Chosen Gods

by G. Bailey

  “Ah, sisters, you took your time,” the hooded man says, passing by me like I’m nothing and stopping in the middle of the twins. They look to him, and for a second, the black haired god looks my way and smiles. If I didn’t think she looked inhuman before, I’m in for a shock: her teeth are razor sharp, stained with blood, like a shark’s.

  I gulp because that is feckin’ creepy, and it takes everything I have not to shrivel up under her intense white gaze like a little girl at her first haunted house. Maybe I should just focus on the guy instead. He is clearly the boss man, anyway, and less disgusting to look at. His black cloak is such a contrast to the red ones his sisters wear, and I can see now why everyone is frightened of them. Even when they don’t say a word, there is something about them that is downright terrifying. The power seems to vibrate off of them in waves, an intense, ancient magic that I can tell would be enough to make me do whatever they want. This is what it’s like to stand in the presence of higher gods, and I realize with a start that I’m trembling, and not because of the cold night air.

  I know this man is going to kill me; why else would I be here? I accidentally killed his brother, and now I’m going to pay for it. I avoided it for a while, but sooner or later it was going to come for me; it was only a matter of time. I just wish I got the chance to say goodbye to Storm and the twins, to Jade as well. I wish I got to say goodbye to my family and Mads while I’m at it. Maybe even Michael, but perhaps not Kit. Gods know I would probably get bitten for that. I’m sure the poor fecker is starving by now and biting Storm. That thought makes me smile, and reignites the boldness in me that’s gotten me in and out of countless scrapes in my lifetime.

  “It was an accident, you know that?” I say, tipping up my head and putting on what I hope is a defiant stare. There’s probably no point in reasoning with these guys, but what the hell. I might as well try to talk my way out of this - it’s not like I have anything to lose at this point.

  “What was?” the man asks, tilting his head to the side.

  “Killing your brother,” I answer, crossing my arms. In spite of my blustering, the nervousness is taking hold of me, and it’s all I can do to keep from visibly shaking.

  The last higher god watches me for a long time, and for several moments there is no sound except the wind in the trees. Finally, he gives me a slow, knowing nod, and lowers his hood so I can get a good look at him. I don’t know what I expected to see, but whatever it was, it wasn’t this. Red hair, red eyes, and man, is he creepier than even Storm described him as. It’s more than the pale skin and red eyes (although, let’s be real - those certainly don’t help). It’s more like a feeling that he radiates. I can sense something is very feckin’ wrong with him somehow, like just being in his presence is making me sick. He looks just like his brother I killed, but there is a cut on his eyebrow that stands out, mainly because it looks like a horn shape. If I drew two ball shapes at the end, it would look a lot like something else, and that is not a shape you want on your forehead. That thought is almost enough to make me laugh, but not quite.

  “I know you didn’t mean to kill your father on purpose,” he says, his voice overly-patient all of a sudden. “That isn’t in your nature, from what your family and friend have told me,” he adds, and so much about that one statement makes me step back, my hands dropping down. They’ve spoken to my family. They’ve spoken to Mads. Could they be here right now? Have they been imprisoned by these bastards? If so, that puts them in just as much danger as I am.

  It’s only after a few seconds that the significance of his statement fully hits me. Did he just say the dude I killed was my father? What crap is this higher god snorting?

  “I think you have the wrong person. He wasn’t my father,” I tell him, lifting my head and locking my eyes on his. The red is so much darker when you really look into his eyes. It’s endless, like a sea of blood. I imagine he has spilt enough blood in his lifetime that he could easily fill a sea. The higher gods aren’t as all powerful and knowing as they think they are; instead, they are cruel, and they are monsters that happen to rule. I wish Storm was out here with me. He could put them in their place.

  “Yes, he was. See, your powers can’t hurt me because I learnt long ago how to protect myself from my brother’s powers. Your powers come from him, so they are the same in some respect,” the creepy god tells me, his voice slow and almost like a purr of satisfaction.

  “You’re crazy,” I laugh. “A crazy feckin’ eegit.”

