Unmade (Unborn Book 4)

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Unmade (Unborn Book 4) Page 8

by Amber Lynn Natusch


  “To set my mind at ease, I would appreciate it if you would check in periodically with us for the next couple of hours—until I know the threat has passed.”

  “I will—but I have to go now.” Sean hung up without saying goodbye, and I tucked my phone away as the last of the group hauled themselves from the sewers of Detroit. It seemed so undignified, given who and what they were.

  “Sean is out east and well, though it sounds as though he has troubles of his own to deal with.”

  “So that asshole fear god is just fucking with us,” Kierson said. Then he slammed his fist into the concrete wall behind him. It cracked clean through, as though it had been hit by lightning.

  “Sean promised to check in over the next few hours, but yes, it seems as though we are being manipulated.”

  I turned to Oz, expecting an angry outburst of some sort or another, but one never came. Perhaps his mind was too cluttered with things to say and could not settle on the perfect one; or perhaps he was contemplating all the ways he could lock me in the Dragon’s lair until he knew it was safe to set me free. He had threatened as much once before. I had little doubt he would try if it suited his mission to keep me safe at any cost.

  “Well I, for one, really needed that jaunt through Detroit’s underbelly,” Muses said, inspecting his black leather for any sign of dirt or other questionable matter, “but since we’re up here, were we or were we not going to summon Hermes so that I could attempt to inspire him?”

  “Yes,” I replied, unable to look away from Oz’s blazing eyes. “Casey, if you would be so kind.” I extended my hand toward him, a request for his blade. “I seem to have used my daggers this evening already.”

  Casey looked to Oz, then back to me. “Take two. Seems like you might need an extra sometime soon.”

  I took both weapons offered and sheathed one before slicing the other through my palm. Dipping a finger in the blood, I scrawled the messenger god’s name on the wall next to the crack Kierson had created. Then I called him forth, as I had once before. The others all looked at me expectantly.

  “Now, we wait.”

  “The rest of you should go back,” Oz said. “It’ll look suspicious with so many of us here, and Hermes isn’t to be trusted.”

  The Dragon led the way back down into the sewer with the twins and Drew behind him. Casey reluctantly followed, leaving Oz, Muses, and me to deal with the former god whenever he showed himself. Not long after the manhole cover settled into place and a blast of magic sealed it shut, Hermes appeared in the abandoned alley, looking at us with a strange mixture of shock and anger.

  “You are surprised to see us, I imagine,” I said, striding toward the messenger god, flanked by Oz and Muses. “I am afraid I have bad news to share—Hecate is dead.”

  Rage flashed in his glare but he remained where he was, a victim of his own nature—the power that made him a god. Until he fulfilled the duty for which he had been summoned, he could not leave.

  “You bitch—”

  “Ah, ah,” Oz cautioned, feigning calm, but coiled with anger, like a snake ready to strike. “I’d keep the name-calling to a minimum, or you’ll be next.”

  “You need me, or I would not be here,” Hermes countered. “Tell me what you must so I can be gone.”

  I stood before him and snatched his chin in my hand. “You will be gone if I choose to allow it. You endeavored to usurp my father and contain me in the Oudeis. These are affronts you do not get to walk away from—not unless it is my wish for you to do so.”

  He yanked his face from my hold and growled. “It was Hecate’s plan and I agreed to it, nothing more.”

  “And did you work with the god of fear as well? Or was that just your dead lover?”

  At that, he frowned. “The latter. I warned her against such recklessness, but she would not hear it. She was blinded by her desire to rule the Underworld with me at her side.”

  “And you were happy to not return to the Oudeis, so you went along with it,” Oz added.

  Hermes nodded. “You would have done the same.”

  Oz did not refute his claim.

  “Hecate was a fool to think that she could have gotten away with double-crossing the fear god. He would have come for her—somehow.”

