Brookes didn’t say anything. He’d just asked a question. He hoped he was right in that she wouldn’t do it. Cut off his prize and honor.
She continued, “The Eye of the World is broken. The gods can’t see the world like we used to. We need him dead, killed by a human to restore the faith in the true believers. To show that we don’t have to lift a finger to mete out justice. It’s easier to kill a cancer cell when it starts small.”
Brookes looked around the room, at the remains of the family that were starting to go sour. Yeah, not a finger, he thought.
“You do that and you’ll have your team. Now, finish up. You’ve spent too much time here.” She turned and walked to the next room.
“I asked you a question,” Brookes said. Queen paused. Why in the hell didn’t he keep his mouth shut?
Queen looked at him. A sliver of a smile crept up her mouth. But it went away instantly. She pulled out a cloth and wiped her hands in such a manner that it seemed like a religious habit.
She used to make him bathe for hours before she would even come close to touching him, and now, she barely batted an eye at his smell, at his existence. How ungodly. He wondered how low she’d fallen down the rabbit hole to fuck a sub-being like him.
She said, “I’ll cut it off next time.”
She stepped through the door and he knew she was gone. He didn’t know what her power was but whenever she left the room, she disappeared. The rumor was that she was the god of death. She could travel through the spirits of the dead as they moved to the Radiant.
Despite all her talk, he was enamored with her, to the point that he would say there was a connection between them. But she’d never admit that. As she was Queen, the god of death and the ruler of Ifor.
…
Kevan sat in his car, Sotira’s Ifor headquarters in front of him. His hands gripped the wheel. He had to do this. For his mother.
He stepped out of the car and walked in. The inside was oddly plain. The walls were white, the light was buzzing and draining. He walked to the front counter. A secretary typed on her computer.
Kevan saw the name on her tag, Shelly.
“Um, hello, Shelly. I have an appointment to see the head.”
“Was your meeting set by Mr. Bertek?” she said.
“Um …” Kevan paused. “Who?”
“Sorry. By a Brookes Bertek?”
“Oh yeah, Brookes. That’s him.”
“Okay. Please take a seat in the waiting area until I call your name.”
Kevan looked around and saw a waiting area in the corner with about twenty chairs. He walked over and sat down.
…
Kevan sat and sat. He watched the clock tick away an hour and then another.
His ass was sore, his back was stiff. What in the hell was the wait? He walked up to the secretary and before he could say a single word, the building shook and a loud boom rocked his ears.
“What the hell was that?” Kevan asked.
“Your meeting. Right this way.”
The secretary stood and walked him down a hallway. As he passed open doors and offices, he noticed this place seemed oddly normal. Nothing godly about it. People typed on computers, talked about what was on TV the previous night by the water cooler. Was this where his father used to work?
The secretary stopped at the end of the hall and knocked twice.
“Come in,” a voice said. Kevan walked through the door and the secretary left.
In front of him sat Svante, the god of war. He leaned back in his chair with his legs on his desk while smoking a cigarette. His office was oddly sparse. There were no pictures on the walls, no furniture except for his desk, the chairs around it, and a lonely plant in the corner.
“Kevan Hedley? Right?”
“Um, yes sir.”
“Sir? Just call me Svante.”
“Yes, Mr. Svante.”
Svante laughed and motioned for him to sit.
“Now, Mr. Hedley, what is it that you want?” Svante leaned back in his chair. Kevan guessed that as a god, you could relax as much as you wanted to.
“I need help.”
“Everybody needs help, one way or the other. I’m going to need you to be more specific.”
Svante looked so young. In fact, he and Kevan looked about the same age. But Kevan knew he was centuries old. He didn’t know how long gods could live though. Maybe forever.
Svante looked bored, indifferently smoking his cigarette. Kevan needed to put him at ease, or at least get his attention. Maybe that would help Kevan with his nerves.
“Sorry to ask this… but you look really young, is that because you’re a god or is it for some other reason?”
Svante laughed.
“That’s a good question. Out of all the current gods, I’m one of the youngest.”
“I thought you were all immortal?”
“Immortal? I’m not sure if we really are immortal, I’ve seen us age with my own eyes. But I’ve never heard of one of us dying of old age. Maybe we haven’t existed long enough for Grandfather Time to take us.”
“That’s … interesting.”
“But gods can die. I’ve killed some with my very hands.”
Kevan didn’t know how to respond to that.
Svante said, “Now, I’m sure you didn’t come here to speak of my age or who or what can kill a god. You said you needed help?”
“Yes, for my mother. She has a drug problem and she needs to go to rehab.”
Kevan pulled out the pamphlet for Heaven’s Heights and handed it to Svante. Svante opened it and looked at it. His face didn’t change. “Why should Ifor help out a drug addict?”
“Because, having drug addicts in the streets of your town could negatively affect your image.”
“And my rule?”
“No! I—I didn’t say that.”
“But that’s what you implied.”
