The Pantheon Saga | Book 4 | Gods of Wrath

by Ekeke, C. C.

  Hugo tore his gaze away from Brie’s anguish. Something in him would shatter if he didn’t. Mom and AJ listening outside the door didn’t help.

  “Should we do something?” AJ whispered.

  “No,” Mom whispered back. “They need this.”

  “No one,” Brie sobbed, pointing at him. “has ever hurt me like you did!”

  Hugo had a raw, visceral reaction, any remorse evaporating. Suddenly, his mind went back to the start of sophomore year, and Brie trashing him to her former friends. God, that seemed like a century ago. But old memories triggered old emotions, opening old wounds. “Doesn’t feel good, does it?” Hugo responded in a cold voice even he didn’t recognize.

  Brie’s mouth fell open.

  Furious, Hugo went further. “Why would I go near you after you threatened me? After your constant humiliation?” He got in her face, hammering home his rage. “I can’t trust you!”

  The words rocked Brie’s thin frame. She looked sick, covering her mouth.

  That snapped Hugo out of his anger. “Shiite!” He snatched Brie around the waist, flung open the door and beelined out of the guestroom, nearly bowling Mom and AJ over.

  Hugo reached the downstairs bathroom, popping open the lid right before she spewed. He lowered Brie onto her knees, holding her hair back. Brie’s body kept heaving for a while.

  “Go away…” She had no strength behind her words.

  Hugo’s heart throbbed so painfully he wanted to rip it out. “I’m staying.”

  When Brie finally finished, she was a zombie. Mom entered to help wash her mouth out. Afterward, Mom sat on the couch with Brie’s head on her lap, stroking her hair. Hugo and AJ sat on the floor, glued to the news. The Elite scandal and The Vanguard’s victory with Lady Liberty were the main headlines. The latter story soured Hugo’s mood, but distracted him from Brie’s presence.

  When Ramses arrived half an hour later, Hugo opened the door before he could knock. Brie's brother was tall and handsome with a slim build, resembling her in many ways except his jet-black curly mop. As he greeted Hugo, his dark-green eyes held penetrating anger. But he kept those feelings muted. Brie sprang off the couch and hugged him fiercely. He murmured consoling words in Greek.

  “Thanks for finding her,” Ramses said as Brie buried her face in his neck. “We’d been searching all day.”

  Hugo shuddered. If not for his fight with Mom, he wouldn’t have found Brie and those boys. They would've drowned…

  “Have her drink water,” Mom ordered, in nurse mode. “If anything changes, take her to a hospital.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Malalou.” Ramses led a zombielike Briseis out the door.

  Hugo and Mom watched the siblings drive away. “I couldn’t explain with Brie here,” she clarified after Hugo closed the door. “I found her wandering around a grocery store two months ago, high as a kite, and drove her home. A week later during a shift, Brie’s parents were at the hospital…” She looked pained beyond words. “There was a suicide attempt.”

  Hugo sucked in a dry gasp. Before he could even process, his pocket buzzed urgently. Despite the blocked ID, Hugo answered. “Hello?”

  “You’re not answering your other phone.”

  Hugo beamed at the familiar growl. “You’re alive.”

  Mom and AJ turned sharply. Hugo ignored them, entering the kitchen. Questions tainted his relief. Did he know Titan is my dad?

  “Quinn needs us,” Geist stated.

  Hugo smiled, buoyed by the perfect timing. “Where?”

  Chapter 48

  Quinn curled into a ball as gunfire peppered the barrels she cowered behind.

  By the pained cries filling the warehouse, Therese was fighting off those guards despite overwhelming odds. Bad enough that Quinn was worried sick for her girlfriend’s safety. But seeing her cell’s No Service status meant her frantic texts to Hugo hadn’t sent.

  Deafening gunfire drowned out Quinn’s expletive.

  A svelte figure somersaulted over the barrel cluster. Quinn recoiled, then recognized Therese at her side, bow in hand.

  The vigilante was panting, sweat beading her face. Therese’s costume was splashed in blood, fortunately not hers. Noticing the vigilante’s stiff movements, Quinn knew those prior injuries were catching up to her.

  “We’re pinned down,” Therese shouted, popping up to fire off an arrow. By the choked shriek, her shot struck home. She ducked, barely avoiding a spray of lead. “And I’m running out of arrows.”