  “Yes, he would,” Hermes replied, “but Hecate was confident he couldn’t—that we would be insulated from his wrath in the Underworld, though she never said why.”

  “I shall be the judge of that,” Muses said, stepping forward.

  Hermes made a move to leave, but I clamped down on his shoulders as my wings shot wide, a menacing wall of black behind me. He stared at them with irritation.

  “Those are courtesy of Artemis’ soul,” I said, leaning closer. “If you do not behave, perhaps I will add yours to my collection.”

  Muses let loose a laugh as he pushed past my black appendage. “I see the attraction, Oz. She’s perfect for you.”

  I looked back over my wing at Oz, but his expression gave nothing away.

  “Remember what I just told you,” I said to Hermes as I backed away enough to allow Muses to work. “Artemis’ death was horrid and painful, as is her soul’s incarceration, and unless I see fit to set her free in the Oudeis, that is where she will stay. Perhaps that would not be an improvement, though…”

  “Do what you must,” he replied, staring at Muses as my brother grinned at him.

  “Oh, I will.”

  Without further ado, Muses clamped his hands down on Hermes’ face and closed his eyes. Oz and I looked on, silently hoping that his effort would not be in vain; that Dionysus was somehow special in his ability to thwart the power of the PC warrior. But as the seconds ticked by, and the sweat on my brother’s brow grew thick and streamed down his face, I knew the truth.

  The god’s mind could not be penetrated.

  Hermes’ crazed laughter rang out through the alley. “Is that why you summoned me? To try to hold my mind?” The looks on our faces only fueled his amusement. “Stupid girl,” he said, looking at me. “The minds of the dead cannot be held—or the once dead, as the case may be.”

  “This is why you do not fear the fear god,” I said, putting the pieces of the twisted puzzle together, “and why Hecate had few concerns. He could not use you, or those she ruled, against her.”

  Hermes shrugged. “As I said before, she did not tell me why, though your theory holds weight. Now, if we are quite finished with your nonsense—”

  “Where will you go if I allow it, I wonder,” I said, stepping closer. “Do you hide with the others? Does Demeter ally herself with her risen brothers and sisters?”

  “Do you plan to kill me or release me?” Hermes asked.

  I stared at him for a moment. “I have not decided yet. Tell me where they are, and I will let you live.”

  “On the move. I will not know where unless they call for my aid.”

  “Or unless I order you to bring them a message,” I countered.

  He scowled. “Yes. That, too.”

  “They do not trust you…”

  “The gods trust no one. Now, either give me a message so that I may leave, or kill me. I tire of your arrogance.”

  “You want a message?” I asked, the challenge clear in my tone. “Perhaps I will send you to tell the others that I am coming for them. That I shall own their souls as I own Artemis’.” Hermes’ eyes narrowed in anger. “But I think I have a better plan for now.”

  I could feel the weight of Oz’s and Muses’ stares on my back as they awaited my move. It was only when Hermes confirmed that he could find the other gods if I sent a message to them that I realized I could use that very tactic to track down my mother—and possibly Phobos, if and when the time came to face him. But the former was of the greatest importance, especially given the latter’s desire to find me himself.

  My mother might not be in a position to do so.

  “Find my mother—Celia of the Light. Then tell her to send a message to me with her location.”

 
; The messenger god’s annoyance was palpable. Without another word, he took to the skies and disappeared into the clouds above. Once I was certain he was gone, I headed for the entrance to the sewer.

  I did not make it far before Oz caught my arm.

  “Was that wise?” he asked. The set of his features told me he did not think it was.

  “We need to find her if she is in danger. He seemed the quickest way to do this.”

  “And if he alerts others to her location once he finds her—others who would kill her to get to you?”

  “That is a risk we face with or without Hermes’ involvement.”

  “Khara was right to do it,” Muses added, much to Oz’s dismay. “The longer Celia is missing—if she’s missing at all—the worse the potential outcome.”

