by Jaymin Eve
“It was nice of you to let him do that,” I smiled politely. “I really appreciate it, and I’m sure they did too.”
He sighed, rolling his eyes up for a moment. “Answer the question.”
“No, I won’t scream. Unless you have to touch me in any inappropriate places—and if you do, then I feel like your job as a rule-enforcer should be taken away because that’s an abuse of authority.”
“You’re right.” He narrowed his eyes on me. “I’ll make a complaint as soon as I’m done here. There has to be someone around here to handle complaints and deal with them accordingly.”
“They really don’t do any quality-control on you, do they?” I asked. “They do quality-control on the dwellers all the time; making sure they do their jobs and are still loving the gods and the sols with every fibre of their beings. Someone really needs to quality-control you.”
He groaned, grabbed the apple out of my hand, and shoved it so hard against my mouth that I had to bite down on it out of reflex.
“Make sure you bring breakfast every time we speak,” he said. “It was a great idea. Now hold still, and don’t scream.”
I tried to say I can’t scream because you shoved an apple in my mouth—but it turned out that I also couldn’t do that. Because I had an apple in my mouth. Cyrus seemed to find my conundrum funny, because his lips twitched upward into a self-satisfied smirk, and then he had his hand against my chest, right over the semanight stone. The smirk faded away almost instantly, and he closed his eyes.
He’s doing the intention thing, I thought, watching the focus on his face. Was that something they taught in the sol schools? And if so, who taught the Original Gods and the Neutrals?
They’d never had any reason to teach ‘control over god-given powers’ in the dweller schools, because they were too busy teaching things like ‘how to cook and clean and worship things.’ I hadn’t succeeded in many of my cooking endeavours, because objects and ingredients kept sneaking into my recipes that weren’t supposed to be in there. I also hadn’t been very good at the serving lessons, because I seemed to naturally repel order and cleanliness. The worshipping lessons I had actually excelled in, because genuflecting to a statue with my forehead against the floor had turned out to be a very comfortable sleeping position.
“You’re thinking very loudly right now and it’s hard to concentrate,” Cyrus complained, his forehead creasing in frustration.
“Sorry,” I muttered, after dislodging the apple from my mouth. I pulled it back up to take a bite. “It’s all in the intention, Neutral. Just a tip.”
“Thanks, doll. That’s really helpful.” He popped his eyes open again and wrestled the apple off me, attempting to shove it back into my mouth.
I managed to knock it out of his hand, but that unfortunately sent it bouncing to the floor. I watched as it rolled beneath a decorative side-table, and then I turned to the rest of my sandwich instead. Cyrus was already back to ignoring me, and I paused with my mouth half-full as pain fissured along my chest, sending a flood of darkness to the edges of my vision.
I quickly swallowed the bread that was trying to fuse with the back of my throat, and tried to muster the words to warn Cyrus that I was about to black out, but it was already happening.
Great, I thought, as my eyelids started to flutter. Try to fall forwards, not backwards.
I teetered for a moment, on the edge of luck and balance, before the forces that drove my life eventually won, and I started to tip backwards.
Fourteen
Consciousness returned, and with it came hurried whispers. “There has to be a way to keep her out of this fucking game.” Yael’s rage was palpable. “They’re doing this to punish us. I think we should just war against the gods.”
My throat was dry and my words were raspy when I said, “Bad idea. Gods are bastards.”
I managed to prop my eyes open then, to find myself staring up at a familiar wooden ceiling. Five faces filled the space above me, looking down from an impossible height, and as I struggled up, multiple hands reached down to assist me. I looked around to confirm what I had noticed upon waking. We were in the lower level of the Sacred Sands arena. Off to the right were the stairs that would lead us up into the main arena.
My hand reached up and clasped onto the necklace, feeling some reassurance that it was still in place. I wondered if the rest of the link had been reinstated. I have boobs! I sent that thought out, and when five heads jerked in my direction, I knew that my soul-link was back, and still as strong as it had been before.
I struggled to my feet, somewhat steady as I reached out and wrapped my arms around Aros. My body relaxed as tension I hadn’t even realised was there disappeared altogether.
“Ahh, my soul-link is back!” I cheered.
Aros laughed as he pulled away, his eyes locked onto my face. “You have boobs? That was the thought you decided to share?”
I shrugged, stepping back from his warmth. “It’s a fact. Facts are important.”
His eyes lingered on my face before slowly dropping to my chest. “I agree.”
“If you’re all done screwing around, it’s time for us to deal with the current situation.” Coen was still all business-like, which was annoying.
With a whoosh, a small fire sprung up on the bench I’d just been sitting on. All six of us turned to stare at it. No one said anything for a click, before Coen spoke again. “They’re going to call us at any moment. We need to draw our rounds out so that there’s a good show, that way Willa will have no pressure on her to entertain.”
“What order do we go on in?” I asked.
Coen’s broad shoulders shifted uncomfortably. “I have no idea. They’re doing their best to keep us in the dark.”
The heat at my back was growing more intense, but still no one bothered to mention the small fire in the room. I wasn’t sure anyone thought anything of it anymore, since it seemed to happen so regularly around me.
