Hunt of the Gods Page 4

  A dull throb struck the back of my head. I was getting a headache. I had so many questions on top of my concerns. What was Apollo doing with the Cetea Clan? If they were as relaxed as Selena claimed, did that mean they were working with the sun god? If so, why? Was Apollo tricking them? Or was he one of the gods I was supposed to stand beside when Cronus woke, and the world ended?

  I didn’t want to think of that. I had no desire to ally with a god who stressed Selena out so badly. I remembered the contempt he’d shown her the last few times I’d seen him. I remembered the anxiety it caused her.

  There was something connecting them. I had no idea what it was, but I refused to walk a path that would lead me to him. Unless that path ended with my fist in his face.

  The Rage shuddered to life in my chest. It would have happily risen to the challenge. Its sudden life seemed to wake Ki̱demónas as well. The spear literally sent a shiver down my spine where I’d left it sheathed in a simple leather holster.

  The Rage and the spear wanted me to take up arms against Apollo. I’d never fought a god before. Sure, I’d wanted to punch Ares into oblivion more often than not, but back then, I knew better. No one would ever place a bet on a mortal who was fighting a god.

  But you’re not just any mortal, the wicked voice of my pride whispered. You’re more than that. You carry Ares’s spear and wield the power of fire and darkness. This mission puts you on a collision course with one of the gods anyway. Why not start with one you hate?

  “Derek? Did you hear what I said?”

  I looked up. The entire room was staring at me, but Selena and Liam watched me with the most concern.

  I tried to smile. “Sorry. Got lost in my head for a second. What’d I miss?”

  Selena hesitated, and Liam’s eyes were hard with scrutiny, but Thea was quick to answer.

  “We were just saying we ought to call it a night. We can rest, do some surveillance on the apartments, then make a plan about how to get into them.”

  How the hell are we going to do that if the Cetea Clan is watching Thea and has Apollo on their side? I didn’t want to think about it right then.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “We just need a place to stay.” Thea’s shop wasn’t big enough for all six of us, and even if it had been, I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend the night here so soon after her revelation.

  Mason perked up. “Already got us covered. I booked the five of us the biggest suite at the Azure Star.”

  Liam sputtered. “The Azure Star? How in the name of the gods did you manage that?”

  Mason grinned. “Do you really want to know all the dirty details?”

  My brother cringed. “Actually, no. It’s okay. I don’t need more scars on my brain, thanks.”

  The storm scion laughed, and a couple of chuckles echoed through the store. He turned to Thea. “I can ask them to add another person to the bill.”

  “Oh,” she said, “I don’t know…”

  She trailed off when Mason started shaking his head. “You don’t have space for us here, and I don’t want to spend the entire night stressing about the Cetea hovering around you. Save us all some panic and possible kidnapping by staying at a luxury hotel with us, Thea. Consider it my birthday gift.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “My birthday’s not until July.”

  “I like thinking ahead.”

  She rolled her eyes but smiled. With a sigh and a longing look around her shop, Thea assented. “All right. Let me go pack a few things. I’ll be right back.”

  She left the main room for the back of her shop—which I realized was also her home—and disappeared. The rest of us fell into meaningless, relaxing conversations.

  Except for me.

  I stood in the shop with a restless heart and a mind that wondered what it would be like to fight a god.

  WHEN MASON SAID he’d rented the biggest suite at the Azure Star, Santa Monica’s most expensive and high-class hotel, I thought he’d fallen into the same trap as many luxury resorts aficionados—paying too much for far too little.

  What a fool I’d been.

  Not only had he scored us a two-bedroom, two-bathroom suite, he’d made sure it had all the amenities—two fireplaces, one in the enormous living room, one in the master bedroom, which Mason claimed for himself but offered to share if anyone was interested; a dining room; an office; a wet bar; and a gigantic wrap-around balcony, complete with furnishings, overlooking the streets and the beach just a few blocks away. The entire suite was decorated with blue walls, white fabrics, and sandalwood furniture. It felt like a home. When Liam asked Mason how he paid for it, Mason smiled and said he put it on his company card.

