Myths and Mortals (Numina Book 2)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

  Bastien nodded.

  Rone was straightforward, as always. “Alys is dead. We found her remains in the dark market. Kazen sold her for remedial gold.”

  Rist blanched. Kaili gasped and covered her mouth with one hand.

  Hearing him say it transported Sandis back to that dark, dank place. She saw the smug look on the merchant’s face, followed by fear as Ireth reared up beside her.

  Silence fell over them like sludge. Kaili was the first to break it.

  “What’s . . . remedial gold?”

  Sandis stared hard at the floor while Rone explained. Then the silence settled again, suffocating and cold. But they couldn’t dwell on it. They couldn’t mull in the shock, the hurt, of Alys’s unjust passing. They had too much to do. And the best way to avenge her is to destroy Kazen.

  Composing herself, Sandis searched for something, anything, to put them back on track. To shield the news of Alys.

  Her focus fell on Rist. “Y-You and Heath went to school?”

  Relief highlighted Rist’s features, as though he was just as glad to move away from Alys’s death as she. “We had private tutors.” He slowly returned to sitting. “Our parents owned the Fricada shipping yard.”

  Sandis’s mouth formed a long O. Rist and Heath had been . . . wealthy? She’d assumed the vessels had all come from backgrounds similar to hers.

  Rist closed his eyes. “We were picked up by slavers. Me first, then Heath.”

  Sandis stood, forcing strength into her legs. “But then your family . . . they’re still—”

  “They’re dead. The slavers killed my parents in front of Heath and burned down our house. Thanks for bringing it up, though.”

  “Rist,” Kaili pleaded.

  “Kaili,” he said, matching her tone. After a second, he added, “I saw the Noscon glyphs when I snuck into Kazen’s office. I can recognize a lot, but not those particular characters. Koh-Lo-Sos. He had diagrams. My brother’s name was scrawled at the top of one.”

  The failed possession had turned Heath inside out in a fountain of blood and innards. It was a stubborn memory that took effort to push away. The colors of it stayed in the front of her mind, making her stomach churn.

  Celestial, I can still smell it.

  Had Rist already overcome his brother’s death? Or did it eat him up inside, the way Anon’s drowning still did to her? But she couldn’t ask. Not with Alys’s demise so fresh.

  Sandis asked, “Have you seen Kazen since leaving his lair?”

  “No. Thank goodness.” Kaili shifted on her pillows, winced, then settled. Rist stood from his chair and moved to the counter, where a pile of ointments and packets lay. The medicine. At least Rone’s betrayal money was good for that.

  She noticed Rone staring at her, but when she met his eyes, he looked away. Perhaps the same thought had occurred to him.

  Sandis took a seat at the table as Rist brought a cup of water mixed with pain powder to Kaili. “I know most of his men are gone, but he doesn’t need them to summon Kolosos.” She tensed, as though saying its name would bring the numen’s attention upon her. “He just needs to find the right host. If only . . .” She glanced at Bastien. If only Ireth were still with me, I could figure out what he was trying so hard to tell me.

  Rist shook his head. “Kolosos isn’t our business. You freed us, yes, but you’re sucking us right back into this mess.”

  “Last I checked,” Rone growled, “you walked here on your own two legs.”

  Rist turned a hard look on Rone. “What do you know? Let me see your brands, then maybe I’ll listen to your slag.”

  Sandis stood up, knocking her chair to the floor. “Kaili and I would both be dead without Rone, and you would still be in that cage, Rist! So just . . . shut up so we can think, okay?”

  To Sandis’s surprise, Rist smiled. “That’s probably the meanest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Sandis.”

  Rone’s lips twitched with a smile of his own. Somehow, that twitch deflated the pressure building in her chest, leaving her with just the subtle, distant hurt she’d been nursing for the last month.

  Sighing, Sandis added, “Rone and I spoke with a priestess at the Lily Tower. She said Kolosos is the name of the antithesis of the Celestial. That it is chaos, and hell is in its heart. Kolosos will affect all of us.”

  She thought she smelled sulfur and turned, but saw nothing. Rone stood, but Sandis shook her head, and he settled again.