  “And if he can’t find her?” Oz countered. I pulled away from him, not wanting to admit aloud what I knew to be true, but Oz, as always, would have none of my evasions. He followed me as I made my way to the manhole cover, his looming presence threatening. “New girl…”

  “If he cannot find her, it means one of two things. The first is that she is in a place where he cannot travel, such as the Hallowed Gates or the in-between.”

  “What’s the second?”

  I could hear his need for me to confirm what he both suspected and feared.

  “That she is not alive to find.”

  Oz and I shared a look before I pulled open the manhole and led the way down. Once we were all in and the manhole cover was closed and locked, I asked the other question plaguing my mind from our encounter with the messenger god. The one with far greater implications.

  “Did you not know that you could not read the minds of the dead, Muses?”

  “I did not.” The sting of his limitation was clear in his tone.

  “Can you read Ares’?” I asked carefully. “His situation is different from theirs, as is Demeter’s. Could we not attempt to find him and extract his knowledge of the fear god?”

  “Possibly,” Muses said, hedging, “but it’s more complicated than that.”

  “How so?” I asked as we wandered deeper into the sewers.

  “Because the PC—your twin, especially—has a duty to protect Ares. We cannot let harm befall him.”

  “So don’t hurt him in the process,” Oz said from behind us.

  “And therein lies the problem, Ozereus. To inspire him would be fine, I think, but if he plans to leverage Khara with this information, then he will not give it up freely or easily. The second I try to force it from him, provided I even could, Sean or one of the others will be there to stop me.”

  “But if you could get it out before that were to happen,” I pressed, needing a solution to be found in Muses.

  He shook his head. “Ares is never far from aid—even when he appears to be alone.”

  “And you do not wish to fight our brothers.”

  At that, Muses smiled. “Depends which ones we’re talking about.”

  He laughed as we walked deeper under the seedy city of Detroit. I followed, contemplating how I could possibly keep my twin from harm and learn how to rid ourselves of Phobos forever. It seemed Muses’ ability would not be our savior in this matter.

  I hoped I could find one somewhere else.

  12

  We had only just filled the others in on our semi-successful encounter with the messenger god when Trey and Sean appeared out of nowhere in the center of the Dragon’s gilded lair. I repeated the story in its entirety, but included Phobos’ dream visit that time for full disclosure.

  Oz snapped me a nasty look, and I shrugged. “Do not get angry with me. You made your bed.”

  Mischief flashed in his brown eyes. “And then you climbed in it with me.”

  Sean struggled to keep his composure at the thought, as was Oz’s intention, no doubt. “Can I talk to you?” he asked, storming past Oz to reach me.

  “Of course.” I led the way to my shared room and opened the door. As Sean stepped in, I looked over at Oz to find him watching us like a hawk—an attempt to browbeat me into submission so I would tell my twin of Ares’ despicable plan.

  I closed the door behind me and took a seat on the edge of the bed as Sean leaned against the dresser.

  “You look troubled, Brother. Is your problem at home unresolved?”

  At that, he laughed. “You could say that.” He released the bridge of his nose and forced a smile. “Sometimes running the PC isn’t the easiest job. Lately, that’s been more the case than ever before.”

  “And it gives my invincible brother a headache?”

  “Wouldn’t that be ironic? He can’t be killed, but he can be impaired by a migraine.”

  “We all have weaknesses, or so I am told.”

  Any hint of amusement slowly faded, his serious expression falling back into place.

  “And what is your weakness, Sister? From what I have seen, you don’t have one.”

  “Unlike you, I can be killed,” I replied, my tone as neutral as his. “I would say that is a weakness of rather epic proportions.”

  “And yet you haven’t died, despite your best efforts.” A hint of sadness peeked through his countenance. “I am aware of everything that has happened—the way you have endangered yourself to save those you care about.”

  “I have heard rumors that you tend to do the same. Perhaps this is a familial trait.”

