Three Dead Gods: An Urban Fantasy Thriller (Mortality Bites Book 6)

by Ramy Vance

  No one survives being severed in two. No one … not even a god.

  Looking at the rock face door, I also realized that I had forced the void to move on, but not the museum. That was still here, and that would have repercussions—not the least of which was the hallowed screams as the cages that once housed the worst of the worst mythical creatures rattled open.

  The museum door stood wide open, its large, magical barrier hanging on the hinges. With wraithlike speed, spirits and Others that had been trapped for centuries, millennia or more—monsters that even the gods feared—poured out of the entrance and away from the museum.

  I picked up Benkei’s spear, ready to pursue and cut down at least a few of them, but Jean put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. “You don’t stand a chance. Besides”—he pointed at his watch. Dawn was minutes away and looking through the open door I saw that Benkei was gone, presumably to pursue the worst of them—“they won’t be able to get far before the bombs start dropping. Think of it as a ‘when the gods open a door, we drop a bomb’ kind of thing.”

  “That’s not the expression. What do you think, Gabriel?” I asked, turning to face the angel. “Will the bombs take them down, or have we just unleashed a—”

  But the angel wasn’t there.

  “Who are you speaking to?” Jean asked.

  “Gabriel,” I said, “he was right here.”

  “Gabriel is dead,” Jean said, giving me a curious look. Then he reached out his hand. “Come on, let’s get above ground. There’s a dead god up there and that’s not something you get to see every day.”

  In the Arms of the Archangel

  Even though I had only been in the void for a couple minutes, I saw that hours had passed on the island. Whereas it had been the middle of the night before, now the early, crepuscular rays of sunlight illuminated a battlefield littered with the dead. Others of all kinds bled their sundry colors of blood.

  But the gruesome sight of all the dead barely caught my attention, for in the center of the field lay Izanami, her massive body falling over the island like a mountain range. She was dead, and in death she looked beautiful. No longer was she a zombie-like creature infested with maggots the size of great danes. No longer was her skin graying and sagged. Instead, she lay like the visage of a radiant, beautiful woman, peacefully sleeping as she waited for dawn.

  Dawn was approaching, and so were the human bombs.

  Two very different kinds of light gonna shine down on this island, I mused.

  “What?” Jean said, my out loud thoughts pulling him out of his.

  “Ahh, nothing,” I said, “Any chance this changes anything? You know, dead gods and all.”

  I turned to Jean, who stood with his tricorder in his hand. He shook his head.

  “So, this is it?” I said as I headed toward the beach. “If I’m going to die, then I’m going to do it watching the sun rise. You coming?”

  Jean chucked his tricorder to the ground and nodded. “I’m rarely up at dawn,” he said. “Seems it would be a waste not to.”

  ↔

  We found a secluded place near the forest’s edge where we would watch the rising sun. It was far enough from where the main battle had taken place that we didn’t see any fallen Others. We didn’t see anyone except ourselves.

  The sun crept out over the horizon, lying to us that today would be a beautiful day. In the distance I could hear a soft rumble, like a rolling thunderstorm miles away. Jets coming with their bellies full of death, I thought, and sighed.

  Today was it, but somehow I wasn’t too troubled by it. After all, I’d gotten to see my father one last time. Apologize to him. And now I’d get to die like him … staring at the rising sun.

  That was what I thought about. I stole a glance in Jean’s direction and saw the soldier sitting with a smile on his face.

  “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” I said.

  My words woke him from his daydream. “What?”

  “That smile. I’ll tell you why I’m smiling if you tell me why you are.”

  “Mine’s simple: I’m thinking about Bella. You?”

  “My dad,” I said, breaking my deal by not telling him about what had happened in the void.

  “You know that game you always play—how would you spend your last minutes on Earth? Turns out, you spend them doing nothing but thinking about the ones you loved most.”