  “I don’t . . . I never fully understood what Ireth was trying to say to me, and Bastien has been unable to communicate with him,” she continued. “But this is important. If nothing else, why shouldn’t we band together?”

  “It might not hurt,” Kaili spoke more to Rist than anyone else, “if we pooled our resources and took care of one another.”

  Hope pulsed in Sandis’s core, warm and agonizing all at once. Hadn’t she thought the same thing? But the sentiment had come too late to save Alys.

  She couldn’t bring herself to reveal the truth about her. Maybe Rone and Bastien already had.

  Sandis rubbed her eyes, masking the unease worming beneath her skin. “We’ll figure this out, one way or another.”

  Silence fell over the table for several seconds.

  “What about . . . the stranger?” Bastien asked.

  “What stranger?” Rist asked at the same time Rone rubbed his forehead.

  “Kazen isn’t working alone.” Sandis’s voice was soft, but it carried in the silence settling over the table. “He’s hired out. There was a man who attacked us and tried to abduct both Bastien and me—”

  “What?” Rist asked, shooting to his feet. “So you pulled us into more danger?”

  Sandis put up her hands. “We don’t know that he’s coming back!” Please don’t go. Please don’t go. Ireth, help me explain—

  Oh.

  Kaili said, “I don’t know if we were ever out of it.”

  Scrambling for a solution, Sandis said, “Maybe my great-uncle could help.”

  Bastien asked, “Great-uncle?” at the same time Rone said, “Absolutely not.”

  Sandis’s fingers curled into fists. “We haven’t even tried. He might know where Kazen is.”

  “Not anymore, he doesn’t,” Rone snapped. “Kazen’s deal with him was a one-time thing.”

  “But he might have—”

  “Sandis.” Rone stood, hands planted on the table. “Your great-uncle is exactly like those crooks in the dark market!”

  Sandis stepped back as though Rone had taken his hand to her. Little cracks in her heart seemed to spread outward, like pressure applied to splintered glass. Talbur had obvious shortcomings, yes, but he was still family. He had taken her in when she had nowhere to go.

  She hardened, darkened, clutched her chest as though she could stop the cracks from spreading. In a voice soft and cold as winter snow, she said, “Remind me how you’re any different.”

  Regret chilled her at the look on his face. The way Rone paled like he’d been shot in the gut, the way his arms and mouth slackened. Only for a moment, but long enough for Sandis to see.

  Then he hardened, too. Slammed his chair against the table as he pushed it in with too much force. Nearly knocked Bastien over as he stormed toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Bastien asked.

  Rone wrenched the door open. “I’ll find Kazen myself.”

  Sandis hurried toward him, remembering his guttural scream when the stranger snapped his leg. “You can’t. We’ve tried. And what about the stranger?”

  He whirled on her, and Sandis stopped for the heat of the gaze. “I’m not asking your permission.”

  His hands slipped into his pocket—checking for the amarinth, no doubt—and he stepped out on the walkway, slamming the door behind him.

  Chapter 20

  Rone hadn’t taken his bag with him when he left, but that was for the better. He’d be past the southern wall by now if he’d remembered it.

  He’d walked for a long time wit
h no destination in mind. Busy streets, empty streets, sometimes retracing his steps or taking too many right turns. Urgent steps filled with false purpose, until the sun began to sink and his muscles strained.

  So he found a railing outside a canal and sat on it, staring into the current below.

  He still had time. If he left tonight, he could make it to the border before the papers expired. Be with his mom by the end of the week, even. Slough off this life like old skin and start anew. Surely the hurt and the worry and the guilt would abate after enough time passed. In years, maybe, but he’d learn to forget it.

  All he had to do was go back and grab the pack by the couch. They were always on the go, so he always kept it ready. He could do it in less than ten seconds. Then disappear for good.

  And yet, he couldn’t.

  Sandis could hate him, hit him, berate him. But he couldn’t leave her. Not like this. She could reject him over and over, but he couldn’t run in her hour of desperation. God knew he’d tried, and that had been the biggest mistake of his life. One he continued to atone for.

