Chapter 18: I Promise Not to Kill You

"I've never said this to anyone, but I do promise not to kill you."

Daji pauses to let her words sink in.

"Although the stories twisted a lot of that," she continues, looking frustrated. "Take a powerful woman with the strength and cunning of a fox, and men are terrified."

"I'm the last one to jump on the 'all men are pigs' bandwagon, but I work in tech. It's still a big boys' club," I say. "There are a lot of reasons why that's so, although it's changing. Women are heading up tech companies and creating startups, but there are still silicon barriers to break."

She smiles. "You understand, then."

I hold up a hand. "You DID just conjure up one of your inventions of death, the Snake Pit. The novels got that part right."

She pouts, realizing I've called her out, and she can't deny it. "Yes, yes. But I wouldn't have done it if you hadn't been dosed with Amrita for years. It was just to scare you. And then Uncle had to come along and spoil everything."

"And if he hadn't? When were you planning to tell me that I'm immortal?"

I should be furious that my grandparents gave me this ancient elixir without me knowing. If Gram had told me, I'd probably have said something like, "Cool, as long as you and Gramps and Mom and Dad live forever, too."

Instead, I have a lump in my throat.

"Why my grandparents and not me?" I whisper. "What makes me so special? They had knowledge and wisdom. They had life experience. They understood that we've lost something in our modern life. I create tech for a living, but it annoys me when people spend every waking moment glued to a screen. That's why I like this place. Gram and Gramps may have gone a little off the deep end with no wi-fi and an antique for a computer, but they had a point. And what use is tech to gods, anyway? What does God need with a starship?"

"'Star Trek' again?" She grins.

I'm not distracted. "Why my grandparents? Why did they choose me to live forever?"

"What parent or grandparent doesn't want more for the next generation than they had?" Daji asks.

"You come from a culture that preaches filial piety," I shoot back. "We're supposed to revere our elders, according to Chinese tradition."

She smiles playfully. "You can worship me. As a goddess, as someone who's seen human history unfold. You can revere me. With your body, and with everything you do."

I sigh, too tired to argue. I lie back, and she snuggles up against me. I'm a sucker for the soft fur of her ears and her tail.

"There you go," she murmurs. "Earn your keep as my bed warmer. You feel nice."

Her contentment curls around me. This bond will take some getting used to. EVERYTHING in my new life takes getting used to.

"Do I feel nice pressed against you?" she prompts.

"You feel soft. You feel good."

"That's so sweet." She rests her head against my heart. "To answer your question, your grandparents saw their fates. Some of the gods aren't shy about sharing the truth. Your grandparents realized they needed to prepare you for your future."

"Then why didn't they tell me about it, or at least my parents?"

"Have YOU told your parents?"

"I was going to, but gods kept getting in the way—"

She nips me on the chest, lightly. "You forget I was your secretary. You had plenty of time to tell them."

I stiffen.

She's right.

I didn't know everything that was going on, but I suspected something. I had clues right in front of me from day one. The way Daji slinks through the halls. The other guests, such as Athena. The faun waiters, whom I just assumed were really hairy little people. They kept their horns and hooves hidden. But they looked different. And here I worried about commenting on their size. I didn't want them to slap me with a discrimination lawsuit and accuse me of creating a hostile work environment.

Besides, working in the tech field, I'm used to people who don't quite fit in. I'm also used to people not understanding me or my techie friends. Why would I punch down?

"You knew there was more going on under the surface, and yet you never told your parents," Daji says with that directness that turns me on.

"They'd just dismiss it as me being weird again."

"Exactly, so why not tell them?"

I sigh. "You don't know my parents…"

Her eyes darken. "You forget I was also your grandparents' secretary."

"Meaning?"

I don't think I want to hear what she's about to say.

"Meaning that your parents are too caught up in, how do you say, the 'rat race' of success. Get a degree, go to work, get a normal job, have a normal wife and children."

In two sentences, she nailed my parents.

"There's nothing wrong with having a work ethic," I protest. "Believe me. I work with enough people that I've seen it all. I've fired people who think they should be applauded just for showing up to work. Who never signed a paycheck or had to make a tough decision and wouldn't know how."

"Your parents are most likely decent people," she admits. "But they don't have your imagination or openness. Your grandfather knew that. Unfortunately, your father was his heir. The rules of this place state that the inn has to be passed down to a child of the bloodline. Your grandparents fought with beings beyond your comprehension to change their will so that you could inherit it instead of your parents."

A terrible, awful thought strikes me, and I have to ask the question.

"Did my grandparents…were they killed because they wanted to leave the inn to me?"