“Each magic mirror is a gateway to another world,” Nero explained as the scenes inside the mirrors changed, cycling to a set of seven new worlds.
Across the room, facing the archways, the seven gods took their seven thrones.
Made of crystals and gems, the Queen Goddess’s throne sparkled with as much beauty as she did. Zarion’s throne, made of gold rather than gems, was equally ornate. Like a burning sun, blinding light pulsed from its shimmery surface.
Ronan’s throne wasn’t formed from precious stones or gold. It was made of beautifully-crafted dark metals. It had the mark of a weapon smith, not a jeweler. Such smooth and perfect lines—such balance, such fierce beauty. Soft light reflected off the throne, making it appear almost liquid, like a molten river of metals flowing in perfect harmony, in constant, fluid motion.
Faris’s throne was blacker than a starless night. The material didn’t reflect the light. It absorbed it all, sucking it in. Spikes jutted out of the throne’s top, exactly the sort you’d expect to find bodies impaled upon. Based on what I knew of Faris’s personality, it was a fitting detail.
Aleris sat on a living tree, its thick roots sinking deep into the marble floor. Pink flowers sprouted from the branches, expelling a fragrant floral perfume. Yellow butterflies rested on the blossoms, softly pumping their wings.
The sister goddesses were perched on thrones woven from strands of precious metals. Meda’s contained mostly bronze, Maya’s an even mix of gold and silver. Delicate metal flowers with tiny gem centers adorned Maya’s fairytale throne.
“Listen closely,” Faris’s voice echoed through the hall, drawing all eyes to him. “I will now outline the perimeters of this training.”
Faris was dominating the gods’ dialogue right now. They must have put him in the director’s chair. Earlier, Faris had claimed the gods were here to push the Legion to higher standards. So why wasn’t Ronan taking charge? He was the Lord of the Legion.
“Your task is to obtain several important items,” Faris continued. “A scavenger hunt, if you will.”
Somehow, I doubted this would be the kind of scavenger hunt with cute riddles, fun challenges, and a bundle of heart balloons at the end of it all.
“There will be seven teams,” said Faris. “Each team will consist of an angel and a level seven soldier. Obtaining the items will not be easy.”
The darkly delighted look on Faris’s face said it would be damn near impossible to get those items.
“We will be watching all of you. Closely. Don’t ever forget that this is a competition, not a party. The level seven soldier whose performance we find most worthy will be promoted to an angel. And we will bestow a special gift of magic on the top-performing angel.”
I could almost hear the cracking knuckles and revving magic rippling through the hall. Oh, boy. Angels and their offspring were highly competitive. Losing wasn’t in their vocabulary, and their egos didn’t leave any room for failure. They’d be pushing themselves two hundred percent all the way.
“Before you get too excited, you should know that I will be choosing the groups.” Faris’s cool gaze slid over our ranks. “Andrin Spellsmiter, you’re with Colonel Desiree Silvertongue. Siri Silvertongue is with General Kiros Spellsmiter.”
Andrin and Siri each went to stand beside their angel partner.
“Isabelle Battleborn, your angel teammate is Harker Sunstorm.”
Isabelle joined Harker, giving him a scathing look. I’d never seen a Legion brat glare at an angel like that. They respected them far too much to feel any disdain for them, let alone show it.
“And Jace Firestorm goes to Leila Starborn.”
Unlike Isabelle, Jace looked relieved. Leila, who commanded Storm Castle, had the most powerful elemental magic of any angel on Earth. She was a kickass warrior and an all-round nice person—not two qualities you often found in combination inside angels.
“Then we have Arius Demonslayer and Nyx. And Delta Wardbreaker and Nero Windstriker.”
Shit. Faris was pairing me with Colonel Fireswift. I didn’t need to count to fourteen to know that we were the only two people left. I knew what was coming, but Faris’s next words were like the final nail in my very dead corpse. Because his words made this real. They made it more than just a bad dream.
