by Kelly Keaton
Now to make it work for his purpose.
With a heavy sigh, he sat on the column, figuring he might as well get comfortable before the shit storm rained down on him.
The hot air stirred, the breeze offering little in the way of relief. Already, he was sweating, making the fine, powdery grains of sand carried by the breeze stick to his skin.
Cradling the idol in his hands, he tested its weight and let it roll from one hand to the other. He supposed it was too much to hope simply asking the god to come would work, but what the hell, might as well give it a shot before breaking out the big guns.
With that thought in mind, he closed his eyes, the movement scratching as bits of sand had already formed in the corners. Ignoring it, he focused on bringing a sense of calm over his body. His grip tightened on the idol as he imagined his power and the idol’s power meeting, combining.
And then he did a simple summoning, calling upon the god Horus to appear, reciting his names into the desert breeze: He who is Above, Ruler of the Skies, Guardian of the Pharaohs, the Great Falcon, He Who Comes Forth Advancing...
The power in the idol curled around his hands, sending feather-like vibrations up his arms.
He waited.
And waited.
Finally, Sebastian opened his eyes and scanned the ruins.
Nothing.
He drew in a deep breath and exhaled heavily. Time was up. “Guess it’s the hard way,” he muttered to the idol.
Determined, he set the thing on the column, got up, and put some distance between them.
Then, he closed his eyes again, this time drawing and gathering his power, moving his arms through the air in a beckoning dance that was as natural to him as breathing. Every witch, or in his case warlock, possessed the innate ability to perceive the unseen energy that existed all around him, to connect with and manipulate it for his purpose.
It was hot and dry, the energy here. It rose up and greeted him quickly, as though glad to have the work after being dormant for so long. It felt boundless and ancient, fierce, like the desert wind.
He harnessed it as his father had taught him, condensing it into a ball of brilliant blue energy. He made sure it was strong, potent, more than enough to destroy...
And then he released it all on the golden idol.
As soon as it hit, light erupted, blinding him a split second before a shockwave sucker punched him so hard he went hurtling high into the air along with a debris cloud of sand and stone.
A glint caught his eye, and he saw sunlight break through the hazy sky and strike the golden idol as it, too, had been flung high into the air.
Just as he began to fall back to earth, the golden bird shimmered. A loud angry screech pierced the air as the idol transformed into a real falcon, its wings unfurling and catching air. It banked and soared away.
Sebastian was so stunned, he forgot for a moment that he was falling.
The ground rose up before he had a chance to prepare.
His body hit sand with a bone-jarring thud.
Holy...
Ow. Just . . . ow.
He lay there very still, pain ringing through his body like a bell as bits of stone and sand fell back to the ground.
Slowly, the cloud of debris cleared. The falcon's cry rent the air once more and its shadow passed swiftly over the sun.
At least one of them was happy.
Sebastian thought about extricating himself from the nice impression his body made in the sand, but instead threw an arm over his eyes to shield them from the sun. Even that small movement hurt.
After a while, he sucked it up and forced himself to roll to the side. Every muscle wept, and the throb in his head became more pronounced. He could deal with the pain, but he was about to go out of his mind with the sand. It was in the creases of his skin, in his ears and hair, had worked its way beneath his clothes, rubbing, irritating. Armpits, neck, stomach, and below the belt... Nothing was off limits.
Right now, he’d do just about anything to be clean. Maybe he should've paid more attention to his dad's General Crafting 101 class. His father could go from total, ragged mess, gather energy around him like a freaking tornado, and then step out the other side completely polished and clean.
As he pushed himself to his feet, sand raining off him, he saw stars. Nausea rolled through his gut, keeping him bent at the waist. He bit down hard, grinding his teeth and refusing to be sick.
He’d never had his power thrown back at him before.
A ragged laugh escaped his dry lips. He sure as hell packed a punch.
