by S T Branton
“Uh, in a manner of speaking.” I glanced at the forces they’d brought from the Pacific Northwest. “How’d you cart this many people long distance?”
Smitty cleared his throat. “Well…” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “We’ll just say it was a chore. Did you ever try to put thirty werewolves through a security line?” He arched his woolly eyebrows and chuckled. “Ah, but it doesn’t matter. We’re here, and you’re here, and we have a large bone to pick, don’t we?”
“Yeah,” I said grimly. “Yeah, we sure fucking do.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The scenery had been bad on my first mission, but it had gotten even worse since then. Great swaths of the frozen dirt, which had been reasonably packed a couple weeks before, were now churned into an icy slurry that made the journey surprisingly treacherous. Signs of an ongoing struggle were strewn everywhere, including large, dark splashes of what was probably blood.
“Something went down out here,” Smitty commented. “Serious enough that it scared them all off, I guess.” He made a full-circle turn and his single blue eye scoured the surroundings. “It was like this out west, as well. Too damn quiet. They ought to be crawling out the woodwork.”
“It’s boring!” Amber piped up. “Sniping is way more fun than doing chores in the base.”
Her grandpa smirked. “She says that like I can even keep her inside for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Always patrolling, gathering information, and spying on whoever.”
“It was real busy for a while after you left,” Amber told me. “Maybe for a week or something like that. I saw a whole parade of gods go through the forest. Really crazy stuff. One guy was basically a dragon—horns out to here, wings out to there, all that good stuff.” She paused to sift through her memories. “We had some run-ins with a few of them, but they seemed to move fast and I don’t think they wanted trouble. It looked like they were on their way somewhere.” She frowned slightly. “Weird. I mean, where do they have to go? They can do whatever the hell they want, right?”
“One would think so,” I agreed. “But I suspect that we may have missed the bigger picture here.”
I don’t like it, Victoria, Marcus said. Something must be brewing beneath the surface. This is Delano we are dealing with.
It was a statement I couldn’t disagree with, even if I wanted to. Delano began as an Apprenti of Lorcan. It was only natural that he’d be obsessed with shadow, secrecy, and plans upon plans. His machinations definitely went several levels deep.
“That crazy jackass,” I muttered. “What the hell does he think he’s doing?” I had a bad feeling that we were about to find out in no uncertain terms.
We trudged onward and slipped and slid over the torn-up snow and soil. More blood had splattered over scorch marks and chaotic, churned-up tracks. A little before the one-mile line, the tremendous stillness was broken by a resonating crash.
Amber jumped. “What was that?” she demanded, her eyes wide. Another soon followed.
Smitty furrowed his brow. “It sounds like two mountains having a boxing match,” he said. “Is that yelling I hear?”
A third reverberated over our heads and deep, thunderous voices bickered indistinctly back and forth.
I smiled. “You know, your guess isn’t that far off, Smitty. And I think these might be a couple of mountains I know.” I increased my pace and left my bewildered cohorts to follow as best they could. Up ahead, I located two enormous hulking shapes armed with tree-sized clubs who swung at each other in the vast open space. Each time the clubs connected, chunks of wooden shrapnel exploded everywhere. I ducked as a piece zinged past my ear.
“Whoa!” Amber yelled as she came up behind me. “Are they gonna kill each other?”
“Nah,” I said and ducked again. “They’re only horsing around.” As they both readied themselves for two more mighty swings, I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled, “Hey, guys! You’re supposed to be back at Brax’s barricade.”
They immediately ceased their altercation and peered around for the source of my voice. When they finally noticed me and my group, big grins spread across their faces.
“Human lady,” said the one on the right. He shouldered his club. “Good to see you. Am glad you safe.” He hunkered carefully into a sitting position and rested his chin on his hands. The other did the same.
“Are you guys twins?” Amber asked.
They blinked their enormous mono-eyes at her. “Do we look same?” they asked. “We not even brothers.”
“Oh,” she said sheepishly. “I mean…yeah. Sorry.”
The giants looked at one another and back at us before they burst into earth-shaking fits of laughter. Tremors rumbled under our feet as they kicked their heels on the ground. A small fissure opened not too far from where we stood and Amber gave me a worried glance.
“Twins!” roared the left giant. He coughed and sucked in a deep breath. “Funny tiny girl. No. He much uglier than me.”
The right giant grunted and jabbed a massive thumb at his friend. “It okay. He the dumb one.”
Lefty chuckled. “Yeah,” he said.
I suppressed a smile. “Do you fine gentlemen know what in the hell is going on around here?” I asked. “I didn’t think I’d see you this far in.”
They exchanged a glance. “We guard wall,” Righty said. “Like Brax say. We tell humans to go away. Not safe. Humans too small.” For emphasis on this point, he touched me very gently on the crown of my head with his finger. “Get squished.”
“And then what?” I prompted.
A cloud of confusion crossed Lefty’s broad face. “Whole human herd came,” he said. “Lots and lots of humans and not-humans. We try to stop, but no work. So, we follow.” He nodded his massive head in the direction of the temple. “They want go there. But we don’t. We stay out.”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever done,” I told them. “Tell me what you mean by ‘not-humans.’ Did you see animals in that herd?”
