Hidden Goddess (Shadows of the Immortals Book 4)

by Marina Finlayson

  “I can hardly go around asking everyone ‘do you have a piece of Zeus’s lightning bolt?’, now, can I? People are going to get suspicious. Besides, Poseidon hasn’t spoken to me in years. He’s been holed up in that fortress of his since long before all this trouble with the shadow shapers started, refusing to let anyone in.”

  Syl glanced at me, and I knew what she was thinking. Breaking into fortresses was my specialty.

  “But maybe if you turn up on his doorstep, he’ll talk to you. He’s always had a soft spot for you.”

  Apollo grimaced. “More for Artemis than me. He only tolerates me because she’s my sister.”

  “Who do you think might have the other one?” Syl asked. “Who else is he close to?”

  Hestia and Apollo looked at each other, as if each hoping that the other had the answer.

  “No idea,” Apollo said finally. “Most of the gods have gone to ground. We could search the underworld, I suppose.”

  Hestia eyebrows rose in surprise. “You know how to get to the underworld? Are you in touch with Hades?”

  “Not lately,” Apollo said. “He’s disappeared.”

  “Oh, dear. Not another one.”

  “Poseidon might know,” Lucas said. “Or he might even have them both.”

  “That would be wonderful.” Hestia sighed. “I’m worried that Zeus doesn’t have much longer. His messages seem to be getting more and more disjointed. If we don’t get him back soon, he may be lost forever.”

  Well, that was a cheerful thought.

  8

  “Won’t you stay longer?” Hestia asked, looking at Apollo with what could only be described as puppy-dog eyes. “You had nothing to eat or drink. You make me feel like a bad hostess.”

  We stood in front of her house, saying our farewells. The day was warmer now, though the sun had little bite to it at this altitude.

  “At least let me save you a walk and get one of the boys to give you a ride back to the temple.”

  Apollo agreed that that would be a good idea, so the four of us soon piled into a four-wheel drive driven by a tight-lipped fireshaper. The bumpy dirt road wasn’t conducive to conversation, which suited me just fine. Hestia had spoken of finding the other two lightning bolts as if it were something simple, but I could see us getting dragged into a quest that could take forever, and I was not happy. We didn’t speak again until we alighted at the boxy little temple.

  “Friendly guy,” Lucas said, watching the dirt-covered vehicle drive away.

  “The only good fireshaper is a dead fireshaper,” Syl murmured under her breath, giving me a cheeky smile. I’d said those words plenty of times in the past.

  “With maybe one or two exceptions,” I said.

  “You’re getting soft in your old age.”

  We followed Apollo inside the ugly little brick building. Syl and I held his hands, one on each side, and Lucas took Syl’s other hand. Together, we stepped forward and landed in the lounge room of Winston’s new home in Berkley’s Bay, our so-called local temple. There was no sign of the priest himself; only his acolyte hurried from a back room at the sound of our arrival. The poor kid dropped to his knees at the sight of his god, visibly shaking.

  “My lord! How may I serve you?”

  “Is Winston back yet?”

  “No, my lord.”

  “I’d better join him, then.” A look of irritation flashed over his face. “I need a decent Ruby Adept to manage things for me. I don’t have time for this.”

  “If you’d had a decent Ruby Adept in the first place, none of this would have happened,” I said. Or, at least, if the Ruby Council had been on guard against the corruption of the shadow shapers, instead of half their members lining up to join, the current situation would have been less dire. Maybe Apollo should have concerned himself a little more closely with what his followers were doing before it affected him directly. The gods had basically set the shapers, with their dangerous powers, free to run the world as they saw fit. It was no wonder things had gotten out of hand.

  “You make it sound as though the fireshapers’ disloyalty is my fault.”

  “If the shoe fits,” I said. Syl gave me a horrified look, but I’d had enough of these so-called gods squabbling among themselves while the world burned. None of them trusted each other—even Hades, who seemed the best of them, knew a lot more than he was telling. Stupid Hestia had been sitting on that damned lightning bolt for a year, too scared to tell anyone else for fear of becoming a target herself, and now she’d dumped the whole problem in our laps. All I wanted was to save Hades and get Jake back, not get dragged into this whole mess.

