My Soul to Take (19 page)

“Working alone?” Yemanja asked. “I can't imagine the Baron ever working alone.”

We were in the library, at one of the study tables near the doors which opened to the balcony. Sunlight streamed in, cutting a swath of light across Yemanja's worried face, and she squinted in the glare. Kirill got up and closed some of the drapes, and she nodded her thanks to him.

“It might make it easier for him to not have to deal with possible opposition,” Odin offered.

“But the Gede are like his children,” Yemanja shook her head. “I just can't see it.”

“Well, Papa Gede seemed truly surprised by the news of the stolen souls,” I noted.

“What's going on here,” she pounded the table with a fist. “I don't understand.”

“Alright,” I said decisively. “We're wasting time on trying to verify if it really is Baron Samedi. We need to just work on the assumption that he's guilty so we can get to the important aspect of this... watching the bokors.”

“Watching them?” Yemanja frowned.

“To see vhat zey do vith souls,” Kirill nodded.

“Not just that,” I said grimly. “We need to get those souls back.”

“There's only two ways of freeing those souls,” Yemanja whispered. “Either the bokor must release the soul or the bokor himself must be destroyed.”

“I don't know how I feel about that,” Azrael scowled.

“They're trapping souls,” Trevor said.

“Not really,” Odin mused and we all stared at him. “Well the souls aren't trapped per se. The pots are links to the souls. They're conduits used to bring the soul to the Human Realm and force them into service. But the soul isn't actually trapped in the pot.”

“Semantics,” Yemanja waved a hand. “They are enslaved,  whether they're trapped or not.”

“Yes, that's true enough,” Odin conceded.

“So let's just go in and kill the bokors,” Trevor shrugged. “That'll put an end to it.”

“Will it?” I frowned as I began to change my mind. “You know, I think I may have spoke too rashly. The souls will have to wait. We need to find out who's actually behind this. If we don't stop them before we free the souls, they'll just recruit more bokors and start all over.”

“Yes, exactly,” Yemanja nodded.

“But I still think we should proceed on the assumption that Samedi is guilty,” I went on and Yemanja frowned. “If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...”

“Then shoot it, it's good eatin',” Trevor said with a hillbilly accent.

“We need to find a way to track him,” I mused, ignoring Trevor attempt at levity.

“There are spells for that,” Odin offered. “But you'd need a personal item of Samedi's.”

“He's not going to let me anywhere near him now,” I grimaced.

“But he would welcome La Sirene,” Odin looked over to Yemanja.

“You're right,” I grinned. “They love you. You could go over and grab something, couldn't you?”

“I suppose,” she worried at her lower lip with her upper teeth.

“What's wrong?” Trevor asked.

“I don't know,” she sighed. “Is it silly to feel like I'm betraying their trust?”

“A little,” Trevor nodded.

“No, it's not,” I added. “It's because you're a good person. They may or may not be innocent of this and your efforts, though they may seem to be an act of betrayal now, will prove whether or not they're innocent. So really, you're being a true friend to them.”

“Alright,” she stood. “I assume hair would be a reliable personal connection?” She looked to Odin.

“Usually is,” he agreed. “But be careful. We told Papa that you were the one who invited us to the ceremony, so your visit may seem suspicious.”

“Alright, I'll be back tomorrow,” she started to leave.

“Tomorrow?” I asked. “That's an awful long time to spend with the Gede.”

“If I leave any earlier, they'll definitely be suspicious,” she shrugged. “And we don't want that.”

“No, we sure don't,” I muttered as she walked away.

A few hours after Yemanja left, Pan showed up with a party invitation.

“Wow, that's the second invitation we've received this week,” I said as I took the offered envelope.

“I know, Blue's wedding, right?” Pan laughed. “We already had this planned when I got his invitation.”

“We?” I opened the envelope and pulled out a gold embossed linen card inviting me, my husbands, and my Intare to Horus and Hekate's engagement party. “Already?” I frowned down at the card.

“Already?” Pan huffed. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means she saw it in the future,” Trevor grimaced. “You didn't want to share that, Minn Elska?”

“I didn't want to jinx it,” I shrugged. “For lack of a better word. Wait a second,” I said as I continued to read the invitation. “Neverland? This says the party will be in Neverland. Is this a new theme park or a joke?” I waved the card in Pan's face.

All the men just stared at me.

“What?” I huffed. “Is it some secret code I don't know about? Where's Neverland?”

“Vervain,” Pan began to laugh. “I'm
Pan
.”

“Yeah.”

“As in
the
Pan,” Pan repeated.

“Uh-huh,” I still wasn't getting where he was... oh. “As in
Peter
Pan!?”

“Yeah,” Pan gave me a cocky grin and did the ultimate Peter Pan pose; legs spread and fists on his hips. “That's me. The idol of young boys all over the world.”

“Peter Pan is real?” I gaped at him.

“How did you not know this, Vervain?” Odin shook his head at me.

“Why does everyone always say that to me when I find out something new?
How did you not know this, Vervain?
” I mimicked. “I didn't know this because I never associated a children's story with my friend, the
Greek God
Pan.”

“I inspired the story,” Pan shrugged.

“What?” I narrowed my eyes on him. “What did
you
do to inspire a children's story?”

“I think I'm offended by your tone,” he pouted.

“Pan,” I rolled my eyes. “You're not exactly the first god I'd think of when it comes to inspiring children's stories. You're the god of... what the hell are you the god of anyway?”

“I am the God of the Wild,” Pan posed again and it was obvious that no one could pose like the original. “I'm the God of Nature, Flocks, and Rustic Music. My symbol is the pan pipes and I can use them to lure and lead any living thing wherever I wish to take them.”

“I thought you just caused panic,” I blinked.