  Quinn waved her phone in frustration, which was as useful as a paperweight. “My cell’s jammed.” A few stray shots sent her scrambling from the edges of the barrels. Soon enough, this makeshift barrier would fall. the closest box cluster was too far. She turned to Therese. “What now?”

  Therese popped up, loosed two more arrows, then dropped down. A small explosion preceded more cries. “Hope Domino comes soon.” Beneath her mask and hood, disbelief dominated her face. “You really released that Elite data dump?”

  Quinn wanted to say she’d done it for justice. But after Paxton-Brandt had taken Helena, that was a lie. “I couldn’t let them win.” Another truth gnawed through her. “But I just signed Helena’s death sentence. And ours.”

  The vigilante shook her head, unholstering something around her ankle. “Possibly,” she shouted above the gunfire, handing over a chrome pistol.

  Quinn shrank from the firearm.

  Therese’s smile was weary. The kind of weary that saw no more miracles. “We go down together.”

  Never would Quinn have imagined her life ending beside a vigilante she was falling for. But the reporter swallowed her insecurities as she took the firearm, releasing the safety. “Together.”

  The salvos abruptly stopped and started like a faulty faucet, no longer hammering the barrels protecting them. More shouts rang out, followed by barks of gunfire farther away.

  Quinn frowned at the battle beyond her view. “What’s happening?”

  Therese shrugged. “Could be Domino.” If the vigilante felt any alarm, she didn’t show it.

  After the last whimper, all gunfire ceased. Solitary footfall approached their location.

  Therese mouthed a three count. Quinn nodded, heart drumming loud enough to wake the dead.

  On three, both women sprang up, Quinn aiming her pistol while Therese drew back an arrow.

  One figure stood amongst the corpses littering the warehouse. Long grey trench coat falling past the knees over Kevlar body armor. The faceless black mask with the gleaming blood-red eyes was unmistakable.

  Geist holstered two handguns, looking over his shoulder. “Domino sends her regards,” he said with a guttural voice.

  Quinn’s jaw and gun dropped. “Oh my God!” Hugo had been right. She rounded her barricade and approached.

  Therese lowered her bow, equally stunned. “I thought…” Strong emotions fluttered across her face. “I thought you died.”

  The Midnight Son turned fully. “I got better.”

  “You sure won’t!” The declaration spun Quinn around. Trench Coat pushed up to a knee several feet away, gun pointed.

  “QUINN!” Therese yelled, but time stretched and slowed as the panicked archer fired an arrow.

  The gun discharged a brief, blinding flash. Quinn only had time to shut her eyes. I’m dead…

  There was no piercing sensation, no gushing lifeblood. Trench Coat shrieked, however. Quinn dared to open her eyes.

  A still-glowing bullet was barely an inch from her forehead, between Aegis’s fingers.

  He had a questioning gaze.

  Mouthing I’m fine, Quinn peeked around him. Trench Coat rolled around the floor, clutching the arrow impaling his forearm.

  To Quinn’s left, Therese was pale yet relieved.

  Geist being Geist surveyed the scene impassively. “Brought backup.”

  Hugo tossed the bullet and turned on Trench Coat scrambling away as fast as his injuries allowed.

  Hugo reached him in half a heartbeat. “Stup
id!” he barked in that frightening Aegis voice. The teen dragged the hollering man by the injured forearm, tossing him in front of Geist.

  Quinn crouched before Trench Coat, strong emotions smoldering through her. “She knows where Paxton-Brandt has Helena.”

  “I’ll make her talk,” The Midnight Son offered, eyes glittering.

  Therese holstered her spare gun, watching Quinn. “You sure?”

  Months ago, Quinn would have balked at such barbarism. Tonight, she remembered how gleefully this monster had displayed Helena’s torture. “Be my guest.” Quinn gestured at her downed foe.

  “Where is Helena Madden?”

  Trench Coat smirked. His entitlement was breathtaking. “I’ll never tell you."

  Quinn eyed Geist, who calmly twisted one of Trench Coat’s fingers, making a satisfying pop.

  He screamed. Hugo flinched. Therese’s expression was unreadable.

  Quinn swallowed the bile burning up her throat. Only Helena’s well-being mattered. “Again,” Geist barked in Trench Coat’s face, “where is she?”

