“Married,” I said flatly, and he shrugged. I turned to Morpheus. “I suppose we can move on, then.”
Morpheus nodded. “I don’t suppose you want to help us look for Phantasos?” he said to Phobetor. Phobetor merely raised his middle finger in response, winked at me again, and then stepped back inside and closed the door. I turned to Morpheus again.
“I am so sorry,” he said. “He has zero manners. It’s not surprising, I guess, but I am sorry anyway.”
“It is hardly your fault,” I said. “All right. Any ideas as to where to find Phantasos?”
“It shouldn’t be hard to find him. He checks in regularly.”
“It has to be him though, yes?” I asked, and then I paused. “Unless it is actually you and you have been wasting my time.”
“I would never do that,” Morpheus said. “You can have your queen look at me if you don’t believe me. This is too serious to mess around with and I’m as pissed off as you are. You’re right. It has to be Phantasos, but I really don’t want it to be. He’s the brother I actually like.”
“I am sorry.”
Morpheus shrugged, and we walked down the pathway leading away from Phobetor’s cabin. “It is what it is. I’ve been thinking about all of this quite a lot. I think immortality is not the gift we once all thought it was.”
“I can think of several immortals who would disagree with you there,” I said.
“Yes. They can disagree with me all they want while they flail and connive and try to find some reason for their existence. We may have been necessary once, but it has been a very long time since anyone needed us. We exist, but our existence is pointless. You of the Nether are the only ones of us who are totally necessary.”
“Not true. Have you noticed the fairly permanent summer we seem to be finding ourselves in? That is because we lost the goddesses of autumn and winter to this madness. And what about you? How will the mortals dream without you and your brothers?”
“It may very well be that I don’t have my brothers around for much longer. One of them, at least. And then it will all be up to Phobetor and me. I suspect the humans dream, even when we are not involved,” he confessed quietly. “We are useless.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. As if I did not have enough to worry about without my fellow immortals having existential crises.
“I do not believe that.”
“You’re just being nice,” he said, scuffling his foot a bit as he walked.
“No. I have no tact at all. You can ask anyone who knows me,” I told him, and he let out a short laugh.
“Is Phobetor always like that?” I asked him.
“Pretty much. Our powers make us. Not as much as yours do,” he amended, “but they shape our personalities. I’m more likely to get lost in daydreams or fantasies. Or nightmares. Depending on what kind of mood I’m in, really. So I tend to be more relaxed in general. Phobetor deals in terror, sadness, and rage, so he’s always rather abrupt and aggressive.”
“And Phantasos?”
“Phantasos is the god of message dreams. Have you ever had the kind of dream that you just know is trying to tell you something?”
I remembered a few nightmares about Brennan that seemed to be warnings. “Maybe.”
“Well, that is his domain. He doesn’t control what you see, of course. But his presence is the reason you have those dreams.”
“Are those dreams always accurate?” I asked him.
“Like all dreams, they’re up for interpretation. Your mind, your dreams. We just help them along and monitor them. There are some immortals, lesser, who sometimes try to influence people through their dreams. Nasty business. We try to protect the dreamers from that. Phobetor especially enjoys that kind of work.”
He took a breath. “I suppose we have to do this now.”
“I am sorry,” I said again.
“It’s fine. I will tell him I need to see him. He’ll come. And then you can do whatever you need to do. Damn it.”
“Maybe it is not him,” I said, even though the words were hollow. I knew it, and so did Morpheus.
He merely held out his hand, and I took it. We rematerialized, and I found myself in a very modern house looking out over a large body of water.
“Where are we?”
“Seattle,” he said.
“Dream god business pays well, does it?” I asked as I looked around at the soaring ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows, and expensive-looking furniture.
“I am thousands of years old. A little bit of saving, a little bit of investing…” he shrugged. “You don’t expect me to live in squalor, do you?”
“Whatever. Can you contact Phantasos now? I need to get moving.”