  “Humph,” I said, “there’s a poet in you. Comedian? Not so much. But a poet, yes.” Then, remembering something he had said when I first met him, I said, “You know, you lost your bet.”

  “What bet?”

  “That you’d make me laugh before this was all over. The end is nearly here and I haven’t laughed yet.”

  Jean shrugged. “You can’t win them all.”

  “I guess not,” I said. “But you could have won this one. You didn’t need to come here with Keiko and me … you could have stayed on the destroyer. Why did you join us, Jean? I mean, why did you risk your life today? You didn’t have to.”

  Jean gave me a wry smile. “True, but if you’d failed, then it would have been the end of the world and, well … done that, been there.”

  I frowned, and giving him a look that simultaneously said, “Oh, come on,” and “We’ve literally been through hell and survived. You owe me,” I gestured for him to go on.

  His cocky smile dissipated as a solemn, distant look painted his face. “I’ve already told you: there’s this girl whom I love very much and promised to help. I keep my promises, Ms. Darling. And so do you, I suspect.” He shook his head as he stared at the shoreline. “Do you think he was right? Daniel, I mean. Are we really going to be a part of the end?”

  “The end didn’t happen. And since we’re about to bite the big one, I think not.”

  “Maybe. Then again,” he said, “there are still a boatload of overpowered Others out there ready to take up the mantle. Maybe this was just the kick-off. A kick-off we were a part of, and in that way Daniel’s ‘thing’ worked just fine. We are a part of the end—we just won’t be around to see it happen.”

  “Pessimistic much? Remind me to not invite you to any parties,” I said with a chuckle. I stared off at the rolling waves, watching the water ebb and flow on the beach as I thought about it. “You know,” I eventually said, breaking the silence that hung between us, “if this is the beginning of an end still to come, then let it. I have faith that those who survive the end will just make a new beginning of it. Just like they did when the gods left. They did it once—they’ll do it again. That’s what I’m going to choose to believe, at least.”

  “Believe?”

  “Yeah. That’s why we’re here, right? Because we both believe that this world is worth fighting for. And we’re not the only ones; there are others and Others who believe the same, and their belief will carry them through.”

  “Ahh, belief. Well, this is another fine mess you got me into.” Jean puffed on an invisible cigar as he spoke in a mock Oliver Hardy accent.

  As someone who had seen Laurel and Hardy live, his impersonation was absolutely terrible. More than terrible—it was abysmally dreadful. Hilariously so.

  I burst into laughter. Not just laughter, but uncontrollable guffaws that literally had me keeling over in pangs of pain. It was good to laugh, to feel again. And as I laughed, I felt my soul stir within me. It was good to be whole again, as brief as it would be.

  “Hah,” Jean said, leaping to his feet and doing a little victory dance. “I told you I’d have you in stitches before this ends and I did! I win. I win! I WIN!”

  “I’m laughing at you, not with you,” I said, wiping away a tear of mirth.

  “Still counts, my friend. It still counts.”

  And indeed it did.

  ↔↔↔

  Bombs fell, but we did not die. No living being on the island did, for before any of the humans’ weapons of destruction could strike the earth, a dome shield appeared over the island and we watched as the bombs fell on the do
me and fire slid down its transparent sides and harmlessly into the sea.

  “How?” I asked.

  “A miracle,” a voice said behind me. “They are in short supply, but not gone. Not yet, at least.”

  “Gabriel,” I said, turning to see the archangel aged to the point of death. Whatever in-between state of life and death the angel had been in, whatever magic he had left, none of that mattered, because he had used all his magic to save us. And all I could think to say as I stared at our savior was one ineffectual word: “Why?”

  “The world has survived so much,” Gabriel said, his ancient body becoming more incorporeal with each word. “The opening of Pandora’s box, the departure of the gods. I suspect it will survive this, too. What it will not survive, however, is the loss of good men and women. Like you.”