“That too,” he giggled and tossed his head, his oak brown curls flopping so that I had a glimpse of the little horns hiding among them.

“Wait...” I was beginning to go through all the stories I knew. Just like I had the time I'd discovered that most fairy tales were based on actual faeries. Boy had that been enlightening... and a little terrifying. “Pipes... leading... are you the Pied Piper?”

“Yay!” He clapped, “You figured that out all by yourself. Well done, you.”

“So you're Pan and the Pied Piper
and
Peter Pan?” I walked into the dining hall and sat in the nearest chair.

“Why is this so hard for you to accept?” Pan followed me with Odin and Trevor trailing after us.

Az was still at work and Kirill was down in his basement office, carving little pieces of wood into beautiful things. He says it relaxes him, so I try to encourage it. We all need to get our stress-relief wherever we can.

“I guess because we've been friends for so long and this has never come up,” I shook my head. “I should have known... someone should have told me.”

“We get to know people slowly,” Odin said as he sat beside me. “That's the best way; to see pieces of them, little by little.”

“Yeah fine,” I huffed and then looked back to Pan. “So now you have to tell me all about it. How did you inspire the Peter Pan book?”

“I actually love kids,” Pan smiled and pulled out a chair, angling it in front of me so we could speak better. But then he went serious. “During wars, I would watch for the children, the orphans who had no religious ties or who just couldn't believe in a god because of how much life had hurt them,” he cleared his throat and blinked rapidly.

I stared in shock. Pan was so rarely upset, to see him on the verge of tears, was like spotting a unicorn. A crying unicorn.

“Orphans who had no ties. You mean children with nowhere to go if they died,” I whispered and felt my throat constrict.

Trauma involving children had become so much worse for me now that I had the twins. It's not like I hadn't been a mother before. I'd felt the emotions of motherhood when I relived Sabine's memories of Vali and Vidar. But it was different with the twins; I didn't know what would happen with them. I had no idea if they'd even live to see adulthood. I know that sounds morbid but one of the horrors of being a mother is the constant anxiety that you will outlive your children. I get these random
what if
thoughts that I had to learn to push away or they'd drive me nuts. What if they got SIDS? What if there was a fey infant disease I didn't know about and they got that? What if a meteor crashed into the castle and obliterated the nursery? It went on and on, a tortuous, ridiculous litany that I blame completely on hormones. And that whole flying thing hadn't helped.

So because of this obsession with my babies, I now felt more deeply about other children too. Every hurt that happened to someone else's child, was a potential threat against my own. Not only that, I felt strangely connected to other children, that whole maternal instinct kicking in, and the thought that there were babies out there, alone and unwanted, made my heart hurt.

“That's right,” Pan shrugged. “No one thinks of the children. Adults make their choices and that's on them but the little ones don't get a choice. Children must go where their parents take them. Unless they have no parents, which is a common side-effect of war. The orphans have no one to guide them or tell them that they're loved. They get bitter and that's just not acceptable to me. A bitter, hopeless child is the greatest of tragedies.”

“So you saved them,” I swiped at my eyes absently, not even realizing that I was crying.

“They were lost,” he shrugged. “I found them.”

“The Lost Boys,” I made a sound of revelation. It was all starting to make sense.

“Yes, I called them my lost ones,” Pan agreed. “I would find them, on the verge of death. I'd hold them and tell them that they were loved and wanted. That all they had to do was believe in me and I would take them with me to a place where they would never be hungry or afraid or cold. They would never grow old or know any pain ever again.”

“Neverland,” I said softly.

“Neverland,” Pan nodded. “That was the name the children gave it. So I started calling it that too. And I started glamouring myself to look like a young boy when I approached the children. It was easier for them to believe in a magical child than a grown god. Then one day, in a dirty alley, with bombs exploding overhead, I held a little boy and told him the story of Neverland; how my lost ones waited for him, to play with him and love him, and be his family forever. I told him that all he needed to do was believe and he did.”

“And someone saw you,” I concluded.

“A man had been blown into the alley by the same blast which killed the boy,” Pan nodded. “He heard everything... and he lived. That man was-”

“Barrie,” I cut him off. “The guy who wrote
Peter Pan
.”

“No actually,” Pan laughed. “The guy who witnessed me taking the little boy's soul was named William Burton. He must have been friends with Barrie or perhaps he got drunk in a bar and told the tale of a magic boy who took lost children to Neverland. Whatever happened, Barrie wrote the story and I became a new sort of god.”

“Immortalized in fiction as well as myth,” I leaned forward and hugged him.

“What's that for?” Pan laughed when I sat back.

“For being you,” I smiled, in complete awe of what a wonderful man my friend was. “For being the Pan. I'm so honored to have you as my friend.”

“Thanks,” Pan hung his head shyly. “You know, they saved me too. They saved me from becoming a jaded, bitter god. They've kept me young and are a constant reminder that no matter what happens to you, you don't have to be forever affected by it. Happiness is a choice.”

“Then I'm grateful that not only do they have you but you have them,” I picked up the invitation. “I can't wait to see Neverland.”

“Great!” He sat up straight, all his somberness gone in a second. “Tell Fallon to bring Zariel, I think she might like playing with the souls.”

“Okay,” I looked to Trevor and he shrugged.

“I'd tell you to bring your twins but they're a little young,” Pan went on. “Maybe in a few years.”

“It's pretty fun there, huh?” I laughed.

“Just wait and see,” he grinned mischievously. “You're gonna love it,” he got up to leave.

“Hold on,” I stopped him. “If you're Peter Pan, does that make Horus, Tinkerbell?”

Pan gaped at me for three seconds before all of us burst into laughter.

“Oh Vervain, I can't thank you enough,” Pan kissed me on both cheeks. “Tinkerbell! Ha! Horus will be horrified!”