The Rise of Fortune and Fury

by Sawyer Bennett

  “Old-fashioned guy,” she teased. She went up on one elbow, turning on her hip to face him. “But I think we should just do it. Let’s get on a plane tomorrow, then get married somewhere.”

  Her declaration was surprising, but not something Carrick was going to talk her out of. He’d marry her right now if she wanted to. He also went up on an elbow, “If that’s what you want, we are out of here first thing tomorrow.”

  Finley smiled so brightly that Carrick was absolutely dazzled for a moment. He didn’t think he could love anyone more than he loved her right now.

  “Okay, let’s make plans,” Finley said with excitement, but then scooted away from him to the edge of the bed. “But I have to pee first. And I want some water. And we should probably have a snack, too.”

  Carrick rolled out of bed. “You go pee. I’ll get some chips and water.”

  “See,” Finley said, the happiest he’d seen her since Zora died. “We make a great team.”

  “That we do,” he agreed.

  Carrick headed for the door while Finley went around the bed toward the master bath. She only made it a few steps before she gasped, causing Carrick to whirl around her way.

  Putting her hand to the base of her skull, she winced.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Finley shook her head. “Nothing… just a headache starting. I’ll grab some Tylenol.”

  Carrick didn’t move until Finley turned for the bathroom, but when she gasped again before making it, the sound was followed by a guttural moan as her face contorted in pain.

  “Finley?” he said in alarm, moving her way.

  Her eyes came to his, confused and glazed in agony. “Something… is… wrong…” she whispered before crumpling to the floor.

  Carrick roared at the sight of her limp body, diving to the carpet beside her. He lifted her into his lap, calling her name over and over again as tears streamed down his face.

  He’d been through this before. He didn’t need to feel her neck to know there was no pulse.

  Finley was gone.

  CHAPTER 29

  Carrick

  Everyone walked on eggshells and whispered around him, but, frankly, Carrick was just too numb to be irritated by it.

  He’d witnessed Finley die so many times over his life that it shouldn’t hurt like this.

  But what happened last night… it was like every single death of hers rolled up into one, magnified by a million, and shoved straight into his heart.

  The pain was unbearable.

  Apparently, it was an aneurysm.

  At least, that was what the coroner suspected. Carrick didn’t doubt it, either. But it didn’t matter because she was gone… and there was no telling when she’d come back.

  If she’d even come back again—because Carrick didn’t even know if Rune was in play.

  He didn’t know anything anymore.

  His condo was filled with plenty of people with good intentions who wanted to provide him support. They were doing their best—except Rainey, who had to be sedated and was currently asleep in a guest room. The rest—they had all come when they heard—milled about and cast worried glances his way.

  Zaid was beside himself. Whenever Carrick looked at him, he was afraid the daemon would burst into tears. Maddox sat in a corner, getting drunk. Myles sat next to him—the same drink he’d had for the past two hours in his hand—staring blankly at a wall.

  Caiden came, along with Titus. Poor Titus was still grieving the loss of Priya and Finley’s loss only compounded that sorrow.

  Deandra and Rebsha talked quietly on a couch across from Carrick. He was surprised they came, but he knew how much they respected Finley and what she’d done to save the Earth realm.

  Marcus was there, too.

  Along with several of the One Bean staff, as well as Finley’s former boss, Rich, and her MMA instructor, Duane. They huddled with the One Bean staff. Occasionally, Carrick would hear soft but lamenting laughter as the group recalled good memories. That didn’t offend him at all, because everyone should smile and laugh when they thought of Finley.

  It just wasn’t something he could do yet.

  And while he didn’t mind all these people gathering in his home to share their grief in solidarity while paying their respects to an amazing woman, it was slowly starting to drive him crazy.

  He pushed up from the couch, the movement catching Deandra and Rebsha’s attention and halting their conversation. Carrick nodded toward the patio. “Going to get some air.”

  Rebsha nodded, and Deandra smiled in understanding.