He nodded and picked up a phone. “Feel free to listen in. I don’t want you to think I’m warning him away or anything.”
“Oh, it would be very foolish to do anything like that. You don’t seem like a foolish immortal to me,” I said mildly.
“Threats, Guardian? Phobetor would be impressed.”
I gave him a bored look and he shook his head and picked up the phone. “I swear I am surrounded by humorless gits,” he muttered as he waited for Phantasos to answer.
A few quick words later, Morpheus hung up. “He is on his way.”
“Good. Hopefully we can get this wrapped up quickly.”
“Phantasos will do what you tell him to do. He has always been very malleable that way.”
I nodded. All that meant was that he was likely quite easy to manipulate as well.
I sat in one of the leather wingback chairs in Morpheus’s office and looked around while we waited for Phantasos.
“Drink?” Morpheus asked, and I shook my head. “Do you mind if I have one?”
“Go ahead,” I told him as I studied the painting above the fireplace. It was as ugly as Cerberus and nearly as large. Thinking of Hades’ horrendous three-headed dog just made me sad. I still remembered when he’d first gotten it, as a wee, ugly puppy. It had been one of Persephone’s creations and even then, Hades had been the only one even remotely appreciative of the bizarre dog. It had gone into mourning after Hades’ death, and had been subdued ever since. It mostly wandered the woods near Mollis’s palace, sometimes joined by her two Netherhounds, but often alone. It always returned to the castle at night, though.
“Guardian?” Morpheus said, and I shook my head.
“Yes?”
“I was asking if you like abstract art,” he said, nodding toward the painting I had been looking at.
“No.”
“Oh.”
“I mean, I am sure it’s quite a nice painting. It just is not my style.”
He nodded and we were saved from any further conversation by the distinctive “pop” of another immortal appearing.
“Brother!” Morpheus said, holding his arms out. He hugged the stocky, bearded immortal who had just appeared. Phantasos looked past Morpheus and saw me sitting there. I gave him a little wave.
“Oh, shit.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Phantasos, Eunomia. Eunomia, Phantasos,” Morpheus said. Phantasos stood there, staring at me with a mix of anger and resignation on his face. Morpheus had kept his hand on his brother, and I realized that he was doing it to prevent Phantasos from rematerializing away. The dream god was not as flighty as I had thought him to be. Good.
“Nice to meet you, Phantasos,” I said, and he merely nodded, not taking his eyes off of me. “I have some questions for you.”
“I can’t believe you did this,” Phantasos muttered to Morpheus. “You’re selling me out to one of them? To a death immortal?”
Morpheus shrugged. “You should have thought of that before you meddled in things you shouldn’t have. You have made such a damned mess, brother.”
“You can’t prove that I did anything,” Phantasos said to me. His voice had a scratchy quality to it that made me wish for a throat lozenge or a drink of water. I studied him for a few moments, allowing him time to become u
ncomfortable. I have been told I can be rather intimidating when I want to be. Sure enough, he started squirming, and seemed capable of looking anywhere but at me. While I let him squirm, I tried to decide what I thought of him. He should have been an attractive male. He had, individually, plenty of good qualities: dark hair and beard, chocolate-brown eyes, a muscular body, and full lips. But somehow, when they were all put together, it all looked like too much somehow. It reminded me of the type of thing I had seen school children do, quite a while ago. They would cut out pictures from magazines and put them together. Collage. That was what it was called. Phantasos looked like someone had taken every attractive feature they could find and muddled them all together. The result felt off, somehow.
“Would you stop looking at me like that?” he finally shouted.
“Like what?” I asked innocently.
“Like I’m something you’re about to dissect.”
I smiled, and I was well aware that it was not one of my more friendly smiles. “That may be on the agenda, unless you start talking. We know you were involved in this mess.”
“Again: prove it,” he muttered.
“I do not need to prove it. All I have to do is have my Queen look into your mind.”
