Blood Pact

by Nazri Noor

  “Found it,” Gil said, lifting an amulet triumphantly, its chain snapped right off someone’s neck. “I think we’ll be holding on to this, just to be safe.”

  Metric fell to one knee, grasping a thug by the collar, and screamed in his face. “Why are you here? Who sent you?” She shook him, her eyes huge, his eyes even huger, widened in terror. “Answer me or I’ll rip your heart out.”

  “She’s not joking,” Imperial said in a stage whisper.

  “The – the Society’s leaders,” the man stammered. “What’s left of them. They said we needed to complete the ritual. That Delilah’s conscious again.”

  Metric threw him back to the ground. “Delilah Ramsey? Isn’t she with the Brandts?”

  “Yes,” I said. “They stripped her of all her possessions, all her jewelry and enchantments. How could they have – ”

  “You’re forgetting,” Imperial said. “Delilah has always wanted to be a true mage. The Brandts would have warded her room, but perhaps we didn’t give her enough credit. Perhaps the woman knows a few spells, including how to dispel protections on her own.”

  “Perhaps,” I said, reaching for my phone, tapping out the quick message to Bastion that I’d meant to sent the night before, except I forgot because of that whole thing with Mammon. “And Mammon gave them our address?”

  “Vengeful one, that,” Imperial said, tutting.

  Gil grimaced. “That’s bad news. I don’t like people knowing where we live.”

  Mama Rosa cracked her knuckles. “Let them come. I will break their bones and turn them into adobo.”

  Metric waved a hand around her, then at Rosa. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

  Still wearing her stony grimace, Rosa replied. “Thank you. I love your hair.”

  “We need to get going,” Imperial said. “I’m sure you kids don’t want the Lorica paddy wagon coming directly here, so we’ll ferry these shits right out of your way, if there are no objections.”

  “None whatsoever, ladies,” I said. “Thank you for showing up when you did.”

  Metric sighed dramatically. “A drag queen’s work is never done.” She pulled a compact out from among the folds of her dress, flipped it open, then blew on it. A cloud of powder gusted out, then settled onto the Fuck-Tons and their six prisoners, who all vanished in what was very likely the most fabulous teleportation spell I’d seen yet.

  Mama Rosa grunted and turned back to restaurant preparations. “I like them,” she said. “Very strong.”

  “We like them too, Mama Rosa,” I said, staring at my phone, then dialing Bastion when I couldn’t take it anymore. But the call went straight to voicemail.

  “Put that down,” a new voice said in my ear. I whipped around, my heart thumping, only to come face to face with Apollo.

  Chapter 29

  “Where were you – how did you – ”

  “I just got here,” Apollo said. “What’s up, everybody?”

  Gil waved hello. Rosa nodded. From the kitchen came an orange glow as the portal to the Boneyard finally activated. Carver and Mason strolled out, followed closely by Asher, who had Banjo cradled in his arms. Sterling, it seemed, was asleep.

  “Where the hell were you guys?” I said.

  Carver blinked at me. “Preparing for the ritual. Is something the matter?”

  “We were just attacked by the Society of Robes.” I jerked a thumb at Apollo. “Also, this guy is here.”

  “Then you didn’t need us after all, did you?” Carver said, with an infuriating calmness. He nodded at Apollo. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Delilah Ramsey is awake,” I blurted.

  This time Carver looked at me more seriously. “Have you been in touch with the Brandts?”

  “I’m trying Luella’s phone now. Voicemail.”

  Carver nodded. “Try not to worry for now, Dustin. They must be handling the situation well enough on their own, then. Let us complete this ritual, then you may panic. Surely the Brandts will return your call soon enough.”

  I nodded back. Point taken. The Brandts were probably busy holding the fort. We had our own problem to deal with, and with the question of Banjo’s origins answered, we could nip Delilah’s plans right in the bud. If that meant depowering an enchanted dog, so be it. Corgis weren’t meant to explode people, anyway.

  “He likes me,” Apollo said, chuckling as Banjo licked at his face.

  “Good,” Asher said, curling his fingers at the dog’s stomach. “Because otherwise we’d have to scrape you off the walls.”

