She pushed off the ground with all her strength. Her arms reached up to the sky and she drew her feet up to her knees in the hopes of keeping her limbs out of the creature’s reach. But she guessed it could jump, too.
A large, cold hand grasped one of her wrists and hauled her up, nearly dislocating her arm from its shoulder socket. Pain ripped through her, but it was nothing compared to the intoxicating relief as she was pulled higher and higher, away from the gaping jaws of the unseen predator.
“Ouch!”
Her head smashed against something. Warm liquid quickly leaked down her face from—she suspected—a sizable gash just above her right eye. Puck didn’t stop, even after repeated colliding with what Diana guessed were sizable tree branches. He climbed higher and higher.
“Why don’t you fly us out of here?” She screeched after her dress snagged on another bare branch, ripping away. “You can still fly, can’t you?” Just how tall is this tree, anyway?
“Trust me. There are scarier things in the sky here. It’s safer to stay cloaked by other objects, even dead trees.” Puck, who had never been winded before in all the time Diana had known him, was heavily huffing.
Another limb smacked Diana’s face when she attempted to look at him. “Dammit!”
“What happened to your vow to be a better example and stop cursing?”
He was right. Maybe when—if—she ever returned to Olympus, she’d take that oath again. This moment in time deserved more than a few expletives. “You can hold me accountable later.”
Puck laughed at Diana’s harrumph. “Okay, but you owe a glittering coin of gold into an earthen-made jar for every bad word from here on out. I’m going to be so rich by the time we get back.”
She didn’t bother to argue. Puck wasn’t floating around in space, dead. He could have her entire wing of apartments at home if he so desired.
Finally, he stopped climbing. Diana was happy it was too dark to see anything because she was certain the height would make her dizzy. Unlike home, looking out over the crowds at the coliseum from her perch high above in the clouds, there was no safety net... unless you counted the pooka gripping her wrist like a vice causing her to lose feeling in her hand.
One last tug, and she was face to face with her friend. “You okay, sweet Diana? I swear to the heavens I thought you were a goner.”
Without a word, a sob erupted from her chest. Diana collapsed against him, and his arms clasped around her, his skeletal hands stroking her hair. “Shhh, child. I have you. I always have and always will.”
Despite the hideous snarling far beneath their dangling feet, a warm blanket of peace washed over her. Puck was alive. She was safe... for now. All her fears and earlier humiliation and hurt collided in her heart, spilling out in fresh, hot tears.
Once her eyes ran dry, Puck reached down, his hand tilting her chin up to gaze into her eyes. “Now tell me what that bastard angel did to you.”
“WHERE THE BLOODY HELL is she?” Lucifer paced in circles. His vessel was fully restored to its earlier resplendent glory... as far as he could tell. Something still felt off.
Olivier had conjured up a globe of light to surround them and keep out whatever creatures lay hidden in the dark. He leaned against the shield, his gaze never leaving Lucifer. After he’d explained how he’d tethered to the nearest planet and dove into the black hole without a care for himself, he’d grown bored of conversation when it became apparent that Lucifer’s only thoughts were of Diana’s safety.
“Stop fretting. You’re worse than a mother hen counting her eggs before they’re hatched after the fox was seen skulking out of the hen house.” He flicked an invisible speck of dust from his breastplate. “She’s the goddess of the hunt. Surely, she can utilize her skills to protect herself. However,” his voice drawled out, “she wasn’t really in the right frame of mind when she stomped off so... Oh, she’ll be fine. I guarantee it.”
It was clear Olivier had no intention of helping him search.
“But can we agree that when she does return, and that creepy companion of hers doesn’t, we can leave without him?”
Lucifer glared daggers at his brother. He knew damn well that he wouldn’t leave an innocent behind. It just wasn’t so certain Puck qualified as something or someone innocent. Unsettling wasn’t even a good enough word to describe the energetic vibrations he gave off.
“So, assuming they make it back, any ideas where we are or how we get back on the path we were supposed to be going? We still have brothers and sisters being slaughtered by an unknown enemy. At least I can redeem myself by bringing them justice.” He hoped appealing to Olivier’s sense of vengeance against a common foe would make him more amiable to finding Diana so they could leave. He’d never forgive himself if some evil befell her.
Olivier shrugged. “Yes, we will hunt down the fiend responsible and destroy him... or her... or them. All in good time. Unless you wish to leave the goddess and her weird companion behind. If so, say the word and we’ll fly off now. Without being burdened with them we can simply portal where we need to go in less time than it takes Zeus to father another hybrid human bastard or less time than it takes Diana to lay claim to a different prey than she’s renowned for hunting.” He harrumphed at his own joke.
Lucifer stared at him, wanting to scold him for being so flippant about the matter and making fun of the king of the lesser gods—he was Diana’s father, after all. His mouth opened to utter the words, but he stopped himself. Olivier was taunting him, daring him to say something to give away his feelings for the goddess.
When he didn’t take the bait, Olivier shrugged again. “Fine. Let’s go look for your goddess. But”—he raised a finger—“if we find her and not Puck, we can leave without him. Deal?”
Lucifer pivoted in the direction Diana had stormed off without responding. Sure, Puck made his skin crawl with the way his red eyes scanned every inch of him as if searching deep within for one atom of malice, but she loved the creepy guy so... either they all left together, or he’d spend eternity on this dead rock of a planet searching for them both.
Thankfully, his divinity gave him the ability to cast light around him. It had not escaped his attention that the dark had gotten darker, and colder. There wasn’t much to see except dead trees whose leaves and fruits must have been turned to ash by some catastrophic force at some time in its history. For that was all that was left on the ground... dust, some rocks, and petrified roots protruding through the infertile earth that caused him to trip once or twice. That had made Olivier hoot with laughter. At least someone was enjoying themselves.
Lucifer, on the other hand, had a nauseating roiling in his gut. His skin itched and didn’t feel right covering his spirit body now. For millennia, he’d worn his vessel with pride for it had been fashioned to represent his spiritual form—a visual representation of his angelic self. It fit like a glove, beautifully designed and handcrafted by the Creator himself.
Now it felt... wrong. And he couldn’t pinpoint the issue.