  Neither Liam nor I had ever stayed anywhere that so obviously catered to the wealthy. The closest we had come was when we went to a temple to offer supplication to the gods. But we had always known we were in their space, the gods’ space, and we would never belong. But for a few nights at the Azure Star, we would live like kings.

  Liam immediately took advantage of the in-room dining menu—after asking Mason’s permission, of course—while Selena commandeered the clawfoot bathtub, and Corey and Thea wandered out to the balcony to watch the Union party continue.

  I looked at Mason. “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

  Mason raised an eyebrow and looked me up and down. He noticed my frown and laughed. “Don’t worry about it, blue eyes. Honestly. I figure things are going to get pretty rough down the line, so I thought a little indulgence now would be nice.” He turned that bright, wicked smile on me again. “But if you still feel the need to express your gratitude…”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to bed. Alone.”

  I let Mason laugh and made my way to the second bedroom. There were two queen beds in the room, so Liam and I were going to share it. Selena and Corey were going to share the king size sofa bed in the living room. An extra, smaller sofa bed had been brought up by the hotel staff for Thea. It made the living area a little crowded, but there was still more than enough room for us to walk around.

  No one believed Mason would actually take advantage of them if they chose to share his room—I knew him well enough to know he loved to flirt and tease more than anything else—but with a full bar in the hotel room, Mason’s constant flirtations, and a fertility festival going on down the street, it was best not to take any chances. And since Mason was footing the massive bill for the suite, no one griped about him taking an entire giant bedroom for himself.

  In the smaller bedroom, I chose the bed by the wall, removed Ki̱demónas from my back, set it on the nightstand, and dropped my duffel bag. I had packed some armor, a few weapons, and some clothes and toiletries before we left our home in San Bernadino. I hoped we wouldn’t spend more than a few days here, but I doubted we’d be so lucky. Hopefully, Mason’s company had a bottomless bank account.

  I sat on the bed and flopped backward. The mattress was feather soft and seemed to fold around me. The sheets smelled clean, like cotton and lavender soap. In a few seconds, my eyes closed, and I could feel the warm pull of sleep settling over my mind.

  I just wished it would have lasted.

  The sky is full of shadows and smoke. Embers fall like dying fireflies. The road is smeared with blood. Screams echo in the distance.

  I tilt my head back and breathe in the chaos. Relish it.

  Ki̱demónas hums in my hand, delighted and energetic at the thought of more bloodshed. It echoes my own energy.

  And why shouldn’t I be delighted and energetic? This new world is something I helped create. I made it with shadowmen and fire soldiers, and I fought alongside gods and monsters to end the war.

  The cost was high, but it was worth it. Anything worthwhile requires sacrifice. The gods gave up their loved ones. I’d had to do the same.

  Hard fingers curl around my shoulder and squeeze. They don’t seem to feel the fire and aether that wreathe my body. Or if they do, they don’t care.

  “This is the last day of your grief, Derek
Areios.” The god’s voice is distorted and distant. I don’t know which god it is, but it is comforting to know they are here. That they will guide me forward. That they will find me a new purpose so I never have to look back, never have to remember what I did.

  “Your pain is near an end. You have done well for us, for me. You have fulfilled your destiny, and you shall be rewarded.”

  I stare at the collapsed buildings, the burning cars, the shattered glass. In the distance, I see survivors running for their lives. Lightning and thunder spark through the clouds overhead. In that flash, I watch a manticore chase after a victim. The human doesn’t get far before the manticore’s jaws close around his body and shake him with bone-breaking fury.

  “When?” I ask. My voice is raw. Raspy. I’d forgotten how much I’d been screaming.

  The hand warms again and comforts me. My dual magics swell in my chest, resting from their use, yet eager to be unleashed again.

  “Soon. Your army shall cull the humans. Now, we must turn to the gods. The ones who refused to join our crusade. Cronus is eager to mete out his vengeance upon them.”

