Hunt of the Gods Page 2

  Liam watched me the entire time.

  “What’s on your mind, ace?”

  His sharp blue eyes traced over mine. Shaggy brown hair curled against his forehead. Sweat glistened on his face and soaked the collar of his shirt. Sparring with me usually left him bone-weary, but he looked as if he was ready to take on an army.

  “You don’t need to keep sparring, you know. You were down here even before we were.”

  “True.”

  “If it’s the nightmares, you can tell me.”

  I went still. Liam was used to my nightmares. He’d grown up hearing me scream and stomp around in a panic in the middle of the night. It had taken Selena a couple of weeks to get used to, but she had promised it didn’t bother her anymore.

  My night terrors were twisted versions of my memories—images of monsters tearing me apart, scenes of my father beating me to a pulp and stabbing Liam in front of me, pictures of Selena being smothered by a giant beam of light while screaming for me to help her.

  In other dreams, I stood in the heart of a fire. Smoky aether swirled around me in a black haze. I stood with Ki̱demónas in my hands, blood coating me from head to toe.

  Every other dream terrified me. But that one, the one with fire, smoke, and blood, made me feel content. And that scared me worse than anything else.

  There was a gentle nudge on my arm. I blinked and found Liam’s concerned gaze. He waited patiently for me to tell him what was wrong. For me to tell him how he could help me.

  This could be my moment, the one where I tell him what had changed in the manticore fight.

  I took a breath, gathered my courage… and couldn’t speak.

  The way he was looking at me was the same way he’d looked at me when he was little, with the timid, confused stare of a boy who didn’t understand why his father had hurt him or why his big brother had taken the punishment for something he had done.

  If I had told Liam, I knew how he would have looked at me next. His eyes would have filled with terror, and I wouldn’t have been able to comfort him or pin the blame on Thomas.

  “Yes, it’s the nightmares,” I whispered.

  Liam looked deep into my eyes. I didn’t stop him, but I didn’t give anything away, either. I couldn’t. It shamed me to lie to him, but I wanted to protect him. That was why I had named my spear Ki̱demónas—the Greek word for “guardian.” But I was caught in a cycle of lies, and I couldn’t find a way out of it.

  I looked at the floor. “I keep dreaming of magic. So much of it around me, and I can’t control it.”

  I don’t want to control it.

  Liam touched my shoulder. “That’s why you have to let us help you, Derek. You’re not protecting us if you’re not being honest.”

  I nodded automatically. I’d told Liam part of the truth, but it wasn’t enough for me. How could I have expected it would be?

  But it was enough for Liam.

  “Come on. Take a break from the broody, macho stuff. We get a mini vacation.”

  I glanced at him. “We’re unemployed.”

  Liam tilted his head and smirked. “Right. So every day is a vacation, but this time, we get to go party in another Region with beaches and sun and bikinis.” He couldn’t help teasing me further. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get to see Selena in a bikini.”

  My mind immediately tried to conjure up that image, and I had to flick Liam’s ear to make myself stop.

  “Fine, grouch,” he complained, rubbing the side of his head. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

  I faked a laugh and watched him leave. My heart sank the moment he was gone. I turned my back to the stairs and looked at the bokken in my hand.

  Liam had done his best to get through to me, and in a way, he had. I’d told him some of the truth—that I was surrounded by magic I might not be able to control.

  He assumed I only meant the spear.

  I lifted the bokken with my left hand then held out my right hand.

  As a war scion and descendant of Ares, I should have been able to control the element of fire only. For the longest time, that was all I could do. But it wasn’t fire that crept out of my hand and coiled around my fingers. It was chilly, black smoke that writhed like snakes against my skin.

  Aether.

  The foundation behind the four main magical elements. The substance that created monsters. The life force of the gods. Pure, raw, destructive magic.

  In the last two months, I’d learned that I could call up aether the same way I could call up fire. The sensation was colder and slipperier than the hot rush of flames, but I’d gotten used to it. That was the reason I had been in the training room before Liam and Selena that morning. I’d wanted to practice with it.