  Being called “good” by an archangel—the very embodiment of good—was like being slapped in the face. Repeatedly. All I wanted to do was scream at the specter, insist that he was wrong. Wrong to save us, wrong to let out the evil.

  But how do you argue with the Messenger of God? You don’t. You just soak in what he has to say and have your existential crisis on your own time.

  “Katrina,” he said, “I have a small request for you. Here.” He handed me the Soul Jar, but where it had once been the size of a witch’s cauldron used to boil Hansel and Gretel, now it was barely the size of a common necklace pendant. “Take this. Go to Paradise Lot and give it to my brother, Michael. He will know what to do with it. Oh, and tell him that he is wrong—this is not the end. Just an unusual beginning.”

  I picked up the jar and turned to the archangel who had barely more form than the ashes of a paper lantern. Seeing that he was seconds away from oblivion, I cried out, “What about you? There must be something here that can save you.”

  “You, Ms. Darling, already have.” And with that, Gabriel, archangel, Messenger of God and one of the Seven Mysteries, faded into nothing.

  Why Can’t This Be the End

  The bombs didn’t kill us, which meant that they didn’t kill the monsters held within the museum, either. One more problem to deal with. But given how exhausted I was, it was a problem we’d deal with later.

  Besides, I thought, looking over at Jean, he’s around and he’s one of the good guys and he’ll help bring these guys down. I’m not alone in this … and never was.

  Jean gave me an engmatic smile and I honestly don’t know if I thought that out loud. Not that I cared. I was beyond tired and it was true. He was one of the good guys, an ally and a friend.

  Still, knowing how I felt would go to his head …

  We went to the shore where Others were being rounded up by military personnel. The bombs might not have killed them, but they were still in a heap of trouble.

  A soldier handcuffed a robed figure and Jean ran over, stopping him before he could latch on the metal braces. “You don’t want to piss off this guy,” Jean said to the soldier. “He’s the Ferryman. If you jail him, who’s going to guide your soul to the beyond?” He turned to the hooded figure and said, “Thank you. I’ll get you out and home. Promise.”

  The figure nodded in thanks.

  “Is that the Ferryman—as in Charon?” I said, as Jean hastily guided us to the shoreline and away from the military personnel.

  “The one and same,” Jean said, waving at a military speedboat that rushed toward the beach. It was manned by the same overenthusiastic kid on the beach. He helped us onto the boat and Jean pushed us out into the water.

  “You not jumping in?” I asked.

  Jean shook his head. “I’m going to wait for the clean-up crew. And … well, given that the two of you died on the island, it wouldn’t be very seemly of me to ride with zombies. Yuk,” he said with a smirk. “Besides, me and the boys have some clean up to do. There are monsters on this island and we’re going to round up as many as we can.”

  “Do you need help?” I asked.

  Jean grabbed my hand and said, “You’ve done enough and, besides, if you stick around, you’ll be stealing my thunder. Go … go before Shouf figures out you’re alive and enlists you. Once I’m back on base, I’ll be sure to erase any knowledge of your existence.”

  And before my brain could stop me, I gave Jean a hug. Pulling away, I cleared my throat and with cheeks I really hoped weren’t blushing, said, “I believe the word is ‘disavow’. That’s what governments do when they forget you.”

  Jean grinned. “As you wish, Ms. Darling. Consider yourself ‘disavowed’. Now go.” Jean turned to the kid. “Drop them off away from the base and report back to Kaneda, where you’re going to hand them this.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and gave it to the young soldier.

  Then turning to me, he said, “Release orders for your friends. Oh, and you’ll need this.” He handed me my passport. “I suggest that you all meet up at the airport and get the hell out of Dodge City. They won’t be looking for you two, not after my report, but I can’t shield you from an accidental meeting. And General Shouf does like to wander the streets of Okinawa at night.”

  I looked at the papers and my passport in my hand. So I was free from indentured, military servitude. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me, ma’am,” he said in an exaggerated southern drawl. “Just playing the white knight to your damsel in distress.”