  As if summoned by his name, a thunderous sound echoes from behind us.

  No, it is louder than any thunder. It is the sound of the world breaking apart. A sound no god, not even the King of Olympus himself, can make. It shakes me to my core and demands that I turn and gaze in awe upon it. Upon him. The towering shadow of muscle and wisdom and rage, finally free of his shackles and hungry to devour the world that forgot him.

  There truly is nothing more glorious than the fury of a Titan.

  The world flashes a blazing white. I turn to look for the threat, but I don’t know where it is. I clutch Ki̱demónas tightly and let magic unfurl from me. I fill my right hand and snap my wrist down. Ki̱demónas extends from a short, two-foot length to a full seven-feet. Flames unspool from my hand and wrap around the spear. My left hand fills with aether. I throw both at the light. But it continues to grow, continues to spread, and soon I’m blind. I can’t find my enemy. I am consumed. I can’t do anything.

  “Of course you cannot, Derek Areios. I control this room.”

  The voice is behind me.

  I whirl around in the whiteness, keeping Ki̱demónas and my magic close.

  Standing behind me is a woman. The sight of her startles me because she does not look like a threat.

  She is beautiful, perhaps a decade older than I. Her skin is pale, her body covered in a maroon-and-gold-trimmed chiton. Gold rings and bracelets circle her dainty wrists and ankles. A web of rubies is splayed beneath her throat. Her hair is streaked with rich brown and honey-blond strands. It is coiled on top of her head, held in place with a sharp gold crown and ruby pins. Her face is exquisite, each slope and line perfectly formed. Her lips are full and painted a shade of deep wine. Her eyes spark gold, brighter than any of the metal jewelry she wears.

  She looks soft, maternal, innocent.

  But looks can be deceiving. I’ve fought—and slain—enough gods to know.

  “No,” she says. “You haven’t. Not yet. You are caught in a nightmare, and when you wake, you shall remember that.”

  As she speaks, her words filter into my mind. I feel a piece of me slough off and feel… more like myself. More like the person I should have been than the person I had become.

  “You are not lost yet, my son. Trust your loved ones and your own heart, and you never will be.”

  She begins to fade, the bright light behind her shrinking slowly into shadow. The edges of my sight start to blur. I feel heavy, but I can’t move.

  “Who are you?” I whisper.

  She smiles sadly at me, as if keeping a secret she can’t reveal. It makes me want to scream the question at her, demand an answer… but I’m tired. So, so tired…

  My body jolted, and I lurched upright, my heart pounding against my chest. I looked around the unfamiliar room, trying to orient myself. It took a few seconds to remember I was in an expensive hotel in Santa Monica. I was sharing a room with my brother, who was snoring softly.

  The dream—or nightmare, or vision, or whatever—lingered on the edges of my mind. I sat up and sighed, and my breathing finally calmed. I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes and took another breath.

  It was hardly the first time I’d had a nightmare about the Prophecy—the ultimate foretelling of doom as spoken by Cassandra, the strongest Farseer in the world. In the Prophecy, I was the general of an army of shadowmen and fire soldiers.

  The Bringer of Shadow and Fire.

  Almost every night since Athena had shown us Cassandra’s Prophecy, I’d had visions of being at the head of that unnatural army. I wielded dual magics and Ki̱demónas with precision and violent intent. I didn’t care who I hurt.

  I slid my fingers from my face and let a hand graze the raised scar on my throat. Not for the first time, I worried about it.

  It was bad enough that the damn thing would lead me to kill my new friends if I didn’t use Athena’s potions to keep it in check, but I worried that it would lead me further astray than that.

  It wasn’t much of a stretch to think that Ares was somehow involved in that Prophecy. God of War and fan of carnage that he was, it was easy to picture him knee-deep in dead bodies with a gleeful smile on his face.

  He’d told me that he chose me for something. I couldn’t help but think it was the Prophecy.

