“Why would he want that?”
“I can only assume it was a grapple for power, but I’m not sure how.”
“You saved them,” she muttered thoughtfully. “That was restoring the balance? Saving all those sols and dwellers?”
“I would have saved them eventually, when the time came to act. But it was Willa who forced his hand. He wouldn’t have acted for another life-cycle if he hadn’t found out about her.”
“You still fought him,” she countered. “You, Pica, Adeline, and Abil … you all made him feel out-numbered. Now he has been exposed, and all those people are still alive.”
“For now,” I agreed. “But the final battle is yet to come, and this one won’t be between Staviti and the sols. It will be a battle of the gods—and that is a battle to change the worlds, Emmanuelle.”
Three
Emmy
Willa was laying on a bed surrounded by the Abcurse brothers. She was unconscious, her cheeks ashen, her breathing shallow. The Abcurses were all awake, looking as though they hadn’t slept in a long time. She didn’t look ‘fine’—despite everyone telling me that she was. I edged toward her, but Pica slapped her hands down onto my shoulders, pulling me back.
“Oh, you must let the little Beta rest!” she exclaimed, shaking me just a little. “She’s been through so much to get here, and she has so much healing to do. I’m sure you understand, having gone through the transition yourself only recently.”
Pica released me enough to hold me out at arm’s length, her bright eyes sweeping down my front, lingering on the strange, shifting colours of my robe.
“But Willa already—” I started, turning back to look at my sister’s body, before Coen caught my attention.
He was shaking his head. I glanced at the others: they all wore the same expression.
Don’t bother arguing.
Apparently, Pica was a little unhinged.
“But I’m fine,” I said instead, holding out my arms, before pointing back at Willa. “Why isn’t she fine?”
“My little Willy is special.” Pica drew back suddenly, almost in a scurry.
I blinked as Cyrus stepped around her, releasing the back of her robes—after clearly having yanked her away from me.
“Sorry,” he exclaimed, sounding about as repentant as a person who had just gotten exactly what he wanted. “You were about to step on a bug.” He positioned himself in front of me as Pica tried to regain her balance.
“A bug?” She jumped back another step, looking horrified, her eyes riveted to the ground.
“A very precious, very pretty, very lovely bug,” Cyrus confirmed. “I think it had a tear in its little bug eye.”
“Oh no!” Pica dropped to the ground, her palms flattening, her eyes still searching. She looked absolutely distraught.
“Oh yes,” Cyrus returned gravely, before glancing over his shoulder at me. He lowered his voice to almost a whisper, so that I had to lean in closer to hear him. “Can we leave now?”
I frowned, shaking my head. Pica didn’t scare me.
“Willa will be okay,” a voice spoke from the bed, forcing us all to turn that way. Pica straightened again. Yael had been the one to speak, his words ringing with the persuasive tenor of his gift, making me want to believe him before I’d even managed to decide anything for myself.
“How do you know?” I asked, swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat.
“We can feel her,” Yael replied, glancing down at Willa—he was to her left, with Siret on her right. His hand was resting across her lap, fingers possessively gripping her waist. Her head was resting against Siret’s shoulder, her body half-propped against his chest.
“This is my fault,” I whispered, watching the shallow breaths catch in the rise and fall of her chest. “She turned me into ...” I held my arms out, displaying the robes ... “This. And look at what it did to her.”
“She’s special.” Pica almost sang the words, her tone holding so much joy. “Rau, my love, made her this way. He would have been so proud of her. Of our girl. She’s so special. She’s our little creation!”
I blinked several times, trying to comprehend what the crazy god-lady was saying. Coen was shaking his head again, and they were all wearing that same expression again.
Don’t fight it.
“Is she safe here?” I asked, directing the question toward the Abcurses.
They all nodded, but Aros was the one to answer, his expression solemn.
“This is the safest place for her right now. Staviti may have declared war on Willa, but he wouldn’t dare declare war on Pica.”
“He is in love with me,” Pica confirmed. “He always will be. To him, I am the meaning of love. His first dream and his dying wish. He cannot deny me this: my very own, special little Willy.”
I was going to gag. I think one of the Abcurse brothers had gagged. I shook my head, but managed to bite my lip to smother any sort of reply.
“We will be back to visit the next sun-cycle,” Cyrus announced, probably as creeped out by Pica as I was. His words had been delivered with some kind of warning. A warning that Pica only brushed away with a laugh and the flick of her hand.
“Willy will still be here the next sun-cycle,” she assured him. “I don’t plan to move her or let her go any time soon. I may never let her go!” She laughed at that.
The Abcurses seemed very grim. Cyrus’s expression turned unreadable.
I felt shock, and maybe a good dose of dread, but there was a part of me that wasn’t even surprised. This was just Willa’s luck. If anyone could end up being protected by a psychotic goddess of ‘smothering’, it would be Willa.
Cyrus’s fingers were suddenly wrapping around my wrist and he was drawing me out of the room, and then out of the house. He didn’t pause once. I was actually running to keep up with him by the time our feet were on the marble platform again. He turned as soon as we were outside, pulling my arm up beside his head and hooking his other arm around my back.
