Part-Time Gods

by Rachel Aaron

  Being familiar with my curse, Nik nodded as if that made perfect sense. “I can drive you.”

  “No,” I said firmly. “I don’t want you in the blast radius when Yong finds out I beat him.”

  I also wanted to do this alone. That wasn’t really fair since I couldn’t have done any of it without Nik, but he didn’t care about this like I did. No one could. He’d come along for the money, but this victory was my future, my freedom. I was selfish enough to want that all to myself, but I wasn’t going to be a total jerk.

  “Here,” I said, waving my fingers through my AR to pick ten thousand dollars out of my pot and pass it to Nik’s picture on my contact list. “There’s the money I owe you for bailing me out last time.”

  Nik’s face normally lit up at the mention of money, but he looked put out by the idea this time. “You don’t have to pay me right now,” he said. “You’re acting like you’re leaving.”

  “I’m not leaving,” I assured him. “I’m just making sure you get paid first in case something stupid happens. You know, ’cause curse.”

  Nik’s scowl deepened. “Are you sure I can’t drive you?”

  “Positive. I’m about to super piss off an ancient dragon. You do not want to be around for that, especially since I couldn’t have done it without you. Honestly, you should probably spend the rest of the evening hiding out in your bunker of an apartment.”

  He nodded, but the scowl was still here. “Will you come back when it’s done?”

  “Couldn’t keep me away,” I promised with a wide grin. “When this is over, we’re going to party like this city’s never seen and then sleep for a week.”

  That made him chuckle. “Looking forward to it, then,” he said as I walked over to the taxi stand where a line of autocabs was waiting for the evening rush. “Good luck.”

  “I’ve already got it,” I told him, and it was true. For the first time in months, I felt lucky. Like I was back on top. “I’ll call you when I’m done,” I said as I climbed into the first car. “And thanks. You know, for everything.”

  Nik smiled and shut my door for me, standing back to watch from the curb as the little autocab rolled away with a smooth electric purr, joining the traffic that was already jockeying for position on the artery roads that fed into the New Ambassador Bridge.

  Chapter 9

  Twenty years ago, when Algonquin, Spirit of the Great Lakes, had ruled the DFZ and dragons were banned on pain of death, the neighboring city of Windsor, Canada, had had the highest dragon-per-capita population in the world. Being right across the river from Detroit, it was an easy jaunt for any dragons who felt like taking their lives into their own claws. Even those who hadn’t wanted to risk it couldn’t bear to be farther than necessary from all that power and money. They’d piled onto Windsor’s riverbanks, building their mansions and strongholds as close to the DFZ border as possible without actually touching it.

  These days, of course, there was no need for such tricks. Now that the DFZ ruled herself, dragons flew over the city on a daily basis, and most clans had relocated across the river to build new strongholds in the city they actually wanted to live in. But while going into the DFZ wasn’t a death sentence anymore, it was the Peacemaker’s territory. Any dragon who entered had to abide by his rules, which included no killing each other, no burning buildings, and no eating humans off the street. That all sounded pretty reasonable to me, but dragons weren’t reasonable creatures. Most clans were willing to swallow their pride in order to get access to the world’s most magical city, but there were still many dragons who considered the restrictions absurd and insulting, and for these tyrants, there was still Windsor.

  Naturally, my dad was one of the holdouts. He’d actually avoided this part of North America for decades, but he’d changed his policy in order to corner me, purchasing a sprawling Gothic mansion on the river to use as his stronghold while he was in the area. I suppose I should have been flattered he’d gone through so much trouble and expense for my sake, but like everything my dad did, this was all for him. The Great Yong would never deign to stay in a hotel with mortals who weren’t his, so he’d bought himself a multimillion-dollar house that looked like Wayne Manor to use as a temporary base of operations. You know, as you do.

