by Brenda Drake
“What is it?”
“When all the pieces of the Divinities Keep come together, the Soul connects them. One cannot live without a soul. After all receive their power back, and if the soul isn’t attached, by the next full moon, the immortals will die.”
“Can’t they just pull the pieces apart and stop it?”
“Once joined, the pieces will not separate again. When the time comes, it will be up to you to decide. Their fate is in your hands.”
“All gods and goddesses will suffer the same fate?” I inch to his left until my back isn’t pointing at the edge.
“Good or bad. They either live or die.”
“I can’t make that choice.”
The lava waves are building in his eyes. I want to look away, but I can’t.
“You’re evil.”
He regards me for a quick second. “My people both loved and feared me. I could bring my wrath when they weren’t good, and I could protect them against outsiders’ attacks. One is not entirely evil or entirely good. It just depends on what side your scale tips.”
“I don’t want this.”
“You haven’t a choice.”
He raises his hand, and the medallion heats on my palm. It flies back at me and hits my chest, throwing me on my back against the roof. I writhe in pain over the tiles. Suddenly I’m in the tar lake with all the tortured faces of Pazuzu. My arms flail, frantic to stay above the surface. The black liquid rises and falls in inky waves, trying to pull me under. High-pitched screams cut through the darkness, and I’m not sure if they are mine or theirs. My chest burns and I can’t breathe.
I want to give up. Let go. Go under the tar lake and sleep.
Just as suddenly as I was pulled in, I come out. I’m lying on my back on the tiles of the roof, looking up at Pazuzu. I’m no longer in pain, except for a scorching sensation in my chest. I strain to see it. There’s a circular burn in my white shirt.
“What did you do to me?” I ask, fingering the hole. There’s a bump, so I pull aside the shirt. The medallion is embedded in my chest just under the skin and above my heart, the gold outline of the moth visible.
“You are the Divinity’s Soul. It is easier to carry there than taped to your leg.”
Seven Risen land on the roof and stop.
I push myself up and stand. “Then is it over? Call off your Risen beasts. Leave us alone.”
Pazuzu gives the Risen a bored look. “These are not mine. I do not need to borrow from man to have my army.” He holds up both of his palms, and fire shoots out of them. The flames open, and horned creatures with sharp teeth hop out. The instant they hit the roof they grow to Pazuzu’s size and attack the Risen, tearing them to pieces.
At the first attack, I double over and throw up. I cover my eyes, only removing my hands when the noise stops. The demon creatures are gone, and the Risen are just burning heaps of flesh on the tiles.
“Pazuzu!” A fierce voice comes from the roof of the building next to the one we’re on.
It’s Ares, and he’s pissed.
“Those were mine,” he continues shouting. “You are forbidden to interfere in my wars.”
“Your beasts threatened me first.” Pazuzu throws his hand up, and a wall of fire blocks Ares from us. He turns to me. “You aren’t safe here. Return to your people.”
He bows before strolling off. I keep my eyes on him until he goes through the door, giving Pazuzu a good head start, so I’m not going down with him.
The wall starts to flicker, and I dash for the door.
There isn’t time for me to process what just happened. My mind is blank as I barge down the stairs. When I reach the fifth floor, I hear a pounding. Marek is trying to get the window open. I unlock it and let him in.
I wrap my arms around him. “I thought you—”
“I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.” He holds my hand, and we rush down and push out the door.
“There they are,” Lugh yells and runs for us.
Inanna and Bjorn follow.
When he reaches us, he doesn’t stop. “Come on. You need an invitation?”
“It’s Ares,” I tell him, trying to keep up with him. “He’s behind all this. The Risen.”
Inanna trots beside me, and I’m a little insulted by how easy it is for her to stay at my pace. I was always horrible at running track in gym class.
“I told you it was him, Lugh,” she says. “He loves a good war. You can be sure there are older immortals behind it. Powerful ones.”
“Them leeches are gaining on us,” Horus says.
I make the mistake of glancing back. Those creatures look like paranormal predators, hunched over with sharp teeth and fingers deformed to look like claws.