  “Oh, you poor little mouse, you really didn’t know?” he asks, tilting his head to the side and smiling, though his words suggest sympathy. His sisters laugh like this is all some big joke as I take a step back, shaking my head. Could it be true? Everything he said? Did I kill my father without even knowing it was him? My mother wouldn’t have cheated on my dad. No way. This must be all lies. Some part of my heart hurts though as my eyes water with tears. A deep part of me thinks it is true, no matter how much I try to hush that part. Memories come rushing back to me of times I’ve overheard my parents arguing, saying that mum had to tell me something because I was getting older. I always brushed it off as them arguing who was going to give me the sex talk or something. I never thought it was serious…at least most of me didn’t. Not until this moment. “Oh, you really didn’t have a clue, did you? How very sad to live a life not knowing where and who you came from.”

  “I’m not who you think I am. My mother is—”

  “Is dead. Your aunt brought you up as hers, hiding you away like a little pet. I suppose she must have always wanted a girl with that many boys,” he replies, his answer cold and cruel. I’m not a pet to my mum. She loves me; that I don’t doubt. If what he is saying is true, one of my dead aunts is my mother. Which one? I don’t know hardly anything about them. Maybe that is why mum never wanted to talk about the past and my aunts, because it hurt too much.

  “No,” I mutter, shaking my head and taking another step back. Tears fall from my eyes this time, and they make everything so real. The warm wind blowing against me, the night sky with the millions of stars that watch us all, knowing the truth. The salty air I can almost taste with every breath, and the distant sound of waves, washing against the sand. I don’t know the truth or who to believe. I hate that a deep part of me believes him straightaway and desperately wants to know more.

  “Yes. My brother had a thing for Irish women, and I believe I met your mother once. She was actually in love with him, while he never loved anyone that wasn’t his family,” the light haired twin softly says, her voice sounding like what I’d imagine angels sound like. Though I imagine she is an angel of death, and her voice is only sweet to lull poor victims into her trap.

  “I don’t understand,” I mumble.

  “You are a child of a higher god, the only one still alive, I believe. Neritous went on a killing spree after a seer god told him his child would murder his family and rewrite the world as we know it. You can see how we wouldn’t want that; we do like to rule,” the man says with a frown. “Honestly, I think he was overdramatic. I’ve never known a seer to be right.”

  “So you are going to kill me? Not that I believe a single word you are saying,” I spit out, feeling more than frustrated as I shake with anger and shock. It can’t be friggin’ true. “I know who my parents are, and I’m not a child of a higher god.”

  “The only way a higher god can be killed is with the power of the higher gods. You couldn’t have killed him if what I’ve told you were a lie,” he tells me.

  “Then what do you want?” I ask, and I wipe the tears on my cheeks away. I’m not sure what they are falling for. The truth, Jade being gone, or the fact they are going to kill me. I won’t ever get to see Storm or the justice twins again, and that really hurts. I’ve grown attached to the assholes. I will never get to see my family or Mads again. Or hell, even Michael or Kit.

  “We lost a brother, and we need a replacement. Welcome to the family, Karma Maria Cyncus.”

  2

 
“I-I don’t believe you,” I stutter, shaking my head as quickly as if there were a bee in my hair. His words are rolling around in my mind like a boulder, enormous in their weight and significance, and no matter how much I try to resist them, they just won’t leave.

  Karma Maria Cyncus. A child of a higher god. It doesn’t seem real; this all feels like a bad dream, and I tell myself any minute now I’m going to wake up safe and sound in my own bed at home. No higher gods. No murder. No conspiracies. Things can go back to the way they used to be, and this time, I’ll appreciate the life I had before. I swear it…

  Except I’m not at home in bed, and this is no dream. The pain that wracks my body is testament enough of that. Even still, my brain rebels every time I consider this man’s words. If this is true, then it means my family lied to me - has lied to me, for years. But I know my mum, and she’s no liar. Neither is my dad. They love me, and they would have done anything to keep me safe.