“What are you—” I started, but the sudden shock of my body pressed flush to his had my words meeting a quick death.
“We’re going back to my home,” he explained, the arm around my back tightening, drawing me up higher.
I was standing on his shoes suddenly, just to keep my feet connected to something. He stared at me for a click, his attention switching to my lips.
“Don’t you dare,” I warned him.
His eyes flashed back up to mine. “What?”
“Don’t you dare kiss me again.”
“Why the fuck not?” he growled.
“Because I think you’re a ... terrible ... person! And a drunk! It doesn’t matter that you’re sober now, you’re just a sober drunk!”
His lips twitched, almost curving into a smile. “And you’re just a bug, but I seem to recall you kissing me.”
“I’m allowed to. You’re not.”
He scowled, turning on the spot and pulling us both through a quick flash of darkness and then back into his home. He released me then and walked over to the couch, falling into the cushions, his arms crossed behind his head.
“Kiss me then,” he demanded, his eyes burning even lighter and brighter than usual.
My mouth dropped open and my hands were already itching to move to my hips, to adopt a stance suitable for lecturing.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I found myself saying instead, my eyes narrowing as I took a step toward him.
He remained unmoving, but it almost looked like I’d shocked him a little, by not launching into an outraged debate.
“I don’t make deals with dwellers,” he finally returned, his voice low.
“I’m not a dweller anymore,” I countered, reaching his legs. I climbed up onto his lap, my knees slipping to either side of his hips, my chest pressing to his, my face suddenly only an inch away from his. “I’m a god now, Cyrus. I’m your equal.”
He had no response, though his hands dropped from behind his head, his fingers pressi
ng my robe into my legs, drawing it up as his hands travelled to my hips. I had a flash of recall that I might still be without underwear, but this negotiation was too important to worry about that minor detail.
“A deal,” I reminded him.
He made a sound—half a groan—and his head fell back against the couch, his eyes closing. “What are you doing to me?”
“My deal is this,” I whispered, inching a little closer to his mouth. “If you help me find out what my power is and keep me safe from Staviti, I’ll kiss you.”
“More,” he demanded, his eyes flashing open. “If I’m going to help you, you need to offer me more.”
“Two kisses.”
“Fucking more, bug.”
I scowled, pulling back a little, but his right hand flashed up, his fingers suddenly cupping the back of my skull, and he dipped forward to win back the distance I had tried to put between us.
“Give me everything.” His voice was hard, uncompromising. “If you give me everything, I’ll do whatever you need. It’s all or nothing, on both sides. That’s what I want. That’s what I’m offering. Take it or leave it.”
He surged up, suddenly, taking me with him before setting me firmly onto my feet. And then he walked away, just like that.
“Let me know your decision!” he called out, a micro-click before his bedroom door slammed shut.
Asshole!
But damned if I didn’t feel primed and ready to run right after him into that bedroom, which was pretty much the perfect place for Cyrus to execute his plan for ‘everything’. I couldn’t understand why my body was so disloyal when my mind pretty much hated everything about him.
His offer, though … it was intriguing.
Logic was my fallback in any and all situations. One of my favourite pastimes comprised of mulling over and analysing the details of any given situation until I understood every single facet, until I understood enough to make decisions comfortably within that situation. This particular circumstance was going to be a little harder to logic out, because I really didn’t know enough of the facts. Cyrus was too much of an unknown element.
If I were to be honest with myself—and I often tried to be—giving everything to Cyrus didn’t really feel like as big a hardship as I would have expected.
The other unknown was why he had made the offer in the first place. He thought I was a bug … and yet, I could tell that I fascinated him. Was it because I defied him at times? Could it be as simple as that? Cyrus was a god used to answering to no one, a god who was never denied. I’d seen his face the sun-cycle I quit my job as his ‘dweller assistant’ on the Peak, and there had been genuine shock written all over him.
Or was it simply that I was an easy and convenient bed-mate for this moon-cycle, based on pure locality?
I doubted I’d ever truly understand Cyrus’s logic, so it was better just to go with my own. Was it in mine and Willa’s best interests to keep him close and as an ally? And was I willing to use my body to do that?
“I can hear you over-thinking this.” Cyrus’s voice was loud, even though he was still on the other side of his closed door. “This is not a decision you can make with your head, Emmanuelle. Just go with your instincts.”
I snorted, my feet already moving in the direction of his room. I’d never liked arguing with people when I couldn’t see them.
“Firstly,” I snarled, slamming his door open, “logic can be used in every situation, except when it comes to Willa. Because she defies all natural order …”
I trailed off as I finally focused on him. My jaw dropped for a brief click before I got my facial muscles back under control. Cyrus’s room was destroyed, his bed in pieces, strewn across the room, robes and sheets now nothing more than scraps of material fluttering about.
“What happened?” I asked breathlessly.
Cyrus’s neutral expression—the one that I was coming to recognise as a mask he wore—slipped minutely. For a click, there was a rage so potent in his face that I sank back against the door, preparing to sprint if needed.
Just like me, though, he was very good at regaining control.