  “Mason,” Apollo said. “What’s up?”

  All heads whipped in Mason’s direction. The silence was palpable. His eyes darted around the room. “What? We’ve met.”

  “Okay,” I said. “And how did that happen, exactly?”

  “Long story,” Apollo said, throwing his arm over my shoulder. He smelled like sun tan lotion, and olive oil. “We should get started.”

  “Excellent,” Carver said, clapping his hands to get our attention. “Then it begins. Link hands, everyone.”

  We arranged ourselves into a ring, with the table piled high with expensive offerings – and one very peckish Apollo, who wouldn’t stop poking at the lumpia Mama Rosa made – at the center. Banjo snuffled around the ground inside the ring, distracted by his own little pile of Puppy Yum biscuits.

  Carver had explained it, the way Thea had before. Big magic needs bigger gestures, not just one or two people, but as many as you can gather. Calling a goddess to appear out of her domicile definitely qualified as some very big magic. That was the rationale behind cults like the Viridian Dawn, the Society of Robes. Put enough psychic power behind the same intent, and you can change the world.

  Thea said so herself, in terms that made my skin crawl: “That’s how you get an apocalypse going.”

  I shoved those thoughts out of my head, focusing instead on what we, as the Boneyard, were doing. What we always did: saving the damn world, from this darkness that Delilah wanted to bring, to stop her from sending up another signal flare for her mad masters. We were done with the Eldest. No more. The Old Ones were dead, as far as I cared. Let the gods of myth walk the earth as they were meant to. Fickle as the entities were, they were still ours, as close to human as gods could ever be.

  “Sis,” Apollo yelled.

  Especially the Greek ones, it seemed.

  “Yo sis,” Apollo shouted again.

  I looked at the others, puzzled. Mason shrugged at me, his fingers stiff against mine. I looked to Mama Rosa, my hand tiny and frail in hers, but she only grunted.

  “This is highly irregular,” Carver muttered. “I was expecting an incantation, or – ”

  “Your brother is calling, sweet sister,” Apollo said. “Won’t you come? I’ve prepared a feast. The finest wine. Succulent, roasted meats. Fresh fruit. And these little Filipino egg rolls that look so good.”

  “Not egg rolls,” Mama Rosa grunted. “Lumpia.”

  “Yes, that. Artemis? Come on.” Apollo ran the edge of a golden knife along his hand, spilling his blood. This was still a communion, after all. The rules for the rituals of summoning were the same, then, whether performed by humans or gods. Apollo thrust his head to the ceiling, his teeth glinting as he grinned. “I Arte-miss you.”

  Mason groaned. But that did the trick. A pool of silver light shimmered in the ceiling, forming into the shape and cratered image of a full moon. The moon-pool rippled, as if disturbed by a pebble, only it wasn’t a pebble, but a toe.

  A whole sandaled foot followed, then the other, then strong, tanned legs, and the rest of Artemis’s body floated out, droplets of silver running off her skin as she slipped into Valero. Her gaze was set coolly on her brother’s face.

  “What is this? I don’t hear from you for months, then suddenly you roll into town – fully knowing I have a perfectly good tether in the botanical gardens – and then – oh.” She looked around herself, shook her head slowly, then folded her arms. “I’ve been bamboozled. We
ll done. At least the decor is nice.”

  “Thank you,” Mama Rosa said. She let go of my hands. I turned to Mason, half smiling, then disentangled my fingers from his. He shrugged, folded his arms, then nodded towards the siblings.

  “So. This is what counts for normal in your life, eh?”

  I shrugged. “You get used to it.”

  He shook his head, sighing. “Angels, demons, gods. What’s next?”

  I sighed, too. “I’m not sure I want to know.”

  “Fine,” Artemis said, throwing up her hands. “That lumpia had better be so good it makes my head spin. Someone chop up that pig, I’m starving. I’ll do the dog first, then everyone shut up and let me eat. Deal?”

  “All the food you want,” Mama Rosa said, her hands clasped together, her cheeks rosy. The restaurant truly was her passion at the end of the day. The woman loved feeding people, and it was clear that she and Artemis were going to get along just fine.

