by Vance, Ramy
The radio didn’t answer; only the crackling sound of wind and solemn contemplation came through.
For a long moment we didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Until finally the noro priestess’s voice came through: “Three lives for the world. It is a small sacrifice.”
Jean sighed. “Maybe not. We have no idea how the bombing will affect anyone actually inside the museum. We could all go inside and—”
“Potentially give the gods two more human souls to amp up their powers?”
“Yeah, but you were super-charged in there. Control the controllable ...” His voice trailed off as he went through the logic. “We don’t really understand how this works, do we? But the dead gods do. We can’t risk that. Control the controllable,” he repeated.
“Fine,” I said, “I go alone.”
“No, Katto-san, you will not go alone.”
Jean shook his head, too. “Can’t let you do that. What we can do is get you in as soon as possible and then the noro and I beeline it to the shore in the hopes of missing the fireworks. The timing will be tight, but …” From the way he spoke, I understood that he knew full well going on this mission was a suicide mission for him and Keiko. Probably for me, too.
But apparently in the Venn diagram’s overlap of Keiko, Jean and me, we shared one undeniable, frustrating quality: we were all willing to die for what we believed was right.
Not All Goodbyes are Created the Same
It’s not every day that you get to prepare for a suicide mission.
I mean, I’ve gotten myself into situations where the chances of survival have been in the one- to three-percent range, but this was different. We were facing off against an army of powerful Others who didn’t mind using magic because, by their estimation, when the gods returned so would unlimited access to their magic. We were up against a ridiculously tight timeframe because the non-magical humans were going to drop their bombs in five hours. And to top it all off, we were about to face three dead gods who were more powerful than ever.
So I put the chances of surviving this one at about a minus four percent. Granted, we had a couple cards up our sleeve: the note and hourglass from Father Time and some Others determined to defend their new home, but somehow I just didn’t think that was enough.
This was the end. This was how it ended for me: with a boom. My only consolation was that if I did manage to stop the gods, then my death would be the only one.
It wouldn’t be everyone’s death. It wouldn’t be Deirdre, or Egya, or Justin, or anyone else I loved.
My other consolation was that if I failed, then I wouldn’t be dying alone. So all in all, a win-win.
We got on the speedboat and headed toward the Other army. As we cut through the water, Jean handed me a satellite phone. “Anyone you want to call?”
I thought about it. I could call Justin, but things were so strained between us that I knew speaking to him would only get into my head, and right now I needed to focus on what was happening.
So no Justin. That left my mom … and she was the last person I wanted to talk to just before biting the big one. She’d probably tell me I was dying wrong. Then there were Egya and Deirdre. I would have loved to speak to them, but they were being held at Camp Kaneda, probably one of the safest places to be … thank the GoneGods for small miracles.
I shook my head and Jean gave me a pitying look before saying, “You steer. I have someone I need to speak to.” Then he dialed a number and after a couple seconds, I heard him say, “Hi, babe.”
Jean moved to the front of the boat for some privacy, and with the wind blowing, he needed to put his back to the front of the boat, which meant he was facing me.
I couldn’t hear a thing he was saying. But I could read lips. It was a skill I’d picked up during my hundreds of years of hunting.
I tried to look away, to give him his privacy. I knew it was the right thing to do, but the alternative was looking at the sea and contemplating my own death.
So, taking the high road, I eavesdropped (well, eye-dropped) on the last phone call he’d ever make to the love of his life.
“How’s the hotel going?” he asked before chuckling at something she said. “Well, you tell Miral that she’s an angelic pain in my wingless ass.” He was smiling as he spoke. “And how’s Judith? Not that I care how your ghost of a mother is doing. I only ask because I know that you like it when I do.”
More chuckles before he said, “That’s good.” Then he paused before his lips pursed. “It’s so good to hear your voice. It will always amaze me how everything becomes OK with just one word from you. Yeah, I know it’s windy. I’m on a boat, heading in for another mission. Dangerous? Isn’t every mission?”
