Finn stopped at a street corner, uncaring of the police officer watching us closely from a cruiser. I followed him across the street, the hair on the back of my neck prickling with the intensity of the man’s stare.
“That’s kind of tragic,” I said when the officer was finally out of view. “For the fey anyway. Forced to forever partially bear the consequences of actions that they weren’t responsible for. That’s awful.”
Finn glanced over, the streetlight behind him casing his face into shadow. “It is. If they, if I, had a choice in the matter, I’d never give up magic. But there isn’t a choice. And we must cope.”
He scratched his head and turned down another street. As we’d walked, the homes had vanished, replaced by larger industrial buildings and businesses. A light shimmered from the window of a bakery and I wondered if the person inside was preparing dough for the next day.
“But it’s been two-thousand years since the last Gods,” I finally said. “Why haven’t they reincarnated in all that time?”
“I don’t know.” He said. Then he sighed. “I’ve heard undercurrents that humans are getting better at handling their own problems. Issues that thousands of years ago would have spelled global destruction aren’t happening as frequently. This stretch of time is, by far, the longest the Earth has gone without magic. But now you’re back, I can feel magic stirring again. And it’s incredible. It’s like biting into fresh fruit when you’ve been marooned on a desert island.” He fiddled with his lip ring. “Like seeing friends who passed away long ago.”
His voice faded into nothing. Ahead, towering over everything around it, loomed a massive bell tower. He’d led us back to the hotel.
Something was still bothering me. “Earlier you said I was different. In my approach to magic, anyway. How is that?”
He crossed the road. “The Gods have always thrived by wrangling their given elements and extending total control over them, no questions asked. They are the top of the food chain. They are to be obeyed without question. And that extends to the elements.
“But you, you offered a relationship. You offered to work with the water.” He peered at me as if I were an enigma. Starlight reflected in his gaze. “You could have made it bend to your will. I thought that’s what you were going to do when you started out, but you didn’t. You introduced yourself to it. You drew it to you with a promise. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face, his five-o’clock shadow dark on his cheeks.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I tugged on his sleeve when we stopped outside the hotel. The chill of the summer air soaked through my clothing making me shiver. But there was another question I desperately needed to ask before I went inside.
“Finn, my history teacher told us the God of Air also died in the attacks on the temples.” Finn’s shoulders stiffened; the line of his spine straightened. “If I’m alive, could they also have survived?”
He stared into the glass doors leading inside, face unreadable. “Honestly, we don’t even really know if Fire and Earth still exist. We know the temples were able to erect shields and the Order never publicly stated their deaths, but arguably we don’t know anything about the other three Gods.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Finn crossed his arms, shoulders slumped as he withdrew into himself. The stillness of the night settled around us like the folds of a blanket. Finally, he said, “It’s possible. Yes, it’s certainly possible.”
“The Kraken says we must find them. How do we do that?” I leaned back, staring into the deep, starry abyss of the sky. It seemed endless, full of possibility.
“I don’t know.” Finn nudged me toward the door, his movements stiff. “But I promise I’ll help figure it out.”
9
Geoffrey
“You are an idiot.”
My reflection in the bathroom mirror didn’t respond, and I kept my eyes averted to the scratches on the backs of my hands. White peroxide bubbles burned in the dark grooves I’d dug with the ragged stubs of my fingernails. A disgusting habit from my childhood that I’d finally overcome nearly two decades ago. Now it was unmistakably back and worse than ever. Both the nail biting and the errant scratching.
I lowered myself to the toilet lid and resisted the urge to flex my hands. I’d scared her back there, the girl. It was obvious the grips of our shared consciousness had freaked her out. Hell, it freaked me out, and I’d known what was happening. Sort of. Mentally joining was simpler than I’d thought it would be. I’d fallen asleep with my hand pressed to the four brands, and felt for a part of me I’d thought was dead.
And it worked.
There she was.
In some strange hotel room.
Blind, bound, and more than a little panicked.
It was interesting that her magic had fought her.
My phone vibrated against the sink, and I glanced at the incoming text from my friend and commander of my military, before turning it off. Moving swiftly, I unrolled the bleached white sleeves of my dress shirt, buttoned the cuffs, and shrugged on the grey suit jacket I’d flung on a hook screwed to the back of the door. Under the sink, I found a box of multi-sized bandages and I slapped two on the backs of my hands—the large ones that are actually meant for scraped knees and such. As for my nails… well, those were a lost cause anyway.
I darted from the room and descended the stairs that connected my chambers to one of the tallest turrets in the tallest building on campus. It was an old structure, built shortly after the fall of the original Gods, and while it still maintained its original integrity, we’d added modifications over the years. Things like glass windows in the arrow slits, pipes for plumbing, and the all-important electricity. A yellow bulb flickered as I moved past. Two of the black-robed acolytes who were supposed to guard my room but were really only good for asking to grab a glass of water in the middle of the night attempted to follow me, but I brushed them away with an impatient wave.
