She moved closer to him so that his face obscured her’s from the camera.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
She couldn’t tell if his eyes were widening in surprise, anticipation, or fear.
Probably all three.
But he was a dutiful soldier and planted an awkward kiss on her lips.
She looped her arm through his and escorted him to the washroom, making a show of looking over her shoulder to make sure no one in the room was watching.
No, she was only concerned with the ones watching who weren’t in the room.
Once inside the washroom she tapped beside her eyes and then beside her ear.
He responded by tapping his ear.
She turned the tap on full and moved close to his ear.
“Take a few members of Charlie and Beta team with you and secure three vans for our departure.”
“Shouldn’t we leave that to the base pit crew?”
Fuyuko shook her head.
“Anubis gave up too easily. I want eyes on our wheels, and I want to know if a fight breaks out we’re moving to a secured location.”
“You don’t think he’d do something like that, do you? It would risk war within the Pantheon.”
Sparx was one of the new generation of Anunnaki—awakened not by nature, but through an injection of Takeda’s Formula. He’d been granted great power by Quetzalcoatl, assuring total loyalty. After all, what one injection gave, another could remove. Surprising the horrors people were willing to endure, and inflict, to retain power.
His newness to the Anunnaki world and devotion to Quetzalcoatl blinded him to the pettiness of the Ageless Ones. She’d learned such naivety could get you killed.
“Anubis already risked civil war by usurping Osiris,” she said. “I wouldn’t underestimate his ambitions. Besides, regardless of his age or power, he can be petty, and I’m pretty sure my performance in there insulted him. He’ll tell Quetzalcoatl he wants my head as his compensation. Either that or he’ll just say we failed in our mission—the terrorists escaped and we were all killed.”
“All?” Sparx gave an audible gulp.
Fuyuko chuckled.
“Really? You think he’d be stupid enough to leave witnesses? Yes, all. So it’s in your best interest to keep our escape route clear, got it?”
He nodded.
“Then get to it.”
Sparx stumbled through the bathroom door. Fuyuko hoped it would look on camera like he was having an issue walking right, not that he was nervous. He approached a few people in the room, then left to gather more, making his way to the garage.
Fuyuko sighed.
They were in a facility entirely controlled by Anubis. Every person aside from her team had sworn loyalty to him. Based on her briefings and cursory observations, that put her team at a disadvantage of about six to one. Not impossible odds, given none of Anubis’ people were Anunnaki, but the likelihood of every member of her team surviving was low.
She wandered the room, checking on them, asking if their wounds had healed, gauging their emotional state. None of them had been handed a defeat as thoroughly as they had today. Was their confidence wavering? When faced with the inevitable betrayal, would they crack, or listen to her orders? Too many variables, too many uncertainties. And perhaps nothing would happen. Maybe all the years of gods and their games had left her jaded and suspicious.
But she was still alive. And that was proof enough to trust her instincts.
Her satellite phone buzzed in her pocket.
A text message read,
Extraction in 6 hrs Alexandria International Airport.
Six hours. She hoped it would be enough time for her team to heal and be ready. Because if the worst happened, they’d not only have this facility, but the entire city, to fight their way through.
6
Answers on the Horizon
Gwynn stared at the reddish hue along the trees to the west, where the sun had begun its descent.
A cool whisper of a breeze blew in from the valley. He didn’t bother to wrap his sweater tighter—the cool air made his skin tingle. He felt alive. At Peace.
If only the breeze could somehow penetrate to his guts, which churned and boiled.
“You should talk to her,” Pridament said, coming from the cabin behind him. “She’ll understand better than you think.”
Gwynn didn’t look at him. Instead, he tried to pick out how many different hues separated the deepest reds on the horizon from the still visible yellowish rim of the sun.
“What makes you think I need to say anything more to her?”
“Gwynn, the last time I saw Adrastia, she was dragging my son…Cain, into the Veil. The same man who seemed intent on killing you. Her last words were to protect you. Her returning means something larger is going on. If she’d managed to kill Cain…” Pridament struggled to spit out the sentence. “Then you would’ve said something—even to me. Instead, you’re standing here, staring at the horizon like you might find your answer out there somewhere.”
Gwynn couldn’t keep the bitterness from his smile.
“And what makes you think my answer isn’t out there?”
Pridament moved in front of him, forcing Gwynn’s eyes onto his own.
“Because, after all my years, after all the worlds I’ve seen,” he pointed to his chest, “I’ve learned the answers to our biggest questions start in here.”
Gwynn chuckled.
“Do you have any idea how corny that sounds?”
“Oh, I know exactly how corny it sounds,” he said. “But you look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong.”
Gwynn stared him in the eye, even let his mouth open to speak, but couldn’t find any inspired words to provide as an argument.
“Fine, you’re corny, but right. Happy?”
Pridament beamed.
“It’s just…” Gwynn looked back to the cabin where an oil lamp inside created dancing shadows in the windows. “I don’t want her to worry. We’ve been through so much, and yet, we’ve found a place where we’re happy. I don’t want to mess that up because of some foolish fear…or even worse, pride.”
“You mean about you leaving?”