  The bleeding Paxton-Brandt operative remained defiant. “You’ll never…know—ARRRGH!”

  Geist bent back another finger swiftly. Trench Coat’s screams reverberated around the warehouse.

  Quinn longed for normal, craved it. But Helena was in some dark cell getting electrocuted. “Gouge an eye out,” she ordered flatly.

  The Paxton-Brandt operative turned white. “You’re bluffing!”

  “Whoa!” Hugo protested.

  “Quinn…” Therese remarked with concern.

  Quinn ignored them. “Do it.”

  Once Geist pulled out a shiny knife, Trench Coat started singing. “Paxton-Brandt doesn’t have her anymore!”

  Quinn didn’t believe him. “Liar.”

  “I swear,” Trench Coat pleaded. “We planned to pump her full of drugs, electrocute her brain into pudding, and then dump her at a homeless shelter.”

  The casual way she spoke sickened Quinn. “Who has her?”

  “The government,” Trench Coat declared.

  Hugo grimaced. “Why would the government have her?”

  Quinn already knew before he asked. “The OSA.”

  Geist turned sharply. Therese gasped.

  “Hang on,” Hugo remarked, hand raised as if in class. “What?”

  “Helena had dirt on the OSA.” Quinn felt numbed from these constant disclosures. “The kind of dirt that ends careers and triggers federal investigations.”

  Trench Coat was on his knees, two fingers broken, an arrow piercing his right forearm, chuckling like he’d won. “You’ll never see Helena again!” His vile laughter filled the warehouse.

  Quinn was done. She turned to Therese. “Shut him up.”

  “Gladly.” The archer notched, drew, and loosed an arrow in under two seconds. A whistle sliced the air, ending with a wet thunk.

  Trench Coat face was frozen in bug-eyed surprise, the arrow protruding through his neck. He pitched forward, dead.

  Hugo stared at the body, transfixed. “Jesus…” He could’ve stopped Therese’s arrow like he had Trench Coat’s bullet. Yet he hadn’t, to his own dismay.

  What must he think of me?

  Geist stared indifferently at Therese’s handiwork. “That won’t help find Helena,” he said.

  “Yeah…” That was all Quinn said before doubling over. Her throat burned as dinner came up, coaxed by self-loathing over ordering someone’s death.

  A hand stroked Quinn’s back. She flinched away, until realizing it was Therese.

  “Slow breaths,” the vigilante soothed. “I’m sorry about Helena.”

  Quinn straightened, feeling marginally sturdier after painting the floor with her dinner. “Not until I see a body.” She refused to give up.

  While Quinn gathered her thoughts, she was surprised by Hugo several feet away gripping Geist’s arm aggressively. The discussion looked heated. Despite his mask, Hugo’s rage was unmistakable. “Did you know about me?”

  Geist appeared unimpressed. “I’m Geist,” he remarked coolly.

  “So that’s yes.”

  “Not here.” Geist glanced at Quinn and Therese.

  Hugo released him—with visible reluctance. “You, me and Libby.” His stance remained confrontational.

  Therese looked alarmed. “What’s that about?”

  For once, Quinn was uninterested in more superhero secrets. Several buzzes drew her attention to her purse. She pulled it out and brightened. “I’m getting reception—oh no.” She read the SLOCO Daily alert. Herogasm, Avngr and Newsworthy’s apps had the same headline. “Good gawd.”

  That drew Hugo’s and Geist’s attention. “What happened?” the teen inquired, reaching her in four strides.

  Quinn tried explaining, but her throat wasn’t working.

  Luckily, Therese read over her shoulder. “The Elite destroyed two Paxton-Brandt labs outside SLO County.”

  She locked eyes with Quinn, who was close to throwing up again.

  Quinn forced the words out. “Now The Elite is attacking Paxton-Brandt’s complex…” Horror flooded her brain. “In downtown San Miguel!”

  Chapter 49

  From their first press conference, Quinn had found The Elite off-putting. Their immense powers wielded without care. The unease whenever they intervened in a crisis.

  Now, watching these furious gods savage downtown on a quest for vengeance, her disquiet finally blossomed.

  It’s my fault… she fretted.

  On Quinn’s cellphone, the chaotic visuals of downtown’s devastation burst off the screen.

  Thor, a Viking ripped from the history books, bashed his hammer into a smaller building in downtown’s Paxton-Brandt business center.