In my eagerness to escape, I’d forgotten one critical thing. The brands that now glowed hot and fierce once more. Brands that had been dull and listless for the past seventeen years. Brands that shouldn’t be anything but dull and listless now. Their eyes hooked on the beacons shining from my forehead and I could see their fear, taste their trepidation.
As the leader of the most powerful religion on Earth, I was used to fear.
But the power that came with being a true Hand of the Gods, that was something else.
It was a crawling sensation that burned in the throat like jealousy, that gnawed in the back of the mind like greed. An ugly sensation that had completely overtaken me the longer I’d been in the presence of that girl, the God of Water…
“Tell no one until I command you to,” I ordered the pair. My normal guards had the night off, and while I recognized these men, I didn’t trust them. They’d sworn oaths to the Order, but that didn’t necessarily translate into oaths of loyalty to me. Word would get out soon enough. But there was something I needed to do first before the Council demanded answers—likely in the form of blood.
I kept my head bowed as if deep in thought as I descended the tower, slipped through a door concealed at its base, and entered the purple-hued dawn outside. It was early. Very early. That meant fewer people out and about. Which meant fewer people who could see the evidence of something being horribly, terribly wrong.
I’d meant to console Zara. I’d kept my distance, giving her space. I’d answered her questions and tried to coax her into answering mine. I had so very many, after all. The distinct lack of answers gnawed in my gut. But I’d hopefully have them soon. Soon enough, anyway.
The barracks that housed thousands upon thousands of our soldiers, a tiny portion of our standing army, loomed above. The fortress rose black against the dawn sky, complete with battlements along the edges and a spindly tower that housed the prisoners. The closer my long legs brought me to the fortress walls, the smaller I fe
lt. The campus itself was an enormous, sprawling thing, and this was by far the largest of its buildings. The only one taller was the headquarters where I lived, and the ancient tower that loomed over everything. I slipped my hands into my pockets and focused on a small grey section of the wall slightly to my right where a door was cleverly concealed in the stones.
I’d never liked coming here. I’d never been particularly good at combat. It was why I was thankful for the position afforded to me by my birth, the power I held literally written across my very face. A position of power I hadn’t earned when I’d made my first rash decision.
A position of power I now clutched tight in an unyielding fist.
I refused to feel guilty over my command. I was seventeen and young, impressionable. I still believed the message sent to me by the Gods, but I’d handled it poorly, impulsively. Well, me and the dozen men and women who comprised our illustrious Council. They’d grown complacent in their positions of power; mortal power that gleaned hotter and sharper without the aid of magic and the Gods that ignited it. I hadn’t realized the extent of their concerns about potentially losing that monumental power until our first meeting after I’d fully embraced my role as Hand.
After I’d glimpsed a dire future.
But when I’d claimed my rightful spot at the head of the sacred table, taken my seat in an ancient chair that reeked of furniture polish, I had scented their fear, their anxiety, their resentment. For seventeen years, they’d worried over their fates, waiting for me to assume power. And when I’d announced my intentions to decimate the very creatures that threatened their roles of global influence because of the threat the Gods themselves presented…
I’d realized their relief.
I’d relished in their blood-thirstiness.
I’d allowed them to carry me high on shoulders that gloried in the destruction I’d hewn.
I palmed my shaved head, quickening my pace as pink shafts of light split the barrier between night and day. So many foolish decisions. Such recklessness I’d spend my life repenting. I’d thought I’d rid myself of that feral emotion until I’d met her. Until I’d spent time in her presence, felt her magic stir in my veins.
Something in me had snapped.
I’d gone after her, hounded her like the dog I refused to be any longer.
I’d wanted her power.
It had scared her, but I’d gotten what I needed.
The stone wall was cool against my hand as I pushed a series of bricks inward, a sequence that opened yet another concealed door. This compound was full of them—secrets that is. Secrets that some hoped would die quiet deaths until none remained on Earth to speak of them.
Some of those secrets I knew.
But others I was still fettering out.
“I thought you might have forgotten the way, considering you avoid this place like the plague.”
I closed the entrance as a lantern flared to life behind me, illuminating grey-washed walls and the numerous bookshelves and file cabinets lining them. When I turned, I smiled broadly at the man sprawled behind a wide desk across the room; piles of paper, torn post-it notes, and ball-point pens spilled across its surface in casual disarray. The wall behind him was laden with certificates of education and achievement.
“Toren, it’s good to see you,” I said as I strode across the room.
His gaze settled high on my face and he blinked once. His mouth split in a wide smile, exposing straight, white teeth. I unbuttoned my suit jacket and settled into a chair opposite him. I folded my hands in my lap, shifting to get comfortable.
“I only got back from Hong Kong last night. I was working on my report when I got your text.” He waved a hand at the documents directly in front of him, his chicken-scratch handwriting scrawled across the top page. It was, by far, the neatest stack of paper on the table.
“How did it go?”