  I rolled my eyes so hard when my autocab stopped at the wrought iron gates for a security check that I hurt myself. At least he’d gotten a nice chunk of land for his wasted money. The house’s lush green lawn stretched all the way down to the muddy bank of the Detroit River with an excellent view of the cliff of the DFZ across the water, its multiple layers lit up like a slice of neon birthday cake. It was actually a lovely picture with the setting sun painting the superscrapers gold and fiery red above the sprawling mansion’s steep-pitched slate roof and gabled windows. If I’d come under any other circumstances, I would have loved it. But I wasn’t here for a vacation, so I forced myself to stop appreciating the perfectly manicured rose garden and the row of willow trees elegantly trailing their branches in the water and focus on the task at hand.

  By the time my little autocab finally finished the ridiculously long drive to the house, a servant was waiting on the stairs to greet me. It was the really old guy with the bushy mustache who’d worked as my dad’s clerk for forever, which was odd because I thought he never left the main compound in Seoul. Even stranger was the fact that he’d come out to meet me himself. Menial jobs like doorman were usually shoved off on the low-ranking staff, but the stooped clerk opened my car door with his own hands, bowing low as I stepped out onto the driveway.

  “Young Mistress,” he said, his voice impossible to read behind the iron wall of professional decorum. “The Great Yong has been expecting you.”

  I was sure he had been. Gripping my bag, I motioned for the clerk to lead the way. He did so in a stately fashion, guiding me up the stone stairs of the mansion’s ridiculously wide front porch into a grand vaulted entry full of furniture that had been shoved up against the wall and covered in dust cloths.

  That made me do a double take. Temporary or not, my mom would never allow a house to look like this while my father was in residence. “Why is everything put up?”

  “It couldn’t be helped,” the clerk said, raising his feeble voice over the echoing booms of our footsteps. “The Great Yong ordered your lady mother and the rest of the household back to Korea weeks ago. Only a handful of us were allowed to stay behind with him, but this house is so large we couldn’t keep the place clean with so few, so we had to close most of it up.”

  That sounded perfectly practical, but “Why didn’t he just hire local workers?”

  “I would never question the Great Yong,” the old man said, giving me a look over his shoulder to add the unspoken, And neither should you.

  I rolled my eyes and decided to focus on the house, which was definitely worth the attention. Whatever other feelings I had about him, my dad’s good taste was undeniable. Even in a temporary residence like this, the walls had been covered in art from a wide range of cultures and time periods. He had Old Masters, modern mixed-media pieces, Chinese calligraphy, Korean textiles, Egyptian artifacts, Japanese Noh masks all thoughtfully positioned to show each piece at its best.

  Even with the lights off and the furniture stacked in the corners, walking through my dad’s house felt like a trip through an amazingly well-curated museum. He even had some stuff from DFZ artists that had to be new purchases. I was pretty sure I spotted a Barklay three-dimensional watercolor—highly collectible—on one of the stairway landings.

  Alas, we didn’t get close enough for me to tell for certain before the servant led me through a heavy wooden door into what must have once been a library but now looked like the modern version of a king’s receiving room. There was a couch for waiting, a carpet in the middle for kneeling and begging, and a towering, ornately carved wooden bishop’s chair where my dad could sit and look down on those who’d dared to seek his attention.

  It was all very oppressive and draconic with
lots of allegorical oil paintings of humans prostrating themselves before various monsters and gods, but at least it was well lit thanks to the wide, west-facing windows looking out over the mansion’s emerald-green back lawn. Beyond that was the wide expanse of the Detroit River and the DFZ rising out of the brown water like a steel-and-concrete glacier. Being able to see the familiar, glittering chaos of the city made me feel a bit less like I was stranded in enemy territory. Enough that I was actually able to summon up a smile when the old servant bowed and left, presumably to get my dad.

  I pulled out my phone the moment the door clicked closed, checking and rechecking my accounts. I preauthorized the transfer I was about to make at least six times, even going so far as to make Sibyl get a certified response from my bank’s customer service AI that yes, they knew I was about to make a payment to a private account, and no, they would not hold up the transfer of funds for any reason. I was still fussing with settings when the door opened again, and my father came into the room.

