But nothing moved. No one called out.
And when my eyes landed on the pulverised remains of the Moreton Bay Fig Tree I knew, I just knew, that we were doomed to fail.
Chapter Twenty
They're All Gone
"OK," Theo announced into the heavy air around us. "We start digging for survivors."
My eyes flicked to his face, he turned slightly and looked down at me. The cuts on his cheeks all healed, just smears of blood and dirt marring his stoic façade.
"What, Oraia?" he asked. "Did you think you were the only one who could be stubborn?"
God, in that moment I truly loved him.
I smiled, it felt like it fractured my tight skin. His hand came up and with fingers curled stroked my cheek.
"They are Athanatos," he reminded me. "And your brother has borrowed some of our strength as well. There is hope, Cassandra."
Yes, there was. But for how long? The world was dying, there was no doubt of that fact. We were in a race against time itself and weaponless to fight it.
I sucked in a deep breath, nodded my head and set off toward the side of the house that was nearest the living areas and back rooms we'd commandeered.
While we dug, throwing bits of rubble over our shoulders and out of the way, we called out. The rhythm of our movements almost lulling; bend, pick up, chuck. Yell. Bend, pick up, chuck. Yell. Light vanished as the moon rose in an eerie looking sky. Somewhere, more fires burned because the usual white orb hanging low over the horizon was bathed in an orange and yellow glow. I prayed to any god who'd listen, that those fires wouldn't catch Pyrkagia's eyes.
We'd had a breather after the earthquake, I wasn't sure if we could rely on one again.
First things first, we needed to determine our friends were still with us. If not, then we moved on to the next part of our plan. Survival. Shelter. Provisions. And finally, once our immediate needs were met, our Stoicheio and Genesis. It seemed so easy to list it like that. I knew it was anything but.
There were no sirens in the air this time, I noted, as I threw another piece of debris behind my back. The odd scream, or wail, but no authorities rushing in to re-establish order. My mind returned to the thugs with bats and in an inhumane moment of weakness I hoped they'd been the first to be culled. I almost wanted to gag once I realised I'd had that atrocious thought.
The air felt thick with menace, but whether that was because of my current train of thought or just the after-effects of such devastation, with the knowledge there was more to come, I don't know. My skin prickled with goosebumps, the air chilled, but that could have just been me. I felt chilled. Desperate and doubtful, and utterly iced to the bone.
We made good but slow progress, not stopping to rest to tend to the injuries we were sustaining. My feet no longer hurt, unless I stood on a sharp point or twisted my ankle on the uneven surface beneath me, and then suddenly I came across some shoes. Not mine, probably Sonya's and that thought, the reminder my human friend was inside this mess, made me slump down on the rubble and gasp for breath.
How could I have overlooked Sonya? How could I have been such an awful friend to not consider her fragile form in amongst the supernatural beings that surrounded her? How did I forget she was with us?
We'd been through so much and she'd been sheltered from it. But no longer. Now she was in the thick of it with us, but not as well protected as her companions. Oh dear freaking God, what had I dragged my best friend into?
"Casey?" Theo called. "What's wrong, Oraia? What have you found?"
My eyes lifted to Theo's across the moonlit space and I saw him blanch.
He scrambled over the distance between us and crouched down at my side, grasping my hand in his.
"What is it?" he demanded, then noticed what I had sitting innocuously in my lap. "Sneakers," he remarked. "Good, you should put them on."
I nodded and let him take them from me, lifting first one foot and then the other and doing the laces up. Sonya and I were about the same size, without socks they seemed a little bigger than usual, but they kept some of the chill out.
"They're Sonya's," I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
"Ah," he replied, understanding in that one sound.
"I have to keep digging," I announced, needing to desperately pick up the pace and find them now.
"Then we keep digging," Theo offered, helping me stand, watching me for a second and then moving away to do the same.
No more calls were made. No more conversation about hopeful outcomes. Just a deadly focus that made us keep going until finally the sun crested the sky.
I was a mess. Ripped and torn clothing, dust covered and sweaty skin, scratched, cut and bruised all over, chipped nails and cracked lips, parched throat and empty stomach. But still I kept going until we'd practically pulled apart the living area that had been, and each bedroom we'd all seized to sleep in.
And they weren't there. They must have gotten out. But where did they go?
"Where are they?" I demanded Theo, feeling panic swell and threaten to consume me whole.
"Maybe they're looking for us," he suggested, which actually made a lot of sense.
"But wouldn't they have left someone behind in case we came back?"
"What for? We can't communicate with each other," he pointed out.
"A message then," I suggested, looking about the newly cleared rubble; just small piles of debris and the lower floor of the house now, where we stood. I stared at the wooden beams visible in places, the still intact flooring in others, and then the overall footprint of the house that I could make out.
"What are you doing?" Theo asked, not in an accusatory tone, he sounded worried and tired.
"Wasn't there a basement level?" I asked. "A cellar you said Aktor had stored the wine inside?"
"Yes," he replied, perking up and scanning the area with me. "But not back here in the rear of the building, where we'd been living. Over the other side," he said, pointing to a part of the destruction we hadn't yet tackled.
"Oh," I said, aware we were nowhere near done.
We'd cleared most of the area but the far edge, enough of a distance away for the group to have not been caught in it, had they remained inside at all. If they'd tried to get out, they'd have used the door by the front of the property, or the side of the house by the makeshift lavatory, well away from the - what appeared to be, after a night as long as that one - mountain of debris and rubble on the other side.
"OK," I added, staring warily at the behemoth before me.
I was so exhausted. Aching all over. But nothing time wouldn't fix and the DNA of an Athanatos. We had to keep going.