“And finally, Leda Pierce, you’re with Colonel Fireswift.”
Numbly, I went to stand beside Colonel Fireswift. It was a partnership made in hell. I couldn’t imagine a partner less compatible with me. From the sour look pinching Colonel Fireswift’s cheeks, he was, for once, in complete agreement with me. And he was looking at me like this whole thing was my fault.
Gods, Faris really must have hated me to pair me up with the sadistic head of the Legion’s Interrogators.
“For the remainder of this training, this person is your partner,” Faris told us. “Let this be a reminder that as a soldier in the Legion of Angels, you sometimes fight alongside friends—and sometimes alongside people you do not like.”
‘Not like’ did not even begin to describe the nature of my relationship with Colonel Fireswift. He positively loathed me.
“Your feelings are irrelevant,” Faris told us. “You serve the greater good. Your duty is to the Legion and to the gods. Don’t swaddle yourselves in love and misguided sentimentality. A time may come when you must fight against your friends and family for the greater good.”
His final words rang loud and long, like a bell echoing in the hall. And as he spoke, his eyes were completely locked on Nero. Long ago, the Legion had assigned Nero’s mother the task of killing his father. As far as the gods’ council knew, both of them were now dead.
“In case you’re tempted to help someone on another team, clear your mind of that madness.” Faris’s gaze slid from Nero to me. “The consequences of breaking the rules will be severe.”
Most of the Legion brats no longer looked so excited about this training. Of course they weren’t. Faris was making it clear that it was no mistake he’d pitted us against those we loved. In fact, pitting us against those we loved was the whole point of this exercise. I didn’t have any idea what the consequences of helping our friends would be, but I could make a decent guess. The world of gods was devoid of mercy. It was a place without happy endings or second chances.
The gods watched our growing unease with mild but detached amusement, just as you’d expect from an all-powerful deity. Faris had basically handed the gods a reality television setup of epic proportions. And we were the unwilling participants.
“Each team will have a patron god. That god will provide you with instructions, which you must obey without question or delay.”
Though Faris’s gaze didn’t pan to me, I could have sworn he was glaring right at me. Or more like right through me. Yeah, I was definitely on Faris’s shit list. I’d been there ever since I’d thwarted his plans to publicly—and very explosively—expose his brother Zarion’s misdeeds.
Faris assigned each team to a god. Andrin and Desiree Silvertongue went to Aleris, Jace and Leila to Valora. Zarion got Arius and Nyx. Delta and Nero were assigned to Maya. Maya’s sister Meda took Siri and Kiros Spellsmiter. That left Ronan with Isabelle and Harker—and Faris with me and Colonel Fireswift.
That decision made me wonder. Had Faris made himself my patron god because he was trying to manipulate the challenges so that I won? That would give him the excuse he needed to level me up, to bring me one step closer to the power I needed to find Zane. I knew Faris planned to be right there when I did find him.
But if he was trying to level me up, the joke was on him. Right now, I couldn’t even level up. I was just stuck.
Not that he knew that. And he couldn’t find out. I closed off my mind, keeping my thoughts in—and every telepath around me out.
“This training will consist of seven challenges,” Faris declared. “Seven challenges, seven items. You see, you will all be competing to steal the gods’ most prized possessions.”
7
T
he Games of Gods
Stealing the most prized possessions of the seven ruling gods did not sound easy at all. In fact, it sounded downright impossible. And the gods did not look happy about it.
“This is not what we discussed, Faris,” Zarion protested. “We were not to be part of this spectacle.”
He and the other gods had been quite content to watch this ‘spectacle’ just a few moments ago. The irony of Zarion’s words was laughable, but I kept my face blank and my internal chuckles to myself.
“You all agreed to give me full control over this training,” Faris replied coolly.
Just as I’d thought. Faris was the one running the show—which meant he could manipulate the show. The reminder that the cold and calculating God of Heaven’s Army was controlling us all knocked the amusement right out of me.
“We agreed to give you some leeway, Faris,” said Meda. “But not like this.”
