They were, in fact, gods.
Three women. Two men. Long ago, Carrick had learned the women preferred not to be called goddesses, a term they felt was antiquated. It amused him at times to think that even concepts of misogyny and feminism that were particular to the human race could extend to these almighty beings.
Regardless, they were all equal in power, although each had their own unique gifts. Despite their omnipotence, they did not insist on formality. It was appropriate to address them informally by their names.
“Carrick.” The melodious voice of Veda had his gaze turning her way first. “Welcome.”
Veda had always been his favorite. As the god of Humanity, she ruled over the cosmos and was the supreme power over love, hate, and virtue. She had existed since the beginning of time, and yet she appeared no older than in her mid-twenties.
Her smooth face was porcelain with a dusting of freckles across her nose. Her long hair was straight, and midnight black starting at the roots. The farther down it traveled, the color lightened into charcoal gray, then dove gray and finally white at the tips. It perfectly matched her silver eyes and finely arched black eyebrows. Today, she dressed in a black halter-style dress that reached to the floor, revealing the tattoos liberally etched across her shoulders and upper arms in swirling and romantic-looking scrollwork. Carrick had never had an opportunity to study them and didn’t know if they had significance or not.
He nodded toward her with a slight smile. “Veda.”
“We were surprised to hear from you,” she crooned, her voice sounding like tinkling bells, creating an almost chiming effect as she spoke. “It’s been a long time.”
“Indeed it has,” Carrick offered with a slight bow. While he wanted to just get to the point of the matter, civility required he greet the remainder of The Council, so he nodded to each.
To the left of Veda stood Cato, the god of Nature. He played a vital role in creating the universe and commanded the storms and sea at his whim. Piss him off, and you might find a lightning bolt striking you from above.
Cato was dark-skinned, and he wore his hair cropped so close to his head it could be considered nothing more than stubble. His golden, almond-shaped eyes and his sculpted cheekbones gave him an exotic air but that didn’t diminish his obvious power. Cato was easily almost seven feet tall and incredibly muscular, yet he never felt the urge to showcase his physique. Today, he sported navy dress pants, a tailored white shirt, and a four-button vest in grey herringbone. Carrick recognized the Ferragamo’s on his feet. While he might look dapper, one would be foolish to forget that Cato could crush a man’s skull inside his huge hand as if it were nothing more than a tiny grape.
On the other side of Cato was Circe. Her platinum hair arranged in loose curls around her face and neck, but swept back from her forehead and temples, reminiscent of a fifties’ glamour model. Her lips were painted bright red, and her dress was white and cinched at the waist to highlight her hourglass figure. Her feet were bare and her toenails were painted a red that matched her lips. She was known as the god of Fate, who oversaw free will and destiny, although she openly admitted to manipulation at times.
Of course, all the gods manipulated but mostly in secret. Circe just didn’t care if anyone knew about her machinations.
Next in the group was Onyx, perhaps the fiercest and most intimidating of all. As the god of Conflict, controlling war and peace throughout the universe was her job. It’s why she dressed as a warrior in bronzed breastplates, shoulder shields, and shin protectors above her sandaled feet. Her skin was the color of ebony with eyes to match, so much so it was hard to distinguish iris from pupil. Despite the old-fashioned garments reminiscent of an ancient Roman gladiator, her hair was decidedly twenty-first century. Shaved on the sides with razored lines running from her temples back behind her ears, the long swath on top was colored in a shade of pink so vivid, one’s eyes could water from staring at it too long. She was fierce yet fair, and, next to Veda, she was who Carrick trusted the most.
And lastly, the one who Carrick despised the most and held no trust in was Rune. The god of Life, which in turn meant he ruled over death. Rune saw fit to manipulate not only life and death, but the evolution in between. He had not been kind to Carrick over the time they’d known each other. Crowned Steward of the Underworld, Rune wore his hair similar to Onyx, except his was bright neon blue rather than pink. He bore a scar running vertically through his left eyebrow, piercing blue eyes that could freeze you in place, and a perpetual scowl on his mouth rimmed with a black goatee.