Chosen Gods

by G. Bailey

  “I feel the same, but I know I couldn’t live without her in my life. So here we are,” I tell him. I won’t lie and tell him that it doesn’t irritate me to see Karma in his arms, because it does.

  “Yeah,” Storm mutters, and he turns away, walking to the door. “I don’t think I can deal with this all.”

  “Then you don’t deserve her, Storm,” I coldly tell him because he will break her heart at this rate. I know she loves him, and loving him is clearly going to be a problem.

  “Maybe I don’t.” I hear him say it, but I don’t reply as he walks out. For the first time since we met, I’m disappointed in Storm Cyncus.

  18

  I suck in deep breaths, my head spinning and my heart pounding in my ears. I can’t seem to catch my breath, and I feel waves of grief and anxiety course through me without any end in sight. My legs threaten to give out beneath me, and it’s all I can do to sag against the door and try to focus on the feeling of the rough wood on my skin. I clamp my eyes shut, hot tears overflowing and beginning to stream down my cheeks, which suddenly feel as cold as ice in the silent hall. It feels like the world has come crashing down on top of me, more so than when I was first captured by the justice twins - hell, maybe even more so than when I found out that Neritous was my father. It all pales in comparison to the devastation I’m feeling now, as absurd as that probably sounds. But it’s the truth. A terrible mistake has been made, I can feel it, and there’s no going back.

  Storm can’t accept this. Not just can’t - won’t.

  If Mum knew I was eavesdropping, she would no doubt have given me one of her famous “talks” about privacy and personal space… and right now, I’m really regretting not having taken her warnings to heart earlier. I wasn’t even planning on listening in on their conversation - not at first, anyway; after Storm vanished from the last game, I spent the evening searching the castle for him, trying to get ahead of whatever was coming before it all blew up in my face. So much for that - I should have gone to find Killian and Seth instead of going to his apartments, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. Maybe part of me knew it wasn’t going to go well - considering his reaction to me kissing Seth, a blowup was more or less inevitable - but I was hoping to at least be able to mediate, to appeal to the one thing they all have in common: their feelings for me. But I was too late, and now I’m standing here listening to them shout at one another, fighting over me like I’m a piece of meat. Killian’s trying to keep a handle on the situation, but it’s too little, too late: Storm hurt Seth - how badly, I can’t say - and it’s becoming clear that no amount of calm discussion is going to get them past this.

  Storm can’t accept this. He doesn’t want to share me - or even be with me as long as Killian and Seth are in the picture, by the sound of it. For all his claims to love me, he can’t move past his territorial protectiveness, and it tears me apart to see it. This has been a long time coming, though, that’s for certain - possibly even as far back as when we first arrived in the prison. What kind of idiot was I to think - to even hope - that I would be able to have all three of these men in my life? What kind of selfish, short-sighted, naive…

  The sound of their raised voices approaches me, startling me out of my thoughts and sending my heart leaping to my throat. I don’t want to see them now - I can’t see them now. Especially Storm.

  The broken door lies demolished on the floor, its hinges bent and buckled with the weight of the blow that knocked it down. A few splinters came loose and fell to the floor when he kicked it in, not caring in the slightest whether the higher gods would be upset about the property damage. As I duck away from the battered doorframe, I nearly slip on one of the pieces, my arms flying out to steady myself. The amount of rage it must have taken to be able to nearly break it down with his bare hands isn’t lost on me, and it scares me a little - it’s a reminder that I’m playing with fire, with beings who have been around for centuries, whose power is nearly unmatched… and they’re all grappling for my affection, struggling to make sense of the confusing dynamic that’s emerged between us.

  Footsteps echo in the apartment, and I hurry around a corner just in time to see Storm stalking out of the twins’ rooms, his shoulders hunched and his hands bunched into fists at his sides. He rakes a hand through his long hair, his purple eyes flashing, and stops on the threshold. His eyes close for a moment, and I see pain on his face, as well as longing and regret. It’s like he wants desperately to be okay with this, to make me happy, but there’s something he can’t get over, and it’s tearing him apart.

  I can feel sobs threatening to wrack my body, and swallow a lump in my throat as I peer around the corner at Storm. Just when it feels like the tension and anguish in the air has become too much to bear, he squares his shoulders and storms away down the hall, disappearing around a corner with his footsteps echoing angrily against the high walls. Behind him, a ways away, I can hear Killian and Seth murmuring to each other in concerned, hushed voices, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. It doesn’t matter, anyway; there’s no way it can be good.

  Having seen enough, I turn away, mopping the tears off my face with my sleeve even as they threaten to keep coming, and I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. I need to get away from them all, to put as much distance between myself and the crisis that’s unfolding as I possibly can. Finding my footing, I begin to run in the opposite direction, the ornate furniture and paintings on the walls turning into a blur on either side of me as I sprint away down the hall. I don’t even know where I’m going; I just need to be as far away from the guys as I can possibly be. The guards stare me down through their golden helmets as I go, and even though I can’t see their eyes, I can feel their solemn gazes on me, judgemental and cold. I’m glad there’s no one out and about in the hallways; the last thing I need right now is to run into one of the higher gods and listen to their taunts. This is what they wanted when they brought me here, I’m realising: they never wanted me to change my mind - they just want to beat me down until I can no longer refuse to join them.