  He should write to his mother, but his paper and pens were in that pack. Besides, maybe he’d find another way out. A smuggler, maybe. A few well-placed bribes.

  But he wasn’t Engel Verlad anymore, and Kazen’s money was quickly running out. He’d have to take a job as a sewer boy again, or maybe work his way up to factory management. But even factory managers didn’t have the kind of money that swayed border guards.

  Cradling his head in his hands, Rone let out a stale breath. How had his life gotten tangled into so many knots? Was there truly nothing he could do to win her back?

  In the long run, it didn’t matter if he did or not. Kazen was a real threat, and not just to Sandis and the vessels. If nothing else, he could attempt to be noble and fight for the good of the city he so deeply despised.

  Rone leapt off the canal guard and rolled his shoulders. Night was descending. He should head back. Figure out what to do next. Hopefully someone in that flat had an idea.

  They were sitting ducks if no one did.

  Sandis wrung her hands together as Rist attempted to cook something on the narrow stove. Kaili took up most of the couch, so she sat on the side of it, facing the door, curled up in the corner where it met the wall. She glanced at that door every now and then, waiting for the handle to turn, the hinges to creak. Hours had passed, and nothing. But Rone would come back. He’d left his pack. He had to come back.

  Right?

  She should apologize to him. Regardless of what had happened in the past, he’d done a lot to help her and the others. She was indebted to him for that, even if her sore heart thudded in reminder of his betrayal. She’d never been one to cave to anger. Why was she doing so now? Lack of sleep, maybe. The stress. The waiting.

  A shiver coursed up her script. She rubbed the base of her neck, where Ireth’s broken name tattooed her skin. Just a shiver, nothing more. Perhaps she should let Bastien summon Hapshi into her again soon, if doing so kept worse monsters at bay.

  Cupboards opened and closed as Rist scuttled about the kitchen. “Has he ever heard of a strainer?”

  “Just use a plate,” Kaili said. Her voice was stronger. The infection was healing. Good.

  Bastien rose from the table to help Rist look.

  The door opened.

  Rone stepped in, and Sandis leapt to her feet. Everyone turned to look at him. Stiff silence permeated the room. The anger had faded from Rone’s features, but Sandis couldn’t read the blankness that had taken its place.

  He shut the door. “Smells good.”

  “Rone.” She sidestepped to get a better look at him. “I didn’t mean what I said. I wasn’t thinking, and—”

  She barely registered the loud crash as the front door ripped from its jamb and smashed into the wall behind it, revealing a tall, pale man clad in black.

  The stranger.

  Quick as a firing pin, Sandis knew.

  Rone had been followed.

  The stranger’s dark eyes landed on Sandis at the same time a vile word spewed from Rone. The man only made it one and a half steps before Rone leapt at him.

  The stranger moved like water, blocking a well-aimed punch with his forearm before delivering one of his own.

  “Move!” Sandis shouted, stumbling backward and grabbing Kaili’s arm. She pulled her off the couch; her friend stumbled, but remained upright. “Out the bedroom window!”

  Rist rushed to Kaili’s side and scooped her into his arms before bolting for the bedroom, no questions asked.

  A sleeved arm came down around Sandis’s neck and hauled her backward, cutting off her air and lifting her feet off the floor. The smell of cigars filled her senses.

  Sandis struggled against the stranger’s grip as he flew through toward the hallway so quickly the colors of the flat blurred into dark shades of gray.

  Rone flashed before her, a bleeding bruise on his forehead. His knuckles sailed for her face—no, the stranger’s.

  The stranger released her, and Sandis fell hard onto the floor, desperately sucking in air.

  Rist barreled in to help, aiming for the stranger, but the tall, lean mercenary shoved Rone out of the way and backhanded the vessel, sending him crashing into the dining table. The momentum lifted Rist’s shirt up a few inches, enough to show the golden script burned into his skin.

  Sandis leapt for the stranger’s legs and coiled herself around them, forcing him to fall. The stranger flipped over, his strength greatly exceeding Sandis’s, and bucked like a fish, throwing her off his legs. In another seamless movement, he aimed a kick up and over his head, blocking a blow from Rone. Rone teetered to the side, and the stranger rolled backward and onto his feet.