Jean ran his hands through his hair as he closed his eyes. “Bella, I’m sorry. Sorry I couldn’t be the man you wanted me to be …” He put up a hand. “No, hear me out, please. I’m sorry for not being the man you deserved. I wanted to be that guy—really, I did. Hell, all I ever wanted was to make you proud. You know, help the Others just like you do. I just want you to know that, in my own way, that’s what I’m doing. Helping in the way I believe is best. I know that my job—me hunting some of them down—seems like I’m doing the opposite, but the way I see it is that we have to uproot the worst of them before humans will accept them as part of this world. I may be wrong, but that’s what I’m trying to do.”
A single tear escaped his closed eyes. “That’s what I will continue to do until the day I die: help the best way I can and hope—pray that I’m making you proud.” There was a long pause as she spoke words I couldn’t hear. He was nodding. “Yeah, I know. I know. I love you, too. In this world and the next—I love you, too.”
He wiped away the tear that had caught on his cheek. “Look, I got to go. You tell Miral good luck with her medical exams and tell your mom that I hope she’s keeping well. Oh, and make sure when you deliver the message to your mom that your tone conveys the sincerity I feel in my heart.”
There was another pause before he nodded and whispered, “In this world and the next.” And with that he hung up.
The obvious pain on his face, the clear love he felt for his wife … it was all too much, and I did something I hadn’t done since I lost my soul. I cried.
Jean looked up at me and mouthed, “Lip reader.”
I nodded, wiping away a tear.
“I should have known,” he said with a shrug, before turning to face the horizon we were speeding toward.
We Make Plans and the Gods Laugh
Our speedboat met up with the larger vessel that held Keiko. Waving at the noro priestess, I noted that the water around us got very dark, but before I could see what was beneath us, Jean yelled out, “Meres!”
My body tensed as I prepared for another battle with the murderous and nothing-like-Daryl-Hannah-in-Splash creatures. Jean chuckled and added, “Griffin.”
Walking to the front of the boat where a soldier extended a hand to help him onto the bigger vessel, he slapped me on the shoulder. “Lighten up, kid. If today we die, then let’s do it with a smile.”
“You remind me of Egya,” I said, taking his hand as support to climb up onto the boat. “He’s a pain in the ass, too.”
↔
The soldiers manning the boat hopped onto the smaller speedboat and returned to the fleet. I guess suicide missions weren’t in their job description. Fair enough, I thought. Then looking over at Jean, I wondered why they were in his.
I mean, I knew why they were in mine. I had enough bodies in my past to fill the entire cast of extras on The Walking Dead. And they followed me everywhere, demanding retribution. Dying while trying to save the world wouldn’t change my debt to them, but it would go a fair distance toward unburdening my soul … if I ever got that back.
I also understood Keiko’s reasons for being there that day. She was a noro priestess—the spiritual equivalent of a guardian. Taking up that mantle wasn’t something you did lightly, and I knew that when she wore the white sash,
she did so fully willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good.
But whatever Jean’s reasons were for joining us so willingly, they weren’t something I was going to ask him about. Not now, at least. I needed his help getting to the museum. If—and that was a very improbable, unlikely, never going to happen if—we survived, I’d ask him then.
I had to admit, my curiosity for his answer burned strong enough that I wanted us to survive.
But as we followed the makara toward their impromptu base of gathering Others and I saw just how many had shown up to fight against the resurrection of the Three Who Are One, I wondered why any of them were here.
↔
It was ten o’clock—as in, only a handful of hours until the bombs dropped—when Meres Griffin led us as close to shore as her massive body allowed.
A leshy riding a winged horse flew to greet us. “Welcome, Lady Noro.” He wore a wooden club at his hip and looked like an ordinary—albeit quite tall—man, and I might have mistaken the leshy for one if it wasn’t for his beard. The thick bush that ordained his face was made of living grass and vines twisting in the wind. “I am Lazlo, the undeserving leader of this ragtag gathering of noble heroes. We understand that you have come to lend your aid.”