Once the nausea passed, he straightened. He drew in a deep breath, and--
A rock-hard shoulder plowed into his gut, sending him airborne and straight back where he’d been before. On his back in the sand, breath completely knocked out of him. Again.
Dear Gods.
“What the hell,” he gasped, shocked by the attack and quickly rolling to his side to get up, but pain pushed him back down.
Yep. He might just throw up now.
“Get up, you fool,” a deep, resonating voice issued from above him. “I've not the time for this or for you! Do you have any idea what you've released? No. Of course you don't!” Horus's shadow loomed over him. Tall figure, wide shoulders, traditional linen skirt, all silhouetted by the sun at his back,
Awesome. It worked, he thought with a grimace, bringing his knees in and pushing up to a crawling position. “It was just a statue...” he breathed.
Horus looked like he was about to choke on disbelief. It was the first time Sebastian had ever seen the god at a loss for words. So he released the statue or whatever the hell it was. It wasn't like he had a ton of other options in the limited time he had to find the god.
“Well, you know,” he said, defensively, “if you guys had let people know where you were, we wouldn't have to resort to other ways of getting your attention.” He collapsed into a sitting position and glared at the god.
Horus was pissed? Well, wasn't that ass backward, given the situation.
Horus leaned down, grabbed him by the collar, and hauled him to his feet. “Well, you have it now.” he bit out in a deadly tone, his eerie mismatched irises--one the color of the moon, the other as golden as the sun--narrowing to fine points.
Sebastian fought to control the long string of curses on his tongue. “Archer is gone and Apollo is in a coma. That good enough for you?”
Horus shoved him back. He staggered, but didn’t fall. When he straightened, wiping his mouth, he gave the god a vicious glare. Horus returned it. A tense few seconds passed before the god cursed, flung his arms out in frustration, paced a few steps, and then came back to stand before Sebastian.
Horus smoothed a hand over the faded hieroglyphics tattooed on his shaved head, and let out a heavy, annoyed breath.
Realization hit Sebastian. Horus was conflicted.
What the hell was there to be conflicted about? Horus should be rallying the troops, heading back to get the others.
Shit. This wasn't right.
His reaction wasn't right at all.
“I'm sorry I can't help you.”
Sebastian blinked. “Say again?” Because if he did, Sebastian was going to send his fist into the god's face.
Ire radiated from Horus, surrounding him like the constant shimmer of heat radiating from the sand. His kohl-lined eyes went narrow again as he grasped the direction of Sebastian's thoughts.
“You don't want to tangle with me, boy.”
Power sparked from Sebastian’s clenched fists. A wiser man would have agreed. A wiser man would have taken a step back, not forward. A wiser man definitely wouldn't have smirked in the face of a supreme deity and said, “Wrong answer, asshole.”
The god growled. He snatched Sebastian by the throat and lifted until his toes were just brushing the sand. The rage that overtook Horus was swift and all consuming.
Terrifying.
“My daughter comes first. This world could be at an end, along with everyone in
it, and still she comes first,” he snarled with such conviction and bluntness that Sebastian knew without a doubt, the god spoke the truth.
When Sebastian didn’t react, the god’s rage seemed to diminish. Horus released him. “Once Menai is safe, her mother and I will return to help you locate Archer.”
Sebastian bent over drawing large droughts of desert air into his lungs as Horus's words penetrated his oxygen deprived brain. “Menai is missing?”
“Your friend Henri as well. Taken. We cannot abandon our daughter. All hell has broken loose, literally.” Horus paced away and then came back, hands on hips, and looking as if he owned the planet. “The child, Archer... What do you know?”
Sebastian told Horus everything that had happened, including their possible suspects, the state of Apollo, and who was doing what.
He understood the god’s position. He did. But damn it, it still didn’t stop him from being beyond pissed off. And suspicious as hell. “You don't think this is a little coincidental? Archer getting taken, and suddenly his uncle and his aunt are both unable to come to his aid?”