“I could fight her if I wanted to. She’s nothing more than a pup, still wet behind the ears. She has no idea how to be an immortal, despite being handed a throne by her daddy.”
“Hades died,” I said in a low voice. “Show some respect.”
“I have nothing but respect for Hades. He would have been better off putting literally anyone else in charge. Tisiphone or Megaera. Hell, even you would have been better than someone who doesn’t know a damn thing about our world.”
“Our world is not the one that matters. All she needs to have is a sense of justice and the desire and ability to punish those who deserve it. And she has both,” I added. He was about to say something, but I beat him to it. “We are not here to talk about Mollis Eth-Hades. We are here to talk about you.”
“Yeah, what about me?” he asked with a defiant lift of his chin. It was the kind of look that made me want to punch him.
“I want to know why you are erasing memories. Who are you hiding?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Have you noticed that the world is falling apart around us?” I asked him as calmly as I could. “We can’t stop the undead. We have several immortals missing, and I have the bad feeling that they are no longer among the living of the mortal realm. And every time we find someone who would know something about who is behind it all, we find the most curious thing. Would you like to guess what it is?”
“I don’t care,” he said, and Morpheus slapped the back of his head. “Ow. Bastard,” Phantasos grumbled.
“Please, continue, Guardian,” Morpheus said.
“We find that all traces of whoever is behind it have been erased from their minds. Mental manipulation is not a common ability. Other than the Furies, you Oneiri are the only ones who do that.”
He did not say a word, refused to look at me. I exchanged a glance with Morpheus.
“I will have to take him to the Furies,” I told him.
“I understand,” Morpheus said, then heaved a sigh.
“I’m disappointed, brother. I do not believe for even a second that the queen of death will spare your life, and I don’t really think she should. I will mourn you,” Morpheus said. There was an emotionless quality to his voice that I knew well. How many times had I used the exact tone myself? I had a sense, again, that if we had actually known one another, Morpheus and I might have been friends all these years. He could be annoying, I supposed, but he was not bad overall.
“Then help me. Don’t send me to her,” Phantasos said, trying to shake free of my grip.
Morpheus shook his head sadly. “Your part in this destruction of our world must be punished. You helped take everything from us.” I gave a start, staring at Morpheus. He turned toward me and met my eyes for just a moment. “Don’t look so surprised, Guardian. I have seen your dreams and nightmares, as well.”
I nodded. Of course he had. He knew.
“You need to tell your queen.”
“She will know the instant she sees me,” I said, and he nodded.
“Does Nyx have nightmares about it?” I asked quietly as Phantasos looked between the two of us.
“Do not tell her, dumbass! The realm of dreams is none of her business!” Phantasos shouted.
“And the realm of mortals is none of ours, and yet we wouldn’t be in this situation if you had remembered that fact,” Morpheus said, refusing to look at his brother. “I cannot see our Creator’s dreams, Guardian,” he said. “At times like this, I wish I could.”
“Me too.” I took a deep breath. “Thank you for your help.”
“You are welcome. Do not hesitate to call on me if you require my assistance in the days to come.”
I bowed, accepting that honor for what it was worth. Everyone knew the dream gods had no interest in any of us.
Our existence, that collection of things we had always known, was changing once again. It was all happening too fast, and it felt like we were doing nothing more than careening at top speed toward the brick wall that would eventually end us all.
If only I had the power to put on the brakes.
“Did you want to say goodbye?” I asked him, and Morpheus shook his head.
“I said goodbye the moment I realized it had to be him. We have had thousands of years. There is nothing left to say,” he added with a shrug.
I nodded, feeling sorry for the dream god. He was clearly in pain, despite the calm, rational words he spoke.
“Farewell, Morpheus,” I said, and then I closed my eyes and focused on the Netherwoods, on the waiting area outside of Mollis’s throne room. In the next instant, we were there, and I could not put off telling Mollis any longer. I only hoped Nether was behaving herself today.