“So I’m allowed to use my Chaos powers?” I wanted to know the rules; I couldn’t have anyone else getting punished because I didn’t listen this time.
Rome nodded. “Yes, you can use anything at your disposal. Don’t forget that your opponent will probably be a gifted sol, so they’ll also have abilities.”
I heard a small shriek then, and spun toward the sound. A blonde, male dweller had just dashed around the corner and was staring with wide eyes at the six-foot flame right behind us. He started gasping and flapping his hands in the air above his head before he turned and ran off again. I looked behind me, making sure there was nothing else going on that I had missed. Nope, just a little fire.
“I love the way you keep saying little fire,” Aros said, laughter in his tone. “It’s singeing the ceiling, sweetheart.”
Sure, there were a few black marks spreading across the ceiling, but it didn’t look that bad. A barrage of footsteps echoed through the area, and then at least a dozen dwellers dashed down the stairs and hurried to where we were standing.
They all bowed low, before multiple sets of flapping hands were waved at us. “Please leave this area,” one said in a rush.
Another leaned closer and whispered, “There’s a fire behind you.”
My lips twitched, but I fought the smile back. “Thanks, but it’s fine. It’s just a l—”
“Little fire,” Aros said.
I glared at him before letting out a ragged breath. “Okay, maybe it’s medium-sized now, but I’ve seen worse.”
None of the Abcurses looked surprised by this, and I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out. Half of the dwellers were still bowing to them, so I figured that was punishment enough. One even hit the floor in an attempt to get as low as was possible. They weren’t going to stop until we left the room, so to save everyone time, I reached out and laced my right hand with Yael’s, and my left hand with Siret’s. “Come on, we might as well wait over here.”
I dragged them toward the stairs, knowing the others would follow. When we were near the b
ottom step, an announcement rang through the room.
“Calling to the arena: Coen Abcurse, gifted with Pain.” There was a slight pause, and then the announcer continued. “He will face Leonard Fitzwilliam, gifted with Ember.”
I tilted my head to the side and met Coen’s gaze. “Ember?” I asked.
“His hands can create fire. Not like you do. He has to touch something to use his power.”
I nodded. That wasn’t so bad. That was no match for a God of Pain. Only … Coen wasn’t allowed to use his powers. My heart was pounding with heavy, rapid beats as I gulped in air—but I didn’t have time to panic before my hands were released and strong arms wrapped around me.
“I’m going to be fine, dweller-baby,” he murmured into my ear. Some of my panic dissipated at the sound of his familiar, grumbling voice. He’d been so business-like and serious, and it had bothered me.
I wiggled my arms free and wrapped them as tightly as I could around his neck. “Don’t die, or get burned, or kill the sol.” My strangled words had him chuckling.
“Anything else?” He pulled back so he could stare into my eyes. I shook my head rapidly.
“Nope, that’s all.”
Still looking amused, he lowered me down, and then turned to go up the stairs. I must have made a distressed sound, because he let out a low growl, spun back around, reached down and hauled me up with ease. His lips pressed firmly to mine, and all of the air fled my lungs in a rush. Everything inside of me curled closer to him, my body overcome by the instinct to climb his massive frame and press myself as tightly to his body as I could. Tingling shocks ran along my arms, before continuing down to … other parts of my body. His touch was literally electrifying.
“Pain!” The snap of his name seemed to break through the kiss, and he shook himself as he handed me across to Rome.
“Watch her, don’t let her out of your sight,” was his last order before he reached out to Siret.
Without a word, Siret gripped his arm, and full body armour materialised over Coen’s clothing.
“How will they stop you from using your powers?” I asked, my voice breathless.
His solemn gaze met mine. “By threatening the only thing in the worlds that we give a shit about.”
He walked away then, the body suit making him look huge and intimidating. I didn’t tear my eyes away until he disappeared out into the arena above. To distract myself, I looked around at the charred back of the room. The dwellers had cleared out at some point, after putting the fire out. I couldn’t sit still, knowing that Coen was out there, and I couldn’t even see what was happening.
“I need to see him,” I blurted. “Can we go somewhere to observe?”
The guys exchanged a look, but no one argued. Siret led the way, taking us from the stairs and down a small, dark hallway. There was another set of stairs at the end, and I was positioned between Siret and Yael as we marched up. Arriving on a small platform, I moved closer to the railing, only to realise we were looking down on the huge arena.
“This used to be a viewing platform for lesser gods; those who weren’t permitted in the box,” Aros explained.
I nodded a few times, my eyes still locked on the two figures standing down on the sand. There were no obstacles this time, just a huge expanse of free area. The stands, from what I could see, were full. No one would want to miss out on this spectacle.
The announcer’s voice sounded close. “Prepare yourselves, competitors. We are putting eight clicks on the timer. The last contestant standing will be named the winner of the round. Sols, this is your chance to impress the gods: do not waste it.”
A timepiece went into the sky. It was huge, very clearly displaying the arms as they clicked around. Eight clicks … I doubted Coen would need a quarter of that time.
The sol looked wary—who could blame him, really—as he sized up the male across from him. He stood just below Coen’s shoulders, and I could have sworn that he wore lifted shoes.