“How did you…”
Gwynn shook his head, a soft chuckle on his lips.
“Of course. I forget sometimes I’m married to someone who can see the future.”
Pridament nodded.
“You shouldn’t. Besides, even if she couldn’t, the two of you are close enough she knows something is going on. It hasn’t been your habit to keep things from her.”
“I know, but how can I tell her this?”
“Tell her what?” Pridament asked.
Gwynn told him about Adrastia and what she revealed.
“How is she supposed to look at me, or worse, our daughter, the same ever again? If what Adrastia says is true, Sophia is doomed, and all of this may have started because of my desire for revenge. A desire I pushed on our child. Can you imagine the things our daughter endured because of that decision?”
“Or did you desire to save the world from some pain Cain would inflict? She didn’t tell you all the details, just the ones you needed to know. It’s likely there’s more to her story than she’s telling you. But Gwynn, if she’s telling the truth even just about Cain escaping, she’s right, he will come after you. And you know I’ll do what I can to protect you, but I don’t know if I can stop him.”
“You can’t,” Gwynn said. “I never thought of it until Adrastia said it today, but I feel she’s right, only Cain and I have any hope of cancelling each other out.”
“So shouldn’t you do everything you can to make sure you win?”
“Yes, it’s just…” Gwynn scratched at the remains of his right arm. “When this happened, and then my powers were so stunted, I thought I was done. Then Sophia and I decided to start a family, so we used the Bifrost fragment beneath Asgard to come here. We’d explored it a bit previously, and it seemed perfect—a world untou
ched by Anunnaki madness. When Allison arrived, I looked down at that tiny little person, and I swore my life wasn’t mine anymore—it belonged to her. To leave now…it feels like I’m breaking my promise.”
Pridament shook his head, his hand clapping Gwynn on the shoulder.
“Why do you always find a way to punish yourself? Everything is guilt. When you thought you’d failed to stop the world killer, you were ready just to lie down and die. Then Woten manipulated you, but you still blame yourself for the events of that day. And now, you’re given the chance to regain your power—to protect yourself and your family—and still finding a way to torture yourself. It’s time to stop being the martyr of your story, don’t you think?”
Gwynn tried to find a smile.
“Yeah. I guess maybe you’re right.”
Pridament’s laugh echoed across the valley.
“Of course I’m right. I honestly don’t understand why that continues to surprise you.”
7
Exit Strategy
Brandt, Caelum, and Adrastia exited the Bifrost fragment on Asgard.
Marie waited for them, her back leaning against their van.
“Took you long enough,” Marie said. “I was starting to worry.”
She stopped, looking at the three of them.
“Where’s Jason?”
Brandt looked away. Caelum bit his lip, his body rocking slightly as though measuring out the right tempo of words to use.
“He stayed behind,” Adrastia said, rescuing the two of them.
“Stayed behind? What the hell do you mean, he stayed behind?”
Even as the two men shrank away from Marie’s fury, Adrastia stood impassively.
“It was his plan from the start. He believed staying behind would make Fuyuko look better, meaning no restrictions on her access to the formula. He also thought his life depending on her success would provide her more incentive.”
“Great.” Marie paced, her arms flying about so fast, they blurred. “And none of you thought that was a stupid idea?”
“We didn’t know,” Brandt blurted out.
He shrank away from Marie’s glare that said she didn’t really expect, or want, him to talk.
She turned on Adrastia.
“So are you telling me he shared this plan with only you?”
“I am.”
“And you expect me to believe he would share a plan like that with you, who he hardly knows, but wouldn’t share it with the rest of us who are practically his family?”
“You’re demonstrating why he did it, right now,” Adrastia said. “He knew you would never let him go through with it, so he didn’t tell you. Since I was going to be present for his conversation with Fuyuko, he discussed it with me ahead of time.”
“Well, that’s just great. So we have no formula, no leader, and nothing but a jump drive with a bunch of prophesy bullshit.”
“You looked at the content on the drive?” Adrastia asked.
“I started to. And honestly, I don’t see why you cared so much about it.”
“Then perhaps you should let someone else take a look.”
Brandt moved between the two of them, his hands outstretched, his face filled with the real fear he could die.
“Both of you need to step down,” he said. “Marie, Jason told us to leave without him. He could’ve come, but he chose to stay—so I believe it was part of his plan. We may not like it, but right now, we have no choice but respect it. And you…” he said to Adrastia. “I’m hoping when he discussed this “plan” with you he made it clear he had an exit strategy.”
“I am the exit strategy,” she said.
“Oh fuck.” Marie punched her fist against the van, causing it to tip up on its opposite wheels. “That’s awesome. Just awesome.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Brandt said. “I’m not saying you aren’t all bad ass and stuff, but it seems a little much to think you can save Jason when he’s stuck in a military facility surrounded by Anunnaki.”
Adrastia didn’t bother to look at him.
“I’m sorry if my suggestion to have someone else look at the drive came off as an insult, but if you couldn’t find any value in it, then you missed something.”
Faster than Brandt could blink, Marie was an inch from Adrastia’s face—who, despite the invasion of her personal space, didn’t flinch.
“Then maybe you should just tell me, if you’re so brilliant.”