  And the worst part? It might just be working.

  I don’t stop running until I get to my family’s apartment, like an oasis in the desert. The front door is open, which I don’t give more than a passing thought as I rush across the threshold and slam it shut behind me. My world is coming apart at the seams, and there is only one person I need to talk to about this - the only person I can talk to right now. She might not be immortal or superhuman, but she’s the only one I can trust with emotions like the ones I’m feeling right now.

  “Mads!” I shout for her, looking around the apartment. It’s silent as the grave in here, and I take a few steps forward into the common area. Realising I’m still crying, I wipe my tears away quickly as I head up to check the bedroom before returning back down into the living room. She isn’t here - she could be out with Peyton, out on a run… anywhere on this godforsaken island.

  Fuck.

  Still trembling with fear and confusion, I wobble into the bathroom and stare into the mirror for a long moment; my face is red and blotchy, my eyes puffy and my cheeks still glistening with tears. I hurry to splash some cold water on my face, focusing on my breathing and trying to force myself to calm down - or at least appear calm. I need to make sure I don’t look like I’ve been crying, because Mum would pick up on that in an instant. It’s like a sixth sense.

  After several minutes of talking myself down, making sure I’m calm enough, I leave the bathroom and head over to Mum’s apartment. I don’t expect her to understand the exact nature of my problem - it’s not everyday that you’re caught between three immortal beings who can’t seem to agree on who you belong to - but I could use family right about now. Smoothing out my top and tucking my hair behind my ears, I take one last steadying breath before knocking briskly on the apartment door.

  It’s not Mum who answers, but Peyton. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at his phone with a puzzled expression on his face; he only moves his eyes up
to me for a second as he taps away on the keyboard. “Hey,” he says, sounding distracted. I guess that’s for the best; I don’t need him scrutinising me right now.

  “Hey,” I say, rubbing my arm. “I was just looking for Mads. She wasn’t in the room and I thought maybe she’d be here.”

  That’s enough to get his attention, and he raises his eyes to mine. There’s something on his face that I don’t like, and my heart sinks when he answers. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” he says, his mouth pressing into a hard line.

  “What?” I ask, the first pangs of unease beginning to clench around my chest. “I thought you would know where she is. That’s why I’m here.”

  Peyton shakes his head, his eyes widening and his grip on the phone tightening. “She was texting me and then she just stopped,” he says. “I thought maybe she was mad at me for something, but then she stopped reading my messages altogether…” The alarm on his face is clear, and it’s not doing much to keep me from panicking, either.

  “The door to the apartment was left open when I arrived,” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper as a dreadful realisation dawns on me. “She’s always been a stickler for locking doors after she leaves them. She wouldn’t just walk out.”

  “Shit,” Peyton says, his voice full of fear. “You don’t think she would have…?”

  “Left?” I shake my head. “And gone where, Peyton? This doesn’t feel right.” All the heartbreak and confusion melt away in an instant, giving way to cold, sharp fear: Mads has always been the mum friend, checking in almost to the point of absurdity. It’s been like that for as long as I’ve known her. For her to just suddenly go AWOL like this, when we’re sleeping in the wolf’s den…

  Something about this doesn’t feel right. Wordlessly I turn on my heel and begin to race back to my apartment. It takes everything I have not to break into a full-on sprint. Peyton follows me, and I can barely even bring myself to look at him; he’s probably drawing the same conclusions as I am right now, and they aren’t pretty. We reach my apartment in less than a minute, and I fling the door open with Peyton hot on my heels. “Call her phone,” I instruct him. He looks as panicked as I do, running a hand through his fiery hair as he puts his phone up to his ear. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look this stressed out. A few seconds later, we hear the muffled sound of Mads’ phone ringing in one of the other rooms. My heart sinking, I follow the noise from room to room, ending up in the lounge.

  Mads’ phone is on the floor by the window, vibrating across the stone floor and letting out its telltale chimes. I hurry over to it and pick it up, nearly dropping it when I see two drops of blood on the screen - two ominous little spots that scream possibilities I don’t dare consider. Fear fills my throat as Peyton comes to stand beside me, and I meet his eyes wordlessly as I hold up the phone.

  “Where the feckin’ hell is she?” Peyton says, his voice almost a growl as he pulls the phone out of my hand. He looks like he’s torn between fear and rage, his shoulders heaving. I look around frantically, groping for some reason, some explanation that doesn’t point to a terrible accident - or worse, but all the more likely, a violent altercation.

  Hugo breezes into the room at that moment, seemingly oblivious to our panicked state. “Hey guys,” he begins. “I’m going to the beach, if you wanted to—”

  “Hugo, have you seen Mads?” I ask him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He pauses, staring at me with wide eyes, his expression falling.

  “No, should I have?” he asks, glancing from me to Peyton in confusion.