  Apollo took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, because I’m going to need your … talents … to get me in to see Poseidon, if he proves uncooperative. First, I’ll have to find out where he is, and then I need to finish dealing with the situation in Crosston.”

  “Didn’t Hestia say he was hiding out in his fortress?” Syl said.

  “It moves around,” Apollo said, his voice flat. Not happy with me for delivering a few home truths. “Sometimes it’s a cruise ship, sometimes a floating island.”

  “A floating island?” Lucas repeated, incredulous. “Wouldn’t that be pretty obvious?”

  “It’s hidden by magic,” Apollo said. “I’ll have to make some enquiries. It should only take me a few days.”

  “A few days?” I said. There was no point in the rest of us sitting around twiddling our thumbs. “We’ll go to Brenvale while we’re waiting, then.”

  “No,” said Apollo. “We’ll need to move immediately once I have the information. Wait here for me.”

  “No?” The acolyte, still kneeling, blanched at my tone. But I was no follower of Apollo’s. He didn’t get to tell me what to do. “You’d leave your uncle in captivity so you’re not inconvenienced?”

  “It has nothing to do with my convenience,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “Zeus is more important. Didn’t you hear Hestia? We may never get him back if we don’t act now.”

  “I’m saying we can do both. You do what you have to do; we’ll go hunting for Hades. He’s suffering. You know better than anyone how the shadow shapers treat their captives. Did you enjoy your year in captivity so much?”

  “Of course not.”

  “So we can’t just leave him there. What if you can’t find Poseidon? Why should Hades wait just on the off-chance that you might need me?”

  “Fine,” he spat. “Go, then, if you insist. But I won’t be available if you get into trouble.”

  “Fine. When you see Winston in Crosston, tell him to send back Cerberus. He’ll want to come with us to save his master.”

  A muscle jumped in Apollo’s chiselled jaw. “Do you have any other errands for me?”

  I folded my arms. “Nope.”

  The poor acolyte had his face buried in the carpet by this time, his body curled into a ball of obeisance. Apollo glanced down at him. “Remain here until your master returns, boy.”

  “Y-yes, my lord,” the boy whispered, but Apollo was already gone.

  ***

  Winston didn’t show up until the next morning. At least it wasn’t five o’clock when he knocked, plus he did it much more politely than Apollo had the day before. I couldn’t imagine the serene Winston ever hammering on someone’s door.

  When I answered the door, he smiled tentatively at me. “I’ve brought Cerberus back. May I come in?”

  “Of course.” I opened the door wider and he stepped inside, followed by Cerberus. All three tails wagged in the same rhythm. “Just because I’m pissed with your boss doesn’t mean you’re not welcome.”

  Indeed, I was very happy to see him—we were all impatient to be off. Our bags were waiting by the door, ready to be packed into Joe’s truck. I was hoping it would be a quick trip, but I had a change of clothes, a couple of knives, and my lock picks. In the pocket of my jeans, the all-important key that Brontes had made nestled, ready to unlo
ck the collar that the shadow shapers would have put around Hades’ neck.

  Syl and Lucas had gone for a walk on the beach, too impatient to sit still. I’d elected to wait, hoping Apollo wasn’t too angry to send Winston back with Cerberus as requested. I knew the big dogs would never forgive me if I left them behind, and who knew what they’d get up to if I did? The thought of hellhounds running around unsupervised was more than a little alarming.

  And now here they were. One of the dogs butted his big head against me affectionately, though he said nothing. I stroked his soft, black ears. *Good to see you again, buddy. Did you eat any fireshapers in the big city?*

  *SHINY MAN SAID NO,* he replied, in offended tones. Seemed like Apollo was getting on bad terms with everyone lately. At least Hestia still thought the sun shone out of his butt.

  “You’re back in full regalia today,” I said to Winston. He wore his official red robes, his hands buried in the long drooping sleeves. “What happened to those casual outfits you’ve been wearing?”