  “Humph. Still not funny,” I said as the young soldier kicked the engine on and sped us onto the waters.

  ↔

  I disobeyed Jean’s orders to get the hell out of Dodge for one small and necessary detour.

  “You’re sure she’ll want to see me?” I said to Keiko, but I stared out the car’s window into downtown Naha.

  “For the third time, I am sure,” Keiko said. When we weren’t being chased by nio and shisa, she actually didn’t drive that fast. But it was still obvious from the way she navigated the streets that she was the most capable driver I’d ever been in a car with, and she knew exactly where she was going. “She sometimes talks about you.”

  I stared at Keiko. “She does?”

  “Yes, especially when I was young. She would tell me the story of the woman who saved her as a little girl during the war.”

  My eyes filled with tears. In her story, Blue referred to me as “a woman”—not a vampire, not a yokai, but what I had originally been before: just a human like her. I was silent; I didn’t know what to say. “She almost died under my care …” I began.

  Keiko’s hand slid over mine as she pulled us onto a side street and into a small parking lot. When she had put the car in park, she turned to me. “But she didn’t—she lived. And because of good people like you and Kenji, my grandmother went on to become a noro.”

  “Keiko, I …”

  “Go see her, Katto-san, before it is too late. My grandmother never misses her afternoon nap.”

  I smiled through tears and kissed Keiko on the cheek before I stepped out.

  ↔

  Standing at the modest apartment door, my hands trembled as I knocked.

  An elderly woman opened the door, her cataract-filled eyes looking up at me before they glazed over with tears of surprise and joy. “Honto ni, anata da?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, Blue. It’s me.”

  I spent the afternoon with the elderly woman I had saved when she was a child so many years ago. It was the only good thing I ever did as a vampire, and seeing her apartment walls covered with pictures of her daughters, her husband, her grandchildren—pictures of her as a younger woman, travelling to Paris, Rome, the Grand Canyon, Edinburgh—pictures that documented a long, happy life filled with all the moments that mattered—I had never felt prouder.

  Blue shuffled forward onto her chair and bowed, her old body crinkling, but I could see her determination; she wasn’t going to stop until she managed to honor me.

  “No,” I said, bowing before kneeling at her feet. “It is I who needs to thank you. You reminded me what it was to be human, and for that, I will forever be in your
debt.”

  ↔

  Afterward, Keiko drove me to the airport in silence.

  Just before we arrived at departures, I said, “Bet you’re happy to have me out of your hair.”

  Keiko laughed. “Yes and no. Despite everything, I see why my grandmother trusted you.”

  I smiled. “I meant to tell you this before, Keiko: you’re just like her. You have the same spirit.”

  As we pulled up to the curb, Keiko idled the car and bowed to me in her seat. “That is kind of you to say, Kat-sama.”

  I returned the gesture. “Friends?” I asked.

  She gave me a curious look.

  “Are we friends? Like can I call you up sometimes and ask you how it’s going? See how things are on the island? And with Blue?”

  Keiko laughed. “Yes. Friends.” She glanced through the window past me. “I think I recognize those faces.”

  I turned. Deirdre and Egya stood outside departures, nervously waiting for me. They held tickets in their hands.

  When I got out, Deirdre nearly lifted me off the ground when she wrapped her arms around me. “Milady,” she breathed, “you are unhurt.”

  “Not first class,” Egya lamented as he hugged me afterward. “What the hell happened?”

  “We have hours on the plane—I’ll tell you everything then. Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  We walked into the airport and through customs without incident. The whole time, my soul-filled heart raced with fear that someone would stop us and that I’d be right back to where I was when this all began.

  But once we were in line for security, I figured we were in the clear. After all, I literally had nothing on me except a small porcelain jar hanging around my neck. The Soul Jar was so innocuous that I doubted Others would know I held something of immense magical significance, let alone airport security.