“No, no.” Righty waved his giant mitt. “Not-humans like us. But smaller.”
Lefty added, “Much smaller. We biggest.”
“Like gods?” I continued to fish for something specific. Trying to get these guys to communicate was an exercise in patience and Twenty Questions. “Or something else?”
“Gods,” Righty confirmed. “And not-gods.”
“All right, so we have humans, not-humans, gods, and not-gods,” I said. “How many were there?”
Lefty’s eye opened wide. “A lot,” he told me. “A lot-lot.” He spread his arms as a general indicator of measurement. “Look like whole world.”
Yes, Marcus murmured. This is precisely what we did not want.
I made a face. “Why would he—” Then it struck me like a ton of bricks. “Oh. Oh, shit. He’s on the universe’s biggest power trip.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m glad you seem to understand what’s going on,” Amber said.
“It’s…well, it’s not that complicated.” I sighed. “I lost the sword last time I was here. Delano’s had it since then, and I guess it’s made him think he’s entitled to force the entire planet to bow at his feet.”
Smitty scoffed. “So you think he’s rounded them up to do just that?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “The dude’s a cocky prick. That’s all there is to it. He wants to be above everyone else.”
Amber drew her gun. “He’s gonna be on the floor when I’m done. I’ll kneecap him from a hundred yards out. He won’t even have a chance to see it coming.”
I grinned. “I like your moxie, Amber. But it won’t even be that difficult. He was nice enough to solve one of our biggest problems for us.”
“Aw.” She holstered the weapon on her back again and exaggerated a pout. “If I don’t get to shoot any bad guys out here, I’m gonna be pissed.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll have a chance once we’re inside. And I know exactly how we’ll ge
t there.”
Amber’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, yes! I love this kind of sneaky stuff!”
“I know.” I motioned for everyone to draw in close. The giants tilted their heads to listen. “All right, team. The plan is simple. Listen closely, and don’t fuck it up.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Our crew adopted a more circuitous route as we pushed into the heart of Delano’s territory. We needed to find one of those caravans the giants had mentioned and insinuate ourselves into it without arousing suspicion. From there, we could easily infiltrate the temple.
But timing was everything. Obviously, the Weres needed to wolf out, but if they did it too soon, we would simply ask to be caught wandering the fields. I took a couple recon scouts ahead of the main group so that we would have ample warning. When we finally crept up on the back end of a caravan, I sent the scouts back to tell the crew. Then, I tucked myself away somewhere within sight of the transport. The spear transitioned into a walking stick once more.
The large group moved painfully slowly because everyone was exhausted and dragged their feet. All the humans and most of the Forgotten had downcast eyes but a few Forgotten stared defiantly ahead. The atmosphere, in general, was utterly dismal.
I waited until I heard the crew fall into place around me. Each of my Weres was ready to go in full, hairy werewolf regalia. I told them to look as run-down as possible, and to not make any sudden moves. Smitty’s silver blade arm was smeared with mud to hide its meticulously polished luster.
“Go.” I motioned toward the back of the caravan. “Now!”
We broke out of hiding and attached ourselves to the back of the caravan one or two at a time. As with all the other disheartened crowds I had seen, no one reacted to our appearance. We gradually eased forward through the ranks so that we could finally see the front. Word got back to me that the caravan leaders were buff-ass super-demons with giant leathery wings who apparently wielded pitchforks.
Amber’s response to this information was, “Isn’t that kind of cliche?”
“I guess so,” I said. “But I suppose they are leading a mob to a place of worship.”
She cast her gaze around. “I don’t know if you can even call these guys a mob,” she said. “No one’s done anything rebellious despite having complete freedom of movement. No one’s incited violence or even tried to run. I think they’ve all given up.” A hint of sadness colored her words. “I’ve seen this before. Back when Oxylem was in charge and gathered people as slaves, they all looked exactly like this. Total zombies, doing whatever he asked.”
“Well, if you ask me,” I said. “I think it’s time to put a smile on those faces.”
Before I could actually do anything, a strange sensation in my chest caught my attention. I dropped back into the crowd among my friends and fished the piece of mirror from my inside coat pocket. The surface of the shard was warm to the touch, like Marcus’s medallion whenever he talked to me.
I flipped it over to study the latest fleeting image and almost dropped it underfoot immediately. A wild rush of excitement surged through my body. Whatever Delano had done or planned to do, Deacon was still alive. A grin stretched my lips before the picture changed a little, and my entire heart crushed inward in agony. It was still Deacon in the mirror, but now, his face was twisted in horrible agony and his mouth opened in a scream I thankfully couldn’t hear.
My chest constricted once more to see him like that. I wanted to puke and cry at the same time. The depth of his pain was conveyed so intensely that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was dying. Delano had him sealed away somewhere and slowly tortured him to death.
