Marcy gasped, slapping her hands on the table. “That’s true! That might be it—the reason my old biddy of an aunt has disappeared.”
“What?” Tyler asked.
“Your father hit on something. My aunt is indisputably the most powerful witch in the world. The power of our Sect lies insider her, so logically, if the seat was open, it would go to her. But there’s bad blood between her and a witch who ascended to godhood. When the previous Mistress of the Covens, our leader, died around four hundred years ago, this witch figured the mantle of our Sect would shift to her, because she was both a witch and a goddess. When it didn’t—and it went to my aunt instead—she lashed out. Tally defeated her, three times to be exact, but she’s always carried a grudge. I can assure you she thinks that seat belongs to her.”
“Who is it?” Danny asked. “Which goddess?”
“Ceres,” Marcy answered.
“Angie the Awful’s sister? The Goddess of Fertility?” I gasped. Angie was the irritating witch who gave us a scooter to escape the sorcerers, knowing it would leave us open and exposed. “I don’t really get it, though. Doesn’t being a goddess trump being a regular witch? Why didn’t the power of the Sect transfer to Ceres?”
“The short answer is the witches never do anything the easy way,” Marcy said. “The long is godhood doesn’t equal total power when it comes to ruling a Sect. Godhood is about immortality, and think about it, once you attain it, you don’t really need a Sect any longer. Sects by definition are formed to make a species strong. Strength in numbers and all that.”
I shook my head. The entire godhood thing was confusing at best. “How does anyone actually become a god or goddess?” I asked. “Do you know?”
“I must confess,” Danny interjected, “I’ve never understood that part either. It seems very random and contrived, if you ask me. Why couldn’t I just declare myself the God of Thunder? Oh, wait, that title is already taken,” Danny snickered. “No matter, I’ll just become the God of Tundra instead. It makes no sense, and who needs immortality anyway? The wolves have never needed it. We regenerate just fine. If you manage not to die, it’s not an issue.”
Marcy shook her head at Danny, smiling. “Very funny, God of Tundra. It’s humans. Humans are the ones who decide godhood.”
“Humans?” I said. That’s the last thing I thought would come out of her mouth.
Marcy arched a look at me. “Yes, humans. That’s why there hasn’t been a new god or goddess—at least that I know about—in centuries. Humans don’t pray to new gods anymore. I think it might be time for a supernatural intervention with you. We can call it Marcy’s Magical History Hour.”
“Hilarious,” I said. “I’ve been a wolf for a total of five minutes in the scope of things. Wolves, from what I know”—I glanced at my father—“have kept themselves in the dark about supernatural things on purpose. Our motto has been ‘If it doesn’t concern us, we don’t bother.’ ”
“That’s true,” my father said. “It’s never been our practice to concern ourselves with the outside world—but, in our defense, we’ve never had a need. We keep our heads down and fight our own battles. I believe it’s always been our way. But I can see those ways won’t work for us now. It’s time for a rebirth for us too.” He grinned. “The wolves, under my command, will become educated in all things supernatural. They will be aware of every possible threat so we can take care of them efficiently.”
Marcy shook head and muttered, “Men. So typical.”
James growled, his arms wrapping around his mate’s middle. “Men you must now have pity on. Enlighten us. Let’s have it, lass. Tell us about how gods are made.”
She leaned over and planted a chaste kiss on James’s cheek. “You people are incorrigible. There’s not enough time to give you the full monty, so I’ll give you the abridged version. Gods and goddesses are worshipped, right?” We all nodded. “Well, they gain their power from the act of humans gathering to give them fealty, repeatedly. The power inside a supernatural is sizable, and we use it to wield our magic. Humans have power, too, but it’s nominal. But you get enough of them together and it acts like a power transfer straight to the god or goddess they pray to.” She leaned over and set her hand on my forearm. “Just like this.” She pushed a tiny bit of her power into me and it tingled up my arm. “Small zaps just like this, from millions of humans, equal one powerful supe. Over time, the gods or goddesses build up enough power that they’ll never die. They can mend even the gravest injury, thus securing their immortality and living forever.”
How she explained it made sense. “So Ceres and Selene were worshipped by humans and gained massive power over time? But how did they become goddesses in the first place? Did they nominate themselves?” I pictured Selene campaigning for the job and stifled a laugh.
Marcy shrugged. “That predates any knowledge I have. I’m not sure anyone knows for sure. But I do know you have to have a sponsor, another god or goddess in your corner, which I’m assuming is so humans can find out who you are. How else would millions be keyed in otherwise? But once the humans begin to pray, all bets are off.”
“So what you’re really saying is, becoming a god or goddess is nearly impossible these days?” Tyler asked. “Humans would have to believe in a new god in large numbers, and that doesn’t happen anymore.”