“No…” Great, Kevan was already messing up. Svante’s face didn’t change during their whole exchange. Kevan couldn’t get a read on him. “I was just saying that, because of my father’s contributions to Ifor, we could possibly receive a little help for her problem.”
“I know exactly who your father was.” Svante put the pamphlet down. “You know, we used to have programs for people like your mother. The human ability to succumb to chemical dependency was a common problem with this town. At least, that was what the previous head said. But some gods don’t understand what these drugs do to humans.” Svante exhaled a puff of smoke. “So, they got rid of the programs.”
Svante sat up in his chair. “I’m sorry, we don’t have the budget to help you. Send her to a cheaper rehab center, there are plenty.”
“What? She’ll never break her addiction at one of those places. I know enough people who go to those third-rate hell-holes to know they don’t work. Your town is filled with crack addicts because of that shit!”
“Sorry—”
“After all that my family has done for Ifor! After all my father has done for you gods. After my father has died for you! This is how you repay him!?”
Kevan stood and stormed out of the room, slamming the door on his way out.
Svante was left staring at the door. He put out his cigarette and sighed. His budget didn’t have room to give any handouts. That was the point. To give the bare minimum to the humans. Queen knew what she was doing.
He stood. There were reasons he chose to be stationed in a position where he could interact the most with humans. The first reason was because a lot of gods were assholes. Especially Queen. And the second was because humans weren’t as lowly as the monkeys they came from anymore.
With his power, he could’ve ruled next to Queen herself.
He needed to make a few phone calls.
…
Brookes sat at the bar at the Skullet. He had two empty glasses in front of him. The bartender brought him another. He stared into the clear liquid. He couldn’t get drunk anymore. But god-dammit, he tried. Trying to find some
thing to wash away the darkness inside him. To wash away the memories.
He swallowed the drink whole. It burned when it went down. At least, there was that. A sensation close enough to pain.
The TV over the bar was on. It usually never was, but Brookes asked for it to be turned on today. The bartender gave him another drink.
The news was on, with a breaking news story. Three families were killed in an apartment complex in Sotira. The news claimed that they were killed by the rebels because they refused their offers to join them.
The cameras showed the remains in the apartments. Horrible stuff: blood splattered on the walls, the chopped up remains of the kids. A few close-ups of the children’s eyes bugging out of their faces. A few bar-goers turned away from the television. The station couldn’t blur out something like that. Ifor wouldn’t let them. At least, Queen wouldn’t.
Brookes heard someone mutter, “Fucking rebels.” It was already working, the disinformation. As Brookes stared at the screen, the bottom title bar ran the phrase, “He is in his heaven, all is well in the world.”
Brookes raised his glass. “All is well in the world.” He downed his drink. He needed something stronger.
The bar door opened and Kevan walked in. He sat next to Brookes.
Brookes asked, “How’d it go?”
“Are you always here?”
“Not always.”
The bartender gave Brookes another drink and gave Kevan a whiskey on the rocks. He didn’t even have to ask for it. He was an alcoholic, like Brookes. Well, not exactly like him, seeing how Brookes couldn’t get drunk anymore. But like another person trying to drink away the bad memories. And Brookes knew exactly what those memories were. He was going to use them.
Brookes downed his drink and said, “So, not good?”
“No.”
Another drink was placed in front of Brookes. Kevan took notice.
“So, what am I going to do now?”
“I don’t know. You’ll think of something.”
“I’ve thought of everything.”
“We all have to do what we need to survive.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“All of us, you, me, your brother, everybody has to do what we have to do to survive.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I don’t know really … I’m drunk.”
Kevan looked at him. Despite all the empty glasses in front of him and him reeking of alcohol, Brookes didn’t look like he had an ounce of alcohol in his blood.
“Understand that, just because you can see into a person’s life, doesn’t mean that you know what he has to do to survive.” It sounded like he was apologizing for something he was about to do.
“This is useless.” Kevan stood.
“Svante will turn, he always does for humans.”
Brookes took another swig of his drink. Kevan stared at him. He needed to go check on his mother. He hoped Brookes was right.
“Thanks for your help.”
Kevan left.
…
Kevan walked into his mother’s house. “Mom!” he yelled. It was dark, none of the lights were on and there was no answer.
Her car was out front, so she must have been home. Where was she? He searched through the living room and the kitchen. He stopped his search.
Her bedroom door was closed. It was obvious, she must’ve been asleep. He went up to the door and knocked. “Mom,” he whispered. He knocked again. Nothing. He slowly opened the door.
“Mom, I need to talk—”
He paused. His mother lay on the bed, foaming from the mouth. Her eyes rolling to the back of her head.
“Mom!” He ran to her. A needle was in her arm, he ripped it out and he shook her. “Wake up!” A moan came out of her mouth. He didn’t know what to do.
The hospital. He picked up her limp body and carried her to his truck.
“Hold on.”
…
August and Sara walked from their car and into their apartment. It was right after their meeting with the rebels. Sara dropped her purse and yelled.
