“No, she went to Nirvana to make sure Mother Nature hasn’t killed your grandfather.”
“Is that a possibility?” I asked, horrified.
“No.” He chuckled. “But she has been known to incapacitate him for a few months due to her . . . uh, creativity.”
“TMI.” I shook my head and followed him to the kitchen. “What do you want?”
“Veggies, fruit or ice cream,” he said, making himself comfortable.
“You really don’t eat meat?” I asked as I searched the fridge.
“No, clogs the arteries.”
I found some celery and oranges. “But you’re immortal, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but no reason to muck up the system,” he said as he shoved three oranges into his large mouth, peel and all.
“Come to think of it, Satan had no meat on his table this morning either,” Ethan said, watching in fascination as the General threw back six more oranges and three bunches of celery at the same time.
“We think alike on many matters,” the General explained.
I was amazed that he ate with his mouth and spoke through his eyebrows, but thought it might be rude to point it out. “Can he speak to you like we can?” I asked as I handed him some apples I found on the counter.
“Thank you, dear. And yes, of course he can speak with me. He created me, in a way.”
“You gonna expand on that?” I asked and contemplated licking an apple just to see if it tasted like butt.
“Nope.” He grinned with both his brows and his full mouth.
“Figures. So, family functions?”
He finished chewing, swallowed and graced us with a burp to end all burps. Thankfully it smelled like brownies. “Yes, there will be a formal dinner this evening. Tomorrow there will be a fight exhibition followed by a concert by a Journey cover band. And of course on the day of lunar eclipse there will be the lunch with God.”
He had almost rendered me speechless with the Journey cover band thing, but the fight exhibition and the impending lunar eclipse were more alarming. “What kind of fighting?”
“Hand to hand. No magic,” he said.
“That sounds interesting,” Ethan chimed in.
“Nope,” I told him, moving on to the next item on my agenda. “The lunar eclipse . . . ”
“Yes, dear?” George replied.
“That’s significant, isn’t it?” I said. “It’s when the Sword of Death can be used to kill a True Immortal. Right?”
“Yes.”
“Does your master have nefarious plans for his brother? Is that why he’s given me three days to find the damn thing?” I was mad. Satan was a douche and I was done. I refused to be an accessory to offing God.
“My goodness, what an imagination you have!” The General laughed heartily. “Satan and God are not the closest of siblings, but neither one would kill the other. Ever. It would upset the balance more than the Sword being missing. Plus, they’d have to answer to Mother Nature.” George shuddered and grunted in terror.
I considered what he said, but I wasn’t sure who to trust anymore. I adored George, but he did work for Satan.
“Sometimes you have to go with your gut,” Ethan said.
“What if my gut is wrong?” I asked. “There’s kind of a lot riding here.”
“True. How about go with your heart instead of your gut,” he suggested.
“Shit,” I muttered and he grinned.
My heart said to trust George. This entire thing would be a little easier to swallow if the fate of the world wasn’t resting on it. A tiny flutter in my stomach made me catch my breath. Our baby was letting me know I was correct. Holy Heaven and Hell, what was I giving birth to? Would he even need me? He was so much wiser than me already. I cupped my slightly rounded belly with my hands and gently rubbed. The warm feeling of my son’s contentment washed away my fear of inadequacy. He needed me as much as I needed him.
“Okay,” I told George. “I believe you. Let’s go get this shit done.”#p#分页标题#e#
“Patience, my child. I made a promise to you and I intend to keep it.” George shook his bulbous head sadly.
“What promise?” Ethan asked.
George said nothing, but he didn’t have to. I remembered.
“He said he would take me to my mother.”
“No,” Ethan said adamantly. “Absolutely not.”
I put my hand on his arm. “Ethan, this is not for you to decide. I need to see her once more. Please understand.”
Ethan paced the small kitchen in frustration and ran his hands through his hair. “Can her mother hurt her?” he demanded of George.
“Not physically,” he answered.
“I don’t like this, Astrid,” he said. He leaned back on the counter and shoved his hands in his pockets. “If you go I will go with you.”