  “Except it certainly doesn’t come from Ares, and what our mother did when we were infants doesn’t speak to a protective nature…”

  “Or maybe it does. Just not in the way you think.” He turned those bright green eyes that we shared to me, and they all but begged me to give him another perspective—one that might paint our mother in a better light. The desperation to understand her motives was written all over his face. “I do not believe that she gave us up for her own benefit. There was no way to keep us, and even in her Dark state, she knew it. In the memory I saw—the one Muses pulled forth from my mind of the day I was born—she looked panicked, distraught at the decision she had to make. Oz was the one that took me from her and entrusted me to Demeter. Did you know that?” He shook his head. “He swore to help keep me safe, and for his loyalty to both her and me, he lost his wings.”

  “So it was Oz who helped her?”

  “Yes. And it cost him greatly.”

  Sean grew silent for a moment, processing what I had told him. “The Oz out there? The broody one with the face I’d like to break?”

  “They are one and the same, yes.”

  “Well, that’s a mindfuck…”

  “As someone whose mind has been fucked, I do not believe it is, though I understand your reaction.”

  He looked at me for a moment, uncertain how to take what I had said. But when I allowed a smile to break through my stern façade, he laughed yet again.

  “And I thought I had a dark sense of humor.”

  “I am darkness incarnate, though you should expect no less from the Princess of the Underworld.”

  He nodded, green eyes sparkling in the firelight. But that sparkle waned as the moment passed and his mind became clouded by doubt and questions.

  “I believe you, Khara—that Oz helped our mother. But what I don’t understand is why he left you with Demeter? Why not just take you away?”

  “Where could he have gone? And how could he have raised an infant without being found out?” I asked in challenge. “Demeter is the goddess of nature and life. She could provide for me in a way he simply could not.”

  “How could he have just abandoned you to her, though?” he asked, still working through the Dark One's motives and actions. “How was that keeping you safe for Mother?”

  “Oz was smart enough to know that, if he had visited, it would certainly have drawn attention—far more attention than Demeter adopting an orphaned child. No one would have suspicions about that, but a male Light One toting around a newborn? Surely that would have been atypical at best.”

  “But how…” he replied,
his words drifting off as he stood to pace the room, “...how could he just leave you like that?” Sean’s eyes drifted to me, and the sadness in them was endless. “I am glad that you were not raised as I was, Khara, but I wish I had known you, been able to share this life with you—my sister...”

  My chest tightened ever so slightly. “I wish I had known you all before recently. But that was not to be, and we both know why—even if it was all for naught.”

  He nodded and looked away. “So you’re telling me that I owe Oz my thanks, aren’t you?”

  “That is a strong possibility, Brother. But I will not share that with him. It can be our secret.”

  Those green eyes met mine again, and the smile that accompanied his gaze was unlike anything I had ever seen from him. It was bright and beautiful and full of mischief. I wanted to see him wear it all the time.

  “That would be great. Oz is kind of a prick about shit like that, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Yes, humility does not seem to be one of his greater traits.”

  That smile I so enjoyed on him faltered. “Do you still love him, Khara? Like you did the night you saved him—before he turned Dark?”

  I pondered his question for a moment before replying. “I do not know what I feel for Oz. It is a complicated, ever-changing beast that I cannot quite catch and identify, but I wish to chase it for eternity regardless.”

  The smile returned. “I can relate to that far more than you’ll ever know.”

  “The one you care for—the one the others have referenced—is she like this? Something you do not fully understand but feel compelled to seek nonetheless?”

  He choked on a laugh. “Something like that, yeah. But we might be less complicated than you and the Dark One, which is really saying something given our situation.”

  “Would I like her?”

  He cocked his head as he assessed me, weighing my question. “She’s a two-sided coin, so it’s hard to say. One side would adore you, that much I know. The other…I’m not sure. There’s only one way to find out, but until all this shit is handled here as well as there, I don’t intend to have you two meet.”

 

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