Chapter Fourteen
The two demon guards who always seemed to be on duty outside of Mollis’s throne room greeted me with a bow.
“I will tell her you’re here. I think she’s nearly done with her current group of souls,” one of them said.
“Thank you, Dorog,” I murmured. Phantasos was silent, fidgeting beside me. “It would be easier on you to just tell me what you did. Having her go into your mind is not pleasant. And she will see everything.”
“My life is forfeit. What the fuck do I care?” Phantasos muttered. “Might as well make her work for it at this point. I never should have let myself get caught up in this shit.”
“We agree on that much, at least,” I said. “Why did you?”
He snorted. “What reason does any man have for doing something stupid?” he asked, shaking his head.
“A woman?”
“Got it on the first try, Guardian. And here I left all of my little gold stars at home.”
“Was she worth it?”
He shrugged. “Since I never got laid the way I hoped I would, I guess she wasn’t.”
“You seem rather calm about this.”
“I know what I did. I knew what the risk was. I’m fucking tired, Guardian. I don’t know how old I am anymore. Every single day cascades into the next one, and I don’t care what the day will hold. I just don’t give a shit anymore.”
“So you are suicidal then?” I asked, furrowing my brow.
“I’m just done. The one I wanted… she would have helped make eternity less eternal-feeling, maybe. She never intended to be with me. I was an easy immortal to manipulate.”
I did not know what to say to that. Weakness, I could identify with. Foolishness, absolutely. I knew very well how much I would be willing to do for Brennan, even if I was terrible at expressing how much I cared for him. I would do foolish things and think nothing of it.
However, there is a difference between acting stupid and helping to bring about the end of the world. I am not that sappy yet.
“Wel
l. Looks like you lost on both hands, then,” I finally said.
“Nothing new there, Guardian.”
I was saved from having to say anything else, as Mollis’s door opened and Dorog waved us in. We stepped into Mollis’s office, and I heard the door close behind us. Though I knew it was no louder than a click, it sounded, to me, like crashing thunder.
Mollis stood behind her desk, rubbing her temples. That was not a good sign. That usually meant she was either tired or in pain from battling Nether. I fought every urge I had to rematerialize then, to save her from having to deal with what she would see when she looked at me.
“Hey, E,” she said.
“Hello, my Queen,” I said. “I have someone for you.”
She looked up. Her gaze first landed on Phantasos, and then she glanced at me. Before she could look away, she froze and stared, and I knew she was seeing everything I’d been trying to hide for what felt like far too long. I knew she was seeing Nyx, and pleas, and the end of our world, and my failure in being able to stop it. She was seeing it all.
Tears came to her eyes, intensifying their white glow.
“E,” she whispered in a harsh, lost voice. That one syllable, that one letter, was enough to make tears come to my eyes as well.
“I am sorry, demon girl,” I whispered. “I am so sorry.”
“No wonder you haven’t been around,” she said. I searched for anger, hate. I searched for betrayal, that I had kept yet another thing from her.
“Don’t do that. I understand why you didn’t. And there was nothing I could do anyway. You know what I’m dealing with here, and you are one of the few people who actually tries to make my life easier. I love you for it. I’m not mad at you.”
“You should be,” I said. “I am a failure.”
“You and your team, because there are more than one of you, I might add, are fighting against impossible odds. This wasn’t a fight we ever had a chance of winning, E. I know my grandmother well enough for that. The only one I’m pissed at right now, is her.”
“Can you talk her out of it?”
She snorted indelicately. “Come on. You know her better than I do. You really think she’ll take a damn thing I say into account. If I could even find her, which, of course, I can’t. I’ve been trying since the undead became an issue, figuring that if anyone would have answers, it was our Creator. Guess I’m fucked there, huh?”
Zealot (Hidden: Soulhunter Book 3) Page 12
