Supernatural--Mythmaker by Tim Waggoner

Author:Tim Waggoner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

NINE

Paeon stopped in front of the examination room door, but he made no move to open it.

“This isn’t working,” he said.

Lena nearly bumped into him when he stopped. For an instant, she swayed on her feet, a mild wave of dizziness briefly taking hold of her. She’d been drinking coffee to keep awake, and she’d reached a point where she was equally exhausted and wired. It was a strange state to be in. She felt disconnected from what was happening around her, and everything seemed more than a little unreal. Then again, she was working as an assistant to a god of healing who—as she’d discovered—was also a god of illness when he so wished. She should be more surprised that anything felt even close to real now.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“This is going too slow.” Frustration was evident in Paeon’s voice.

“You’ve helped many people tonight. Even you can only work so fast. Perhaps you need a rest?”

She wasn’t certain that beings like Paeon required rest. Aside from his frustration, he seemed as full of energy as he had when he’d walked into her practice. He hadn’t eaten or drank, not so much as a nibble on a snack cracker or a sip of water, but it was possible that even if his body didn’t tire, his mind might.

He turned to face her, scowling. “I do not need rest.”

His voice was low and angry, and Lena tensed, expecting to be punished once more. She was relieved when Paeon made no move to reach for his caduceus.

“Then what’s wrong, my lord?” She hoped her use of the honorific would keep him from becoming angrier with her. “You’ve helped dozens of people tonight, and in return, each has pledged him or herself to you. And you’ve fended off challenges by three other gods.”

Blight had been the first god to attack Paeon, and after him had come Silence and then The Degrader. The latter two gods gave Paeon just as much trouble as Blight had, but in the end he had triumphed over them and claimed most of their worshippers as his own. As far as she could tell, the Apotheosis was working exactly the way it was supposed to, but obviously Paeon didn’t think so.

“So far, all I have been doing is reacting,” Paeon said. “Someone comes to me ill or injured, and I heal them. Gods appear to challenge me, and I fight them. One cannot achieve true Apotheosis through passivity. One must be aggressive.”

As an oncologist, Lena understood the difference between passive and aggressive treatment. “How does one heal aggressively, my lord?”

Instead of answering, Paeon opened the door to the examination room and entered. Lena followed.

An attractive woman with straight, light-brown hair, black-framed glasses, and hoop earrings sat on the examining table. She’d removed her winter coat, as well as her shirt, and she now wore only boots, jeans, and a white tank top. She had a striking tattoo on her upper arm—a highly detailed, realistic rendering of an Indian elephant head, with swirling, interlocking designs made of blue lines on top of pinkish-purple hide.

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