Myths and Mortals (Numina Book 2)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

  She thought she saw the shadows move across the walls, skeletal wings fluttering in the dark corners. She slammed the door shut and locked it.

  Cleric Liddell hovered in the main hallway, taking in the whitewashed walls, moving with the steps of a babe. “There is evil in this place,” he whispered, causing the skin on Sandis’s arms to pebble.

  Rone approached and set a hand on her shoulder. A very large part of her wanted to sink into him, to close her eyes and pretend she was somewhere else, but instead she offered him a weak smile. “I’ll look through his office; do you know where his bedroom is?”

  Rone nodded and walked down that way. Bastien followed Sandis into the office.

  She approached Kazen’s desk first and pulled open drawers. They were sparsely filled, if not empty, but she checked everything, every page in every letter, every spare paper.

  “What should I look for?” Bastien asked.

  “Anything that might tell us where Kazen could be.” She recalled that Bastien couldn’t read. “Set aside papers that look important. Any . . . maps. Letters to friends. Anything, really.”

  Bastien nodded and began to search.

  Sandis opened another drawer, empty. Kazen kept a lot of documents in his office. Had the Riggers taken them? But no, she’d searched for her own documents after the raid. She hadn’t found them, but she could have sworn these drawers weren’t empty.

  She checked the door as a shiver passed through her back. She caught a glimpse of Cleric Liddell passing by, gnawing on his thumbnail. Lines around his mouth sank deep into his skin. He did not want to be here. None of them did.

  Just there, in that corner, was where Kazen had painted symbols up and down her arms and legs, readying her for Kolosos . . .

  Sandis opened drawers with renewed fervor. She found another ledger, but it was blank. She checked all its pages and the insides of its covers anyway, then started thumbing through the disheveled bookshelf behind her, forcing herself to focus on the titles, begging her eyes to read faster, like Rone’s did.

  Several minutes passed before Bastien said her name.

  Sandis pulled one book, then another, from the shelf, dropping them to the floor and searching beneath and behind them, though in the back of her mind, she knew she’d find nothing. Kazen wouldn’t hide some secret to unhinge him here. “What, Bastien?”

  When he didn’t reply, she turned around. He’d left Galt’s desk and stood at the narrow cupboard in the far corner of the room—the same cupboard from which Kazen had retrieved the razor he’d used to break the name Ireth on her back. Bastien had opened it, and Sandis saw tubes and needles, dark bottles. She shivered.

  But Bastien’s blue eyes bore into hers like twin suns. Stepping away from the books, Sandis said, “What did you find?”

  “You.”

  Sandis didn’t understand.

  “I found you. Or you found me.” He ran his hand over the cupboard shelves. “I . . . I want to give him back to you, Sandis.”

  She moved around the desk. “Who?”

  “Ireth.”

  She froze four paces from him.

  “I-I’ve thought about it for a while,” he continued, “ever since you first summoned him into me. He wanted you, Sandis. I felt it. I’ve never . . . I’ve never felt that pull from any numen before. Even Grendoni. And I’ve been a vessel for seven years.”

  Dryness clung to her throat and tongue. “You can’t just . . . give him to me.”

  “Why not?” He offered her an unsure smile. “It’s all here . . . and you have most of his name still, don’t you? I could fix it. I could break my bond and give him to you.”

  Hesitant, Sandis turned back to Kazen’s desk. “The sphere is gone. The Riggers took it.”

  Bastien tapped on the inside of the cupboard door. Carved into the wood were two circles comprised of ten rows of Noscon script. Diagrams of the astral sphere that hid the names of all numina. “But I don’t need it,” he added. “I saw your marks, Sandis. Kazen didn’t take that much away.”

  Hope flared in Sandis, but she caged it with shaking hands. “It has to be done with mixed blood, Bastien. Mine and Ireth’s.”

  “Then summon him.”

  She parted her lips, unwilling to believe Bastien would do this. That he’d let Ireth rip his body apart, again, just for the drop of blood they’d need. Would breaking the bond hurt him? Would it fill him with an echoing emptiness like it had Sandis, or would he feel no different?