  I shake my head, really starting to panic now. This isn’t somewhere where people just go missing - especially people who are ostensibly “guests” of the higher gods. They run the show here, they’re in close proximity to the rest of us... and they’re evil to the bone. Relax, I tell myself futilely, they wouldn’t have done anything to her. They need to make you cooperate, and they’re not going to…

  But the argument is hollow, and I know it. They’ve always had the upper hand, here. For all I know, maybe they’ve gotten impatient with these games and decided to start picking us off one by one.

  “Both of you stay here in case she comes back,” I tell my brothers, not waiting for them to respond before running out of the room and back out into the hallway.

  Even with the complicated labyrinth of hallways in the palace, it takes me less than ten minutes to find my way to the dining room, where Gestune is whiling away her evening on top of the table. She’s filing her nails, her long legs crossed in front of her as god awful high-pitched music flows through the room from an enchanted stereo.

  Aware that I shouldn’t, but too driven by my emotions to stop myself, I let my anger take control of me, a bolt of green lightning lancing out of my hands and into the stereo, which bursts into flames.

  Gestune turns to me, her expression unbothered. “That was extremely rude, sweet little niece,” she says condescendingly. “If you want attention, all you need to do is ask for it.” She slides to the floor with enviable grace, standing up tall as her dress billows out around her. I’m tempted to let loose another bolt of magic, but I’m no fool; half higher god or not, I know I’m no match for her. Instead I just wait, watching her and seething. “What is so terribly wrong?” Her voice is almost as honey-sweet as her sister’s, but there’s something cold and biting underneath it that makes me shiver like nails on a chalkboard. Her evil is visible even in spite of her beauty.

  It dawns on me that this is the first time we’ve ever actually spoken, and I’m already concluding that she’s no better than her siblings.

  “Where is my best friend?” I ask through gritted teeth. I’m past the point of making nice with these people. If they want to feck with the people I love, I’m not going to keep playing the docile prisoner.

  “Oh, the blonde little girl. She is with Xur and Eenta, being prepared for the final game tomorrow. Do not worry, she will only be improved,” she says. My heart pounds in my chest, remembering how truly fucked up these gods are. Mads is just human, and they are just plain evil.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I demand.

  “You’ll see tomorrow, won’t you? The games started with you both, and it’s fitting they will end with you both as well,” she replies, trying to make sense of the fact her sister and brother have kidnapped my human best friend. I should have sent her away, made her leave. This is the second time her life has been in danger since I got back. If she is killed because of me, I will never forgive myself.

  “If you hurt her—”

  “You’ll do what exactly?” she asks caustically, walking over to me, her heels clicking against the ground until she stops in front of me. I flinch when she places a nail on my cheek, applying enough pressure to hurt but not actually break the skin. I can tell she likes to see me in pain, and that makes me more worried for Mads. “Since you’ve gotten here, you’ve ignored your true family and played happy girlfriend to more than one man. Now you’re here, so very sad and all alone. Did your plan work out the way you expected, little niece?” I don’t respond to her, and I certainly don’t admit her words hit home in a hard way. I have been spending a lot of my time with Storm and the twins, and now I don’t even know if Storm wants to be with me anymore. My heart hurts, and for a second, I’m vulnerable to her - and she realises it. “Men are nothing more than tools to be used. I’ve learnt they only break your heart with their selfish ways. You are a goddess, an immortal goddess who is more powerful than she knows. You do not need them.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I do need them... because I love them,” I say, pulling away from her. “I love them. And I love my best friend; she is my family too. If you’ve hurt one feckin’ hair on her head, I will make sure you all die.” I don’t wait for her reply as I walk out, feeling more helpless than I ever have in my life. I’ve already lost one friend; I cannot lose another.

  19

  “Are you okay?” Killian asks me for what feels like the ten mil
lionth time since he got here this morning. I appreciate his concern - his presence is pretty much the only thing keeping me sane at this point - but I can’t tell him the truth. He knows me well enough at this point to see that something is bothering me, but I’m not ready to address his fight with Storm just yet; better to just let him think I’m worried about Mads, which I am. This feels like the biggest insult the higher gods have inflicted on me so far: to take my best friend, who can’t do anything to stop them, as collateral for the final game, nothing more than a pawn. It’s terrifying, and the thought that I might lose her if I fail this last test is almost unbearable. Even my heartbreak over the fight I overheard has dulled in comparison, my worry for my friend all-encompassing.

  “I’m fine,” I reply, not meeting Killian’s eyes. “I’m just… scared.”

  Killian touches my shoulder gently, searching my face. “Whatever happens in there, we have your back, Karma. You know that, right?”

  I nod, forcing myself to smile, but I can’t help but wonder if that’s even really true. Seth is a ways away, speaking with Damien in a low voice - they seem to get along well, all things considered. As for Storm, though… I don’t see him here, and at this point it wouldn’t surprise me if he just doesn’t show up at all. This fight might be between him and the twins, but it’s clear that I’m the source - another disaster with me at the centre. I tell myself it doesn’t matter, that I need to focus on Mads and winning this game while keeping us both alive. But not seeing the familiar weather god is like a punch in the gut, and no matter how many times I tell myself not to focus on it, it doesn’t sink into my hurting heart.