  “Get over here,” Artemis said, getting down on her haunches. Banjo immediately warmed to her, licking at her fingers, sniffing at her sandals. “That’s a good boy. Now, look at me.”

  As if suddenly capable of understanding English, Banjo stopped wagging his little corgi tail and looked directly into Artemis’s face. He sat in place and stayed completely still, mesmerized by the goddess’s power.

  “Well, shit,” Artemis breathed. She placed one hand under Banjo’s chin, lifting his snout closer as she pressed two fingers between his eyes. Banjo didn’t react when the pale blue rune appeared on his forehead.

  “Well, shit,” I echoed. “What is that?”

  “That,” Apollo said, “is a problem. That’s the dog’s identification. He’s marked, and that’s the owner’s name.”

  Carver squinted as he peered closer, then groaned, rolling his eyes. “Gods above and below,” he murmured.

  “I don’t like the sound of this,” I said. “What does the rune say?”

  Artemis turned to me, blinked, then sighed. “It says Odin. Odin All-Father.”

  My phone rang that very instant, and I was sure I wasn’t the only one who jumped, jolted out of the tension. I fumbled for my phone, ready to turn off the ringer when I realized I was still waiting for a call from Bastion. It was probably just him. So I checked the screen – and my heart very nearly stopped.

  It said Odin. Odin All-Father.

  Chapter 30

  “Don’t pick up,” Apollo warned.

  “No, pick it up,” Carver said. “We need to know what he has to say.”

  “Pretend you missed the call,” Asher said. “You were on the toilet.”

  Mason shrugged. “I mean, everyone uses their phone on the toilet. Am I right?”

  “Everybody shut up,” I shouted.

  I cradled the phone in both hands, like I was waiting for it to explode. I’d saved Odin’s number – the Twilight Tavern’s business line, that is – when I called about that favor he never wanted to give me.

  Banjo looked at me over his little shoulders, Artemis’s spell faded. He seemed pretty interested in what the All-Father had to say, too.

  “Damn it,” I said. “Damn it all to hell.”

  “Put it on speaker,” Gil whispered. And so I did.

  “Hello? Dustin Graves?” The voice on the other end of the line was gruff. No valkyrie secretaries or receptionists this time. Odin was all business. “Little human? Puny mageling?”

  Okay, so not all business.

  “I’m here,” I said, my voice squeaking. “I mean, I’m right here, Odin. How’s it hanging?”

  Apollo slapped himself in the forehead.

  “How is what hanging, exactly?” Odin blustered. “If this is some kind of awful joke about that time I hung from a tree, then you can just – ”

  “Sorry, I’m sorry. It was a figure of speech. Modern human talk. Now. How can I help you?”

  “You know exactly how, mortal. Give me back my dog.”

  “Your – I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “The little one,” Odin snarled. “The one with the small, pert posterior and charming black eyes.”

  “Ohhh. That dog. Yes, I think I’ve seen it around.”

  “Someone discovered the mark I left on its forehead,” Odin said. “Not just anyone, but someone powerful enough to unmask its true nature. I see it even now, burning clear in my mind. It is dangerous for that creature to fall into the wrong hands.”

  “We’re well aware of that, Odin, which is why we don’t intend to let it – ”

  “Return the dog to me, or there will be hell to pay.”

  I looked around the room, at the mixed reactions – the god twins with their barely contained horror, the members of the Boneyard, shaken, yet defiant. Banjo panted, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.

  “And what exactly would you do to Banjo if you did get him back again?” I said.

  “You’ve named it? You poor fool, growing attached. Put it to death, of course. The creature was an accident, swept up in one of my hunts.”

  I frowned. “The Wild Hunt? That kind of hunt?”

  According to myth, Odin loved to do exactly that, going on frenzied hunts with teams of horses and dogs, sweeping across the land, gathering hunters and hounds to the cause, whipping their blood into froth as they rampaged.

  Odin groaned. I could tell that his eyes were rolling. “We happened to pass by some human settlements on our last hunt. One of those giant stone huts you call ah-part-ments. The frenzy of the hunt reaches out at times, touches what it can find, gives it power. But a corgi? This stubby little beast? What good is it for a hunt? It is of no use to me. Return the dog to me that I may dispose of it.”