  I dropped my phone when I saw him. Not because of dragon-induced terror; I was used to that. No. I jumped because my dad looked horrible.

  My entire life, I’d never seen Yong look anything less than what he was: a great and terrible immortal, beautiful and deadly and inhumanly mesmerizing. Now, though, his mortal form looked as if it had been through the wringer. His normally immaculate face was gaunt and pinched. His blue, green, and golden eyes were red rimmed and sunken, leaving huge, bruise-like dark circles in the hollows above his high cheekbones. Even the glossy black waterfall of his hair looked stringy and dull, and he was so thin. What I could see of his body beneath his designer suit looked positively skeletal, the lean muscles I’d never seen him work for wasted away to nothing.

  It was shocking to see and honestly pretty terrifying. My father was as timeless as the treasures he collected, the definition of unchanging, unshakable power. Seeing him gaunt and gripping the door frame to stay upright felt like a constant of the universe had been violated. It didn’t seem possible that something like this could happen to a force as great as the Dragon of Korea, but as I watched him shuffle into the room and take his place in the throne-like chair, I came to a clear and sudden understanding.

  I’d done this.

  Realization came in a rush as all the clues I’d been too angry and distracted to care about before now suddenly clicked into place. This was my doing. I’d hacked Dad’s curse, but the magic that stole my money had to come from somewhere. Something was powering all of that unrelenting bad luck, and looking at the husk my dad had become, I knew it had to be him. That was why he’d gone nuclear on the phone the first time I’d slammed his curse against the gold market and discovered something too big for it to break. That was why Mom had come to the Cleaner auction without his knowledge to try and make me stop. Because it was doing this.

  In hindsight, I didn’t know why I hadn’t realized the truth earlier. Unlike humans, who grabbed their magic from whatever was nearby, dragons powered their spells with their own fire. I knew that. Everyone who studied magic knew that, but it had never occurred to me before this moment that my father’s fire was not infinite. I’d never even heard of a dragon spending himself dry, but it was the only explanation for the husk of a dragon sitting where my glorious father should have been.

  For a crazy, stupid moment, that made me feel crushingly guilty. I’d just wanted to get free. I hadn’t wanted to hurt him, hadn’t wanted this. As horrible as he’d acted, he was still my dad. I’d loved him with all my heart once. Part of me still must have, because I actually got up from the couch to run to him before I remembered the truth.

  This wasn’t my fault.

  Yes, my actions had drained him, but he was the one who’d put the curse on me. He could have stopped and saved himself at any time, but he hadn’t. From the stony glare in his sunken eyes, he still wasn’t going to let go, and with that realization, all of my sympathy evaporated.

  “You look terrible,” I told him, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I could say the same of you,” the Great Yong replied, his inhuman eyes looking me up and down as his scowl deepened. “You’ve lost weight again.”

  I’d thought my vending-machine clothes had felt even baggier than usual, but I refused to let him change the subject. “I’m here to pay my debt.”

  “What makes you think I’ll accept it?” he said, leaning on the arm of his throne-like chair as if it was merely a comfortable position and not the only thing holding him upright. “It’s not due for a few more days.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you accept it or not,” I growled, bending over to snatch my dropped phone off the thick carpet. “I pay you back for my college tuition, you let me go do whatever I want with my life. That was the deal.”

  He flashed his teeth. “Your deal.”

  “That you agreed to,” I reminded him.

  “Only because you deliberately misled me,” he snarled back. “You hid that you were a Cleaner. I never would have given my word if I’d thought there was a chance you’d actually succeed.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you should have thought about that before you assumed I was stupid enough to bet it all on a bargain I couldn’t win,” I said in a nasty voice, looking him straight in the eyes as I mashed the Send Payment icon on my phone screen. A second later, a message beeped up telling me that payment had been received.

  “There,” I said in a shaking voice. “It’s done. I’ve paid it. All of it, as demanded. I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain. Now remove this curse!”