  What if it was to keep you safe from the truth? whispers a traitorous voice somewhere in my mind, and I balk at the thought. Could this even be possible? Could my parents, all my siblings, have really disguised this from me for all these years? It doesn’t seem possible, but even as I reel at the idea, something about this rings true, deep down in my soul. It’s like finally solving a math problem you’ve been struggling with for hours, or putting the last piece into a jigsaw puzzle. The picture is taking shape, and there’s no turning back the clock. The truth is as unavoidable as it is unbelievable, and I friggin’ hate that. My head drops as I stare at the ground, my tears dropping from my cheeks onto the sand and stone beneath my feet, and I do nothing but count each one as I try to process everything. I hate that I’m crying. I hate that I’m standing before these gods, looking like a weak little girl, but at the moment, that’s how I feel. It’s like everything I’ve ever known has been pulled away from me, turned upside down and inside out and leaving me with nothing but this rotten, betrayed feeling.

  The power I had in the prison was like nothing I’ve ever experienced in my life. It was strong and overwhelming...but it was me. I knew it then, and I know it now, as surely as I know my own name. And maybe some part of me has wondered, ever since I first conjured up that green lightning, whether or not this magic could point to some deeper truth. It might not have even been a conscious thing, but all those moments of speculation, all that fierce denial that this could have been anything other than an unfortunate accident… maybe deep down, I’ve never felt quite like I fit into the story I was told my whole life, and that thought scares me almost as much as the thought that I’m related to these bastards.

  But there’s no denying it anymore, even as I clench my hands into fists at my sides and shut my eyes as if that will be enough to block out the world around me. There was no charm when I used that magic, and karma gods don’t have those kinds of powers. That’s the reason they’re not considered higher gods; the most they’re able to do is see a person’s sins or good deeds, but the rest is left to magical items, like my necklace. And that charm Mum gave me for my birthday...

  My eyes shoot back open, my breath hitching in my chest as I remember what Jade said as she died, what Mum implied when she first gave me that medallion. The charm boosts power, it doesn’t create it. Whatever happened in that prison, it was all me.

  I look up, and I feckin’ hate the smirk the red-haired man has on his face. Twins one and two are emotionless, but they keep watch, the feeling of their milky white eyes on me enough to send shivers up and down my spine. I have no doubt if I attacked this guy, as much as I might want to, then I’d be facing all three of them. I don’t have anyone to back me up. The only men that might have been able to are locked up, and family can’t help me fight the higher gods. They don’t have that kind of power. Hell, I don’t even know if I have that kind of power, and I might be one of them! What chance does an untrained, lost little girl have against the rulers of the supernatural world?

  “You do believe me, my pretty little niece,” says the redhead, his smirk only growing as I snap my head up to look at him defiance. “It’s all right - I can see it in your eyes. No matter; I knew you would come around sooner or later.” He straightens up, his tone suddenly businesslike. “I suppose some introductions are in order,” he says, taking a step closer to me, and it takes everything I have not to make a break for it then and there. “My name is Xur, and I promise you are welcome in our family if you wish it.”

  “And what if I don’t wish it?” I spit back, my tone biting.

  He laughs. “I suppose I should rephrase that. I promise you are welcome in our family, whether you wish it or not. How’s that?” I don’t respond, only able to glare back at him as he chuckles at his own joke. “Now come here,” he says, and holds a hand out for me to take. The courtyard feels like it stretches infinitely on between us, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so old and tired in my entire life. In this moment, staring down this man - Xur - who has torn my life apart at the seams, I promise myself I will never accept his hand. I don’t know who my parents are that gave me life, but I sure as heck know who brought me up. I know who my real family is, whether we’re related by blood or not. Those people - the ones who taught me how to walk, who taught me how to ride a bike, who picked me up when I fell down and cleaned up my skinned knees - those will always be my real family, and I realize that the instant I lose sight of that, then it’s all over. It doesn’t matter where I came from.