“Of course it’s connected,” he said offhandedly. “Any self respecting tactician would have covered all angles. I would have done the same.”
“So we’re on our own.”
A great sigh issued from Horus’s grim mouth. “Yes. For now. “
“And by the time you find them, Archer might be out of our reach for good, or worse.”
“And if that happens, then I will rain down death, I assure you.”
Sebastian’s blood boiled. “Revenge after the fact doesn’t help Archer a goddamn bit, and you know it! Menai might be your family, but Archer is mine.”
Horus stepped closer and glared at Sebastian. “Then we understand one another. I'll send you home.”
“No, wait, just let me--”
NINE
MOVING FROM ONE REALITY and into another wasn’t marked by some radical journey or epic inner chaos. It was far different than being traced by someone. It felt normal. Simple. Like walking out of one room and into another, the only difference came in terms of the weather, temperature, scents, sights, and sounds.
Having come to Apollo’s temple many times, I was very familiar with the layout. I was in the main hall. From here, it was a straight shot to the doors, down the steps, across the plaza, and to Zeus’ enormous temple--now a monument, an empty sad reminder of a broken pantheon, a broken family.
It was a place no one wanted. Artemis preferred her temple near the lake, and Apollo was quite content in his abode. Hestia, however, still used the temple. Having served Zeus and then Athena, it had been necessary to hold offices within the temple in order for her to accommodate the every whim of the god in charge.
As I headed for the exit, I passed a few of Apollo’s acolytes. All gorgeous, of course. He had a collection of beautiful things--living things like nymphs, sirens, muses, humans... They didn’t bat an eye at my presence as I walked swiftly down the columned lined hall and out a small side door to the right of the main doors, which were barely ever used. Being two stories tall the things were way too big to use on a regular basis.
At the top of the steps I paused. The sight always made me pause. Always took my breath away. On a vast plateau, high on the mountain, so high all one could see were clouds and blue sky, was the city of Olympus. The land was green, the air perfectly clean, the temperature always balmy. And the temples... They were something out of a dream, ancient, yet gleaming with breathtaking views, gardens, and balconies.
I went down the steps and crossed the main plaza, the marble under my feet gleaming. When Athena ruled here, it hadn’t been this way. Her minions had dominated the plaza, wreaking havoc on its beauty.
Apollo and Artemis had done so much work here. In a way, it mirrored what we were doing back home--setting things right, rebuilding, and restructuring the governing body of the city.
It was a hike across the plaza to the high steps leading to Zeus’ temple with its massive columns, thicker and taller that California Redwoods. To my left was the road that led the way through the lower temples and gardens of minor gods and to the main gates. Beyond the gates the road continued, winding through the mountains and forests to temples and homes of the nymphs, dryads, muses, and many others.
As I approached, a figure came out of the temple and sauntered down the steps. Dressed in a black button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and faded black jeans, he looked out of place against all the gleaming white. His hair was jet black and he sported dark stubble to match. His eyes were the same color, like two polished obsidian stones.
His was a harsh kind of beauty, one that grabbed your attention and yet came with a quick rush of fear. It was like looking at a cobra or panther--beautiful, confident, graceful, but deadly as hell. He was very tall, pushing seven feet at least, with wide shoulders and a solid build. He moved with an ease that said he had no equal and no natural enemies.
Definitely a suspect in the making.
As he drew closer, his gaze swept my length and a small, knowing smile quirked his lips. “Clean up in aisle five,” he drawled, continuing on without a care in the world.
I, on the other hand, had to catch my breath at the wave of panic that crashed over me at his voice and passing. Goose bumps spread over my skin like ice. My instincts went haywire, telling me to run, even though he posed no direct threat. In fact, he was already several feet away from me before my wits returned and the tension eased from my body.
My heart was pounding.
I felt like I’d just dodged a bullet.
Shake it off, Selkirk.
Dark, primal power, Rowen had said... Whoever he was fit the description to a tee. I hurried up the temple steps.
