He scanned it quickly, tossed it back. “Confirms what Thoth told me."
"Thoth? You've seen Thoth?"
"He called me out of the blue last night. Seems he has an interesting story to tell.” He filled her in. “Deryk's right, you know."
"About what?"
"About you. You're the only immortal I would choose to follow—if I had to follow anyone. You're damn sure the only one with even the most remote chance of uniting us against the Enemy. Listening to Thoth has made it clear that we better start thinking that way. The alternative ... you don't want to know."
"Probably not. Something tells me I should, though. Send Thoth to me. He probably didn't want to deal with Deryk anyway. Am I right?” She sighed heavily and sagged back in the chair. “I'm hoping Deryk comes back, and soon, but in case he doesn't ... someone has to run this circus. He appointed me, even though I definitely didn't ask for the job."
How's that old saying go? Those most suited for leadership are the ones most unlikely to pursue it? She sat up again, setting her jaw. “You want a leader, Loki? You want someone to give you some direction to follow? Deryk let you run wild. That stops here. That vamp in your basement? Kill it. We don't need any accidents. He's an accident waiting to happen.
"I caught a story on MSNBC this morning. Apparently one of your meta-human ‘kids’ is tearing up Sacramento right now. He's got some kind of beef with the state government—I don't know what—and he's ripping apart the capitol building piece by piece, hurling the pieces at the cops who are trying to stop him. Considering he's now ten feet tall with skin like multiple layers of some living metal, the cops aren't having much luck stopping him. They've called in the National Guard. For one guy!
"That's not the first such story I've seen, Loki. Some of your ‘children’ are out of control, and the government doesn't have the know-how or the resources to do anything about it. So I'm giving the job to you. We need these people out there, ready to take the fight to the Enemy, not fucking up the status quo here on Earth."
Loki looked for a moment like he wanted to argue, but obviously thought better of it. Most likely to avoid injuring her fragile newborn sense of leadership, but she'd take what she could get. “I suppose you want me down there as soon as I can get there."
"Or sooner. Talk to Marianne, see if there's any way you can get a ride on one of the company's jets. Or see if Hermes can take you. I want you there before this gets out of hand.” As if it's not already out of hand.
"But first I want you to go home and take care of your blood-sucking houseguest. For good. Tell Thoth I want to see him and leave a note or whatever for Renee. Let her know I'd like to see her, too.
"Scoot. You don't have a lot of time."
He fired off a mock salute and marched out. She could hear his voice through the door as he spoke briefly to Marianne. Dammit, Deryk. You better come back. I don't want to get stuck doing this for the rest of eternity.
* * * *
Shea grasped a monster by one of its goat-like horns, wheeled around, and threw it bodily into the last creature standing. They went down in a heap. He snatched up a discarded sword, walked over, and hacked both of them into enough pieces he felt sure they weren't going to be getting back up again.
He turned his gaze on Hades, casually sitting there atop his dais as if entirely unaffected by the carnage. Shea bled from a hundred small wounds and a couple of larger ones and it took an effort of will to pull himself up straight. He couldn't afford to even look weak at this point. “So, Hades. How've you been?” he asked casually.
The Dark Lord of the Underworld looked him over and smiled thinly. “You're not looking so good, Deryk."
"This? Merely a scratch."
Hades shook his head and stood slowly. “You know this can only end one way, don't you? Since I have no intention of dying today, I guess it'll have to be you."
"You think you have what it takes? Bring it on.” Setting the pain aside, Shea moved into a low combat stance, eyes like a laser beam cutting through the dim interior of the hall.
"Bring it on? Is that some modern slang?” Hades grinned, a hideous expression in his skeletal face. “I like it."
He reached beside the throne and drew out what looked like a sword, forged out of some crystalline substance. It glowed with its own light, a brilliant emerald green that scintillated up and down its length.
Shea charged.
