11. “I can’t wait to spend eternity with you.”
I couldn’t get her to leave my bedroom. She refused to walk around the castle or explore Vilokan with me. Instead, Pagan stayed huddled away in my bedroom where I was no longer welcomed without an invite. Father hadn’t exactly made a very good impression on her with his sexual escapades during the one dinner she had attended. Agreeing to let her speak with Wyatt had been the only thing I could think of to make her happy.
Opening the door, Wyatt walked past me without an acknowledgement. He hated me. He hated who I was and what I represented. Once, he’d been my friend. Throughout my life I’d watched him and wished I had a life similar to his. He’d been the friend of Pagan’s that intrigued me the most. He had the life of a normal boy.
I’d brought Pagan food that she recognized. The meals my father enjoyed were not something she would accept easily. His appetites were very odd in all things. Setting the tray down on the table beside the bed, I met Pagan’s gaze.
“He isn’t fond of me,” I said as I handed her a plate.
“No, he isn’t. But then who can blame him? You took away his eternity. He is now stuck here, forever.”
The hate laced in her words was more painful than anything I could have ever imagined. “I didn’t take his soul Pagan, my father did. I had no idea he was going to. Ghede answers to no one within our realm. He makes decisions that please him and he overindulges in anything pleasurable and corrupts enjoyable pursuits, making things that should be good and satisfying into depraved behaviors. Nothing I can say will stop him. I was a child when he asked me to choose a soul. I had no idea what the implications were. I chose you. I didn’t know then what that meant. You can hate me but try to understand I am not my father.”
Pagan was quiet a moment and I began fixing a plate of food. “Who is your mother?”
My mother wasn’t someone I really wanted to discuss. Ever. But with Pagan I would share everything. Even the painful things. “My mother is Erzulie, she is the reason my skin is pale and my hair is blond. She’s the Voodoo Goddess of many things. Love being one... vengeance being another. She takes many lovers and enjoys the same things my father does. I see her on occasion but for the most part I live with my father. She has never had any desire for a child but then I’m not her only one. She has several, many of whom walk the earth. She is not above taking human men to her um... bed.”
Pagan took small bites of the pulled pork I’d brought her and I sighed in relief. She needed to eat. I didn’t like the idea of her starving. Father would make her immortal soon. But for now, she needed nourishment.
“You don’t talk like your father either. He has a bit of a Cajun accent.”
Finally, she was curious about me. “I’ve spent the majority of my life following you. I adopted your accent so I would fit in with your life. I didn’t want to appear to you as an outsider.”
“So all those dreams I’ve had are real? Those things really happened. Are there more memories I’ve forgotten?”
Those were only small tid-bits of our life together. There was so much I wanted her to remember, “Maybe a few more.” I replied.