As he spoke he looked only at Keiko, like she was the only one on the boat.
The noro priestess met his gaze before answering, “Hai, that we are.”
As soon as the word “we” came out of her mouth, the leshy acknowledged Jean and me. Not that I cared—I was too busy fan-girling super hard over Pegasus. I just couldn’t believe I was not only staring at the legendary winged horse, but also basking in the fanning of her wings. “Holy shit,” I murmured. “As I live and breathe … Pegasus. Incredible.”
“It is indeed, milady,” said the leshy. He patted her on the neck. “This divine creature was instrumental to the slaying of a Titan. Her experience will be invaluable now that our sights are trained on a god.” As he spoke, I noted that he might have been responding to my comment, but he only spoke to Keiko.
There were some power dynamics going on, which weren’t lost on Keiko. Placing one hand on my shoulder and the other on Jean’s, she said, “Indeed. As will the experiences and abilities of my two companions.”
This seemed to placate Lazlo, who looked at me for the first time with a wicked smile that would have fit the lips of a fox. “Come. Follow us and let’s deliberate, scheme and organize.”
I nodded in approval, then stole another glance at the legendary winged horse. Seeing him filled me with hope that we might actually win the day. But instead of saying anything to that effect, I just muttered (more to myself), “I’ve really got to write Medusa a letter and let her know who I just met.”
“Medusa, huh?” Jean said, lifting an eyebrow. “Not to name-drop or anything, but I’ve met the gorgon.”
“You and me too, buddy,” I said with all the bravado of a drunk in a pissing contest. “You and me too.”
↔
The sun had long set when Lazlo led us to a marquee tent in the middle of a camp filled with just about every Other I could think of. Skeletal ahkiyyini, bright rainbow crows and thunderbirds, floating peris and weird, haglike kikimoras. Two hieracosphinxes flew above our heads, an aqrabuamelu sharpened the dart at the end of his scorpion’s tail, a tu-te-wehiwehi croaked ballads about war and love, loss and victory. Hell, I had thought the party at the Celestial Hotel was filled with a who’s who of Others, but it paled in comparison to this.
I guess nothing brings out the masses like war. The idea was so depressing to me that even though that particular thought was voiced only in my head, my brain made such an audible sigh that everyone looked at me.
“Sorry,” I muttered as we walked through the war camp.
One of the oddest things about that short walk wasn’t just the variety of Others present—it was that they all stared at us. At first, I figured that an army primarily comprised of mythical creatures didn’t take kindly to us human folk (thought in a Southern accent garnered from the six months I spent biting rednecks in Alabama). But following the Others’ eyes, I quickly realized that they weren’t staring at us.
They were staring at Keiko. And not only staring, but awe-ing—as in eye-widening, jaw-dropping awe-ing. Noro had crazy street cred amongst the Others.
I’d had no idea.
But from the way Keiko held herself—the slight nods, the gentle gestures of acknowledgement—she knew full well what her status meant.
And from the determination in her walk, she knew exactly how she was going to use that influence. All I knew was that we wouldn’t have been let onto the island without her and the only reason our entrails weren’t decorating some ugallu’s armor was because of her.
Well, because of me, and what I did several decades ago when I saved Blue, I thought. And even though I knew I had very little do with what was happening here, I did wonder if destiny had played a role in all this.
Think about it: over seventy years ago, I’d saved a little girl who, because of me, was adopted by noro priestesses. And now, seventy years later, her granddaughter was fighting by my side because of what had happened all that time ago.
The gods may be gone, but the mystical roads of destiny and fate still lingered on.
Then again, it could have been coincidence. But what was destiny other than prescribing meaning to the random events littering our universe?
