by M. K. Gibson
Before he could pull his gun or a wand, Thor charged him again. Eric managed to sidestep as best he could, but the god adjusted, lowered his shoulder, and forced Eric up against the wall. A burst of air escaped his lungs. Even though Thor was mostly depowered, he still had ages of battle experience.
But Eric didn’t care. A glance past the thunder god and he saw his friends. He saw Cass, still recovering from nearly being electrocuted to death.
A world without Cass? No.
But what could he do?
“Hey bro,” Derek said. “Remember what Sun Tzu said. ‘Make your way by unexpected routes and attack unguarded spots’.”
“Kinda busy,” Eric said as Thor’s hand pushed his head to the side and heavy fists slammed against his ribs.
Derek sighed. “Remember when we were kids and Gram-Gram made us watch pro wrestling?”
“Yeah?” Eric grunted as another punch threatened to break his already bruised ribcage.
“Well, who was her favorite wrestler?”
“Rowdy Roddy Piper.” Eric winced.
“Right. So, what did Hot Rod use to say?”
Through the punishment, Eric finally caught on to what his brother was trying to say. “Just when you have all the answers, I change the questions.”
Eric had been trying to meet the god on his terms, in a righteous sense of justice for his friends. But that wouldn’t work. So Eric went back to the hoodlum he had been in his youth. The kid who had fought on the streets. And those hadn’t been wrestling matches. They had been fights for survival and dominance. And in survival, it didn’t matter how you won.
Eric shot his hand out, driving his thumb directly into Thor’s left eye, not caring that he felt the eye threaten to pop like an overripe grape. When Thor grabbed at his wrist to stop him, Eric lashed out with his heavy booted foot and kicked the outside of the god’s kneecap, bending it at an unnatural angle. Thor screamed in pain and hobbled back a step.
“Shut up,” Eric growled, slamming a palm strike to Thor’s throat.
Thor staggered back, gasping for air. But once again, Eric learned why Thor had been so feared. With the last remnants of his power, Thor’s eyes crackled, and he threw a single hard punch that connected with Eric’s chest. The power-infused blow slammed Eric back against the wall with a miniature thunderclap.
The wall’s ceramic tile cracked, and dust exploded outwards. Eric gasped for breath. The only reason he’d survived the sudden strike was because of the enchantment woven into his MORTAL-issued trench coat.
Frustrated that Eric still stood, Thor’s hand once more shot into his Speedo, likely searching for another vial of Vitae. Eric reacted and charged the god. He clamped down on Thor’s wrist with his left hand, then reached into his swimsuit with his right, searching for the vial.
He found something and grabbed a hold of it tightly . . . but it wasn’t the vial.
The two men locked eyes for a moment. In that moment, there was a connection. A knowing. In the way that only two warriors who had fought and pushed one another to their limits could know.
Or in the way that happens when a man has a handful of another man’s junk.
“Call me?” Thor said.
Before Eric could answer, Thor’s eyes sagged shut and he collapsed, hitting the concrete hard. Despite the heavy impact, it was clear that Thor was snoring.
Looking up, he saw Gabby holding an outstretched wand. The elf then smiled at Eric and put the depleted Wand of Induced Somnolence back into the inner lining of her trench coat.
“Thanks,” Cass said, as she came to stand next to him while placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Hmm?” Eric said, looking at the sleeping god while Jessie and Gabby secured him with enchanted zip-ties. He shook his head and looked back at Cass. “Sure. My pleasure.”
“So,” she said with a smile. “Everything you expected it to be?”
Eric leaned in. “Swear to god, Cass, it was like holding a goddamn water bottle. And let me add, that pool water is cold.”
Cass pursed her lips and nodded. “Good for him. I bet he—”
“Hey!” Jessie said. “Gabby! Stop that. Unconsciousness is not consent.”
Thor’s Speedo suddenly snapped back in place and the elf looked at Jessie apologetically. Then, a wide-eyed mischievous smile spread across her lips. Looking up at Eric, she held her hands easily ten inches apart.