“Indeed,” Maya agreed. “I do not wish for these earthly soldiers to rummage through my underwear drawer in search of treasure.”
Zarion’s platinum brows rose, a sharp smile cutting his lips. “Just what do you keep in there, Maya?”
She flashed her teeth at him. “You shall never know.”
Meda snickered. Maybe Zarion had hit on Maya before and she’d rejected him.
“Faris is right. We agreed to give him full control over this training,” Aleris said. “And so we must follow through. Our word is gospel. It rings true and real from every world in our domain. It is constant, unbreakable.”
I wasn’t surprised by Aleris’s words. He was a real stickler for the rules. More than anything, I’d taken that knowledge from my few brief encounters with him. He was fair and balanced, never making a decision in haste or out of emotion.
“We did indeed agree to hand Faris the reins in this matter.” Valora gave the God of Heaven’s Army a sharp look. “But tread lightly, Faris. The gods’ council will not be made a mockery of.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Faris turned to address me and the other Legion soldiers once more. “As I said, the seven teams will attempt to steal each god’s most prized possession. But beware. These items are well-protected.”
“Exactly how will you determine each god’s most prized possession?” Meda asked.
“With magic.” Faris flicked his hand, and the doors to the hall swung open.
A man entered the gods’ audience chamber. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of a fairytale—a dark and gritty fairytale. He wore a sweeping crimson cloak over a ruffled pirate shirt made of dark satin, and a pair of knee-high boots over black leather pants. His pale blond hair, styled into dozens of long braids, was like a bright full moon over his outfit’s black night backdrop. His amber eyes glowed like liquid butterscotch, always shifting, always in motion. As he met my gaze, I looked away. There was something very disturbing boiling deep inside those eyes. Something I’d never seen before. I didn’t know what it was, but it scared me.
Everyone in the room seemed to recognize the stranger—everyone except for me. The gods prided themselves on being omniscient, but his arrival had shocked even them. The stranger must have been someone special if his mere presence had stunned the gods to silence.
“First we dine,” Faris declared. “Then the fun will begin.”
He waved his hand, and his godly soldiers ushered servers into the room. Each one carried a platter of food, which they set on buffet tables that had materialized out of nowhere.
Faris had warned us about conspiring with our friends on opposing teams, so I followed Nero to the cheese table under the pretense of hunger. It wasn’t a difficult role to play. I hadn’t consumed anything but blood and Nectar since lunchtime. I was absolutely famished.
Nero lifted the knife and sliced a piece off a particularly potent cheese block. My nose crinkled. If he ate that, I would not be kissing him later. Which was probably a good thing. Smoochies with an opposing team member probably fell into Faris’s definition of ‘conspiring’.
“What do you think of Faris’s team assignments?” I asked Nero.
“Faris does have a point,” he replied. “And it’s perfectly in line with the Legion’s mantra. To be disconnected, detached, so you can do your duty.” He spread the cheese over a cracker. “But I suspect that is merely the icing on the cake.”
“A shiny layer to hide what truly lies inside,” I said.
“Yes. Nothing about this training is random. Nothing is coincidental. Faris carefully planned each and every detail, the team assignments included. He paired up enemies for a reason, something beyond the usual Legion platitudes. The question is what his true motive is.”
“What does Isabelle Battleborn have against Harker?” I asked him. “Do they have a history?”
“Up until a month ago, they were friends.”
“What happened a month ago…” Then it hit me. “The battle at Memphis. Colonel Battleborn died there.”
“But Harker did not,” said Nero. “Isabelle blames Harker for her father’s death. For not saving him. And for surviving when Colonel Battleborn did not.”
“Their team isn’t the only one built out of discord,” I said, glancing at Siri.
She stood with General Spellsmiter, but her eyes focused intently on her mother, like she was silently asking Colonel Silvertongue to tell her what she should do.