They met on the second step of the dais, the two weapons clashing with an ominous ringing sound, the crystal blade sheering through the one he'd taken from the dead like light through shadow. Shea ducked under his second slash, rotating his body and firing a punch from the hip that connected solidly just beneath Hades’ floating ribs.
His foot swept out, trying to trip the dark immortal, but Hades leaped it easily and lashed out with a backhand that smashed into Shea's face and sent him reeling. He followed it up with a vicious slash Shea managed to avoid only by throwing himself into a flat diving roll that took him nearly twenty feet away.
He rolled to his feet, eyes scanning for another weapon amidst the bodies strewn across the floor. Spying one, he made another prodigious leap, landing upon his hands and springing back to his feet, a slender blade of some unfamiliar bronze alloy in his grasp.
Hades was upon him, crystal blade striking fast for his chest. Rather than block it completely, Shea deflected it, whipping his own weapon around to slice a piece of the dark one's cheek away. Blood spurted from the wound but Hades acted as though he wasn't hurt, spinning his sword around in a series of slashes and jabs Shea found himself hard-pressed to evade without risking his blade once again.
"I'm not sure what the point of this is, Hades. We cannot kill each other with such weapons."
"Think again, Perseus,” the other replied, using the name by which he'd first known Shea. “This blade was a gift from the Enemy, one that will kill immortals as easily as it slays mortals."
Shea redoubled his efforts, his slender reed of a sword striking with uncanny speed and accuracy to pick away at Hades’ most vulnerable spots. Within seconds the dark immortal was bleeding from a dozen tiny wounds, but not enough to even slow him. Shea knew, at that moment, that he had no chance at all. Hades would kill him and then be released upon the world. Thorne had warned him, when the spell had been initially cast, that it would be tied to his life's blood.
It might have been possible for Hades to find another way to escape, but Shea's death would assure his release.
Abruptly, Shea leaped up, spinning on a single axis, and caught Hades off-guard with a heel-kick to the jaw that sent him to the floor. He scrambled back to his feet before Shea could take advantage. He rubbed at the point of impact, his glowing blue eyes revealing nothing of his thoughts. He too knew he'd win this fight. To allow himself to get angry at this point would only risk what he'd already gained.
* * * *
The dance continued for nearly an hour, until both immortals were covered with literally hundreds of small leaking wounds. Shea matched Hades’ superior weapon with superior skill, strength, and speed, but time was running out. He was running out of energy. Hades wasn't doing much better, but it would only take one serious lapse on Shea's part.
It came fifty-eight minutes into their mythic battle. Shea's foot caught a puddle of blood on the floor and slipped, just a little. It was enough. Two and a half feet of shimmering green plunged into Shea's chest, piercing his heart and emerging in a spray of blood from the center of his back.
In a last, convulsive motion, Shea reached out with his left hand and drove stiffened fingers into Hades’ throat, crushing his larynx. “No last gloating words for you,” he gasped, then spit blood into his face.
Hades kicked him off the end of the blade and flung his blood across the empty throne with a single pass of the sword. He kicked the body and turned to leave. The gate would open for him now, though he'd have to wait for at least a few hours before his throat could heal enough for him to call his soldiers to him.
With his last act Shea had bought the Earth some time.
It wouldn't be enough.
* * * *
Athena watched the sun descend over the horizon from the window of Shea's suite at the top of the Shea Building. The sky was the color of blood. She shivered, suddenly aware of the burden that had been placed upon her shoulders. If Shea was dead it could well be that she alone stood between the Earth and the forces of the Enemy gathering to grind it into submission.
Well, not quite alone.
Soon she'd most likely be meeting with Renee. She wasn't sure what kind of commitment the woman would be willing to make, but, judging by Loki's acceptance of Athena's leadership, she was willing to bet she could assume some degree of cooperation.
And Thoth, one of the only two immortals who practiced magic. His return was a good sign. “Hermes!"
He shimmered into existence a few feet away, a tight redness around his eyes that made him look as though he'd been crying. “What?"
