How long she sat there, enveloped by two deities, Neeku had no idea but eventually the sobs stopped coming and she was able to finally take deep long breaths. She gently pushed Ara away from her as she scrubbed her face with her hands, trying her best to wipe the tear stains away. Finally, she gave up and noticed that Ara was standing over her, offering her a hand up. The young assassin took it and was easily pulled to her feet. As for Sheeba, the Goddess was back to being in her mind, and Neeku felt one last hug before She retreated.
“Thanks,” Neeku said, and repeated it when Ara handed her a clean cloth to properly clean herself off. “Sorry you had to see that, I’m sure the messiness of mortals isn’t something you enjoy dealing with, is it? All our emotions and fluids and whatnot.”
“Now, why would you say that my dear?” The God of Death asked, head tilted to the side quizzically while it waited for her to finish making herself presentable.
“I don’t know, it’s just, you know, Death is supposed to be cold and cruel.”
Ara sighed. “That’s how most mortals view me, this is true, but I’m afraid that it’s your own fear of your mortality that lends itself to perceiving me in that manor. Having interacted with me, do I strike you as ‘cold’ or ‘cruel’? Stoic and unwilling to put up with the feces of male bovines, perhaps, but I don’t think either of your traits describe me.”
Neeku giggled. “Bullshit, Ara; the expression is bullshit, not the ridiculous way you said it.” She giggled again and handed the now-dirty cloth back to Ara who put it on the desk.
The God of Death winked at her. “I’m fully aware of that, child. See? I also have a sense of humor, and personally I think I’m quite amusing.”
Not at all what I’ve heard of, Sheeba thought to Neeku.
“Wait, you’ve never talked to Death before?” Neeku thought back.
Why would I? It gives even us deities the creeps to think about eventually ending. She shuddered, and Neeku couldn’t help but mirror the gesture.
Noticing Ara’s raised eyebrow to her shuddering, Neeku quickly spoke. “It’s nothing, just reacting to something Sheeba said.”
“And I didn’t hear either of you speaking. Well done, both of you. Just keep practicing and I’m sure the next time someone overhears your mental conversations, it will be because you CHOSE them to, not on accident.”
Neeku gave a little bow at Ara’s words, to which it nodded back. “So, now that I’m past the ‘trying to stab you repeatedly without it killing you’ bit, can we get back to what’s important? Like, where this weapon that can kill a God is located?”
“That’s a good question, and I wish your father had felt inclined to share that with me when we talked before I took him to be judged, but that was a secret he took to his grave and beyond, pardon the expression. He was truly terrified of it getting into the wrong hands.”
Frowning, Neeku focused on the first part of Ara’s sentence. “What do you mean, ‘judged’? I thought YOU did that.”
Ara frowned back. “No, that would be my younger sister. She listens to the lives of mortals, and sends them to whatever afterlife awaits them, unless they’ve pledged themselves to a specific deity that has claim to their soul. It’s what prevents you mortals from saying one thing and doing another, hoping that if no mortal knows it won’t matter.” Death chuckled grimly. “I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve watched mortals be judged and sent somewhere more fitting than what they planned or prayed for; truly amusing.” It chuckled again, shaking its head.
Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Neeku asked, “So, how come I’ve never heard of this ‘judge’ sister of yours? Not saying I’m some sort of theological scholar, but you would think that at some point SOMEBODY would have mentioned Her in a holy book or talked about Her. Sheeba, did you know about this?”
Neeku felt her Goddess squirm. Yes, but it’s something that We’re not allowed to talk about with mortals. Eons ago, We made the mistake of letting mortals know about Her; it’s not something We’ll do again, Sheeba answered Neeku, and the young assassin watched Ara nod in agreement. Please don’t ask about Her, the Goddess of the Night pleaded with her charge.
“All right…” Neeku drawled out, clearly uncomfortable but unwilling to press the issue at the moment. “So, what CAN you tell me? Did my dad give any kind of clue as to where he stashed the weapon?”
“Unfortunately, no. But, he did say that even though he didn’t see who killed him, he was confident it was the unknown team that he was forced to work with, and so he worked with an alchemist to make sure they wouldn’t be able to find it unless they worked together again; something he didn’t feel was likely, as they didn’t even seem to trust each other, much less your father. As they say, no honor among thieves.”
“What was it?” Neeku asked, sitting back down in the chair across from Ara’s seat, which it took before continuing.
“Blood. On that mission, everyone bled, and your father was cunning enough to collect a small bit of the blood from his five fellow members. Using that and his own blood, the alchemist crafted a lock that can only be opened by spilling blood from all six people on it. And yes,” Ara said, holding up a hand to stop Neeku from interjecting, “blood from a child of one of the members would work also, so not to worry.”
“Shit,” Neeku exclaimed. “Wish I’d known this sooner. After all, I killed Sola a few days ago, and I’m guessing his body has no more blood in it.”
“His faith uses cremation for the body after death, so that would be a no I’m afraid,” Ara said, shaking its head. “So, you’ll just have to see if he managed to reproduce before his demise.” Noticing the grimace on Neeku’s face, Death asked. “Are you regretting ending Sola’s life, my dear?”
Neeku shook her head no. “Not at all, he was a piece of shit and deserved his fate, both here and in the afterlife. But, how much blood do we need to unlock this lock my father had crafted? I mean, I don’t mind if I have to get a drop or two -although I’ll have to visit an alchemist or find a way to preserve the blood until we can use it- but I don’t want to kill an innocent child.”
“That I’m not sure, you may have to consult an alchemist like you suggested; although a word of advice and caution, as blood magic can be viewed very negatively I’d make sure whomever you consult can either keep their mouth shut or that you’re prepared to silence them permanently if you can’t trust them.”
“Trust but verify, yes I’m aware of how that goes,” Neeku said, rolling her eyes as she spoke. Ara rolled its eyes in response and chuckled. “I don’t suppose you know if Sola has any kids and if so where they’re located?” The young assassin asked sweetly.
“I may know lots of things, my dear, but I don’t know EVERYTHING. You’ll have to consult with someone living, who actually pays attention to the comings and goings of this fair city and its mortal population. I’m assuming you have someone in mind?”
Blushing, Neeku did her best to banish thoughts of Angelina’s lips from her mind. “Yes, I do believe I know someone who fits that bill.” Ara chuckled dryly again.
“Wonderful, so glad to hear it. Now,” Ara said, standing up. “If there’s nothing else to discuss, as much as I’ve enjoyed getting to meet and know you Myneeku’la, I’m afraid that this body will burn up if I spend much more time in it. And you can’t be here when he wakes up, as I have no idea how he would react to seeing a supposedly dead woman in his morgue. So, if you’d be so kind as to leave the way you entered, I’d be most appreciative.”
Standing up, Neeku started to walk towards the ramp, but stopped, spun around, and ran back to Ara, embracing the God of Death. “Thank you, for everything,” she whispered into its shoulders, feeling its arms encircle her and hug her back.
“You’re quite welcome, my dear. I hope I don’t see you again for many MANY years,” it said, patting her on the back before releasing her. “Now, go take care of business. You’ve got a lot riding on this: the fate of the world, your legacy, your Goddess’s existence. No pressure.”
Neeku winked at Ara. “Under pressure is how I work best. Take care, Ara.” And with that, she spun back around, quickly picked Bloodmoon up from the mortician’s desk and sheathed it, before quietly running up the ramp into the night.
