Page 48 of The Fake Divination Offense
He’s panting when he looks up at me, his lips peeling into a feral grin that pops his dimples.
“Oh, Ilikethis,” he gasps, adjusts his stance, and wails on another statue.
I forget to take the fireball potion. I don’t even need to destroy anything; it’s far more entertaining to watch Alexo go absolutely wild on this room.
He decimates a statue of a nature god with a manic giggle that has heat crawling across my skin before he takes the arms off a war god. Each swing comes with grunts and curses and the occasional ecstatic chirp, and after a particularly good hit that explodes an entire statue in one swing, he turns to me with an excited, childlike look ofDid you see?
I grin, covered in concrete dust from following him around the room.
After a few minutes, Alexo holds the mace out to me. “You haven’t done anything.”
“I’m good,” I assure him. “This is what I wanted.”
One of his eyebrows flares, shit-stirring a little. “You’ll be back soon on your own anyway, right?”
My smile stiffens.
Alexo clocks it, and his expression drops. “Never mind. I have secrets; you can, too.”
I grab the mace handle as he turns away. He blinks up at me, a streak of gray on his cheek where he scrubbed the back of his hand across his face.
“That,” I nod to the statue behind him, the one he just destroyed, “was Warnock the Fierce. A god of piracy and sailing.”
Alexo glances back at the rubble. “Huh. Thought he was some kind of fashion god. All those ruffles.”
I’m already turning to the next debris pile he left in his wake. “And that’s Zurduq, a god of war, but surprisingly notviolentwars—only the wars that arefriendly challenges, like, believe it or not, thumb wars. And that”—I don’t pause for his amused snort—“was Evidione, a goddess of pollen. This place goes through a ton of her statues every time allergy season kicks in; it’s cathartic. And over there…”
I go around the room, naming the gods he’s taken the mace to, and Alexo trails me, eyes bright with interest.
When we’re back to the beginning, the original winged god he smashed, I point at the fragments of its head. “And this was one of the demon lords of hell. I thought it was an avian god at first, but that snarl—it was either Foul Brariock or Dimardion. Either way, a ruler of the Demonic Plane.”
Alexo’s lips part. His cheeks are red, and I don’t think it’s entirely from exertion; he’s been calm for the few minutes I’ve explained who these statues were.
“Do you know all of them?” he asks, waving around the room.
“Yeah.” I stuff my hands in the pocket of my hoodie. “I have a Mageus in Theological Evocation. My apartment’s full of relics from various religions.”
“Holy shit. Really? Why?” The last word comes on a winded laugh, and one side of my lips goes up at his wonder.
“Shocked a beefcake jock has an interest outside of rawball?”
Alexo taps the mace on the floor and considers the question. “Kind of. But you keep surprising me, so Ishouldn’tbe surprised.”
My smile holds, even as I say, “I grew up in the Church of Urzoth Shieldsworn. My parents had a lot of expectations for me because of it. Still do. And… eventually, it became comforting to be reminded that my family’s god isn’t the only one. He isn’t invincible.”
The breath leaves Alexo’s lungs in a punch. He looks out over the room again.
“Are any of them invincible?” he asks, a tenuous whisper.
That feels like another loaded question, but I answer simply, “No.”
He scrubs his hand against his face again, leaving another streak of dust, this one tinged a bit darker, his gaze watery now.
In my silence, he rolls his eyes at me, at himself, and huffs. “You’re not going to ask what that’s about?” he pushes. “Whatthis”—he motions to his teary eyes—“is about?”
I step closer to him. Close enough to run my fingers across his hand, wiping away some of the rock dust to leave lines on his skin.
“I don’t need all your secrets. I’ll take whatever you want to give me.” I inhale the chalky air, unable to pick up any of his apple scent through it. “And I want you to have all the secrets of mine you need. Here’s another: I used to come here a lot when I was in college. No one else in my life knows about it. I always picked this room.”