  Besides, these are the higher gods, and if—and that’s a big if—I were actually related to them, then it would be nothing other than an embarrassment. They are murderers and coldhearted bastards. These are the tyrants who have made life miserable for lesser gods for hundreds of years, who throw innocent people in prison and never look back. It’s their fault that Jade is dead, that the twins might be too, that countless innocent people have lost their lives. I don’t want anything to do with their family or their offer to let me join.

  “I have a family,” I tell him, raising my head up as my heart continues to pound out of my chest. “So thanks, but no thanks. If you’re not going to kill me, I have things to do.” I cross my arms, my eyebrows furrowing, and at this point, I feel like sarcasm is the only thing I have left. These people are never going to take away who I am. As if on cue, my hair falls around me, and the red curly waves just remind me of my Irish heritage. Everything I am is from who brought me up. I am nothing like these people, and I never will be.

  Xur’s eyes seem to go even more red in that moment - if that’s even possible - and his expression darkens. I feel like a cornered animal in a cage, and can’t help but take a step back, in spite of my bravado.

  “Are you rejecting me?” Xur growls, his voice low and dangerous, and my eyes widen as I watch him. Red lightning begins to flicker around his arms and chest, burning parts of the cloak away with its sheer power. Why is his lightning red and not green anymore, I wonder? Could it have something to do with his power level - or is it just the fact that he’s pure evil? My money’s on the second one, if I’m being honest.

  Before I’m even aware of what’s happening, Xur has suddenly moved right in front of me. It’s practically like he teleported, although I think I caught a glimpse of his robe streaking into a black blur in the split second before he arrives. If he’s able to move so fast that he can’t be seen, there’s truly no escaping him.

  I instinctively take another step back, eyes going wide, but before I can move any further, he grabs my arm. I notice far too late how sharp his nails are - inhumanly sharp, almost like claws, further solidifying his demonic appearance. Before I know what’s happening, he digs his first nail into my wrist and begins to drag a long line down my forearm, slicing open a vein and causing a rush of blood to come pouring out. My cry is more from being startled than from the pain itself, and if I didn’t have a goddess’ speedy healing, I would probably be in trouble from this alone.

  My new powers begin flicker green lightning all around me, and I take the mom
ent to try to get a hold on them, to figure out how I can harness them, but they’re still far too foreign and unstable for me to understand them yet. All I can do is let them explode out of me in a rush of magic that’s powered by fear, but even though the surge of power is reminiscent of the one from the prison, it still doesn’t do anything more than bounce off Xur. He glares down at me like it’s nothing more than an annoyance, though it does manage to burn his cloak and arm in places. As if in retribution, he digs his nail in further, and now it really is starting to hurt; I let out a pained cry and try to wrench my arm free of his grasp, but he has me in an iron grip.

  This guy is out of his mind, I think, railing against him with all of my strength and struggling to pull away from him, but I don’t manage to get my arm free before he does what’s possibly the craziest thing he’s done yet. I watch in horror as Xur drags me closer by my bleeding forearm, and then he brings my wrist up to his mouth, touching the cut to his lips for a moment. I feel my stomach turn at the sight, but then he shoves me down onto the floor, allowing me to pull my arm away and put pressure on the wound. It should close up in time… emphasis on the word should. I can’t be certain of anything anymore, it seems.

  I crane my neck to stare up at the deranged god, my eyes narrowing into determined slits as I try to stop the bleeding and fresh wave of pain that’s coursing through me. Xur takes a step back, seemingly done with me for now, and begins to chant. I don’t catch most of the words he murmurs under his breath, nor do I understand the ones I do hear, but the power that the incantation holds becomes obvious in a matter of seconds; his body begins to radiate a dim, pulsating red light, and I can feel the dark magic coming off of him in waves. It’s enough to even make me temporarily forget the discomfort in my arm, and I find myself frozen in awe and terror as the power flows through him… but almost as soon as it begins, it ends, the red glow winking out. When he opens his eyes again, he crosses his arms and steps back into the gap between his sisters as if what he just did was the most normal thing in the world.