“Tell me about it,” Eric said, giving his hand a quick sniff.
“Good work, Deacon,” Freeman said. “Is Thor secure?”
“Yeah,” Jessie said.
“Gabby, how long will he sleep for?”
Gabby shrugged and held up all eight of her fingers.
“Eight hours? Works for me.” Freeman nodded. “Deek, where’s Buddha?”
“Third floor,” he said over the line. “It looks like he’s in his office. There are three more gods. Two on the second floor and one on the third.”
“Guards?”
“The ones you left by the locker room aren’t advancing. Looks like they are covering the exits. My guess is they’re trying to keep you all in. The bulk of the remaining guards are on the third floor.”
“Setting up a line of defense?” Freeman asked.
“I don’t know. They aren’t moving, that’s all I know.”
“Got it,” Freeman said. “Okay, same order as before. Ito and DeLeon, take point.”
Jessie nodded. She and Kyle moved towards the exit to the main lobby and the other wide stairwell that led to the gym’s second floor. As the rest began to follow, Eric took Cass’s arm for a moment, holding her back.
“What?”
Eric switched off his comm link, then inclined his chin at the front of the group. “Kyle knows now. You okay?”
“You wanna chat? Now?”
“No, not really,” Eric said with a slight shake of his head. “But we might not get a chance later.”
Cass shook her head. “I’m not ready to talk about it. About him.”
“You know I stood by you. The whole time. You made your decision and I backed you. I was the one who held your goddamn hand when you went through chemo.”
“And you want a medal?”
Eric looked at his friend, hurt. “No. I wanna I know what you’re feeling. Do you still love him?”
“I—” she started to say, then stopped. “When we finish this—”
“No,” he said, cutting her off. Eric looked back at the sleeping Thor, then back at her. “I got lucky. We got lucky. Something tells me it’s gonna get harder. We . . . we might not make it out of this one.”
“Standard bet says we do,” Cass said. “I win, you sing. Then I talk.”
Eric shook his head. “And if we die?”
“We come back as ghosts and haunt people for fun.”
“Deal,” Eric laughed, then hugged his friend, despite her protests.
“You smell like piss.”
“So do you,” he said, then held up his hand under her nose. “You wanna smell Thor’s dick?”
“What? No!” she said, batting his hand away.
“Hey!” Freeman yelled. “You kids two wanna join the rest of the group?”
“Sorry,” Eric said, switching his comm link back on. Cass nodded and began moving out, following Freeman and Gabby through the door to the lobby and up the stairs. Eric would bring up the rear and watch their backs, just as he always had.
And always would.
“You know it’s likely a trap up there,” Derek said to him privately over the comm.
“Yeah, I know. Which is why I’m going to spring it.”
“Why you?”
“Because someone has to. Better me than them,” Eric said, then followed them though the door and up the stairs.
“Cass, wait up!” he bellowed.
Chapter Forty-One
15 May - 9:32 pm
Body by Buddha, 2nd Floor, District of New Dorado
Her side arm drawn, Cassy followed the team qu
ietly up the highly polished, wide wooden stairwell, thankful that each step had a rubber grip pad. The safety feature softened their approach to the next level of the gym.
The second floor was divided into two sections. Even though the main lights were off, the emergency lighting showed an endless sea of free weights, cardio equipment, and strength training machines, while to the right, partitioned off by black mesh, was a full-sized basketball court. The stairs from the first level were along the west wall, the entrance to third level at the far end, at the northwest corner.
Kyle and Jessie looked around, then peered back at the rest of them, pressing fingers to their lips. Everyone nodded. While there wasn’t anyone visible, they were sure that guards, or gods, were in there hiding in the shadows. Ready to ambush. Stealth was their ally.
“Cass, wait up!” Arby yelled.
The rest of the team looked back, at her. Freeman glared at her, and Cassy could only sigh. Once again, her best friend was the human equivalent of a bullhorn.