“You’d think they would have at least searched for someone who might stand a chance?” Yael shook his head, before crossing his arms over his chest. I would have replied, but I was too busy freaking out.
It had begun.
An arm draped over my shoulders and pulled me closer. “Relax, Soldier,” Siret said. “It’ll all be over in a fraction of a click.”
Coen, clearly sick of watching Leonard circle him, let out a visible exhale before he started to move. He wasn’t god-fast, clearly obeying the rules, but he was still fast as his long legs ate up the distance between him and the sol.
Leonard turned and ran away. His scrawny legs were pumping as he launched himself up the side of the arena, clinging on like a small bug of some kind. I absolutely did not blame him. Coen charging at him like that would have been all kinds of scary. Hanging from the wall wouldn’t end their fight, though. I knew that from experience. Coen went ahead and scaled it with the same ease as running across a completely flat surface. Neither of those things were easy for me, but he made it look so simple. When he drew even with the terrified sol, it appeared that they were having some sort of conversation, and I could see Leonard nodding his head with a frozen look on his face.
Suddenly, Leonard let go of the side, and without doing a thing to break his fall, plunged right into the sand below. The crowd let out gasps, and I heard some jeers. Leonard wasn’t making any sounds at all. Leonard wasn’t even moving. A set of doors at the base of the arena burst open, and a bunch of dwellers rushed out to scoop him up and drag him away. Coen just launched himself off the side of the wall, landing gracefully. He strode with a casual arrogance back toward the exit from the arena.
“He didn’t even touch him!” I sputtered out, my voice a half-screech. “How did he get Leonard to knock himself out like that?” I looked between all of them.
The rest of the Abcurses all wore blank expressions, but I could read the dark twinkle in Siret’s eyes.
“What have you five done?” I demanded. “You can’t use your powers; you’re going to get into trouble!”
I might have hated Staviti and Rau, but that didn’t mean I wanted another god fight to break out. Rome patted me on the head, and I would have kicked him in the shins, except his pat soon turned into a soft caress across my cheek. “Don’t you worry. We’ve been getting around the rules of the gods for a long time.”
I was starting to get a sneaking idea of what they had done, and if it was true, then he was … pretty smart, actually.
Some of the shock wore off in the crowd, and the announcer’s voice sounded again. “Next to the arena is Aros, gifted with Seduction. He will be competing against Jewel, also gifted with Seduction.”
Well … shit.
I turned to the golden god and before I could think it through, both of my hands were clenched around the material of his shirt, pulling him close to me. I was already up on my toes, but he had to lift me even higher so my lips could reach his. The kiss burned through me like a ray of sunshine. His goldenness seeped into me, and I felt warmth in every single inch of my being.
He pulled away before I could completely lose myself. My breathing was harsh and heavy as I said, “Barely even rolled me that time.”
He grinned, that beautiful, perfect grin, and I slumped forward, catching myself against his hard chest. “Don’t let her Seduction you,” I murmured. “I’ll come out there and accidentally punch her on purpose. You know I can do it.”
I was set back on my feet as another hard kiss was pressed to my lips. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart, she won’t even get a chance to open her mouth.”
His eyes flicked to Yael, and more of my suspicions were cemented. They were somehow borrowing powers from each other. That way, whoever was in the arena wasn’t using their power, it was one of the other gods.
How were they doing that?
Aros disappeared out of our secret viewing station, passing Coen on the way in—who had to duck his head to get through the door, before he crossed over to join us.
>
I reached up and patted one of his biceps. “Great job, One. Wasn’t worried for a moment.”
He just shook his head at me, but I edged a little closer. “When you said before that they threatened the only thing you guys gave a shit about … well, what did they threaten?”
I was wondering if their mother had returned: maybe they were using her against them. I doubted they could threaten Abil. Their father seemed to be able to handle himself. Four sets of eyes in varying shades of green were locked on me, and that was when it hit.
“Me? They threatened me?” I smiled broadly. “I knew you all liked me. No point in denying it any longer.”
Yael’s brow furrowed and he looked like he was in a great amount of pain. “How can the fact that gods are threatening you almost every sun-cycle not be bothering you?”
I shrugged. “It’s really not a big deal. My teachers and fellow dwellers in the villages used to threaten me all the time too. I’m more than used to it.”
I returned my attention to the arena as Aros took to the sands, walking out into the middle of the empty space and spinning in a small, graceful circle. There was no sign of his opponent. I shifted from foot to foot, growing more anxious by the moment, but Aros seemed to be completely relaxed. He walked a short distance. Stopped. Returned, and did another small spin. He settled his eyes on the god-box, quirked a brow, and his lip tilted up just slightly at the corner. The people in the stands started to fidget, a hushed murmur carrying through them.
Eventually, Aros threw out his arms. “Am I not an appealing opponent?” he called out, his voice carrying across the space clearly.
The stands shook with nervous laughter, and Aros eventually grinned, his perfect features almost mischievous as he faced the god-box again. The laughter faded away as the nervous clearing of a throat filled the arena. It was the announcer.
“The second Seduction sol has … withdrawn from the fight. A new contestant has been chosen.”