Did the monster know I had the mirror? I doubted it, but then again, I knew better than to put anything past him. His sadistic cruelty knew no bounds. Maybe he did know somehow and used the knowledge to try to wear me down or get me to break so I’d be easy prey. I told myself that meant it was possible that Deacon’s torture was faked and that it was only an illusion to hurt me instead.
But I knew better. Delano would never fake torture if he had the option to enjoy the real thing. Again, I wanted to puke. To remain in that massed caravan of despair seemed impossible now, but to blow our cover would have been a disaster.
I positioned and repositioned the mirror shard in a desperate attempt to identify where Deacon was. He was sweaty and pale. Blood was smeared on the side of his face and a cut on his lower lip oozed around the swelling. His body convulsed.
The last thing I saw was his eyes rolling back into his head before the glass went dark. I shook it and flicked the surface with my finger but with no response. The sour taste of panic filled the back of my throat. Deacon was literally dying, and I’d been worried about blowing our cover?
“Fuck that,” I said out loud. I needed to find him as fast as humanly possible. I could almost hear his clock slowly wind down.
With my heart in my throat, I worked my way to the perimeter of the group, determined to slip away surreptitiously into the surrounding field. The problems with this course of action were that the fields provided almost no real cover during daylight hours and the perimeter of the caravan was under constant guard. One of the demons blocked me with his body and stared at me through piercing reddish eyes.
“Get back in line,” he commanded. He held his pitchfork firmly in one solid fist. I thought briefly that I should simply use the spear. I was sure I could do it and the jackass would die instantly, but a move like that would compromise our entire mission. All hell would break loose.
“Back in line,” the demon repeated and his eyes narrowed. “I will not ask again.”
Reluctantly, I shuffled back into the crowd. The demon kept his eyes on me for a while and I sensed his stare. Man, I so wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill all of them and race ahead until I found Deacon. Seething rage boiled in the back of my brain and clouded rational thought with pure emotion.
Still, logic prevailed. I knew deep down that there was far too much at stake to risk anything monumentally stupid. I closed my eyes without slowing my pace and counted to ten in my head. My breathing settled and the red-hot rage cloud dissipated somewhat. “Hold on, Deacon,” I whispered to no one in particular. “Hold on.”
“Vic, what the heck are you doing?” Amber hissed. “Is something wrong? Do we need to call it off?”
“What? No.” I shook my head vehemently. “No, no. Everything’s fine.”
She didn’t look convinced but didn’t pursue the subject and I made no effort at conversation. My head might have been moderately more rational, but it was still full of noise. I clenched and unclenched my fingers over the top of my walking stick. The throb in my leg suddenly felt stronger and more insistent. I fought a ridiculous urge to push out of my skin.
The caravan stopped and the demons in front yelled something to the guards on the sides. They all snapped to attention. Through a gap in their otherwise impenetrable wall, I saw the base of the mountain of rubble rear up before us. My gaze followed its line all the way to the top. From that vantage point, the temple itself was barely visible but I gazed fixedly at where I knew it would be. I knew Deacon was in there somewhere and there was no way in hell that I would leave that place without him.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The march continued and didn’t falter, even when the terrain turned craggy and rough. The winged guards goaded everyone forward and berated us constantly in a number of different languages. They cracked their barbed tails like whips at anyone who dared to resist or fell behind. One insubordinate Forgotten was unceremoniously heaved off the side about fifty feet up. No one else in his vicinity made any further protest.
I climbed along with the masses while I gritted my teeth and seethed on the inside over my inability to do anything other than wait for an opportunity. What I wanted to do was start a brawl and escape to look for Deacon in the confusion. Five years prior, I would probably have done it. Now, however, a little voice in the back of my head constantly reminded me of my duty.<
br />
His name was Marcus. Bide your time, Victoria. Do not throw everything away for a moment of gratification. Deacon’s salvation will mean nothing if you are both destroyed in the aftermath.
The logical side of me knew that he was right and I struggled to take his words to heart. To punish countless others for a selfish motive in this scenario would be unforgivable. The odds were too desperate. I didn’t even have an inkling of where Deacon might be, but I still had to wrestle that primal urge into submission. The nearest guard was so close and never so much as even glanced at me—the ultimate temptation that simply rubbed salt into my wounded heart.
I took a deep breath and held it until my lungs felt about to burst. The long exhale helped me drag my crazy nerves under control. I managed to force my hands to cease the endless clenching and unclenching around the head of my stick. The caravan wound its way through switchbacks and angled relentlessly upward toward the temple. Someone else fell with a shriek but we continued without even a slight pause.
Eventually, the sound of rushing water became more powerful than the desolate drummed footsteps of our forced march. We finally crested the edge of the mountaintop onto the temple’s plateau. The boulder at the corner immediately drew my gaze, the god still chained to spill water down into the river below. Its eyes—pure white—were wide, frightened, and agonized.
Behind that boulder, thick metal bars rose ten feet or higher along the back perimeter of the plateau. They formed a holding pen secured by a guarded gate that yawned open as the demons shoved us through. The temple stood beyond our reach but not out of sight like a pompous, glowing frog. It was open, too. I could see the first of the twisted pillars that lined the central hall.