“Could you be quiet?” Cassy hissed.
“Could you be more realistic?” he snapped back. “Thor just let loose freaking thunder and lighting downstairs.”
“True, but—”
“But nothing,” Arby said as he stomped by her and continued loudly walking up the stairs, ignoring her, and the rest team’s, glare. “This is a gym, and gyms have cameras everywhere.”
“You’re an expert in gyms?” Kyle said with a smirk.
“Ha ha asshole,” Arby said. “Trust me, they know exactly where we are. So there’s no reason to be stealthy. Hey assholes! You’re under arrest. So, like, give up or whatever.”
A small spinning object came out of nowhere and hit Arby directly between the eyes with a meaty thunk.
“Ow!” Arby yelled as he stumbled back, his eyes watering. “Mother . . . bitch!”
“You okay?” Jessie asked.
“No!” Arby said, blinking several times, trying to clear his head.
Arby’s knees buckled and he began to fall. Jessie and Kyle tried to grab him, but his sheer size made his dead weight impossible to stop. At best, they only slowed Arby as he tumbled down the stairs and stopped along the security wall at the midpoint landing.
“Feel like being stealthy now?” Cassy asked him.
Arby only groaned and held up a middle finger.
“Wanna talk about our feelings now?”
Arby shifted to his side and held up two middle fingers.
“And what did we learn?” she asked, affecting a scolding parental voice.
Arby sighed. “That if the bad guys are being quiet, it’s probably a trap.”
“What the shit hit me? Some ancient artifact of death?”
Jessie picked up the object that had hit him, lying flat against the stair. “This.”
Cassy saw that Jessie was holding a pink, plastic-covered, two-pound dumbbell.
“I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”
A moment later, gunfire erupted while balls of glowing energy exploded in cascading showers of black, negative energy.
“Jess, what do you see?” Cassy asked, her voice conveyed by their comm link despite the gunshots.
“A few human guards with guns,” she said. “It looks like Morrigan is in the weight room while Kali is by the basketball court. Both of them are glowing with black auras.”
“Makes sense,” Freeman said. “Both of them are goddesses of death.”
“Explains the bodies,” Kyle said.
Jessie squinted. “Where?”
“Your human eyes can’t see them,” Kyle explained. “But I could just make out at least seven dudes lying there. If the goddesses are amped on Vitae, then they likely killed the guards and are slinging death magic around.”
“The stairs?” Freeman asked.
“Far end of the gym,” Kyle said. “But they’re in our way.”
“Cross?” Freeman asked. “You’re the tactician, you have a plan?”
“Gimmie a sec,” she said. “Deek?”
“Yeah.”
“What you got, man?”
“Not much more than you,” he said. “Seven active bodies. Five humans and two gods. Looks like one god and three shooters in the weight room and the rest covering their flank on the basketball court.”
“What about the rest of the guards?”
“On the third floor.”
“And the ones we encountered on the first floor?”
“Not there,” he said. “They’re likely the dead ones on floor two, or part of the last line on floor three.”
She nodded and closed her eyes. Cassy let the situations play out in her head. Morrigan and Kali, while not as flashy as Thor, were both far deadlier. Goddesses of war, death, sex, violence, and fate. If they were charged up, then there was nothing they could do. She had to get them to expel their power. And that would mean a diversion.
And she would give them one.
Her eyes snapped open and she looked at her friend. “Arby, you a hundred percent about your shoe theory?”
Still rubbing at his forehead, the big man nodded. “Yeah, Vulcan confirmed it. Why?”
She ignored the question for the moment. “Gabby, can you teleport in this place?”
The elf shook her head ‘no’.
“Too much godly interference,” Freeman said. “Why, what are you planning?”
“Freeman, y’all have to trust me, okay?”
Freeman looked her over, then nodded.
“Okay,” Cassy said as her plan took shape. “Just go with me on this one. Gabby, you have something that can neutralize them if I get their attention?”
Gabby looked at the assortment of wands in her coat and nodded.