"You okay?"
"Fine,” he answered. “You need something?"
"I'm calling another Gathering. Pass the word."
He inclined his head and vanished without saying anything.
Thirteen
Athena quickly discovered that Shea Industries pretty much ran itself. Shea was—had been—CEO and President, most divisions worked more or less independently with very little oversight from the head office. Once she officially accepted the position, she found she'd also been granted unlimited access to the network. In Shea's PC she found files detailing the various divisions, Heads, and an overview of their latest projects.
She had no idea. Biotech, nanotech, aerospace—including a promising spaceplane project—he must've been jumping for joy thinking of being able to fly a spaceship again, Athena thought dryly. They also had some interest in communications, and even some experimental auto design firms. Shea also sat on the board of the Rizen Think Tank. Now there's something I didn't know.
She shuffled e-mails for a while, trying to get a handle on some of the obscure references flashing back and forth. It wasn't as though the webmaster hadn't been on the ball—she'd had her own e-mail address upgraded to CEO status, all access, the day she'd moved into Shea's office for real. A lot of information that had earlier bypassed her landed right in her lap. She just didn't necessarily recognize what the hell they were talking about.
She also spent a lot of time in teleconference, or communicating via webcam with one of the Division Heads in Houston, or New York, or San Jose. Sometimes it was quite a bit like beating her head into a brick wall.
They were stone-walling her, as if somehow they didn't believe Shea was gone and by giving her anything they'd be betraying him. Marc Brulletti, Head of the Houston office—Shea Industries Communication Division—was the only one who even acted as though he might want to cooperate.
He ran nervous fingers through the thatch of silver speckled black hair perched on top of his head, his other hand fidgeting with his thick glasses. “I'd be glad to send the files to you, if I knew where they were."
She blinked. “You've lost them?"
"The whole project folder is just gone. Erased. Zap. It's supposed to be impossible, but ... well, for every security technology breakthrough we make, there's a counter just waiting to be discovered."
"You think you've been hacked?"
"That's what it looks like.” He plucked his glasses off his face and squinted down at them in his lap off-camera. “I've got to track down copies."
Athena shook her head. Un-believe-able. She'd run across some notes on a project called Mercury, which made her think of Hermes. She wondered if Shea had picked out the name, or if it were somehow coincidental. The notes were arcane enough she didn't know a hell of a lot more than the name. She'd called up Brutelli to have him send the files over. “So who do you think could hack you? Or would hack you?” It had occurred to her, of course, that he might be lying, but—if he was—he was damn good at it. Better than most mortals. He wore the exact right expression of exasperation mixed with fear that he was pissing off the new boss.
"Listen,” he said, leaning forward. “I don't want to get into this over a semi-secure webcast. How ‘bout I see what I can find out and get in touch with you later?"
"That'll have to do."
Mercury was supposed to ‘revolutionize’ communications, according to the notes she'd stumbled across earlier. She was curious as hell and very frustrated that somehow she was being stone-walled. She hit a button on her desk. “Marianne?"
"Yes, Ma'am?"
"Didn't I have an appointment at two?"
"Yes, Ma'am. He just arrived."
"Send him in."
The ‘appointment’ was an interview with a prospective replacement for Marianne, who was taking the opportunity to retire at fifty-five with the generous benefit package Shea had mandated for anyone who'd put in twenty years or better. She planned on a cruise to Bermuda, a whirlwind tour of Europe, then a nice quiet existence on the small farm she'd purchased in upstate New York.
So Athena need a new Executive Assistant—'X-A’ in Shea Industries corporate culture-speak. She was picking that up quickly enough. She wondered if the immortal talent for languages worked for such obscure dialects as well, or if it was just an innate talent.
Oh, I've got talents all over the place. Just nothing that marks me as more than mortal. The thought might have depressed her, only a few weeks before.