  The smoke glided off my fingertips and wrapped around the wooden shaft of the bokken. It cinched tight, tighter, tighter, until the wood began to creak. I drew the smoke back into my right hand. If I broke a training stick, Liam would start peppering me with questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

  I relaxed my magic and walked off the mats to set the bokken back on its rack. I looked at my hands again, filling the right with aether and the left with fire. Red flames and black smoke pulsed before my eyes.

  Being the first, and to my knowledge, only scion capable of controlling two elements would make recovering the Trinity Weapons and Cronus Shards easy.

  Facing my friends and family when they found out my secret… not so much.

  WHEN LIAM AND I had been part of the Periochí̱ Polemistés, transportation had been easy.

  Since Ares had fired us for failing to destroy his arch-rival and sister, Athena, getting around was much more difficult. We were forced to take the long routes that Normals were meant to take rather than the express lanes exclusive to anyone who worked directly for a god—Polemistés under Ares, hunters for Artemis, harvesters transporting grain from Demeter’s crops, Poseidon’s Sea Guards, even Hermes’s personal messengers when they were feeling lazy. Combined with the traffic from so many people going to the Union of the Seas, the hour-and-a-half drive took nearly four hours.

  At least there was more to look at when we entered the heart of Santa Monica.

  Since the Olympians reestablished control over Old California, renamed Néo Vasíleio, they made sure their new subjects caved to their demands. Praise and worship from humans made the gods stronger, so they made it clear that festivals were to be held frequently in their honor. One Olympian every month would hold one to honor a season, a victory, their own greatness, or whatever they were in the mood for.

  The Union of the Seas was meant to honor Poseidon’s virility and marriage to Amphitrite. Thanks to their relationship and Poseidon’s notorious conquests, water scions were among the most common descendants in Néo Vasíleio.

  As we entered the coastal city, my eyes began to take in the dedication and work that had been put into the event. Blue and green streamers hung from shop windows and apartment balconies. Seashells and coral were plastered to lampposts. Graffiti of koi fish, dolphins, and mythological sea creatures like mermaids, hippocamps, and sirens were painted on brick walls.

  And then there were the people.

  The Union was a massive festival that went on for three days, and since everyone in Santa Monica had to help prepare, everyone in the city had the week off—more than enough time to get hammered in Poseidon’s name.

  The streets were packed. Humans dressed in blues, beiges, sundresses, sunglasses, and sandals walked along the sidewalks, pausing to browse the wares of street merchants, enjoy freshly caught seafood, or to buy books that recounted the heroic deeds of Poseidon.

  As we passed Ballona Freshwater Marsh, we glanced through the trees to see street poets boasting about the divine master of the sea, children hunting for conch shells, and magicians preforming tricks with water magic.

  Seeing scions use their magic so freely here made me wonder if it was performed in other parts of the world as well. The scions of Néo Vasíleio were free to travel wherever they w
anted, provided they had their passport, travel visa, magical-use visa, and scion security clearance with them. But they had met no fellow scions outside of Néo Vasíleio. It was hard to believe the Olympians hadn’t made bastards all over the world, which meant either those scions were well hidden or the Olympians didn’t have the strength to reach them yet. The Re-Emergence should have sparked magic through every scion bloodline, waking up the power in every Olympian descendant, but that might have only happened within the radius the Olympians occupied--Néo Vasíleio.

  There were rumors about other gods, but none had announced themselves. Only the Greek gods had woken during the Re-Emergence, and many questioned why other pantheons, like the Norse, Celtic, Egyptian, or Hindu gods, hadn’t woken as well. Millions of people around the world still prayed to them, but so far, nothing had come of it. Part of me was grateful—the last thing the world needed was a power struggle between rival god families. It was hard to see the Olympians wanting peace with anyone. The bickering amongst themselves could erase cities. Going to war with another pantheon would erase whole countries. But the other part of me wondered how different things might be had the other pantheons woke.