  I need to get the Pact removed.

  Moving off the bed, I rifled through my duffle bag until I found the blue vials Athena had given me to calm the cruel intent of the War Pact. I searched and searched, my sleep-addled brain trying to remember where I’d put the rest of them.

  Until I remembered that I only had one left.

  I found it and looked at the small blue vial. Such a tiny thing, the potion, created to calm the storm brewing inside of me, the power that would kill people I’d come to care about, all because I’d tried to save my brother.

  I stopped thinking and drank the damn thing. It was all I could do.

  The potion was cool, its taste temporary, but as long as it worked, it could taste like vodka mixed with hot sauce, and I would drink it gladly.

  Finally regaining my calm, I glanced at the other bed to see if I’d woken my brother.

  He was face down on his mattress, limbs splayed across the bed, snoring contently.

  We hadn’t shared a room since he was four and I was ten, and I hadn’t had as many nightmares then.

  But the older I got, the more I had, and even in separate rooms, I knew he heard them. Some nights were bad, other were worse. But that nightmare…

  Gods, I didn’t even know if that was what it had been. Parts of it were, to be sure, but that woman…

  I didn’t know who she was. I’d never met her before. I knew that. And yet she felt… familiar. I’d never felt anything like it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to meet her. When deities visited mortals in their dreams, it usually meant bad things were around the corner.

  You have two paths, Derek Areios, as all men of power do. You can become the soldier, the leader, the hero we need. Or you can become the worst kind of monster imaginable.

  Athena’s words rang in my head.

  Giving up on sleep for the moment, I drew back the sheet, grabbed a T-shirt from my duffel bag, and slipped it over my head. I left the room and closed the door softly behind me. I turned and halted in the living room.

  Corey was the only one sleeping in it. His slender frame was sprawled across the sofa bed. Selena wasn’t in it with him, and Thea’s cot was untouched.

  I stepped deeper into the room and looked around.

  The sound of clinking glass came from near the wet bar. “She’s on the balcony.”

  I turned to see Thea standing at the bar next to the kitchen. No lights were on, but she seemed to be finding her way around the alcohol well enough.

  She held out a scotch glass, amber liquid and ice filling the bottom half. “Drink?”

  I shook my head. “N
ot really feeling it.”

  Thea shrugged. “Your loss.” She pressed her lips to the glass and took a long gulp.

  “What’s keeping you up?” I asked, leaning against the bar and folding my arms.

  “Same thing as you, I imagine. Nightmares. Things you want to forget.”

  I didn’t contradict her or stop her from taking another drink.

  “So, how much do you disapprove?” she asked, setting the glass on the bar and pressing her hip against its edge.

  “Disapprove of what?”

  “Me. I know you can’t be happy that I’m a big bad criminal.”

  “You haven’t acted like one since I’ve known you.”

  “That makes a difference?”

  “Yes. Of all people, I know better than to judge someone based only on their past.”

  Thea watched me, choosing her words carefully. “Even when it was awful?”

  My fingers twitched at the memory of the knife in my hand. The solid beat of my fist when it struck Thomas’s chest, and drove the blade into his cruel, black heart.

  “Even when,” I murmured.

  “But you’re still not over it.”

  “I can’t be,” I admitted. “It would be wrong. I don’t want to forget how I felt when I did it.”

  “Because forgetting is easier?”

  I didn’t answer, but I didn’t have to. She wasn’t really asking.

  Thea sighed and poured herself another drink. “We both had some fucked-up childhoods, but I think I got the better deal. No one in the Cetea intentionally hurt me. I even fell in love with one of Kallis’s kids.” She looked at me, smirked at my expression. “Yup. Alexi and I were a thing. A wild, sweaty, passionate, stupid thing.”

  That was my cue that she was drinking too much, but she didn’t give me a chance to interrupt.

  “They taught me to fight, and Alexi and Catalina gave me more than a few bruises, but it wasn’t constant. Not like it was with you and Liam, I’m guessing.”