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  “Really?” I arched a teasing eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think priests were allowed to proposition young women. Aren’t you supposed to be celibate?”

  A tinge of pink coloured his cheeks. “A proposal, then.”

  I was more than half tempted to point out that he couldn’t propose to women either, but decided to have mercy. That flush was adorable. “I’m listening.”

  “I know you and my lord had some differences of opinion about the best way to schedule everything that must be done—”

  I interrupted. “If you’re going to try to persuade me not to go to Brenvale, you can save your breath.”

  “Not at all,” he said hurriedly. “I am completely in agreement that Lord Hades must not be left in the hands of those devils a minute longer than necessary. But my lord is genuinely worried. He would never say so, but I think he fears that you will not return.”

  What could I say to that? “The thought had crossed my mind,” I admitted. “But I still have to go.”

  “I agree. But the quicker you go, the sooner you will be back, and ease my lord’s mind.” He held up his right hand, the long red sleeves of his robe falling back to expose the golden ring Apollo had given him. “I propose taking you there.”

  “That would certainly save a long road trip,” I said.

  “What would?” Syl asked, coming in with Lucas, their bare feet still covered in sand.

  “Hitching a ride to Brenvale. Winston is offering to get us there via magic ring.”

  “Cool,” Syl said, giving Winston a smile. “It’ll make Joe a happy man if we don’t have to borrow his truck.”

  “Are you sure you won’t get into trouble?” I asked. “Apollo’s not exactly happy with me at the moment.”

  Winston shrugged. “Perhaps today he will be angry because he is cranky with you. But tomorrow he will remember that you are his friends, and then he will be happy that I helped you.” A small smile tugged at his mouth. “I will tell him tomorrow.”

  I laughed. “I like the way you think.”

  Ten minutes later, we stepped onto the stone floor of another temple. This one was certainly more impressive than the last, tiny one we’d visited. It was nowhere near as big as the great temple in Crosston, of course, but smooth columns held up a ceiling satisfyingly far above our heads, and the central fire pit was wide and deep.

  The temple was long and narrow, rather than circular, and a large statue of Apollo loomed against the far wall. The god was sitting in judgement, with a scroll in one hand and a set of scales in the other, and looked regal and imposing, his golden curls lying in neat ringlets on his shoulders. A handful of people knelt before the statue in prayer. They had their backs to us, so they didn’t see us appear out of thin air, four people all awkwardly holding onto each other and three large black dogs. The priest stirring the coals of the sacred fire, however, visibly started, and almost dropped his poker.

  His thin face drew into a frown of suspicion, and he held the poker out in front of himself, not exactly brandishing it at us, but looking as though he was ready to use it against these strange intruders if required. “Who are you?”

  His voice wavered a little on the last word. He was younger than Winston, but still middle-aged.

  “I am the envoy of our Lord Apollo,” Winston said, spreading his hands wide in a gesture of benediction. Or maybe it was to show that he was unarmed. Two of the supplicants kneeling before the statue sneaked furtive looks over their shoulders at his words. The other must have been truly desperate for the god’s intervention, as he didn’t move. I could have told him not to bother; Apollo was way too caught up in his own affairs to answer anyone’s prayers.

  The other priest’s gaze flicked to Winston’s right hand, where Apollo’s ring glittered, and his stance relaxed slightly. The point of the poker sagged toward the floor. He jerked his head at the rest of us. “And who are they?”

  “Friends of his,” Winston replied succinctly.

  The thin priest offered us a slight bow, and a deeper one to Winston, who did indeed look imposing in his red robes. I could see now why he’d worn them. Combined with the ring, they gave him an authority that the other man didn’t question.

  “Welcome to our temple,” he said. “How may we serve you?”

  The two supplicants had now given up any pretence of praying and were standing, whispering to each other as they watched us. Sound carried well in the large stone room; they could hear every word we said. I glanced at Winston, hoping he wouldn’t give too many details to the priest. The man was probably a devoted servant of his god, but he had a sharp, pointed face that reminded me of a weasel’s.