  “You’ll be dead,” she said, referring to the deep sleep that overcame a vessel after possession. “You won’t be able to fix Ireth’s name on me.”

  “I can.”

  Both Sandis and Bastien turned to see Rone in the doorway. He shrugged, as though the gesture excused his eavesdropping. “I found nothing of use.” He glanced to the cupboard. “If you show me how the needle works, I can fix Ireth’s name. There’s nothing here. This won’t slow us down.”

  She shifted her weight from foot to foot. Whispered, “The cleric.”

  Rone shook his head. “Might make him faint, but if the Angelic wanted you in prison, you’d be there.” Then, perhaps seeing her alarm, he added, “Don’t worry about it.”

  Sandis swallowed. Stared at Rone, then turned back to Bastien, who offered her a smile.

  “This is what we have,” the Godobian insisted. “I-Ireth tried to tell you something before. Maybe he can help us. But first we have to bind him to someone who knows how to listen. Don’t say nay, Sandis.”

  It wasn’t until he grinned that Sandis caught the terrible joke. Neigh, he meant. Like a horse. A wet laugh, so close to a sob, burst from her throat. Bastien’s lightly freckled face blurred in her vision. “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling her heart rise up her throat and drop into the words. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

  Ireth. Wait for me. I’m coming.

  She barely felt the needle when Rone pushed it into the skin just below her neck, mending the symbol Kazen had broken to prepare her for Kolosos. They’d locked out Cleric Liddell, who’d finally stopped pounding on the door. Bastien now slept, clothed, on the table Kazen had used for tattooing and branding alike. Rone had dressed him, and Sandis had rebraided his hair. She’d placed a kiss on his forehead and gratitude in his ears, hoping the Celestial would bless him with blissful dreams and not timeless darkness.

  A part of her—a very small part of her—was sad, knowing that with Ireth bound to her, she would never again be able to behold his magnificence. She’d summoned him right there in the office, careful not to ignite the walls. The fire horse had seemed to understand what she needed, and after allowing her to embrace his warm muzzle, he’d turned his head so she could draw a few drops of blood from his strong neck. It felt wrong to break the dark silver of his skin, but she did, and Ireth’s heat had burned back her joyful tears.

  She knew the exact second Ireth’s name became whole. Not because the needle stopped pricking or because Rone leaned back, unsure, but because an otherworldly warmth wove between her ribs, and a familiar pressure pressed against the inside of her skull. Sandis gasped and stood, knocking over her chair, hugging herself as she had hugged Ireth minutes before. Closing her eyes, she savored the sensations of distant fire, of being too deep underwater, of faint but decided love that filled her veins. Then she spun toward Rone, who still held a needle and a small vial of blood.

  He smiled in awe. “It worked.”

  Sandis nodded. “I feel him. I feel him, Rone!”

  She cried, and Rone set down the supplies so he could enfold her in his arms. “I feel him,” she whispered into his neck. “He’s here. He’s here.”

  Rone held her for several seconds before loosening his grip. “Can you talk to him, Sandis?”

  She chewed her lip. Even before their separation, communication between her and Ireth had been . . . vague. Fleeting sensations and the occasional vision. Even now, the warmth and pressure faded from her body, as if
it strained the numen to remain with her so long.

  Stepping back from Rone, Sandis let her mind work. The visions . . . She got them when she slept sometimes. Once when she’d stared at the amarinth long enough, but they’d lost that.

  “The Noscon writing,” she whispered. When Rone raised his eyebrow, she said, “Ireth showed me something when we were with the citizen records. The Noscon ones. Maybe that would spur something again.” Even she heard the uncertainty in her voice, but she had to try.

  Rone nodded. “I’ll calm down the priest and be right back, okay?”

  He left, and Sandis turned toward the open cabinet. Approached it and studied the two engravings on its door. She stared at them a long moment, feeling no increase in heat or pressure within herself. So she traced the careful symbols on the astral sphere, most of which meant nothing to her. She found Ireth’s name on the fourth row down.