“Desiree Silvertongue and Kiros Spellsmiter are locked in a century-long family feud,” Nero explained. “They are engaged in a vicious competition to see whose child will become an angel first. Siri or Andrin.”
Jace had mentioned this competition.
“By pairing Colonel Silvertongue with Andrin Spellsmiter and General Spellsmiter with Siri Silvertongue, Faris created a massive conflict of interest,” I said. “The two angels want to win the gods’ prize, but in doing so, they are each hurting their own child’s chances of becoming an angel before their cousin.”
“Exactly.”
“And then there’s my team. Colonel Fireswift and I can’t stand each other.” I frowned. “Faris made himself my team’s patron god. That’s not an accident either.”
“No, it is not,” agreed Nero. “You will have to be very diligent to keep your secrets sealed and your mind closed. Both Faris and Colonel Fireswift excel at exposing secrets.”
Secrets like how I hadn’t leveled up. What had seemed difficult to hide before, had now been promoted to impossible. I would be working closely with Faris and Colonel Fireswift. How was I supposed to keep that secret from the head of the Interrogators and the God of Sirens? Every day of their immortal lives, they lived and breathed compulsion and control. And they excelled at exposing secrets.
I watched the fairytale stranger across the room. He stood alone, separate, leaning casually against a wall, his eerie amber eyes drinking everything in. “Who’s the mystery man?”
“I don’t know who he is, but there’s no hiding what he is,” replied Nero. “He is an Everlasting.”
He said the word like it meant something. I just didn’t know what.
“A descendant of the original immortals,” he explained, responding to my apparent confusion. “The Everlasting are telepaths, the most powerful in all the worlds.”
“Like a ghost?” I asked. Ghosts weren’t the cloaked spirits of the dead who popped out to say ‘boo!’ on Halloween. No, they were living beings with telepathic magic. The Legion ability ‘Ghost’s Whisper’, the power I needed to find my brother, referred to telepathic magic.
“Even the powerful ghosts on Earth are nothing compared to the telepathic power the Everlasting wield,” Nero told me. “Telepathy was a native ability of the original immortals, one passed on to their Everlasting descendants. The power is not native to gods or demons; they gained telepathy by breeding it into their magic line.”
“So what is a descendent of the original immortals doing here?” I wondered.
“That is a mystery. The Everlasting stay out of the gods’ and demons’ conflicts
. They keep to themselves. I have no idea how Faris convinced one of them to come here, let alone to use his magic to unearth the identity of the gods’ most prized possessions.”
With that said, Nero walked back to his partner Delta Wardbreaker, carrying his plate of cheese and crackers. I grabbed a few final morsels, then left the buffet table too. There was only so long we could pretend to collect food. Faris was already watching me suspiciously.
And he wasn’t the only one.
“What were you discussing with Windstriker?” Colonel Fireswift demanded as I stopped beside him.
“Oh, you know, we were exchanging the usual threats and battle banter,” I replied pleasantly, eating a piece of mango.
Colonel Fireswift’s nose scrunched up in irritation. He was clearly not amused. “Do not consort with the enemy.”
“It’s just a game, Colonel.”
“You stupid little girl. Of course it’s a game, but the games of gods are very real.” His hand clamped down on my wrist. “Don’t give the gods a reason to punish you. Because when you turn their wrath on you, I will share in the punishment.” His voice dropped to a searing hiss. “That’s what it means to be on the same team. You weren’t listening to Faris at all, were you? We share our triumphs and our failures. And I will not go down because of a dirty little vagrant like you.”
His grip hurt like a bear trap, but I just kept smiling. “Has anyone ever told you how charming you are, Colonel?”
“No,” he growled. “They all know that no amount of flattery will save them from the fate they deserve.”
Gods, he was grim. Faris could not have paired me with a less compatible partner. Across the room, Nero was talking to his own partner. He and Delta seemed to know each other. More than that, they seemed to like each other. Even the warring cousins and their angel parents were getting along—and they’d been competing for years.
Fairy’s Touch: Legion of Angels: Book 7 Page 6