The Risen chase us a few blocks.
“They’re all over the place,” Bjorn says, the beating of feet in rhythm with his words.
Horus stops at a gate. He grabs the iron bars and shakes the gate once, then twice, and on the third time, it busts open. He waves us through.
I don’t stop. I’m not as fast as Inanna, she’s not exerting herself, but I stay on her heels. Marek keeps to my side. We’re in a vast garden with tall trees, sculpted bushes, a large pond, and early spring flowers all surrounding a large gazebo.
At a clearing in front of the greenhouse stand men and women, some I’ve met, others I haven’t. Gods and goddesses. They hold various weapons—modern and old. Oyá and Janus break from their line to flank Marek and me. I guess Oyá and Janus picked a side.
Lugh, Inanna, Bjorn, and Horus join the line.
More gods and goddesses approach and face us. Behind them, Shona’s father controls the beasts he brought back to life. His commands are garbled from where I stand. The beasts are like rabid dogs on a leash—clawed hands thrashing the air, teeth gnashing.
Our side doesn’t move. I want to run. We’re in a battle line.
The other side stops not even a half football field away. They’re armed, too. It’s a standoff. Like West Side Story but with immortals.
Shona’s father calls out orders to the couple of dozen or so Risen around him. The men and women must have been dead a while, because they are full-on beasts. Their faces distorted like feral cats, teeth and nails sharp, they look ready to pounce. To kill.
Lugh hands Marek a spiked club and me a dagger. “Stay out of the way. Don’t hesitate if you’re attacked. Strike. Immortals get hurt and take time to heal. Run before that happens. Got it?”
“Yes,” Marek says, testing the weight of the club in his hand.
The sky darkens, and a strong wind hits us. It whips my hair around with such force it stings my face. Oyá sends her hurricane, blocking the beasts’ path to us. Her swords materialize in her hands.
Oyá glances over at Marek and me. “Stay behind me.”
We don’t question it, we just do as she says.
A god on their side breaks the line, clouds rolling on his palms. Oyá waves us back.
“Get down.”
The god fires the swirling spheres, and the orbs hit Oyá’s hurricane, dispersing it until only rain falls on us. He returns to the line, a smug smile on his face.
“Who is that?” I ask, not expecting anyone to answer.
Oyá does. “Jupiter. A weather god. His powers returned at the same time as mine.”
“I hope Posedien is on our side,” Marek says.
“He is not,” Oyá says. “Lucky for us, he has no powers.”
It’s eerily quiet; neither side makes a sound. The only noises are of birds and engines coming from the street. There are no people in the garden. It must be between two or three in the afternoon, and no one is enjoying the gardens.
It happens so fast, I don’t have time to blink. Both sides charge at each other. Swords schling and bang together, and bullets fly. Fists hitting immortal flesh sound like thunder.
Bodies crashing to the ground and sliding across the grass tear up the foliage.
Marek grasps my hand. “Come on. It’s too dangerous here.”
“No. She told us to stay behind her.” I push the wet hair out of my face.
“He’s right,” Oyá says over her shoulder. “They’ve brought guns to an immortal fight. Bullets only injure immortals. Slow us down so one of those beasts can catch us. It will most definitely kill you. Take cover in that greenhouse. I’ll come for you when I can.”
My shoes slip in the mud, and Marek catches my arm before I fall. We’re almost to the greenhouse, and it explodes. Glass shoots up in the air, Marek tackles me, the dagger flying from my hand. We roll under a bench, shards showering around us.
Marek inspects me. “Did any hit you?”
“No. I’m fine. You?”
“I’m good.”
He holds me tight against his body and whispers, “We need to get out of here. There has to be another way out. Run with me. To the back of the garden. Don’t stop. No matter what you hear. Okay?”
I nod, my body trembling. He slides out from under the bench, and I follow. But I don’t run. I can’t.