We were escorted to the marquee—obviously somehow stolen from the hotel—where a storm giant stood guard at the threshold. The giant’s eyes bristled with ice-blue electric currents. When a storm giant hit you, you didn’t just feel the brunt of a powerful fist … you were also struck with several thousand jolts of electricity. It was like getting hit by a defibrillator attached to a nuclear power plant.
Seeing all these powerful creatures in one place, I began to wonder if we had a chance after all, but then I remembered the satellite pictures. The other Other army was twice as large as this one, equally equipped with powerful Others and they had a flight of dragons hovering over the hotel.
Still, giants vs. dragons … that would be one hell of a fight.
“Welcome,” Lazlo said, pointing to the battle table in the center of the tent. It was quite literally a Warhammer tabletop, complete with figurines from the toy company’s collection. “This layout is courtesy of our fairy scouts.”
Jean pulled out satellite imagery from his backpack and compared the maps. While the military photographs showed the hotel encampment, the flight of dragons and the platoon of various Greek and Japanese creatures to the north, they did not show the three legions of Others hidden in various parts of the forest that stood between this camp and the hotel.
“So much for military intelligence,” I said, pointing to the groups.
Jean grunted.
“What are those?” Keiko asked.
“Ahh, these here are Mongolian death worms buried under the earth.” He pointed to the cluster closest to the camp. “And as for the two other groups, they’re both composed mostly of aboveground Others of various woodland occupations. Very adept at hiding, very deadly.”
“And your fairy scouts found them.”
“While a whowie is adept at camouflage and hiding, a fairy is good at finding,” he said.
It was true: almost nothing could hide from a fairy and it was a common motif in myth to request a fairy’s help in finding a lost artifact or person. But the trouble with fairies was that, while they were competent scouts, they had goldfish-like memories and were extremely easy to distract. The mere fact that fairies had created such a comprehensive map showed their commitment to the cause.
“Incredible,” I said.
“No kidding,” Jean agreed. “No kidding.”
I pointed at the passageway by which Jean and I had originally entered the subterranean tunnels leading to the museum. Then, rolling up my sleeve, I looked at my map tattoo. It still showed about three inches of blank flesh between us and th
e red dot near my wrist that represented my soul. The only coloring was a single orange line that extended from the hotel down into the tunnels.
To get in, we’d need access to the hotel and that was the most heavily guarded part of their whole damn operation.
“Anything?” Keiko asked.
I shook my head. “We either need to get down the hole in the foyer of the Celestial Solace Hotel or find a creature that can tunnel its way through here and into the hotel. Don’t suppose you have any ramidreju in your ranks?”
Lazlo shook his grass-covered head. “Terrible creatures—very greedy. No sense of nobility amongst the lot them.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jean said absentmindedly as he walked around the table. “You just need to give them what they want. I mean, isn’t that how we all work? Give us what we want and we’ll do anything, right?” Jean looked up from the table and smiled. “And what do these guys want right now more than anything?”
Lazlo spat a moss-covered spitball onto the earth. “To be enslaved by an unworthy divinity.”
“Exactly,” Jean said. “Tell me, did your scouts confirm that they are actually at the Kami Subete Hakubutsukan entrance?”
Lazlo nodded.
“Are they entering?”
“Some have tried, but none have a legitimate claim and therefore are not allowed in.”
This is interesting, I thought. I was able to enter because my soul was inside, but so was Jean. Why? It didn’t make sense. His soul wasn’t trapped inside. Hell, the only claim he had was to save my ass, and given that he’d just met me, that wasn’t much of a claim. Cosmically speaking, that is.
The way Jean’s eyebrows furled, I could tell he was thinking the same thing.
“So, riddle me this,” Jean said. “They want the gods inside to rise. They are so desperate to make that happen that they’ve literally gathered an army to protect the entrance. And they still don’t have a legitimate claim? And that’s just to enter once. What the hell do you have to do to get a season pass?”