  Something pricked her thoughts, and she leaned closer, studying the symbols. Her fingertip sank to the bottom of the higher carving, to three symbols carved together. She recognized the three marks from the Noscon words Kazen had painted on her limbs. Koh-Lo-Sos. Kolosos. She chewed on her lip, staring at the writing. Not daring to trace it, as if doing so would bring the red-eyed monster’s wrath upon her.

  Leaning back, her eyes moved to the top of the sphere, tracing the symbols there. She couldn’t help but wonder . . . if Kolosos was at the bottom, what was at the top? She didn’t know any of these symbols, even as pieces from the other vessels’ tattoos.

  “This is for a greater purpose,” Kazen crooned in her memory.

  “I’ll expose their lies.”

  “We’ll finally show the world the truth.”

  “The only ‘god’ you need to concern yourself with is the one about to join us.”

  The only god.

  Only god.

  God.

  The Angelic’s voice merged with Kazen’s. “Kolosos opposes the Celestial.” Opposes. Opposite?

  Sandis’s stomach slammed against her hips. Chills spiraled through her body, and strength left her legs. She returned her finger to the symbols on the bottom row of the first carving of the astral sphere. Kolosos. Then, dragging her finger upward, she pressed it into the symbols on the very first row. Could this, too, be a god?

  “Celestial?” she whispered, her mouth dry.

  Was this the truth Kazen was so adamant to reveal? Was he indeed the same Kazen the Angelic had told them about, the one who’d left the Lily Tower for blasphemy? A cleric? A man who might have learned that the Celestial . . . was a numen?

  Was her god a numen? Was he even a god at all?

  Sandis sank to her knees, the pressure growing in her head not at all Ireth’s doing. She’d been told she was an abomination. A blasphemy. People like her were denounced, arrested, and killed. But if she was right . . . they were hypocrites. All of them.

  She was wrong. She had to be wrong. She—

  “Show the world the truth.” That was what Kazen had said.

  Rone came back into the room, then rushed to her side. “Sandis? What happened?”

  It took her a moment to come back to herself, to separate her heavy, clustered thoughts from reality. Trembling, Sandis clutched Rone’s arm. “I know where Kazen is.”

  She thought of the missing papers—papers the mobsmen wouldn’t want. Considered the bowl of water in the solitary room. Kazen had been here. With someone else—someone stronger than Sandis. And he’d already left.

  “What?” Rone gripped her shoulders. “How? Where?”

  She shook her head and pushed herself to her feet. “We have to go. Now.” Bastien would have to stay. They could lock the door, keep the cleric from seeing his brands.

  “Sandis—”

  The skin between her brands perspired. She pushed Rone toward the door. “We have to go now!”

  “Where?”

  “The Lily Tower!” she cried. “He’s going to summon his god where everyone will see it. Where everyone will be forced to admit to the truth!”

  She didn’t take time to explain. Couldn’t. She ran for the lair’s exit while Rone yelled at the cleric to care for Bastien. Then his steps thundered behind her.

  Sandis couldn’t move fast enough.

  Sandis knew she was right when the crowds in the streets started running the same direction, away from the east wall. Away from the tower. Knew she was right as she pushed her lungs and legs to carry her close enough to hear screams. Knew it when she saw the broken stone around the gate in the city wall.

  She felt Ireth’s heat in her muscles, pushing her farther, faster. Her body succumbed, letting her run on numbness instead of pain, on desperation instead of sustenance. The closer she and Rone got to that gate, the more the crowd thinned. Weaving through the panicked people was like trying to fly in a hailstorm. But despite the warnings of several scarlets, Sandis and Rone burst past the wall and toward the white tower that gleamed in the light of the lowering sun.

  The first thing she saw was a great shelled beast, its front legs laden with enormous pincers, its head that of a giant turtle, lips sharp as blades. Kuracean. Rist. Sandis nearly tripped at the shock of it. But had Kazen recaptured him or called Kuracean into another vessel? Sandis had freed the numen from its binding when Kaili was abducted. Yet somehow, as if Kaili’s spirit whispered it, Sandis knew that creature’s body belonged to her angry, heartbroken friend.