“Another uprising quietly put to rest. Just a small band of people calling for answers about the Gods and their lack of action. They wanted to know why they aren’t able to solve the various problems of the world. We were able to locate their leaders without much fuss.”
“Any deaths?”
“One. But we’ll be able to bury that pretty easily.” His thick, dark eyebrows drew together in a deep furrow. The base of his capped pen tapped on the middle of the page. “I’ve addressed the situation with my commanders. You won’t need to worry about it happening again.”
“I have the upmost faith in your abilities.” My smile slipped away into something more serious. “If I doubted you, you’d be the first to know. But I wouldn’t have put you here if I didn’t think you’d be able to do your job well.”
He nodded, but didn’t look convinced as he stared over my shoulder, eyes unfocused and fixated on a table against the wall. I knew what was on its polished surface: a knife with colorful jewels encrusted in the handle, a gold brooch in the shape of a scarab beetle, and a polished brass lamp. Aside from his certificates, they were the only personal effects in the room.
His lack of conviction was understandable. Despite his many successes since taking the job as general of the Order’s military three years ago, many on the Council still doubted his abilities. They did little to disguise their disdain.
I’d met Toren about five ago at some mixer. The Almasi family was well-known in many circles; it was an old name, an aristocratic one. They were derived from an ancient line of rulers who once held supreme power in the part of the world now called the Middle East. Over time, though, that power corroded; over the course of several centuries they lost land, people, and influence. It was a trifecta that almost always spelled doom, and they were eventually left with a modest estate.
But even hundreds of years later, the family still clung to the tatters of its pride and worked to revive some its once-honorable lineage. I was no stranger to his parents and the gleam of greed they couldn’t quite conceal from their eyes whenever we spoke. They made a point of attending most Order events even though they couldn’t always afford to do so. Over the years, and countless unpleasant encounters where they jockeyed for roles within the church, I’d learned to avoid them altogether.
Their son was an entirely different creature, though.
Toren stood and moved across the room to check the lock on the door. We couldn’t risk anyone barging in on this conversation.
Five years ago, the Council hosted a showy, splashy dance that was publicly called a meeting of the world’s richest minds, but was really a chance to glean information about those in power and find ways to use that information to extort them. Of course, the Almasi family attended. Lina served as an ambassador to some medium-sized country and weaseled her way into the event.
While trying to evade her manicured grasp, I’d ducked into a shadowy balcony and nearly collided with a young man holding a lit cigar. While I’d clearly caught him off-guard, he gave me a quizzical smile and merely moved over so I could lean against the marble railing. We’d stood in silence for several minutes, enjoying the cool evening air, when he’d reached out, offering me the cigar.
I’d taken a puff, relishing the delicious taste that danced across my tongue, and when I’d remarked on the brand, it was like the world lit up in his eyes. He’d launched into some diatribe about the nuances of flavor and quality, a conversation I could actually relate to, and we soon found ourselves discussing everything from smoking habits to international trade laws. I enjoyed his eagerness, his educated understanding of the world, and his ideas on how to make it better.
Toren finished toying with the knob, and I scrubbed the smooth wood of the chair as I and waited for him to settle in behind his desk once again. Bullet points dotted one of the crumpled papers on its surface. I couldn’t quite tell what was written.
It wasn’t until the end of the night, and Lina finally fettered out our hiding spot, that I’d learned his name. I probably should have been dismayed. But I didn’t care. I soon sought him out whenever we found ourselves at the same eve
nts, our easy conversation helped me relax in ways I was unable to in every other aspect of my life.
When the Order’s wizened general died peacefully in his sleep, it was a no-brainer for me to offer Toren his position. He was well-educated and insightful. In my eyes, his youth was something the Order desperately needed within its aging ranks. But to the other Council members, that youth was often considered a detracting factor.
“What did you need that was so urgent?” Toren’s low voice pulled me back into the confines of his office. “Not that I don’t enjoy our conversations, but I doubt this time you’re looking for lively debate.”
“No, not exactly.” I sighed and picked up one of his many pens and toyed with it. “I’m in delicate situation right now.”
He dropped his chin into the palm of his hand, elbow braced on the table. The flickering light from the lantern cast eerie shadows across his broad cheeks and dark eyes. Those eyes flicked to my forehead again, but he stayed silent. I appreciated it.
“I need this to stay between you and me.”
“You’re starting to worry me,” Toren said.
“I need you to agree.”
“On top of technically being my boss, you’re my best friend. You know you never need to ask for my confidence. You already have it.” He leaned back and started tapping the pen on the table again.
“The First of Four has risen.”
“Given your face, that’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?” Now that I’d addressed the elephant in the room, he spoke more candidly. “We always knew it was a risk. It was always possible one of them might surface at some point. So which is it? Fire or Earth?”
“Water.”
He rubbed his chin, thumb working circles against his jaw. He stared over my shoulder.
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know.”
“You saw the child yourself.”
“I did.”
“You saw the brand yourself.”
Walk on Water Page 8
