The Trouble with Twelfth Grave (Charley Davidson #12)(8)

Then one day the First Star warned the other six never to harm her people again. They laughed and pushed her out of her orbit and caused even more disasters.

When the First Star fought her way back into her orbit, hundreds of thousands of her people had died. A great and terrible anger came over her. She threatened to kill them all, but they laughed at her.

“You cannot kill a star,” they told her. “Stars cannot die.”

“Watch me,” she said. “I will eat you. I will swallow you as the ocean swallows the sea.”

They didn’t believe her, so she ate one of the stars.

The five remaining were stunned. They scattered to the farthest reaches of the universe, but the First Star was furious for all the lives they took. She hunted another one down. There was a great battle in the heavens, causing tides to swell and lands to buckle. In the end, she defeated it as well. In the end, she did as she’d promised. She swallowed it whole.

The other stars, hearing of this, decided to merge to become stronger so they could fight her. Four became two, but they feared they were still not strong enough, so two became one.

That time, they went after her, and the smallest star had to face the now gigantic one, four strong. But her anger could not be contained. They battled for forty days and forty nights until only one star was left standing: the First.

Seven stars strong, the First Star became known as the Star Eater. She still protects all life, bringing her light to those in need and her appetite to those who cross her.

I closed the book and took a moment to absorb all the metaphors. “I get it,” I said. “It’s similar, but this story is different enough from the original prophecy to make me think it could all be a coincidence.”

Garrett nodded in thought. “True. The original prophecy states that the seven original stars, a.k.a. gods, merged over the course of millions of years until there were only two, your parents. Then they merged to create you, the thirteenth incarnation. The last and strongest god of your dimension.”

“This is almost the exact opposite,” I said, holding up the book.

“It is, but take the books and read the other two. I think you’ll find them very interesting.”

I picked up the second book. “The Dark Star.”

“Can you guess who comes into the story in that one?”

I glanced up at him, surprised. “Reyes?”

He nodded.

“And the third?” But the moment I laid eyes on it, I knew, and my breath caught in my chest.

“What do two stars make when they, um, crash into one another?”

“Stardust,” I said, now completely enchanted. “Beep. He predicted Beep.”

“He predicted Beep.”

A woman’s voice sounded from the door to Garrett’s bedroom. “Oh, hi,” she said, dropping a sock and turning in circles to look for her shoes. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had to get up early.”

“I didn’t,” Garrett said. He stood and helped the girl with her things. “Zoe, this is my associate, Charley. Charley, this is Zoe.”

I would’ve shaken one of her hands, but they were both full, so I just waved a greeting. “Nice to meet you, Zoe. Sorry about”—I gestured to her bedmate—“that. Better luck next time.”

She let loose a nervous laugh, not quite sure how to take me.

“Ignore her,” Garrett said. “She has mental issues.”

“Hey, do you know what I called the last guy who said something like that to me?” When he only raised a noncommittal brow, I said, “An ambulance.”

“Like I said, mental issues.”

I threw the saltshaker at him.

He caught it with ease, then saw Zoe to her car as I perused the second book. As fascinating as the books were, I still had a big problem that needed solving PDQ.

The moment he stepped back into the house, I hit him with it.

“So I accidently-on-purpose sent Reyes into a hell dimension and then couldn’t get him back out again but around an hour later he exploded out of the god glass that has a difference of anywhere from several years if not several hundreds of years to a single hour here on Earth but when he came back he wasn’t so much Reyes anymore as an angry deity with the power to destroy the world with a single thought.”

He sank into the chair across from me again and just kind of stared.

I did a quick analysis of my nails. Nibbled on a couple. Conducted a visual assessment of Garrett’s kitchen. Contemplated raiding his cabinets for Oreos. Took another sip of coffee. Wondered if Marvel and DC could ever live in harmony. Shifted in my chair to adjust my underwire. Tapped out White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army” on the table with my fingertips. Checked my phone for messages.

When the silence dragged out to an uncomfortable level, I clarified. “That’s my conundrum. In a nutshell. That’s why I’m here. More coffee?” I stood and grabbed both of our cups, allowing Garrett more time to absorb. To compute. To process. Some things were harder to process than others. I got that.

I topped off our cups, then returned to the table.

Garrett was still staring. He could have had a stroke, but I didn’t think so. Was the first sign a droopy face? He didn’t look droopy.

“Son of a bitch, Charles,” he said at last, the words clear and vibrant like his silvery-gray eyes.