  “Over my dead body,” Carver snarled, his fingers locking around my phone. “Do you hear me, All-Father? You can pry Banjo from my cold, dead hands.” Carver’s eyes burned into me with genuine, visceral rage. “Tell him. Tell the All-Father.”

  My voice squeaked as it came out of me. “Oh. I think he heard you.” Apollo had his face buried in his hands. Artemis was stress-eating lumpia by the fistful.

  The silence on the other end of the line was far more terrifying than anything Odin, the All-Father, the king of the Norse pantheon, could say.

  “Listen,” I said, openly quivering. “We can take good care of Banjo. Give him a good life. He’ll be safe with us, and you’ll never have to worry about him again.”

  “I will find you, human,” Odin said, slowly, carefully. “I will find you, and the man who dared to defy the All-Father, the one with the cold fingers and the dead body. Do you hear me, you filthy revenant? Gungnir will taste your blood. Sleipnir will trample you to dust. And I will drink from your skull.”

  I pulled with all my might, but Carver yanked on my phone even harder. He brought it close to his lips, and hissed. “We’ll be waiting.”

  The line went dead.

  “Oh my God,” Asher said. “We’re all dead.”

  “You’re all dead,” Apollo said, casting his finger around the room. “It was really nice knowing you.”

  “Yeah,” Artemis said. “Listen, can I get this stuff to go? It’s been great, but if Odin shows up, I’d really much rather be far, far away. Like, in a different dimension.”

  “Please,” Carver said, stroking Banjo behind the ears, the god-mark on his forehead fading. “With the Boneyard’s new protections, and the rune on the dog’s head under my control, Odin will never find us.” He nuzzled his nose into Banjo’s head, laying a multitude of noisy kisses. “Daddy’s little murderer.”

  I shook my head. “You’re like this whole other person. Who are you?”

  “Don’t listen to the bad man,” Carver told Banjo.

  My phone rang again. I jumped, catching it as it made a little flip in midair. The room was deathly silent once more. Carver glared at my phone, like it had played a role in murdering his entire family. My heart was going to explode. But it wasn’t Odin this time.

  “Bastion,” I breathed, rel
ief flooding my chest. “Finally. We heard Delilah woke up.”

  “Yes,” Bastion said. “And things are not great. You’d better get here as soon as possible, and don’t bring the dog with you. I’m concerned about this whole Society thing. We’ve got Delilah bound, but she keeps talking about something that lies sleeping. That isn’t truly dead and gone.”

  My blood ran cold. Delilah’s last words at the Ramsey House, before she went into her coma. “It waits.”

  The pause on Bastion’s end was hardly comforting. “That’s what she said. Get here, as soon as you can. Bring back up. And don’t. Bring. The dog.”

  I ended the call. “You guys heard everything. Someone needs to stay here with Banjo. Everyone else? Who can come with?”

  “I’m out,” Apollo said. “Did my part. But as for you – we’ll be seeing each other again, Dustin Graves. Pretty soon, I hope.”

  I shook my head. “Not too soon, damn it.”

  Mama Rosa pushed more plastic tubs of leftovers into Artemis’s overflowing arms. I thought I saw a container of flan in there somewhere. I didn’t even know we had flan. Artemis waved, her mouth full, and the siblings vanished in shafts of silver and gold that fired straight through the ceiling.

  “Must clean here,” Rosa said, shaking her head at the mess.

  Asher sighed. “I’ll stay with Banjo. I always miss out on all the fun.”

  “I sincerely doubt that this will be any ‘fun,’ Mister Mayhew,” Carver said. “I shall stay as well. Reinforce the wards, in case anyone tries yet another bloody infiltration. Or worse, a siege. We shall send Sterling to your location just as soon as the sun goes down.”

  “Then I’ll come with,” Gil said.

  “Count me in.” Now, that, I wasn’t expecting. Mason stepped forward, his fists bunched at his sides, his chest puffed out.

  “I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Mason,” I said.