Gods Behaving Badly by Mickey Ann

Gods Behaving Badly (Book One) Goodreads | Amazon

Throughout the ages I had been known by many names. Ares’ whore. Bacchus’s muse. Goddess of witchcraft and magic. Hekata. Hecate.

Cate was what I called myself.

Even after almost eighty years, I still hadn’t recovered from my fall from grace. It had made me ordinary. Not quite human, but ordinary, nonetheless. I had an apartment. I paid rent. And, when I could afford it, I even ate.

I didn’t know if I was fooling myself, but I believed that if I could carry on like this for another hundred years, Hades would eventually “get over it” and return my soul. But already the world had crushed me. I was tired of the rankness that greeted me each time I rode the subway and I was tired of enduring the human tendency to inquire about my well-being.

I didn’t say any of this out loud, however. Taking the first empty chair in the circle, I stuffed the extra cookies in my pocket, daring anyone to call me out on it. They shouldn’t put the cookies out there to tempt me if they hadn’t meant for me to eat them.

I needed these anger meetings, though I would never admit this out loud to anyone. I had always been a carefree girl before I lost my soul. Perhaps my soul had made me tolerable to be around. Now, I was full of resentment for this ordinary life I was living. Yet, I was conflicted about whether I wanted to be restored to my former glory.

I just wasn’t very good at being human—I really didn’t like anyone or anything much these days.

“So, Cate, is this the night you finally tell us why you’re here?”

The group leader asked the same question every night, and every night I gave him the same answer. I hung my silence around his neck and gave him my usual thousand-yard stare. He ducked his head before moving on to the next person.

I desperately needed a drink and a cigarette. My finger itched for it and I seriously thought about bumming one off the girl sitting next to me. I needed the cigarette, but not the conversation that came with it as she tried to bond with me over our love of cancer.

As usual, I left the meeting early, right about the time they ran out of coffee and cookies. It didn’t matter to me that it was close to midnight. I walked with my head down in my normal way, seemingly completely oblivious to my surroundings. But then I ducked into an alley suddenly, trying to shake whoever had been following me since I left the meeting. It wasn’t anyone from the meeting. That much I could tell, plus the hairs on my arms were standing on end. The instinct to cut and run should have disgusted me. But it didn’t.

Because I had no soul, I rarely felt anything, and the fact that I could feel anything at all was fascinating. It was something I desperately wanted to explore on some other night when I wasn’t being hunted. Perhaps it was a nightshade, a bloodsucker. But no. I could hear only one set of footsteps and the nightshades didn’t fuck with me unless they had the numbers. Finally tired of speculating, I stopped and faced my stalker.


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