  The numen beat its massive claws against the tower, sending stone and marble flying. Two priests rushed from the front door, and Kuracean slammed both pincers into the ground hard enough to shake the road beneath Sandis’s feet. When the dust cleared, only one priest was still running.

  Screams echoed from the tower. A priestess leapt from a third-story window, only to crumple when she hit the ground. Thoughts of Priestess Marisa pushed Sandis harder still, running on a strength not her own. Rone’s heavy breaths swirled through her hair as he kept pace. The tower grew larger and larger, even as Kuracean beat into it like a knife to clay. Sandis had no vessel to summon into, but she had Ireth, and if need be, she would sacrifice her wakefulness to bring his power into her body. To stop Kuracean. To stop Kazen.

  She heard Kazen before she saw him, the voice which he never raised now bellowing into the dust-clogged air, shouting over the screams of fleeing pilgrims and priests. A few lingered nearby, transfixed, listening. Run, you fools! But Sandis could not stop for them.

  “Today is the day of your recompense! Now is the time for your blindness to be cast away!” Kazen’s black clothing contrasted with the white temple behind him. Sandis focused on his face. So close. Rone would have to carry her away when she was done. Ireth, be merciful and let me wield your fire long enough to stop him. Give me strength!

  She pushed her hand into her crown, the words of summoning hoarse in her burning throat. At the same time, Kazen’s hand pushed into the dark hair of a young man kneeling in front of him, a man with bound legs and arms. A glint of gold caught Sandis’s eye, and she stumbled in her run.

  The amarinth.

  And it was spinning in the hand of the vessel.

  “No!” Rone shouted. He must have seen it, too. His speed increased, and he barreled toward Kazen even as Kuracean ripped another chunk of the tower free and threw it at him, missing by mere feet.

  Focus. Sandis uttered the next lines to summon Ireth, her palm slick with sweat. Pressure built in her bones. The third line, then the last words—

  The last words . . .

  The amarinth spun, reflecting sunlight, but it was the vessel who seized her attention. The color of his hair. The familiar slant of his eyes, which met hers with a wideness that was not merely fear.

  It was recognition.

  Sandis tripped over her own feet and fell to the road, skinning knees and palms. She stared, the screams fading from her ears, the pressure vanishing from her limbs. His name formed on her lips more as a wish than a word. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

  “Anon?”
she whispered, and at the same time, her brother mouthed, Sandis.

  Then his body exploded in a burst of red light that grew until it consumed the Lily Tower, black and burning and terrible.

  Kolosos.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First, I want to thank my readers for continuing down this new path with me! I am so grateful to each person who picks up one of my books. Without you, these books wouldn’t happen.

  I have so many people to thank for their immense help in getting this story in shape! Cerena, Laura, Caitlyn, Tricia, Leah, Rachel, Rebecca, and Whitney. Thank you for reading my many, many words and offering feedback to make them stronger. And Jason, Angela, Marlene, Laura, and the staff at 47North: you have my utmost gratitude.

  Thank you to my assistant, Amanda, for giving me the time to write and to my husband, Jordan, for the same. Another thank-you to Jordan for being so good-looking. It really does help the writing process when one’s spouse is fiendishly attractive.

  Thank you to those who have offered me kind and encouraging words in person, in letters, and on social media. I cherish all of them.

  Also, thank you to my cousin Adam, who did the architectural design for my basement remodel for free. I told him I’d repay him by putting his name in this book’s acknowledgements.

  And once again, thank you to that great Divine Being who continues to be patient with me and helps me put weird ideas into what I hope are good stories.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Author photo © 2017

  Born in Salt Lake City, Charlie N. Holmberg was raised a Trekkie alongside three sisters who also have boy names. She is a proud BYU alumna, plays the ukulele, owns too many pairs of glasses, and finally adopted a dog. Her Wall Street Journal bestselling Paper Magician Series, which includes The Paper Magician, The Glass Magician, and The Master Magician, has been optioned by the Walt Disney Company. Her stand-alone novel, Followed by Frost, was nominated for a 2016 RITA Award for Best Young Adult Romance. She currently lives with her family in Utah. Visit her at www.charlienholmberg.com.