  Everyone in the condo silently watched him as he walked outside. When he closed the patio door, all he could hear was the sounds of traffic from below as he walked down to the north end of the building to get away from the prying eyes of all inside. It was a dreary day, perfectly suited to the somber mood. Leaning against the rail, he gazed out over the fog surrounding the Space Needle.

  Carrick sensed her before he saw her. When there was a subtle pop in the air around him, he was not surprised to see Veda when he glanced to his right. She looked like a Seattleite in flannel and hiking boots, her silver-gray hair in a messy bun on top of her head.

  He didn’t even acknowledge her with a greeting, merely turned his head and stared across the cityscape.

  She moved silently, coming to stand beside him and leaning her forearms on the rail. He waited for her condolences or some words of inspiration, but she said nothing.

  This prompted Carrick to voice his irritation. “Why are you here, Veda?”

  “Would you believe to bring you happy tidings?” she replied.

  Her words got Carrick’s attention because her tone was way too serious. Besides, it was inappropriate to tease at a time like this so he swiveled to look her way.

  “Give me your hand,” she ordered, and Carrick didn’t hesitate.

  The minute his palm touched hers, a flash of white light blinded him. He started to get dizzy.

  When he opened his eyes, he was no longer on his patio in Seattle but in what looked like a Grecian home overlooking a blue sea. Veda was nowhere in sight.

  If he had to guess, he was somewhere like Santorini, but, in reality, he could be in a made-up realm where the gods sometimes resided. He was just under an arched entryway that led from a patio into an airy foyer. It was empty, but he could hear voices in the distance.

  He moved throughout the home, not having the energy to admire the pristine, white stucco walls and terra-cotta floors. The windows were all open, covered with gauzy curtains that billowed from the sea breeze.

  He found Veda in a formal room on the opposite side of the house. It may have been intended as a sitting room, but there was no furniture. Just white walls and white tiled floors.

  Veda no longer looked like she belonged in Seattle. She now wore the classic Grecian dress in white with a red cloak clasped at one shoulder.

  She also wasn’t alone. Circe, Onyx, and Cato were there, all similarly dressed.

  He figured they had deigned to offer their condolences, which he didn’t need, but he was admittedly curious why Rune wasn’t there, too.

  So he asked, “Where is the god of Life?”

  None of the gods answered, but they directed their gazes toward a door on the opposite side of the room.

  “Right here,” a female said. Carrick gaped in astonishment as Zora, dressed in the same white dress with a red cloak as the other gods, came through the door.

  Carrick had seen many things over his years, but he couldn’t recall anything shocking him as much as this moment. “Zora?” he rasped in confusion.

  She smiled as she moved across the tiled floor, not toward him but to stand near her new brethren.

  Carrick studied her carefully. She looked the same as ever, identical to his Finley except for the mass of unruly white curls. But she was also different because Carrick could feel the vibe of power that was particular to a god.

  She was no longer a mortal human. Ins
tead, she was equal in power to Veda, Circe, Cato, and Onyx.

  “Where’s Rune?” Carrick asked.

  “Imprisoned for now,” Cato replied. “Stripped of his powers. A mere mortal.”

  Carrick addressed Zora. “And you were made into the god of Life?”

  Circe provided the answer. “She was aptly rewarded for such a selfless act of heroism. And, well… the spot was vacant given the treacheries Rune committed.”

  Confused, Carrick couldn’t grasp the reality. “But in the thousands of years I’ve been in existence, the gods have all crossed lines. None have ever been stripped of their power because of it. I didn’t even know it was possible.”

  Onyx took a slight step forward, starting to explain. “It’s true—there is much leeway. It’s also true that we do almost everything by majority rule. But some things require a consensus. Rune’s perfidy wasn’t in just trying to kill Finley at the ritual. He had been meddling since the start.”

  Carrick frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “He was the one who took the protections down on Finley’s house when she was attacked by the incubus and almost killed.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Carrick muttered.