“Ari.”
At the top of the stairs, I spun toward the sound of my name to see Hestia walking briskly from the small door to the left of the main doors like some corporate princess in her pink wool pencil skirt, white blouse, pearls, and sling-back heels with open toes, showing matching pink polish on her toenails. Her golden brown hair was pulled back into a perfect twist. Everything about her was perfection. Except for the tight smile she'd plastered on her face. “I thought you’d be in New 2 enjoying Archer’s company.” She stopped in front of me, arching a brow as if to hurry me along.
Since time immemorial, Hestia had been and still was the Cupbearer of the Gods, which basically meant, she was the estate manager and housekeeper extraordinaire in Olympus. She made sure things ran smoothly, the fires were lit, the gods were fed, their temples clean, the grounds kept up. She had a small army of servants, and she was total Type A.
She’d never much taken an interest in the constant grabs for power, nor did she seem particularly interested in the human world.
“Is everything all right?” she prompted.
“Yeah. Just popped in to get Archer’s blanket. Apollo forgot to pack it. By the time we realized, he was already gone.”
There was a slight narrowing at the corners of her ice-blue eyes. And then it was gone, replaced with a warm smile. “Have you checked the child’s chambers?”
“I did. Just came from there. It might be in Apollo’s room, but I didn’t look there--didn’t want to wake him. When he left, he said he was planning to rest a while.” I hope the lie came easily enough. “I guess after six months of handling Archer, he needed a break.”
“Indeed. And we all know how he is about being disturbed,” she said. “I’m sure we can find it. Perhaps in the garden temple or by the pool. They spend quite a bit of time there.”
I couldn’t shake the dark man’s words about clean up in aisle five. I moved toward Zeus’ temple. “Could we check here, too, since we’re already here?”
She rubbed her hands on her pencil skirt. “It’s in the final stages of being cleaned, top to bottom. No blanket was found.” She gestured toward the garden, using her body to move me away from the temple.
My guard went up. Being manhandled wasn’t something
I took gracefully, but I bit my lip and went. Clean up in aisle five might have been a simple reference to Hestia’s cleaning the temple. Though, the way the guy looked when he said it... It had seemed more sinister than that.
I couldn’t exactly demand to get inside without raising suspicion.
The garden was a green expanse that separated Zeus’ temple from the Apollo’s. It was a large space, larger than the two temples’ foundations combined. The grass was perfectly green, the trees always in flower, the cherry blossoms always fluttering in the breeze. The lake in the distance was always calm, always like glass, reflecting the paradise around it, until one looked far across to the other side where the woods encroached and the faint remains of Athena’s ruined temple could barely be seen.
We rounded the edge of the pool, the bottom of which was tiled in gorgeous blue mosaics. The pool house was shaped similar to a small open aired temple with columns, sheer white curtains, and large chaise lounges and chairs. A few servants walked past with clean linens in their arms. They went silent when they saw us, eyes downcast, steps quickening, obviously not wanting to come under Hestia’s stern radar.
“Ah. Here it is,” she bent down and grabbed a blue blanket that lay across one of the lounge’s white cushions. It wasn’t Archer’s favorite blanket, but it was one of his blankets, one of two dozen Apollo always had lying around the temple.
She handed me the soft blue blanket.
“Thank you.”
“Of course.”
An awkward silence fell. Hestia was a difficult person to talk to. It always seemed as if her mind was twenty steps ahead, already preparing menus in her head, thinking of future tasks, and not really focused on the present. Because of it, her tone was usually stiff or impatient, or simply like she just didn’t have the time to deal with petty needs.
It must have killed her when Athena took over Zeus’ temple and allowed her minions and monsters free reign over the grounds.
“Well then,” she said, gesturing for me to leave, “I’ll walk you to the temple.”
Damn it. She wasn’t going to leave my side, which was not only suspicious, but it meant any further snooping or questioning the staff was impossible.
