Forgotten Gods Boxed Set 2

by S T Branton

  “I thought these fleabags were on our side!” Frank yelled. He swung from side to side as he clung tenaciously to the unkempt scruff of a large Were’s neck. Before it could shake him off, three bullets perforated its skull in quick succession. The vampire rode the corpse to the ground.

  “You’re welcome,” Steph called. “Again.” She turned and delivered a roundhouse kick into the ribcage of a Were poised to leap. It crumpled and she stepped on its neck.

  “Hell of a woman,” Frank said. He dusted his hands off. “Like I was saying, I thought they were with us.”

  “Some of them are.” I parried a claw strike with my blade, which proceeded to melt the creature’s claws to stubs. “Not all of them. The ones in Washington—” I paused to grapple the Were, threw him backward, and pinned him with the sword. “The ones in Washington didn’t spend that much time with the god who turned them. I had the chance to revise their conditioning, so to speak. There’s no helping these guys. They’re starving and feral.”

  They didn’t even appear to have retained the ability to speak in anything but beastly noises. Every last shred of humanity in their eyes was long gone. It was a wonder they could even take the bridge out or plan this ambush. And yet, there we were.

  Most of the creatures produced as Forgotten have no sense of humanity at all, Marcus said. They cannot be grouped with the likes of their former brethren, no matter where their origins lie. Individuals such as Maya and Frank must be viewed as the exception, rather than the rule. He said the last part stiffly like he was frowning.

  I looked into the sea of frothing Weres and for once, I was tempted to simply agree. “Why do they always have to travel in packs?” I asked out loud.

  As if in answer, three bullet holes materialized neatly in the three nearest beasts, directly between their blazing eyes. “They know I need target practice,” Steph said. She dropped three more in the span of a few seconds.

  “See, Vic?” Deacon asked. “That could be you, but you keep playing.”

  I glowered at him. The Gladius Solis flew from my hand, plunged through an oncoming Were, out his back, and through the neck of the one behind him. I didn’t flinch as it returned smoothly into my hand.

  “Does it look like I’m playing?” I demanded.

  “Holy shit,” Steph said. She nodded over my shoulder, and I turned in time to see Maya break a Were’s back, toss the limp corpse onto a pile of others, throw her head back, and howl her dominance. She grabbed the last of her challengers by the chest fur, slammed the wolf into the ground, and used her weight and strength to crush its considerably frailer frame. She snapped its neck in one swift movement. The sharp crack of bone resounded in the sudden silence.

  “They’re leaving!” Deacon announced. “Looks like they’re not so dumb after all.” The few survivors of the horde had turned tail and loped into the dark recesses of the forest, leaving a trail of their dead. We regrouped at the cars and Maya threw on a spare change of clothes.

  “Nice job, team,” I said. “We kicked all kinds of werewolf ass. And now, the million-dollar question is how the hell do we get ourselves across the river?”

  Chapter Four

  Our quest to ford the river took us miles downstream, where we found a spot we could get across with only mild panic in our chests. The water surged almost to the hoods of our trucks at times, but we made it to the opposite bank, up the incline, and back toward the nearest road.

  Frank and I spent a lot of the drive catching up, and when we were through with that, we drove in companionable silence. Occasionally, we scanned for radio stations, and we always kept our eyes peeled for more trouble. Deacon and I exchanged status reports between trucks every hour or so. Outside the windows, the ravaged landscape rolled by.

  There wasn’t much to see aside from ruined farmland and old, splintery barns, so the sight of a ramshackle diner on the side of the road caught all our attention. We pulled into the unpaved lot with the intention to search the place for any leftover food. As I killed the engine, I noticed that the diner’s neon sign flickered and that people moved around inside. The long counter was manned, and a few booths were occupied.

  “Ain’t this a fine how-do-you-do,” Frank remarked flatly.

  “Let’s hope we don’t need a reservation,” I said.

  We joined the rest of our team and walked through the door. Nobody looked up from their meals or conversation. A haggard waitress with dark circles like moon craters etched under her eyes nodded at me and gestured toward a large round table at the back.