  “He didn’t do it merely to hurt Finley,” Circe said, her expression sympathetic. “Rune was so obsessed with his curse against you that he meddled in the prophecy just to hurt you.”

  “But have no doubt, his attempt to kill Finley before she had a chance to play her part in the prophecy is what became unforgivable,” Cato added. “As such, it was our consensus that his crimes could not go unpunished after we took him from the battlefield.”

  “So he’s mortal and imprisoned,” Carrick mused with a slight smile. The first one that had come unbidden since Finley had died last night.

  “He’s yours to do with what you want,” Veda said gently, and Carrick jerked. He wheeled on his favorite god, incredulous at the offer. “You may let him live out the rest of his mortal life in our prison, or you can kill him.”

  “You could torture him first if you wanted,” Onyx said with a little too much glee. But she was the god of War and the most hardened of them all.

  They all offered interesting options, but Carrick didn’t really care about them at the moment. He was more interested in Zora.

  He moved to Finley’s sister until they were almost toe to toe, then studied her. Had she been any of the other four gods, it would have been considered far too intrusive, but Carrick figured she still had plenty of her humanity left considering she’d been a god for all of two weeks now.

  “And now you rule over life and death,” he murmured.

  “It’s a big job,” she replied with a smile. Hesitantly, she glanced at Veda, who nodded her consent to speak freely. When her gaze came back to Carrick’s, she held out her arm. “Walk with me?”

  He didn’t reply, merely took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. Silently, she led him back through the house to the patio he’d arrived on, then down a staircase leading to a sandy beach where blue-green water lapped at the edge.

  When they hit the sand and turned left, Carrick asked, “When did you become a god?”

  “The gods said the minute my soul started to leave my body, they snatched it up and formed me into the god of Life. I’m sure it was more complicated than that, but it’s the general gist.”

  Carrick made a choking sound deep in his throat, giving a slow shake of his head. “So it happened fast. Rune’s powers were stripped after the gods took him away, and you were born a god not minutes after you died?”

  “I guess they don’t mess around when they decide to do something.” Zora laughed. Yes, she still held much of her humanity because the gods didn’t tease like that.

  But then it hit Carrick.

  Very hard.

  “Then that means… Finley’s death last night wasn’t part of Rune’s curse.” The implications made him dizzy. Rune’s curse had surely died when he became mortal two weeks ago.

  The unfairness of it made Carrick’s stomach roll.

  Sadly, Zora shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. She died of a plain old aneurysm that couldn’t have been prevented. It had nothing to do with the curse.”

  Carrick gazed out over the sea. The sun was starting to set on the horizon, making the water ripple with oranges, yellows, and reds.

  So fucking unfair.

  “We were going to get married today,” he said. Why—he wasn’t sure. It was an intimate detail, one he had not shared with anyone. It just made Finley’s death seem all the more tragic and painful.

  “I know,” she replied softly.

  Carrick jerked, turning to her. “You know?”

  Zora’s cheeks flushed, which was another sign of her still-held humanity since gods didn’t get embarrassed. But she shyly admitted. “I have been periodically checking on my sister.”

  Carrick couldn’t help but chuckle. For everything Zora had been through and the life she gave up—of course, not knowing she’d become a god as gratitude and respect for her sacrifice—she deserved to keep tabs on her twin.

  “Her death was fortuitous,” Zora murmured, which caused Carrick to stop dead in his tracks.

  “Fortuitous?” he exclaimed, his tone not merely surprised, but also angry. “How can you say that?”

  “Because as her sister, the god of Life, I had a say in what happened to her soul.”

  Carrick’s legs went weak at her inference. His voice was choked when he asked, “And what exactly did you have to say about it?”

  Zora smiled. “I learned a thing or two from my own creation,” she drawled. “It was fascinating to snag a soul before it left the body. Plus, wow… the things you can do to it once you have it in hand.”