  Samson, a seven-foot-four-inch giant of a man, flung cars aside, braids swinging as he roared curses.

  Nike was a bronze-armored blur, slicing apart police officers like cake with her swords. Apollo was an angry sun god hovering overhead, white-hot eyebeams torching more structures in the business center.

  Vishnu and Morrigan butchered any feeling Paxton-Brandt employees.

  “BRING ME STEPHEN OLIN!” Thor bellowed. His hammer crackled with blue lightning, smashing another pillar to dust. “OR I RAZE YOUR TOWER TO THE GROUND!” The false thunder god repeated that demand several times. The Elite wanted the Paxton-Brandt CEO to answer for his crimes. Quinn figured Olin had to be holed up in some panic room miles away.

  The Elite hadn’t touched the one-hundred-story Paxton-Brandt tower, a serrated red blade with a spire jutting into the skies. Small mercies.

  But if the Elite turned their rage on that building, Quinn couldn’t fathom the death toll.

  “Oh my god. Oh my god,” Quinn whispered, repulsed yet unable to look away.

  Hugo almost ran off to fight if Geist hadn’t ordered him to wait for a plan.

  Therese…bless her heart, grasped Quinn’s shoulders in support. Maybe she was waiting for the crisis to be over before voicing her disgust.

  Geist stood a few feet away. One hand on the side of his featureless mask, he spoke with The Vanguard on some private channel.

  “We’ll meet you there, Sentinel.” Geist tapped the side of his head to end the call as he faced Hugo and Therese. “Vanguard is flying to downtown. Tomorrow Man, too.” His disdain thickened when uttering the last name. Geist focused on Therese. “You and I will help civilians. The potential collateral damage will get ugly.”

  Hugo paced about, restless for action. “Where do you need me?”

  “Get Quinn somewhere secure,” Geist replied brusquely. “One of my suburban safehouses. Then evacuate any civilians in downtown.”

  Hugo looked underwhelmed but nodded dutifully. “Understood.”

  Therese walked up. “Stay safe, mon chère.” Despite her mask, the archer’s affectionate gaze melted Quinn’s heart.

  Quinn caressed her face. “You, too.”

  Therese schooled away her emotions and followed Geist out of
the warehouse.

  Quinn yelped as Hugo picked her up effortlessly. “Let’s go.”

  Before she could protest, the warehouse dissolving into smears and streaks of light around them. Seconds later, Hugo braked outside in a typical San Miguel suburb. He kept to the shadows between two stucco-roofed houses.

  As soon as he put her down, Quinn collapsed to all fours, dry heaving.

  “Ooh.” Hugo knelt beside her. “Sorry.”

  “Wasn’t just you. So many people are gonna die because I wanted to hurt Paxton-Brandt.” Quinn’s need for revenge felt so petty. And Helena’s fate wouldn’t be the only death on her conscience. The number of civilians downtown made for countless casualties. Once her stomach stopped lurching, Quinn struggled to her feet. But a seesawing equilibrium sent her stumbling sideways.

  Hugo caught her. “You did the right thing.” He spoke in his normal voice.

  Quinn jerked away. How could he say that, given the damage The Elite were causing downtown?

  Hugo held up a gloved hand before she could heatedly reply. “I gave you that Elite stuff because I knew you’d get it out there.” The hero looked giant-sized looming over her under the shadow of these homes.

  Even with the darkness and his mask, Quinn hadn’t expected a haunted expression on his face. “Sometimes, you learn things about people that are awful and ugly. Our reactions are on us.” Hugo refocused on her. “Paxton-Brandt are awful. But The Elite chose to attack innocents.”

  She stared, sometimes forgot Hugo was the same age as her teenage cousin. “Your mother raised you right,” she declared.

  Hugo gave her a strange look. “I hope so.”

  Quinn frowned. What’s up here? Did this relate to why him and Geist were snarling at each other? Before she could ask, Quinn surveyed this neighborhood…and its familiarity. “We’re in Paso Robles?

  “Jodie’s neighborhood,” Hugo pointed across the street to her cousin’s house. The first-floor lights were on, meaning they were home eating dinner.

  He continued. “This is the safest place I can think of. Now I gotta…wait...” The hero studied the neighborhood, searching for something.

  Quinn realized he was scanning with his enhanced senses.