Adrastia said nothing, just pierced Marie’s skull with her stare.
“God Damn Ageless Ones,” Marie cursed, turning away from Adrastia and tearing at her hair. “You always think you’re so superior, and all you ever do is speak in riddles.”
“You’re right,” Adrastia said. “When you never age, everything becomes a game, and you rarely feel the need to be brief because all you have is time. I’m sorry. And I should be more mindful. Time isn’t as unlimited as it used to be. The prophecies I put on the drive are from Elaios, who told Woten the original prophesy of Ragnarok. I also included the notes from the historian Herodotus, who was an Ageless One and spent centuries researching to find the truth behind prophecies and myths. Its importance lies with deciphering the clues for defeating Woten and the Aesir.”
“But couldn’t that prophesy have come true already?” Caelum asked. “We were told sometimes prophets had visions of future events on alternate Earths. It’s the reason why they sometimes get things wrong.”
Adrastia nodded.
“I know. And it’s why I spent an eternity ignoring prophecies. But Elaios was the Fallen who faced Gwynn in Brantfield eight years ago. She said at the time he was the Harbinger of Ragnarok’s coming. The Gwynn you know saved his world, so if he is the harbinger, then it’s yet to happen.”
“But what about Cain?” Marie said. “He’s Gwynn too.”
“Yes, and I’ve followed him for near every breath of his life. The prophesy of Ragnarok has never happened.”
“So your money is on it happening soon,” Brandt said.
“The Norse cosmology consisted of nine worlds,” Adrastia said. “Precisely the number left after the Cataclysm. There is only one Woten, and he still lives. And the great wolf Fenrir stirs beneath Asgard, but is still bound by the magics of the Aesir. So yes, I believe Ragnarok is coming. And I think those prophecies and research are the only things that can help guide you to victory.”
“Fenrir dies in the legend,” Marie said.
“Yes,” Adrastia said, “it does. And knowing that ahead of time allows you to plan a strategy to prevent it.”
“Can we do that?” Caelum asked. “If everything, even the structure of the universe, is aligning to follow Ragnarok, is there any changing it?”
A wide, genuine, smile spread across Adrastia’s face.
“I’m already working on it.”
8
Family Decisions
Sophia was finishing placing some cups of tea on the table as Gwynn and Pridament returned to the cabin.
Gwynn noticed Pridament giving a wink and nod toward her.
“So…” she said, “are you ready to have an honest discussion with me?”
Gwynn stammered, trying to find the right words.
“I haven’t been dishonest,” he finally managed to say. He cringed at how sheepish and pathetic the words sounded.
“Omission is still a level of dishonesty,” she said. “After everything we’ve been through, don’t you think I’m a little more intuitive? You don’t think I recognize my daughter?” She pointed toward the door.
“You knew?”
She stormed up to him, her eyes just as disappointed as angry.
“No, Gwynn. I carried her inside me, watched over her every second of life, noted every change and new hair, but I didn’t recognize our daughter’s eyes staring back at me from that woman’s face. But somehow, you magically did. Are you really that egotistical, because I thought I married someone better than that.”
Gwynn looked to Pridament for
support, who held up his hands and gave a this is your mess to fix, shake of his head.
Gwynn took her hand, tried to channel as much of himself into the point of contact he could, so she might feel his heart.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right to be mad. I should’ve come to you right away, but I was having problems processing it myself. I just didn’t even know where to begin.”
Her free hand stroked his cheek.
“Silly man, you just talk. Where you begin and where you end doesn’t matter. I could’ve saved you a day of agonizing over things if you’d just come to speak with me. Then you’d realize I’ve known for weeks you would be leaving.” She put a finger over his lips to shush him. “Yes, I’ve still had dreams. Not as many as before, but I still have them. In some ways, they seem even more accurate—maybe because there’re fewer worlds of opportunities. But I’ve known our daughter would show up and take you away for a while. And I can’t say how long you’ll be gone, or what will happen while you’re gone, but I know you will come back to us.”
“But is it worth it?” he asked. “Did you see that part of it?”
She smiled.
“No, I didn’t. But sometimes life is about faith and risk. Right now, I know you—and by association, us—are at risk until you’re able to find your powers again. If our daughter has fought her way to you saying she can return that power, then I think you need to go with her. No, not need, you must go with her.”
“You don’t even know the full story,” he said, trying to keep hopelessness from making his words sound angry. “About how she came here and why. I’m not sure this would be so easy for you if you knew.”
“What? That I die because of Cain?”
Gwynn stepped away from her, his heart slamming against his throat so hard he thought he might choke.
Sophia nodded knowingly.
“I’m right, aren’t I? I was only guessing, but it makes the most sense. It was either me, you, or the world in general. Either way, she came back to help you destroy Cain, didn’t she?”
Gwynn let the story tumble out in a torrent of words seemingly beyond his control. Telling Pridament seemed easy in comparison. Relating the story to Sophia, of their unhappy future and the life he doomed their daughter to, stabbed at his chest and made his eyes burn with tears that wouldn’t fall.
Resonance 4th Edits - Bleeding Worlds Bk 3 Page 10