  On my way through the dining area, I examined the other patrons furtively. They all looked bone-tired and like they were covered in a fine layer of dust. The atmosphere inside the run-down establishment was one of thorough exhaustion.

  We could all relate.

  The crew breathed a communal sigh of relief as we settled into our seats, grateful for a few minutes out of the car to grab a bite to eat. The waitress brought us glasses of water and we skimmed the menu.

  “This is weird,” Maya said and broke the relative quiet. “It feels wrong.”

  “We saw shit like this all over the place in and around D.C.,” said Frank. “Plenty on the way, too. People are starting to try to build something from their shattered lives. They want things to be normal, even if they know it’s only a damn charade.”

  Steph nodded. “We heard that workers had returned to power plants and phone companies to try to get services up and running reliably. No one told them to. They’re doing it because that’s all they can do.”

  It is a familiar narrative, Marcus agreed. For centuries, we have built civilization from the fires of hell, of war, and of disaster. Misfortune continues to befall us, worse now than ever. And yet, people remain fundamentally resilient.

  I studied our surroundings more closely. Now that we’d been seated and had started to talk among ourselves, some of the other tables had finally taken notice. Their eyes settled on me like weights but I chose to ignore them.

  “The whole country must be like this,” Deacon said. “We crash-landed in the Midwest for a minute on our way to Washington, and we found more Forgotten without even trying. I think it’s all overrun.”

  Maya shuddered. “I can’t even imagine three thousand miles of this,” she said. “I wonder how many humans are alive out there.”

  “More than we fear and less than we hope,” I said. “The best way to rescue them at this point is to get to the bottom of this awful mess.”

  She nodded. “Agreed. But I hope that doesn’t take too long. Something tells me there isn’t much time.”

  The waitress returned. We ordered our food in a somber, contemplative mood. When she left, Frank cleared his throat. “Steph suggested we stick around outside D.C. and open one of those modern bed and breakfasts. All cozy-like. Just shut out the rest of the world going to hell.”

  Steph burst out laughing. “That was your idea, you son of a bitch!” she exclaimed. “I think it’s utterly ridiculous.”

  “Maybe not,” he said. “I hear property taxes are lower than ever.” He winked and she swatted his arm.

  The mood held until our meals arrived, and we dug in and got down to business. “It ought to be easy to get into the city,” Frank reassured us. “We didn’t have no trouble. It took longer to fight our way out on account of them flocking toward the city centers.”

  “Now that New York City’s more or less fallen, many of the stray Forgotten appear to be searching for a new home base,” Steph explained. “Things can get fairly hairy.”

  Frank waved the possibility away. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “We’re as tough as nails. We can do this.”

  “I’ve heard that one before,” Deacon remarked grimly. “What could go wrong?”

  Frank stuck the last bite of food from his plate into his mouth, chewed quickly, and swallowed. “Here’s what I’m not a hundred percent sold on,” he said. “How do we know we can really trust this guy—the smoking jackass, or whatever you call him
? Does anybody have any dirt we can use?”

  All eyes turned to Deacon. He took a swig of his water. “Look, I don’t know much,” he said cautiously. “Definitely not much more than Steph. The guy’s a damn ghost. He showed up one day early on, dropped some intel, and disappeared. A short while after, he showed up again, dropped some more, and disappeared. It’s like he leaves trails of breadcrumbs for us to follow but only he really knows where they lead. No one in the Bureau that I could talk to knew a single thing about where he came from. That’s all we have.”

  Frank scoffed. “It sounds shady to me,” he grumbled.

  I stretched and leaned back in my chair. The patrons at the table behind us huddled close together and whispered among themselves. A few phrases caught my nectar-heightened ears.

  “I think that guy is one of them. Look at his skin.”

  “Did you see his eyes? Why are his clothes all torn up like that?”

  “Why don’t her clothes fit? Those freaks must be hiding something.”

  The blood boiled hot into my face and tinged my vision red. I clenched my fists, about to teach those nosy pricks exactly how to mind their own business. As I moved to push my chair out, Marcus spoke.