“Staviti killed you,” he said simply. “When I first got you back here, I wasn’t sure that you’d survive. The transition is … difficult.”
“And that bothered you?” I prompted.
I was desperate to understand him. To unravel this god who was more mysterious than any other I’d met.
“You were assigned to me,” he replied moodily. “On Champions Peak. My dweller. My bug. I don’t like anyone touching my possessions.”
I cleared my throat. “You truly have a way with words, Cyrus. I mean, that was poetic. Truly poetic. You should title it ‘mine mine mine.’”
Despite the usual arrogance I’d come to expect from the gods, his actions were unexpected. His rage, over me, had him destroying his room, and as he’d just said, he didn’t like anyone touching his things. A bug was more important than his bedroom.
Score one for the bugs.
“Why are you in here? Did you make a decision?” he asked, moving closer to me, debris brushing the bottom of his robes as he walked through the mess.
I opened my mouth to answer, but … there were no words. I hadn’t had a chance to finish my analysis, and for the first time in my life I couldn’t make a decision. I couldn’t figure out the best thing to do.
“Give me the full proposition,” I finally choked out. “Everything. Don’t leave anything out. I want the fine print.”
He groaned, his eyes shifting to a stormy colour. “I don’t know what it is about you, but when you get all bossy …”
Holy gods. My mind went blank as my body burned, and then a strange energy started to swirl within me. I’d never felt anything like it before, as though my insides were filled with a million burning little sparks. I closed the distance in two steps and before I could register what was happening, we were kissing like two beings who were drowning. Desperate. Consumed.
In so many ways of the worlds, I was innocent, because I chose to follow a very straight, pre-planned path. There was a ‘right’ way to do things, and that was always the choice I made. But in that moment, I didn’t care. My path had pretty much been destroyed anyway, considering I somehow turned from a dweller into a god. An impossible feat, logically speaking. So maybe logic wasn’t everything it was cracked up to be.
What the hell had happened to me? This was all Cyrus’s fault, that damn assh—
A throat cleared from behind us. The mechanical sound grating and familiar. Cyrus’s chest swelled beneath mine, and the heat he threw off grew to almost scorching levels.
“Donald, you’re about to be decommissioned if you don’t stop interrupting me,” he thundered, and my body erupted in goosebumps from the power he was throwing off.
I struggled to get out of Cyrus’s arms, but he didn’t let me go, instead choosing to walk forward toward the poor server while still holding me, my feet a few inches off the ground.
“A thousand apologies, Sacred Asshole.”
I turned my head, looking over my shoulder to find Donald bowing her head and continuing to apologise over and over. I tried not to chuckle as she repeated the words sacred and asshole twenty times in a row. It was curious that Cyrus hadn’t asked her to change it yet.
“Donald!” I quickly said, drawing the server’s attention. “What did you come in here for?”
She blinked a few times, before straightening from the almost-permanent bow she’d been in. “Sacred Willa is asking for you Sacred Emmy; she is awake now.”
My insides went crazy, and I struggled against Cyrus. “Let me down. Now.”
He tightened his grip. “What will you give me?”
I blinked at him, tilting my head further back so I could see his expression. “Are you already negotiating with me?” I asked. “Seriously?”
The right side of his mouth tilted up minutely, but it was enough that I knew he was amused. “I already told you what I want … but I�
��m willing to work my way up to everything. For now, tell me what you’ll do to go to Willa.”
I swung my elbow around, clipping him across the side of the jaw. His head jerked back, but not in a way like I’d hurt him … more in surprise.
“Did you just hit me?” he asked, before a chuckle escaped from him. “Why are you so violent, Emmanuelle?”
I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest. It was difficult to do with him still holding me. “Says the god who threw a sol off a cliff for crying.”
His gaze was dead serious when our eyes met. “We match,” he told me, the words strong and sure. “Which is why I will settle for nothing less than your all. I will not take what you gave to your last dweller. Or any other. I want everything.”
I swallowed roughly, trying to find the moisture that had just fled my mouth.
“Don’t talk about him,” I finally choked out, fighting past the heavy emotions sweeping through me.
Atti was feeling more and more like a shadow of my past, his memory shoved aside by the imposing presence of the Neutral God who was still holding me firmly against himself, refusing to let me down. That made me angry, but I needed a little more time to figure out why.
“Oh?” Cyrus goaded me, shifting me up a little higher. “So, you loved him, then. And where is he? Why wasn’t he fighting for you on the mountain?”
“He’s dead,” I said flatly. “He did fight for me. Me and the other insects. Do you still think we match, Sacred Asshole?”
His eyes narrowed dangerously, his grip tightening on me. He had an arm banded behind my back, holding me firmly. His other hand slid up to my neck, his thumb brushing along the line from the top of my spine to the base of my skull. I reacted immediately, shivering against him, pressing closer, my anger melting into something hotter.
“Yes,” he said seriously, his light eyes drinking in my reaction with an intensity that had my mind going blank again. “I really do. But I think that’s enough for this sun-cycle, you’ve given me what I want, for now. I will take you to see Willa.”
Neutral: A Curse of the Gods Novella (Book 4.5) Page 3
