All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [169]
On the other hand, if she told Dallas about Mitch, wouldn’t that be like telling the League? Would they take an interest in him . . . make sure he was safe and appropriate for their youngest goddess?
And what if they found him wanting? Fiona shuddered.
What was Dallas? In cutoffs and a tank top, she looked more like her older sister than the goddess who had wielded two golden swords and stood toe-to-toe against Abbadon the Destroyer.
Fiona took another sip of juice to clear her throat. “No, I’m okay,” Fiona said, but then changed her mind. When would she ever get a chance to talk to an expert on boys? “Well, maybe . . .”
Fiona cast a frustrated glance at her brother.
He sighed, understood that she wanted him gone, and in a rare magnanimous gesture, Eliot excused himself to go to the bathroom.
When Fiona was sure he was out of earshot, she continued, “There’s one boy.”
Dallas’s eyes widened. “One you like, I take it?”
Fiona nodded, feeling the heat rise in her face. Why did she always lose her cool when it came to boys?
“What’s stopping you?” Dallas asked.
Fiona huffed out a tiny laugh. “The League. Mother. Who knows what they’d do if they found out I wanted to—”
Fiona couldn’t finish the thought. She wasn’t sure what she wanted from Mitch. To go out on more dates? To be his girlfriend? And then what?
It was crazy. In her life, with people trying to kill her, how was she supposed to ever have a normal relationship?
“Wait.” Fiona’s smooth forehead wrinkled with bewilderment. “You were married before? To people in the family?”
Dallas laughed. “Never to an Immortal, baby. Don’t get me wrong: some of your cousins and uncles are fun”—she looked away, distracted—“and incredibly talented, but that’s not what I need in a partner. I need someone who can appreciate me for me, not my power, or how being with me alters the politics of the League.” She sighed. “Not that it’s ever uncomplicated. I just get a better connection with a mortal.”
“And the League doesn’t mind?”
Dallas stiffened. “It’s none of their damned business.”
Fiona was stunned at this revelation.
Her aunt was 100 percent correct: It was none of their business. Fiona had rights as well as responsibilities in the League.
“For people like us,” Dallas whispered, “there come too few chances at bliss. You find something that makes you happy—grab it with both hands and don’t let go.”
Fiona had a lot to process. Like how to balance her life in the League and at school . . . with having a life at all.
“Thanks, Aunt Dallas. That helps. A lot.”
Dallas smiled. “It’s cool. Anytime.”
Eliot came back then (his entrance so well timed that Fiona suspected the sneaky Rattus rattus had been eavesdropping).
“Oh—there’s one more thing that’s been bugging us,” Fiona said. “Maybe you can clear it up.”
Eliot starting eating—then stopped, picking up on Fiona’s train of thought. They’d discussed this at length: What had happened to the ancient families’ leaders? Satan and Zeus?
“Oh yeah,” he said. “At the Battle of Ultima Thule, when you and the others were fighting the Infernals.”
“What really happened to Zeus?” Fiona asked. “Mr. Ma said he died there. But there was no body. It was like he walked off or something.”
Fiona had a fascination with Zeus. He was the only one ever to lead the entire League of Immortals by himself. She’d studied everything there was about him in their assigned textbooks, and had checked out the more obscure references from the library (although there hadn’t been any time to crack them) like: Lightning Eaters and other Tales of the Titans, The Seven Forbidden Lovers, and Divum sub Terra.44
At the mention of Zeus, however, her aunt’s smile vanished. Outside, fog swallowed the sun.
“Oh, him.” Dallas sneered. “The greatest womanizer in all history.”
Fiona knew what she meant—all those classical stories about his seductions, the transformation into swans and showers of gold (whatever that was).
“He had to be more than that,