“Good. You and Arby haul ass down the stairs and go to the stairwell on the west side. Come up and get ready to flank them.”
Gabby nodded and moved back to help Arby stand. The big man just looked at her. “What are you going to do?”
“Give you time,” she said. “Just watch her back.”
“I’d rather be watching yours.”
“You will be,” she said. “Now go.”
The pair took off, but not before Arby gave her one last concerned look. When they departed, she took a deep breath and focused. Her time as an undercover cop allowed her to channel her inner thespian. To find the right emotion and wrap herself in it.
It wasn’t hard. Because good acting is embracing certain personal truths. She looked at Kyle, and the tears began to flow.
When there was a pause in the gunfire, she walked up the stairs past her friends, her arms held high above her head.
“Cass, what are you doing?” Kyle hissed, but Freeman pulled him back, letting her pass.
“Morrigan, Kali,” Cassy called out. “I give myself over to you.”
“Cass!” Kyle yelled, then moved to stop her. But her ex-husband was promptly tackled by Freeman and Jessie.
“Stop!” Morrigan commanded the guards.
“Ma’am?” one of the guards asked.
“Obey her!” Kali hissed at the guard, then stepped from the basketball court and locked eyes with her girlfriend. “Do . . . do you smell it?”
“Oh . . . yes,” Morrigan said, her eyes closed and breathing deeply. A wickedly cruel smiled spread across the goddess’s lips. “Worship. Real worship.”
“We know you,” Kali said, her eyes still glowing with a black, negative energy.
“The detective from the counseling session,” Morrigan purred.
“And one of the agents that Buddha had stored downstairs,” Kali added. “Yet the smell is unmistakable. She . . . worships us.”
“Who are you?” Morrigan asked.
“Cassandra Cross.”
“No!” Kali boomed, her voice projecting across the gym. The blue-skinned goddess moved in slight slithering pattern, like a dance, each of her four arms gesturing in a way that made her look like she were gliding closer to Morrigan. “Who are you?”
Cassy cl
osed her eyes. Her hand went to the dark green wig she was wearing. She pulled it from her head and dropped it to the floor. She felt cool air against her bare, bald head.
“A woman who has touched death,” Cassy said. Her hand rubbed the bare skin, then went to her false breasts. “And death has left its mark upon me.”
“We sense it,” Kali said. “Smell it.”
“Yes,” Morrigan agreed. “Death. Lust. Power. Violence. War. You are a disciple of our ways.”
Cassy nodded as the tears continued to flow. “Yes.”
“What do you seek of us?” Kali asked. Her voice hinted that she was cautious. But the goddess’s body quivered with excitement. Like a junkie who was moments away from getting the fix she so desperately desired.
“Guidance,” Cassy said, kneeling before them, her eyes turned downward. “I seek your guidance.”
“Ma’am, this is obviously a trick,” one of the closest guards said, coming to stand next to Kali and Morrigan. “She’s a cop. She’s here for the boss. How can you not see that this—”
The man stopped. His eyes rolled back. He let out a small gasp, then fell dead to the matted gym floor.
“Shh,” Kali whispered. “The women are talking.”
Morrigan smiled, then turned back to Cassy. “You were saying, dear?”
“I have tasted death. And since then, nothing satisfies me,” Cassy said with a quiet, building rage in her voice. “My mouth is dry, no matter how much I drink. All food turns is but ash. Sex is a fleeting distraction. The thrill of combat is only a beautiful moment that ends too quickly. What . . . what can fill this desire? This hole in my being?”
She looked up at them, her eyes wet and begging for answers.
The goddesses regarded her with matronly eyes. Kali spoke first.
“Nothing can fill that hold. Nothing except death.”
“Death?” Cassy asked.
Morrigan nodded. “Life is short for you mortals. But what you do with it is amazing. You build, you create . . . you destroy. And when you hold another’s life in your hands, to know that their existence is predicated on your whim . . . mmm, nothing is sweeter.”