  I braced as I finished, planting my scuffed Cleaner boots on the carpet as I waited for him to rage, but my father just turned his gaunt face away.

  “No.”

  My eyes went wide. “W-what?” I sputtered. “You don’t get to say no. I won! We had an agreement!”

  “We did,” my father said, his deep voice haggard and tired. “But the curse was never part of it. I promised that if you paid the debt on your own, I’d allow you to live as you chose. I never said anything about magic.”

  “Because there was no magic involved then!” I shouted. “You only cursed me because you were losing! But I can’t live as I choose with you dragging me down, so take this stupid thing off me!”

  Yong’s eyes narrowed. “No,” he said again. Then he bared his teeth. “Never.”

  That hissed word ripped the bottom right out of me. From the moment I’d come up with this plan almost five years ago, my father’s famous integrity had been my hope. The Dragon of Korea would stomp you under his boot and grind you into the dirt, but he always kept his promises.

  But apparently not for me.

  “You can’t do this!”

  “I can do whatever I want!” he roared, all his usual decorum vanishing as he lurched to his feet. “You are my Opal! I made you!”

  “I am a human being!” I yelled back, stomping forward until I was right in front of him. “No one owns me!”

  “You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed for you!” Yong snarled, his wasted hands clenching into pale, bony fists. “I have tried and tried and tried to give you what you wanted, but every time I grant you freedom, you use it to hurt what I hold most dear.” He grabbed me by the shoulder and whipped me around to face the large gilt mirror across from the window. “Look at what you’ve done to yourself!”

  Angry as I was, the sight of the two of us in the mirror stopped me cold. I hadn’t actually taken the time to look at myself in more than glances since the final push had started. Staring at my reflection now, I didn’t even recognize the gaunt, used-up girl staring back at me. My skin was dry and scaly from my terrible diet and weeks of bad sleep. My bony limbs were covered in cuts and bruises from all the Cleaning, and my face looked like a skull. I didn’t even look human anymore. I looked like a ghost. An exhausted, used-up shadow. Which, ironically, meant that for the first time in my life, I actually looked like my dad.

  “Look at what you’ve done to her,” my father whispered in Korea
n, reaching out to brush my dirty hair away from my face. “I would kill anyone who did this to my puppy, but what do I do when that person is you?”

  “I didn’t do this,” I said through clenched teeth as I turned back around to face him. “You did. This only happened because you forced me into a corner. You could have saved both of us at any time by taking a hint and letting me go!”

  My father’s face grew hard as iron. “I will never let you go.”

  “Why?” I demanded, my voice cracking like thin ice. “Why are you holding on so tight? You’re the one who’s always calling me a dog face and a failure. My earliest memories are all of you telling people how much of a disappointment I was. You even named me after a worthless gem so everyone would know I wasn’t the genetically perfect supermage you’d intended me to be.” Tears began building up at the corners of my eyes. “You’ve always made it perfectly clear how little you value me, so why are you doing this? Am I part of some scheme? A cog in some long-running dragon plot too convoluted for mortals to follow? Why won’t you just let me be?!”

  I hadn’t intended to get so emotional. My father despised weakness of any sort. Tears especially did nothing but earn his disdain, but I was just so hopeless. Even when Kauffman had put a gun to my head, I’d never felt this trapped, and I didn’t even understand…“Why?”

  “You gave me no choice,” my father said in a low, ragged voice. “I told you years ago, puppy, I take care of what is mine, but you made that impossible. From the moment you arrived in this cursed city, you’ve done nothing but throw yourself into danger and poverty. You consort with criminals and risk your fragile, mortal body going into the houses of strangers to sort through their trash. Your mother and I have tried and tried to talk sense into you, but you refuse to listen. You’re still that foolish child throwing a tantrum on the floor, but I can no longer afford to indulge you.” His face grew stern. “If you won’t do what’s best for yourself, then I must. That’s what fathers do.”