  Now Carrick was lightheaded. His heart was pounding so hard that he was positive it would explode from his chest.

  Could that kill a demi-god?

  He wasn’t sure, but he was sure that he needed Zora to put him out of his misery.

  “Zora,” he croaked. “Is she…?”

  He couldn’t bring himself to ask it.

  But Zora didn’t make him suffer. She merely turned her body slightly before nodding down the beach in the opposite direction they had come from.

  And there she was… walking toward him.

  Red hair spilling over her shoulders in a crazy mass of curls. She wore a yellow sundress and a big floppy hat, although it wasn’t needed with the sun starting to set. Barefoot, she strolled toward them with her feet in the water.

  Carrick felt Zora’s hand at his back. She gave him a little push. “Go to her.”

  He took a step, needing no more encouragement, but he hesitated.

  Glancing back at Zora, he said, “Thank you.” It wasn’t enough to convey his gratitude, but he figured she understood.

  She inclined her head before disappearing.

  When Carrick looked the other way, Finley was only ten yards from him. She stopped, laced her hands before her, and swirled one foot in the water with a coy smile.

  He merely stared at her, feeling like he could do just that for hours and still be content.

  She held her hands out to the side, waved them, and cheekily said, “Surprise.”

  Surprise, indeed.

  One hell of a surprise.

  EPILOGUE

  Finley

  Seven years later…

  “Naomi,” I yell for the second time as I cut up a cucumber for a salad.

  Still no answer.

  “N-a-o-m-i…” I practically scream, knowing damn well my voice carries up the stairs and into her playroom.

  Steady footsteps come toward the kitchen, much heavier than a six-year-old’s. I look up as Carrick walks in. He’s in khaki shorts, a ratty-looking tee, and flip-flops. He’s adapted well to the southern California lifestyle.

  “You sound like a banshee when you yell like that,” he teases, leaning against the counter.

  “She deliberately ignores me,” I reply, but not in a c
omplaining way. More to acknowledge that she’s very much like her own mother.

  “She’s six years old,” he counters. “She’s pushing boundaries.”

  Laughing, I shake my head. “God, I love that kid, but she’ll be the death of me yet. Just last week, she was climbing on the deck railing.”

  Which was incredibly dangerous given we live cliffside on the Pacific Coast Highway just outside of Malibu.

  I reach for another cucumber, ruminating on our daughter’s antics at the same time. But I don’t pay attention and the knife slips, cutting into the side of my index finger just below my second knuckle.

  “Ouch,” I exclaim, dropping the knife and moving to the sink. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  As blood pours from the wound, I turn the water on to hold my finger under it. Carrick doesn’t move, completely unconcerned that I’ve almost lopped my finger off.

  I pull my hand out, nab a few paper towels, and wrap them around the finger. The wound only mildly throbs, but I’m distracted by the patter of little feet.

  Naomi runs into the kitchen, making a beeline for her father. Carrick bends, scoops her up, and then tosses her into the air. She laughs gleefully, but I wince at how high he threw her.

  Her gaze meets mine.

  Blue-green-gold eyes identical to mine. Hair a mass of springy red coils.

  My mini-me.

  “What happened to Mommy?” she asks Carrick.

  “She cut herself with a knife while chopping cucumbers,” he replies.

  Her little nose wrinkling, Naomi proclaims her disgust of all vegetables. “Ewwww.”

  Most mommies would be offended at their kid’s total lack of sympathy over their injury, but not me.

  When I pull the paper towel off, the cut is already healed, nothing more than a tiny pink line that will fade in another minute or so.

  That’s the benefit of having a sister who is the god of Life.

  It’s also the benefit of being immortal.

  Yes, when the aneurysm in my brain ruptured, causing near-instantaneous death, Zora moved quickly. She snatched up my departing soul, used her newly infinite magic, and, with the encouragement of her new brother and sisters—the gods—she formed me anew.