  “Do you have guest lodgings here?” Winston asked.

  “That won’t be necessary,” I said hastily. My plan was to disappear into the city, not set up in such a public location.

  “Any friends of Lord Apollo are most welcome,” Weasel Priest said. He could hardly keep his gaze on my face as he spoke; he kept glancing at Winston’s ring. The poor man was probably bursting with questions—he’d seen us step out of thin air right in front of him. As far as I knew, Apollo had never created such a ring before, but the man would realise where its power had come from. He must be dying to know who Winston was, and why he’d qualified for such an honour. “What is your purpose here? Perhaps we can help you.”

  “They are on our lord’s business,” Winston said, “and it is none of yours.” Ooh, snap. Atta boy, Winston.

  Weasel Priest offered an apologetic bow, which Winston proceeded to ignore.

  “Good luck,” he said to me. “Let me know when you are ready to make the return trip.”

  “How will I contact you?” I asked, imagining some kind of archaic summoning ritual at the sacred fire.

  He smiled. “Unlike my lord, I have a phone. Let me give you the number.”

  9

  Through the doors of the temple, a strange sight awaited us. I’d thought the Great Temple of Apollo in Crosston had been fancy, but Poseidon’s worshippers had left that in their dust. The temple they had built for their god was directly opposite us as we came out onto the steps, on the other side of a broad plaza, and it dwarfed the building behind us.

  It was tall and slender, made of white stone that sparkled in the morning sun, and someone—or most likely, a whole army of someones—had carved an idiot’s guide to the fish of the world into its gleaming surface. Whole schools of them cavorted across its surface, chased by whales and sharks and a few things I sincerely hoped existed only in the fevered imagination of the sculptors. I shaded my eyes, staring at the thing in awe. Here, I could make out a finned Merrow child peeking out from behind some coral; there, a pod of dolphins leaping playfully from the water.

  In case there was any doubt about which god the building was dedicated to, a gigantic Poseidon reared from the waves at the top of the main tower, a golden trident clenched in his mighty fist. A lake surrounded the who
le, with only a narrow causeway connecting the front doors of the temple to the plaza between us. Fountains in the lake sent water shooting high into the sky, there to form shapes of dolphins and other sea creatures before plunging back down.

  “Well, I guess there’s no doubt this is a watershaper city,” I said. “Although I’m pleasantly surprised—I was expecting a lot more water. I thought there were supposed to be canals.”

  “Oh, there are plenty of canals,” a voice said behind me. It was the Weasel Priest. “This is Temple Square. All the gods have temples here.”

  I dragged my attention from Poseidon’s flamboyant temple and looked properly at the other buildings. Poseidon had one side of the square to himself, but the other three were taken up by nearly a dozen other temples, all much smaller than Poseidon’s. There must be one for every Olympian.

  “This is the biggest piece of dry land in the whole of the Old Quarter. Once you leave here it’s nothing but canals until you reach the New City. Where are you headed?”

  “Do we need a boat, then?” Lucas asked, ignoring the man’s not-very-subtle attempt to discover our business.

  “You can walk if you have to,” he said. “There are paths along the edges of some canals, and alleys between buildings, but water is the most direct route. You should probably hire a boatman to take you where you want to go. It’s very easy for strangers to get lost here.”

  Lucas caught my eye and shook his head slightly. I agreed. No boatmen. The fewer people we talked to the better. I thanked Weasel Face for the information and we set off across the square, steering a path between Athena’s temple and a tiny building dedicated to Hera and Hestia. Figured—they’d shoved the two most often overlooked goddesses into the one temple.

  “Do you have any idea how to find this place?” Syl asked, as the walls of Athena’s temple loomed over us.

  I was glad to get out of the square. Too many people had stared at the three huge black dogs trailing us, all three marching in step like a circus act. I looked back as we left it behind, and saw two of the supplicants leaving Apollo’s temple. The other had stopped to chat with Weasel Face, and both were watching us.