On the stage of the gazebo, Ares holds Dalton’s arm, a smile on his face so evil it freezes my blood, my legs, everything around me.
chapter forty-One
Fear twists Dalton’s face. His eyes bounce wildly around, taking in the battle in front of him. I only notice the other three captives on the stage when Ares shouts, “Stop!” It’s thunderous. So loud it shakes the buildings surrounding the garden.
Everyone in the battle freezes, heads turn in Ares’s direction, then there’s a collective gasp.
Jane!
Beside her is Sid. Eyes closed and his hands stretched above his head, he’s tied to one of the rafters of the gazebo. His mascara is smeared, and his lipstick is a faded memory.
Jane has a terrified look on her face, her eyes shifting nervously around the crowd. She’s in scrubs. They must’ve grabbed her just as she returned home from surgery.
My mind is blank. I don’t care what happens to me. My entire life is on that stage. I can practically feel my heart shattering. I take off for Ares and Dalton. “No! Let him go!”
Someone grabs both of my arms. I think it’s Marek, but it’s not. Inanna holds me, her fingers digging into my skin.
“Stay still,” Inanna orders, then yells to the others. “Cease! He has Gaea.”
It doesn’t register who Gaea is; my only concern is Dalton. My brother. Best friend. I don’t even look at Jane. Nor Sid. I’m too distraught. I focus on Ares’s hand on Dalton’s neck.
Marek reaches me, the club in his hand stained with blood. By the confusion on his face, he doesn’t get what’s happening.
“My brother.” That’s all I have to say. He gets it.
“Shit,” he snaps and pushes his sweaty hair from his forehead with his free hand.
And it registers. Gaea is Earth, the mother of everything.
“If he can control Gaea.” Inanna turns me around, lets go of my arms, and faces me. “Get all her powers back. He will be master of all. Even the most powerful immortals. She could kill an immortal as easily as snapping her fingers. That fear will control us.”
Gaea is young. She looks twelve. She seems helpless to whatever Ares has planned for her. Then there’s Jane. She’s frail-looking under the hold of the god behind her. I do feel a pain in my heart at seeing her here. I love her even if she doesn’t like me.
“Put down your arms, leave or join me, I don’t care. If you don’t, Gaea will suck the air out of you.”
“We have to leave,” Inanna says.
I don’t have time to tell her I’m not leaving without Dalton. Ares’s eyes are on me.
“Bring me the Parzalis, Analiese,” he orders. “Or I will kill your brother.”
Lugh puffs up his chest. “You won’t touch him, or I’ll tear you apart.”
Ares’s grin widens. “Oh yes, I forgot. He’s your son. Had an affair with his mother, right? Kept it secret. You pretend you donated for his birth. Well, the cat’s out of the bag.”
Dalton’s gaze shoots to Jane’s frightened face.
My eyes snap to Lugh. He keeps his attention on Ares.
He lied to us. An affair? I hope Dad never knew. That would’ve torn him to pieces. I take two slow steps forward, and no one notices.
“This display by Ares will only ensure my father will join our side,” Bjorn says, grabbing Lugh’s arm. He leans over and says something in Lugh’s ear, and Lugh nods.
My stare meets Dalton’s fearful eyes. Tears drench my cheeks. I don’t know what to say.
What happens to Marek if I give Ares his Parzalis?
Inanna addresses the immortals on her side. “We go now and fight later. The risk of losing all of you is not one I want to take.”
“You heard her,” Horus says, weaving around the pairs of fighters. “Grab your things. We’ll meet at the compound.”
“I’m growing tired,” Ares warns, staring right at me. “Shall I just kill the boy, or will you give me what I ask? I’ll throw in the mother for good measure.”
My tear-filled eyes find Marek’s worried ones, and he whispers for only me to hear, “Give it to him.”
I’m not sure I hear him correctly until he moves.
“Run.” He pushes me forward and blocks Inanna.
I sprint for Ares and Dalton, his gods and goddesses moving behind me like a wall when I pass, blocking Horus and Bjorn from catching me.
When I reach the gazebo, I stop at the steps, reach into my purse, and yank out the burlap bag.