“Finally! We’re making progress!”
She hugged August and they passionately kissed.
“We have to celebrate,” August said. “To a new beginning.”
“Yes, a new beginning. No more lying around. No more hiding in fear.”
August spun her. “We’ll take them down.”
“How about I make us some dinner and you go get some wine.”
“You read my mind,” August said. He put her down. “First, let’s clean up.”
August cleaned up all the beer bottles and empty junk food bags from the coffee table. Sara dusted off the dining room table. They hadn’t eaten at the dining room table in months. Sara coughed as the dust was whipped into the air.
She went through a few boxes next to the table and found some plates and wine glasses and placed two of each on the table.
They hadn’t had a romantic night since they left Sotira. August’s laziness brought down his sex drive and Sara wasn’t up for much, either.
August hoped he could perform after so long.
He finished cleaning the living room and Sara started to cook. He wandered into the kitchen and saw Sara turn on the gas stove. Sara saw him, “Shoo!”
“But I want to see what you’re cooking.”
“It’s a surprise, okay.”
August sat back on the couch, waiting.
Sara yelled from the kitchen, “Go get the wine!”
August almost forgot. He stood up and grabbed his keys. While he was leaving, Sara started lighting candles while the food was cooking in the kitchen.
He stared at her beautiful face. With her, anything was possible. Even killing a god.
…
August held a bottle of wine in his hand. The name of it was in some language that he didn’t understand. But he got it because he remembered Sara saying she liked it.
He stood in the convenience store aisle staring at sex enhancement pills. “Pleasure her all night long,” August muttered under his breath. There were so many pills, all claiming to do the same thing. He didn’t know which one to choose.
He looked around. The cashier was reading a newspaper. There was no one else in the store. Wine and some pills, that’s not suspicious at all.
He grabbed the most expensive one and walked up to the cashier. He placed the wine and pills on the counter. “Expecting a fun night?” the man said.
“Sure.” August gave him his card and looked around; the place was still empty. The feeling he usually got when something was wrong was nagging at him in the back of his head. He glanced out of the store window. His car was sitting alone in the parking lot.
The cashier bagged his things and handed them to him. “Have a great night,” the man said with a wink.
August grabbed the bag and walked out. He glanced around as he walked to his car. There was a hooded man walking toward him from the street. August’s heart skipped a beat.
Shit.
August put his free hand into his pocket. Crap. He had nothing to defend himself with. The man didn’t look at him as he approached.
August grabbed his keys and put the individual keys between his fingers. Better than nothing.
August’s heart pounded in his chest as he closed in on the man. August kept his eyes forward. He couldn’t make himself look nervous.
In a few more steps, the man passed him. Not muttering a single word or stepping a single foot out of line. August glanced back at him. He let out a belated breath.
His nerves were getting the better of him. He got into his car and stared at the man walking into the convenience store. He was just a drunk.
August sighed and started his car.
…
August parked outside of his apartment complex. The ride was uneventful. Nothing was unusual about the traffic or his drive back. It didn’t look like he was being followed. Maybe it was nothing, after all.
August
stepped out of his car and walked toward his apartment. His parking spot was all the way on the other side of the complex from his place. He hated that.
He could imagine the night that he and Sara were going to have together. He hoped the pills would work. Truly, he hoped he wouldn’t need to use them and that he’d be able to get by on her scent alone.
An explosion shattered the silence and rocked the air. August fell back. A plume of orange and black rose into the air. Pellets of dirt and glass rained from the sky. August shielded his face.
What the hell was that?
Once the smoke settled, August saw where it came from. In the distance, there was a smoldering hole in the middle of the complex, multiple apartments laid in waste. In the middle of it all was his place.
“Sara!”
August ran toward his apartment. He heard sirens as he ran. People started to leave their apartments to see what the commotion was. As he got closer, he stopped. There was a massive hole where his place used to be. Nothing could’ve survived that.
August fell on his knees. The wine bottle shattered on the ground.
“No,” he muttered.
“Noooo!” he screamed.
Wine pooled around his knees as he started to cry.
…
Kevan sat in a chair in a hospital room, his mother lying asleep in front of him. The doctor was checking her vitals.
He made it in time. He didn’t have to lose someone else again so soon.
The doctor turned to him, “She was lucky you found her so fast.”
Kevan nodded.
“We were able to save her, but her insurance didn’t go through.”
Kevan sighed.
The doctor continued, “We have payment plans we can set up for you if you need help paying.”
“What? Doesn’t the front desk usually give that spiel? Why is my mother’s doctor talking about money when he just saved her life?”
“Sorry. But Ifor changed the way our medical system works. If your mother doesn’t pay her bill then I don’t get paid myself.”
“Fucking Ifor.”
“To help in the future and to reduce your mother’s future expenses, I suggest putting her up in a rehab center.”
The Men Who Killed God (Sinner of the Infinite Book 1) Page 5
