. Would Kat pick Mom or Dad?

“Cool, cool,” Nick said, almost too quietly for me to hear him. The priestess then stepped up to the podium and held out her arms. The murmuring around us dissipated.

A spotlight turned on, illuminating the priestess with an air of divinity.

“Welcome, everyone. I hope the gods have shined brightly on you this past week?”

There were whoops and cheers from the crowd, as the priestess walked slowly around the circular podium to address the crowd on all sides.

“My name’s Gwendolyn, if you don’t already know me. And tonight I want to talk to you about our mother Natalis, and the epistle of the Stranger.”

Ooh, that was a good one. Some of the people around me clapped.

You’re going to like this one, I thought to Nick. It involves Gnomon and a few of his children.

Nick cocked an eyebrow at me, and I refocused on the priestess.

“Mother Natalis went on many journeys during the early years depicted in the Collections. One of these journeys, in the days before her union to Flavius brought peace to our world, carried her through a wood.” Priestess Gwendolyn rested a hand on the podium. “This wood was dark. It was thick with brambles and thorny bushes, but there were birds of Vogel in the trees, and deer of Kymerin marking paths through the brush. Natalis trusted those paths, and let them lead her on her way. But that wood, it was very dark. And with the sun going down, it got darker still, twilight turning the shadows purple, and the leaves fading from green to pale blue. Soon, Natalis could no longer make out Kymerin’s path.”

A group of children on the other side of the church chimed in with singsong voices: “Oh where is the light to guide me? Where is the light to guide me?”

The priestess repeated their words in her loud, full voice, then continued. “Those little ones know the story. Natalis called out into the deep night, and out of the darkness came a man, with a torch in his hand. He said, ‘I can lead you through this wood, follow me and my light.’ And Natalis gazed upon him, and saw doubt in his heart. Fear in his heart. But she decided to trust him.”

My phone buzzed. It could have been Kat, so I chanced pulling it out of my pocket.

Nick: Dude this is nothing like the comic The Stranger. This is boring

Oh, Nick.

Scott: Hang in there, it gets better.

“. . . But the wood kept getting darker as purples and blues faded to grays and blacks, and Natalis still could not find her path. She had to trust this stranger. Natalis picked her way past branch and bramble lit only by the torch of the stranger, and her trust started to wane. And with that waning came the rustling of something in the woods.”

The priestess continued to pace around the podium in slow circles, her hands gesturing dramatically as she talked. “She thought she saw the eyes of wolves beyond the trees. She thought she heard the hissing of snakes in the branches above her. But she vowed to trust in this man, despite the fear in his heart.”

Beside me, Nick wiggled in his seat. He was probably getting impatient, because this pacing was a lot slower than a comic book. I, however, loved the priestess’s expressivity. She was really engaging the group and had all the younger children excited. I squeezed Nick’s hand and toed his shoe. His telekinesis caressed my arm.

“As the man rounded a bend, there was a crash of thunder and a flash of light as a tree went up in flames before them. It was chaos incarnate, a bleeding of energy from between the planes of reality. Natalis turned to run, as through the crackling of fire she again heard the wolves’ rustling and snakes’ hissing. But who did she find when she turned?”

My thigh buzzed again, and I glanced down.

Nick: Okay you’re right this is better

I smiled.

“The rustling came from a young man, with artificial spider legs helping him move fast through the wood. And the hissing came from a young woman, with artificial bat wings letting her glide through the sky. Natalis gasped and turned back to the man with the torch. ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

“‘I am Gnomon, and these are two of my children, Iris and Sapphire. Come, children, we must close this false portal.’”

Nick inhaled, his eyes wide and excited. “Here we go! I know these guys, I have a bunch of action figures—”

Shh. I put a finger to his lips. He raised an eyebrow at me and went to bite my finger. I pulled it away with a yelp that caused an older woman in front of us to glance back. Okay, we need to be quiet, I thought to Nick.

“. . . Sapphire was quick to weave a thread, as Iris worked. Natalis watched in awe as Gnomon’s children stitched the rip in reality using the needle carved from Gnomon’s torch and thread woven from Natalis’s hair. With each pull of the needle, the growling of chaos grew quieter, its licking flames dwindled, until finally, the portal was sealed shut. Vogel’s birds flapped to put out the tree’s fire, and they were all in darkness. Gnomon then revealed a trinket from his pack, and switched it on. It was an electric lamp, divine technology to guide their way. They then proceeded to the end of the wood, safe, together.”

The priestess smiled and clasped her hands. “We put our trust in strangers because we all are fighting chaos. We all want to find our way through the wood, some of us through the use of technology, and others through the strength of faith, and still others, both. The chaos will always fight, will always try to break through. And only by working together, even if we’re afraid, will we keep it at bay. Through our ingenuity, our trust for one another, and our love.”

Nick excitedly tapped at his phone, and I waited for his text to arrive, trying to resist looking over his shoulder. He snickered, his shoulder shoving me. Finally, my phone buzzed.

Nick: That turned out pretty good! I need to show you that comic. The art is awesome. And the story’s expanded so that they’re traveling across a continent.

That did sound fun. You’ll have to show me this weekend. Tomorrow or something.

Nick frowned. “Gotta visit my dad tomorrow,” he whispered. Crap, that was right. “But maybe . . .” He trailed off as the priestess moved on to her next topic of discussion, and the room quieted.

“Tonight, my family, I want to talk about the inevitability of time. You know what I mean. That Claudia, she gets a bad rap. But it’s not like we call her the goddess of death. We call her the goddess of change, the goddess of time. And those are very different things, despite what that gentleman will have you believe.”

The priestess gestured in the direction of the Flavius statue. If this church was anything like mine back home, that was a not-so-thinly-veiled reference to the Emperor.

“Yes, from the ashes, a phoenix will rise again. But is it not the same bird? Claudia, however, talks not of rebirth, but of the new, the different. She talks of the potential we all have, of what we could be. Of what we, as a species, could be. She chose to be her true self, and we too can choose to be better. I want you to spend this life doing everything you can to help the human race forward. Together in love, together in progress. That’s what it’s all about. Because when your clock runs out and you slip through our reality to meet the gods, I want you to know that your life, your accomplishments, helped.”

She paused, and many on the pews clapped or said a quick prayer. But Nick had tensed by the end of her speech.

You okay?

Before he could answer, the priestess held up a hand, hushing the crowd. “I bet we can all think of someone who was in our lives, someone who is with the gods now, that lifted us up. It is our love for them, for how they touched our lives, that inspire us to live our best life.”

Nick cleared his throat and let go of my hand. I gave him a questioning look as he ran a tickle of magic up my jaw.

“Do you want to step away for a sec?” he whispered, and with my skin tingling where his telekinesis had touched me, I nodded. My prayer to Laesth echoed softly through me, to have the confidence to let go and have fun. That’s what I had asked for, that’s what I wanted.

The priestess continued talking as Nick and I stood. We ducked through the aisles, and toward the church’s offices and kitchen.