She heard the phone ring in the outer office as the door opened to admit a slim, angular young man of about twenty-five with wavy blond hair just a little too long for the corporate world at large. Shea had taken a different view of that sort of thing.
He always had.
Any company that annually does more than ten thousand dollars worth of business with the federal government was required, by law, to implement a drug testing policy. So Shea routed the whole affair through one of their medical subsidiaries and gave everyone he knew personally a free pass. “What they do on their own time isn't my business,” he once told Athena, “and if anyone has a problem, I'll know about it and handle it without the government's interference."
He definitely didn't approve of drug use at work though. He made a habit of reviewing all the test results personally—from new hires to tests conducted under suspicion. She remembered one time when he flew to Arizona to a minor freight company Shea Industries controlled, and took an employee to task right there on the warehouse floor.
She chuckled at the image and stood, hand out. “Adam. Nice to meet you."
He took her hand firmly. She felt a jolt of something indefinable as she looked into his sea-green eyes. Probably just a dose of good old-fashioned lust. He was attractive, in an unfinished sort of way. And it had been ten years or so since she'd succumbed to temptation.
Your mind's really wandering today, Athena. “Please, sit down."
He pulled the soft office chair beneath him and sat, oddly-hued eyes watching her intently. She wrinkled her nose and stared back, bringing up his e-résumé with a touch of a finger on the keyboard. “Impressive. By this I'd think you were an up-and-comer over at GreyCorp—Operations Manager for their Video Division? Amazing, for one so young. I gotta ask, though. Isn't taking a job as an Executive Assistant over here something of a down-shift?"
He gave a barely perceptible shrug. “The job sounds bigger than it is. GreyCorp has been downsizing every division except for CPU manufacturing. Nothing really ground-breaking is expected in video until MIT and Sony finish their holographic television prototype."
She nodded. She'd heard about that project. The only real use she could see for the technology, at least until filmmakers caught up, was in the realm of sports. Not a small realm, but hardly something earth-shattering.
Of course, that might have been her own prejudices talking. “So what makes you think you want to be my X-A, anyway?"
"I'd heard Shea was about the best guy to work for, and figure that anyo
ne he picked to fill his shoes would be top-notch as well."
Flattery will get you ... somewhere. “I wish everyone felt the same way,” she muttered. “Looking at this, I'd have to say you're over-qualified, though an X-A at Shea receives a salary competitive with the one you were receiving at GreyCorp as a project manager. The work is completely different, though."
"I realize that ... Miss Cross, is it? Or do you prefer Miz?"
She waved it off. “Either will do, for now. If I decide to hire you, I'll be Athena. In the meantime, why don't you tell me a little about yourself I wouldn't know from this.” She tapped the monitor screen by way of illustration.
About halfway through his fifteen minute self-examination, she realized that she wasn't buying a word of it. Nothing concrete, but over time she got the impression it was all manufactured, maybe someone else's life entirely, maybe a pack of lies woven out of whole cloth. She had no way to be sure, but she was certain of one thing ... he was bullshitting her, and he was very damn good at it.
Question was—why?
She let him come to a rambling stop and simply sat there, watching him. Rather than grow more nervous, as most people would, he seemed to close in on himself and become more assured. It struck her as almost eerie.
Not human would be another way to put it. “How interesting,” she said finally, when it became apparent he wasn't about to say anything else. He doesn't strike me as dangerous. Of course, I could be wrong. But how much harm could he do to me?
Now that depends. What killed that bastard Malice?
She had two distinct options. The first one, calling the guy on it, didn't strike her fancy. If he was some sort of plant, she'd sooner know who he was and have him where she could watch him than take a chance of the next one slipping by unnoticed. “You're hired."
His face brightened. “Really?"
She nodded. “Really. Starting now, you can call me Athena.” She stood, stuck her hand out. He clasped it, his handshake firm. “Marianne will start filling you in on the position. She's leaving at the end of the week, so I hope you're a quick study."
Loki's Sin Page 17