  Do not act on rash emotions, Victoria. I understand that their words are ignorant and hurtful, but it is only natural for humans to despise a being like Frank—and Maya, if they truly knew her nature. This is the way of things. Indeed, these instincts have kept many a human alive in dire times.

  I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood and willed my head to cool. The desire to knock someone’s block off still burned within me, but I tried to be sensible instead. Starting a fight would hardly make things easier for us now. The very last thing we needed was unwanted attention.

  “Okay, guys,” I announced and shoved my chair back. “It’s time for us to get back on the road.”

  Deacon glanced at me but didn’t question my decision. We left money for our bill on the counter and I led our crew the hell out of there. Back in the truck cab, I hazarded a glance through the front window of the diner. The patrons in the booth behind us stared at me with raw animosity in their eyes.

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I jammed the key into the ignition, started the engine, and accelerated out of that place as fast as I could.

  Chapter Five

  The remainder of the journey to the capital was quiet and far more tense than before. I shoved our experience at the diner to the back of my mind. Common sense told me I needed to focus on what lay ahead and what we might find as we reached the outskirts of DC. We had barely entered the official city limits when my view of the deserted road changed dramatically. I put my foot on the brake.

  “Damn it,” I murmured. “What the hell is going on here?”

  There was no mistaking the distinctive dark green color and boxy outline of the military trucks.

  Frank’s fingers drummed restlessly on his knees. “Lock the doors,” he said. “I don’t know what they want, but they won’t get it without a fight.”

  I sighed. “No, no, hold on. The smoking dude brought the army to Lincoln Tunnel, remember? They could be on our side. The blockade simply gave me a minor heart attack. That’s all.” I eased our vehicle to the front of the barricade and slowed to a stop. The vampire balled his hands into fists to keep his fingers still.

  A soldier approached the door, decked out in full combat gear. He peered at me from under his helmet. “Vic Stratton?” he asked after an extended period of scrutiny.

  “Yeah.” My voice and demeanor remained cool. I had no idea how the strange man knew how to expect us, but decided to work with what I had until I knew more.

  The soldier nodded. “We’ve been instructed to escort you down to the Memorial. Pull through here and follow us, please.” He signaled for his compatriots to move the center of the barricade aside, which revealed an envoy of waiting transports. They flanked us as we proceeded through.

  “See?” I told Frank. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “Right,” he answered. “I’ll believe it when I lay eyes on this weirdo for myself.”

  The escort blocked out the view from either side, but we were still treated to a dismal, head-on view of a broken city. Much as we had seen in New York, heaps of rubble and debris lined the streets and blocked some of them off entirely. Several small fires burned along the roadside, which was also crowded with the usual mess of abandoned cars. Many of the buildings we passed had obviously been abandoned, looted, and vandalized, or some combination of the three. By now, I was numbed to that kind of scene. The whole damn country looked this way.

  The National Mall sprawled before us and I sucked in a sharp breath. The Capitol Building towered high above our solemn parade, its dome shattered into jagged pieces. The walkways leading to the building were broken and treacherous as if an earthquake had ripped through. Barely over a mile down the Mall, the Washington Monument leaned dismally. It had been broken and now stabbed into the grass at its base. Huge cracks riddled the stonework and radiated through the ground at the site of impact.

  “What a fucking mess,” I said quietly. “I wonder which royal jackass is responsible for that.” Frank didn’t have an answer.

  Beyond the Monument, the west end of the Mall appeared incongruously normal. The Lincoln Memorial stood at the edge of the reflecting pool, regal as ever. I could barely see the looming silhouette of Honest Abe as we approached, but something wasn’t quite right.

  Soon, however, my attention shifted to the forces strung thickly around the edge of the Memorial grounds and all the way up the stairs. They watched us disembark from our trucks, saluted our escort, and waved us through.