  Within half a second, they were fighting again. Rone spun under a thrown elbow and managed to land a kick to the stranger’s side, only for the stranger to grab a fistful of his hair and slam a fist into his nose. Blood trickled down Rone’s lips. He hadn’t had time to spin the amarinth.

  Sandis turned, only to see Kaili helping Rist to his feet. No, run! You were supposed to run!

  She didn’t have much time. If the stranger landed the right blow—

  Bolting for the bedroom, she found Bastien near the open window, pale and quivering and unsure.

  “Now. We have to do it now!” She should still have some of his blood in her from the night before. She prayed she did. But she would not do this without his permission. Not again.

  Bastien nodded, and Sandis placed her hand on his head.

  “Vre en nestu a car-car—” She cursed herself for the slip and bumbled over the words. “Vre en nestu a carnath. Ii mem entre I amar. Vre en—”

  Kaili screamed.

  “—nestuacarnathIrethepsigradenid!”

  Bastien exploded in a burst of blinding light. Heat singed her nostrils and burned away tears. The very power of the summoning disheveled her hair and forced her back several steps.

  Her beautiful fire horse loomed over her, dark and menacing and powerful.

  Sensing her wishes through the blood bond, Ireth charged past her. He was wider than the hallway; the walls buckled, splintered, and burned as he galloped through them.

  Rone was on the ground. Rist bled from his mouth.

  At the sight of the numen, the stranger dropped Kaili’s hair and stared, wide eyed, before sprinting for the door.

  Ireth reared and spat an arrow of fire after the man. The blaze was too brilliant, too bright, for Sandis to watch.

  Seconds later, the stranger was gone, and the flat was on fire.

  Chapter 21

  Rone’s gums were bleeding.

  Holding his side, he spat onto the carpet. His left eye was swelling shut, but he was alive. And he could walk. His nose was broken, again, but he didn’t think anything else was . . . Please let that be a bruise, he thought as agony flared in the ribs under his fingers. The stranger had been favoring his left arm—the one Sandis had grazed with a bullet. It was likely the only
reason those ribs weren’t swimming in his belly.

  He looked up at Sandis as smoke swirled around them and flames climbed the walls. The mere presence of the horned fire beast pushed back her skirt and hair like wind. She embraced its dark muzzle lovingly, murmuring something to it. Ireth whinnied and then winked out of existence.

  Bastien, naked as the day he was born, fell to the floor, embers and ash snowflaking around him.

  Grunting against the pain in his side, Rone pulled out his amarinth and spun it. He felt his nose painlessly shift over, his ribcage straighten, his bruises lighten. It could be a risk, using up the amarinth’s power like this when he didn’t know what the next twenty-four hours had in store, but he did know one thing: he wouldn’t have been able to carry Bastien otherwise.

  Coughing, he tossed the amarinth to Sandis and slung Bastien over his shoulder. God’s tower, Kazen had fed this boy too much. Rist, hacking up a lung, came out of the hallway with Kaili. They both fell over. Sandis rushed to Kaili’s side and forced her pinky to curl around one of the amarinth’s loops. Kaili’s eyes widened—either because she was shocked to see the ancient artifact or because she, too, felt its healing power stitch her script back together. Wounds that old would leave a mark, so Rone doubted she’d be able to host a numen.

  Flames surged onto the ceiling.

  “Out!” he barked at Kaili and Rist. “Sandis, my bag! It’s next to the couch!”

  Sandis startled and spun around, as though noticing the flames for the first time. She darted to the couch and grabbed Rone’s bag, then reached under the couch for her rifle.

  Rone pushed her toward the door with his free hand, nearly dropping the nude weight on his shoulder. A tug on his pocket told him Sandis had returned the amarinth. People above him screamed. The iron stairs rattled with the neighbors’ hasty departure.

  Sandis paused. “We have to help them—”

  “There are two fire exits in this place!” Rone shouted. “We need to go before the scarlets show up!”

  Her eyes widened, but urgency took its hold, and she sailed down those stairs, nearly tripping over the other vessels.

  Thank goodness night had fallen, providing cover for Bastien’s exposed script.