“Send them down, and it’s yours.” I hold up the bag and shake it.
He lifts an eyebrow at me. “Show me.”
I remove it from the burlap and hold it up.
“Good. Now bring it to me, and we’ll do a trade.”
I don’t move.
“I can break his neck now and take it from you,” he says.
His tone is dark, makes a chill slither up my back, but I stay strong. “I’ll shatter it before you can.”
“Okay,” he says. “We trade at the same time.”
“Release my mom first, and then I’ll bring it to you.”
Ares smiles. “You’re a tough bargainer.” He looks at the god holding Jane. “Release her.”
The god’s hands drop away from Jane, and she clambers down the steps, stopping at my side.
Before I can take my first step up, Jane grabs my sleeve. “No. He’ll kill you.”
I search her eyes. She’s scared for me. “I have to. For Dalton.”
She lets go, and I ascend the stairs. I look at Sid, beaten and hanging there from the beam. His chest rises and falls, and I’m releived he’s still alive. I reach the top.
My hand shakes as I reach the Parzalis out to Ares. “Release him.”
“Ana, watch out!” Marek shouts.
The god who was holding Jane snatches the Parzalis from my hand.
The smile on Ares’s face turns into a sneer. One that dries up my blood and sucks the air out of my lungs. It all happens in slow motion, and I’m caught in the same speed, unable to do anything. Unable to stop him.
Ares twists Dalton’s neck and releases him.
Dalton lands on the wooden planks of the gazebo with a thud.
“I said I’d release him. Didn’t say alive.” He cackles, turns, and motions for his immortals to follow him. “Kill the mom. The Keeper. And bring the girl,” he orders two gods and a goddess as he passes them.
Jane screams from behind me.
“No! Dalton!” I dash to him, dropping to my knees bedside him.
“Don’t touch him.” Jane’s voice sounds frantic.
The bones in his neck are jagged and pressing against h
is skin. His face is peaceful. Like so many Saturday mornings when I’ve gone into his room when he’s sleeping to wake him.
I know what you’re thinking, Sid said to me once. That you’ll never bring someone back from the dead. Isabella thought that, too. Think about it, would you bring your father back if you could? Someone you love.
My heart is crumpling inside my chest. It’s like Ares reached in and wadded it up and threw it away. There’s nothing there now. Just a hollow space.
And the tears run down my face, across my cheeks, over my nose, into my mouth. I’m drowning in the dark sorrow pulling me under.
“No,” comes out, barely audible. But he’s so young. Images of our past flash through my mind. All our talks and fears. Our laughs and frustrations. Dreams. We experienced them together. What would life be without him?
I’m suddenly cold.
Lonely.
I can’t let him go. I can’t never see him again.
He’s lonely.
He’s cold.
I can’t let him go.
I pull Dalton into my arms and rock back and forth with him.
A breath hits my collarbone, and I glance down at him.
His eyelids flutter. Jane falls to her knees on his other side and tugs him out of my arms and into hers.
A swarm of death’s-head hawkmoths swooshes around us. A murder of crows darkens the sky. I stand and glare at the immortals rushing Marek. The moths attack and pelt them, multiplying until I can’t see the immortals within the storm of wings. They bury them, suffocate them.
Ares. I’ll kill him.
I flip around and charge across the stage and down the other set of steps. The moths are with me, flying overhead, turning as I turn around a hedge. He’s there. About to exit the gate. Grasping Gaea with one hand, the Parzalis in the other.
“Ares!” I want to rush him. Smother him. Kill him.
The rage burns through my veins like the tar lake in Pazuzu’s eyes.
The moths feel my emotions. They multiply and race for Ares, striking him. Gaea falls to the ground, and so does the Parzalis.
Gaea screams and covers her head.
Ares can barely move in the yellow-and-brown hurricane, but he pushes forward, Gaea and the Parzalis forgotten. He struggles to get to the door of a waiting Mercedes. He opens it, collapses on the seat, and slams the door. The vehicle speeds off.