  “This way,” said the soldier who’d greeted us at the blockade. I expected him to lead us up the steps, but instead, he moved around the side toward an inconspicuous door tucked into the base of the Memorial. I hesitated and glanced up the marble stairs. Lincoln had been beheaded and his statue ended in nothing more than a rough marble stump.

  “Keep moving, please,” the soldier called back. I jogged to catch up. The image of headless Lincoln lingered in my mind’s eye. Talk about an ill omen.

  Behind the plain door, we were met by yet another guard, who took one look at us and held his hand up. “Hold it,” he said brusquely and stared at Frank. “He can’t come any farther.”

  I bristled. “Why not?” The edge in my voice couldn’t be concealed. I might have expected this kind of ignorance from laypeople, maybe, not someone with the smoking man’s obvious authority.

  The guard frowned at me. He was blunt in his reply. “Because he’s a vamp. There’s a strict no-monster policy here.” He paused to let the words sink in and then repeated himself. “He can’t come any farther. He’ll have to stay outside.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked and gritted my teeth. “This is fucked.” For the second time that day, blood rushed to my head.

  Maya placed her hand on my shoulder. “Vic,” she said soothingly. “It’s fine. Frank and I can wait outside. Right, Frank?”

  The vampire’s gaze bounced quickly between me, Maya, and the guard. “Uh, sure,” he said and shuffled backward. “Go on without us, boss. We’ll wait here.”

  The guard glanced curiously at Maya. “Only him, honey,” he told her. “You can come on in.”

  She smiled sweetly. “No, I can’t. I’m afraid it would be against your policy.” His eyes widened and he studied her with futile interest. She held the smile on her face. “Let’s say that Frank, here, is a daydream. I’m your worst nightmare.”

  The guard swallowed. He beckoned the rest of us onward as Maya and Frank retreated into the daylight. I brushed past him harder than necessary.

  Although Maya is but little, she is fierce, Marcus commented.

  “She’s not always that little, either,” I said.

  We passed into the halls of a tiny museum dedicated to the sixteenth president, which featured a wall of plaques and an austere portrait of his face on one wal
l. The space had otherwise been converted into an open office. Everything was polished to an absurd shine. Pieces of furniture softened the place, including a large, dark wood desk situated in front of a wall of matching bookshelves. The smoking man stood between desk and shelves and white plumes billowed from his lips. He looked immaculate.

  When he saw us, he smiled. “Welcome, Vic. Please, do your best to make yourselves at home. I am pleased to see you’ve taken my advice to heart and collected a fine company of warriors.”

  “It’d be even finer if you hadn’t forced me to leave my best one at the door,” I said. Frustration bubbled immediately below the surface. Maya had spent months at my side. I resented that she wasn’t allowed to be there now.

  “A shame,” he agreed. “But it can’t be helped. Your friends have proven their worth, but their nature leaves something to be desired. Trusting the Forgotten is all but impossible.”

  I scowled. “That’s a pretty messed up thing to say. You don’t make much of a case for yourself here.” Everyone wanted to walk on thin ice today. I resisted the mighty urge to crack my knuckles.

  Deacon cleared his throat. “You asked for us, sir,” he said. “We’re here. Tell us what’s going on.”

  The smoking man took a long drag on his cigarette. His gaze roamed each of our faces. “Delano’s location has been pinpointed,” he began. “He’s in the Midwest—essentially, the middle of nowhere. Nothing but flat, out-of-season cornfields as far as the eye can see.” He puffed again. “A perfect place to raise a massive army and especially if the lesser gods—of which the number is increasing—continue to bow at his feet. I suspect that soon, he will have found a way to force the stronger ones into line as well. Our task is to stop him before that happens.”

  My ears perked up, albeit grudgingly. “Or else what?”

  He turned his calm, impassive eyes to me. “Or else the human world ends,” he said simply. “Delano is the biggest threat we know, bar none. Up until now, uncontrolled chaos between the gods has allowed some space for those humans who have survived to run, to hide, and to fight. If Delano is able to bring about some semblance of unity, even if he must do so by force, there will be nowhere for mankind to go. The truth is as stark and cruel as that.”