  The world was hardly perfect. Envious Normals and magic users often slugged it out on the streets , and conspiracy theorists blasted the television, Internet, and airwaves, claiming the Olympians were little more than scientific experiments gone horribly wrong or were frauds who just wanted to exploit us.

  Some days, I found it hard to disagree with them.

  Yet when I was at events like the Union of the Seas, I pushed all those dark thoughts to the back of my mind. Thirty years ago, we didn’t know magic was real. Now we knew it was and that almost anything was possible with it. That seemed worth celebrating and sharing.

  And everyone at the Union seemed keen on doing both of those things.

  The city was alive with energy and excitement. Tourists from all over the world snapped photos, asked questions, and were simply stunned by the presence and reality of true magic. I could feel the power of water scions weaving through the air when I rolled down the window. The smell of seawater and the feel of the warm summer breeze were incredibly relaxing. For a few minutes, I forgot it was a fertility festival.

  Then we arrived at the docks at Marina Del Ray, where Thea’s tourism shop was supposed to be. I snatched the first parking spot I saw, which put us a couple blocks from the harbor, where the Adults Only section was located. The jump from Family Friendly to Adults Only was startling. I’d never been to Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but I suspected it was tame compared to what I was seeing.

  Men clad in tiny blue Speedos chased after women painted like mermaids. Scales were drawn on their bare skin with shimmering paint, and they wore only a thong and several necklaces of pearls. We quickly figured out the game—catch the mermaid or merman, give them a kiss, and get the beads. I saw a couple of women give up the last of their beads and lead the grinning victor to the shadows of an alley. The smell of roses was thick in the raucous air, a tell-tale sign of love spells.

  As I watched the crowd, I saw bottles of booze being poured into conch shells that doubled as beer bongs. Sweet-smelling marijuana smoke rolled over our heads in lazy clouds. Boisterous laughter nearly covered the quiet slaps of flesh and pleasured moans coming from cars and alleys.

  None of it was illegal. The Union was a celebration of marriage, childbirth, and sexual freedom, and a fertility festival couldn’t be entirely family friendly. That was why the Adults Only area was strictly monitored by the region’s police force, the Thálassa Frourá, or the Sea Guard.

  I was hardly a prude, but the Adults Only area made me uncomfortable. I understood that the Olympians held sex and breeding in high regard—they would sleep with anything that had a pulse, human or not—but I felt awkward trying to walk to my friend’s boat shop while bare-chested women of all ages shook their breasts at me or tried to slap my ass, not to mention what the mermen tried to do to get my attention.

  Liam, younger and less in control of his hormones, nearly got suckered into the chase a couple of times. I had to grab his arm and drag him along the docks.

  Yet for all the catcalls and whistles we got, it paled in comparison to what was thrown Selena’s way, and she was far from impressed.

  “Hey, baby! Sexy! Blondie!”

  Selena sighed and turned to face her newest admirer, a shirtless frat boy who looked and smelled like one Budweiser too many. He leered at Selena’s chest and held up a handful of white pearls. His collectively drunk fraternity huddled behind him, watching eagerly.

  “Can I help you?” Selena asked impatiently.

  He spoke to her chest. “Show us your tits!”

  My temper bristled, and I balled my fists. I took a step forward but stopped when Selena pressed her hand to my chest.

  “I’m sorry. Can you say that again?” she asked pleasantly.

  “Your tits! Show us your—”

  Selena punched him square in the face and knocked him out cold. His friends stared down at his unconscious body with shock.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought he said fist.” She crossed her arms. “Anyone else want to try for a look?”

  They wisely hid their beads behind their backs. Selena turned on her heel and walked away.

  Liam followed her like a puppy. “You’re my hero.”

  Selena grinned at him. “Do you regularly have women asking you to bare your chest?”

  “Yeah, but it’s only because they want to see my abs.”

  “Oh, Liam. Tell me you don’t indulge them.”

  “Not today.” He patted his stomach. “Wouldn’t want them to know I ate too many Twizzlers on the way here.”

  Selena laughed and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. I smiled as I watched them both, my heart feeling full.

  Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the docks. Nestled in the corner was a navy-blue shack with a white roof. Bright string lights spotted the eaves troughs, and a dull glow came from beyond the half-curtained windows. It seemed to be the only place on the docks not surrounded by horny revelers groping each other or falling into the water.

  Selena walked briskly to the front door of the shop. The curtains were drawn behind its glass windows. I glanced up at the white sign that read “Eldoris’s Divine Tours & Rentals” in a stylish cursive text underlined with rolling blue waves. Even from the exterior, I could tell it was a place built and owned with love.

  Selena rapped her knuckles against the front door four times, each knock timed carefully. It was some kind of signal, apparently. I wondered why it was needed.

  The door opened seconds later, revealing a young woman with sun-tanned skin, rolling black hair, and striking aquamarine eyes. The low-cut black tank top and hip-hugging black jeans she wore accentuated her curves, which were enough to make me blush despite all the bare skin I’d seen tonight.

  I glanced at Liam. His jaw clenched, and a slight blush filled his cheeks. Liam always treated women with respect, but he was still a teenage boy looking at the girl he had a crush on.

  “About time you got here,” Thea teased, putting her hands on her hips and smiling at Selena. “If I have to listen to Mason boast about his collection of pearls one more time, I think I’ll stab him.”

  “You’re the one who asked me how my night is going,” called Mason from inside the shack.

  Thea threw an impatient glance over her shoulder, and I saw Liam’s eyes flick down.

  “I didn’t want a detailed list of all the positions you used, jackass!” Thea called into the shop.

  I lightly elbowed Liam’s ribs. He blinked, looked at me guiltily, then shifted on his feet.

  Thea turned around, curly black hair swinging over her shoulders. She glanced at my brother and me. “Liam. Derek. Welcome.” She stepped aside, holding the door open. “Come in before I see another drunk frat boy waving his dick around.”

  Selena glanced at her friend as she stepped inside. “I took care of a couple of them
for you.”

  Thea smiled. “That is why we’re friends, Selena.”

  The heir of Poseidon closed and locked the door behind us. Glancing around the shop, I noticed it seemed much larger inside than it had looked from the outside. Sandalwood boards lined the floor. Dark wood cabinets filled with trinkets, handmade jewelry, and other souvenirs were stacked against the walls next to shelves of books and spinning racks of maps. The cash register was set on a glass cabinet filled with small coral statues of Poseidon, mythological sea beasts, tiny tridents, and other minor sea deities. Larger, more detailed sculptures depicted classic stories—Jason standing on the Argos with the Golden Fleece, Perseus fighting the Leviathan to save Andromeda, ships being crushed or swallowed whole by the hideous Scylla or destructive Charybdis.

  “Did you make those?” Liam asked, looking at the statues as we approached the counter.

  “Yeah,” replied Thea casually. “It’s a hobby that makes me a little extra money.”

  “They’re gorgeous.”

  He sounded so awed that I was convinced he wouldn’t ruin the moment by making the compliment corny.

  Mason, however, had no such scruples. “Not nearly as gorgeous as the artist herself.”

  Thea scowled, and even I rolled my eyes for her sake. Mason didn’t notice.

  The heir of Zeus leaned casually on the counter with his gloved hands folded on the corner. Boasting a slate-gray suit, navy-blue dress shirt, and a neatly trimmed goatee that accentuated his dark skin, Mason Khalekus looked like a businessman seeking to rent a boat for a weekend pleasure cruise.

  Even the gloves matched his suave, playboy look. They were black satin and covered the entirety of his hands. He’d begun wearing them two months ago after he grabbed Zeus’s Thunderbolt. Sharing the blood of Zeus had likely saved his life, but touching the Thunderbolt had left Mason with horrible burns. Selena had told me he wasn’t handing the ruin very well, but if she hadn’t told me, I never would have known. He looked as confident and self-assured as he ever had.