Our movements were steady and measured, not for safety's sake, but because we were severely lacking fuel. Both our Stoicheio and that part of us that is human. We needed sustenance, in the form of food and water, a moment's rest to heal and recuperate, and communion with our Elements to feed our soul.
At least for me. I wasn't so sure about Theo.
But until we checked every single inch our hearts would never be whole, so onward we pushed.
It must have been after nine in the morning by the time we reached the doorway to the cellar itself, set in the floor, like a tornado shelter, weighted down until we uncovered it by at least a tonne of debris and detritus.
I swayed on my feet as I stared down at it, willing a knock to sound out, or Aktor to appear pushing it open and announcing, "It's about time."
But neither happened, and as Theo wrapped two hands around my shoulders and pulled me out of the way so he could approach it, I felt a fissure appear inside me, right down the middle, right through my heart, my body and my soul.
"Help me with this, Casey," he called. I hadn't realised I'd turned away to hide my tears. To hide my shame at losing hope so readily. To hide my exhaustion and fear.
I sucked it up and went to him, because if Theo could keep going then so could I.
The door was stuck tight, as though it hadn't been used in
decades, but Aktor must have opened it to retrieve the wine. Still it required brute strength and a few, obviously, swearwords in Greek from Theo and then finally the wood groaned, the hinges creaked and slightly stale, cool air wafted up to meet our noses.
And the smell of death.
"They're down there," I said, trying to push past him.
"Cassandra," he urged, holding me back. "Let me go first."
I shook my head, frantic to get to Sonya and Mark, to check on Nico and Aktor, and yes, even the bitch Isadora. Desperate to just get down there. To move. To do something. Anything. Why was Theo delaying?
"Please," he pressed, holding me steady in his arms, his desperate eyes pleading with me to listen.
My shoulders slumped. He thought they were dead. I nodded and sat down on a stray bit of broken furniture not even registering the sun that had risen in the sky, or the heat of its rays on my back.
"I'll be just a minute," he promised, and then slipped through the hole in the ground and disappeared out of sight.
I heard a frantic voice at first, echoing and quite a distance away. Then the sounds of heavy footfalls on the stairwell, getting closer and closer, moving quickly. I almost didn't look. Too scared to see his face, to see what I was sure I already knew.
But I haven't had to face a psychotic Pyrkagia Rigas, or an equally unstable Gi Queen, or the mad ramblings of an ancient Aeras, or dream visits from a dead grandparent without growing a thick skin.
I stood up and braced myself, hands held tightly in front of my body as my chin lifted and my eyes remained clear... and Isadora scrambled out of the dark hole in the ground. She looked around, blinking in the brightness, taking in the destruction and annihilation, and then finally spotting me.
"You are one hard to kill Ekmetalleftis," she declared. I think she'd been trying for a teasing tone, but the truth of her words stopped any notion that she was pleased to see me.
"My brother," I started, unable to spare energy for a ridiculous feud.
"Alive and kicking and the reason we all are as well." Mark had been able to use his connection to Air to protect them. Despite being cut-off from the Element, Aeras had recognised him and kept him - and those with him - safe. Just like me and Theo. I felt my strength vanish as adrenaline ceased being produced in my veins.
"Sonya?" I asked, taking a step closer.
Isadora's face assumed that Athanatos mask. Blank. Cold. Heartless.
"She's hurt, isn't she?" I said, in a surprisingly calm voice.
"Come on," Dora ordered, turning her back to me, ignoring my question, and beginning the decent into the darkness again.
I followed behind her too perfectly clothed body wishing nothing more than to rip her sleek, dark locks right out of her skull. Anger at what had happened, at my best friend being harmed because of these arrogant, self-righteous, egotistical beings, flamed inside me, ripped through my composure and made me silently snarl.
Athanatos are primal, aggressive, predatory creatures, and I was no different, even if I hadn't been born one.
"I can feel your rage from here," Isadora announced, in a clearly bored tone, as we continued down the stairwell, then passed shelf upon shelf of dust covered bottles, the odd one fallen and shattered on the cold stone floor, red liquid, the shade of blood, seeping into the cracks that had formed.
We rounded another corner before I could find my voice and be sure it wasn't a growl.
"Then I'm surprised you've turned your back on me," I offered.
"Oh, I'm not scared of you, little girl," she bit back, flicking a glance over her shoulder and rolling her eyes.
I realised I could see then, when the hole in the floorboards above had seemed pitch black. But the farther we progressed, into what was soon becoming an enormous underground substructure, the lighter it became. Until I noticed a battery operated lantern on the side of the wall to illuminate the way, then a short distance later as we started to pass racks of foodstuffs, water flagons, various first-aid equipment, survival gear and even bedding, a naked flame flickered from a candle, resting on a bare shelf high above.
Then the warmth of what had to be more fire as we came into a large area with impressive stone arched pillars that had miraculously survived the initial earthquake. And on closer inspection I could see why; they'd been reinforced, the area at the base of each column sitting on top of what could only be called a metal plate, that rested on oversized spring coils.
"Earthquake proofed," I whispered, astounded this had been beneath us all along.
My eyes lifted to the area that had been cleared of a large table, now stacked against a far wall, blankets and makeshift mattresses on the floor, and one couch on the far side with Sonya lying spread out, pale, lids closed, dark shadows under her eyes.
I rushed over as Isadora threw herself onto a pile of cushions beside a brazier flaring brightly. God only knew where the smoke was going, but it didn't seem overly hazy in here, just a small amount from the many candles that were lit around the space.
"Sonya," I whispered, once I'd made it to her side. She didn't stir. Didn't make a sound. Her chest barely rose and fell with each laboured breath. "Where is she hurt?" I asked, the world narrowing in to just this moment.
"She sustained a blow to the head," Aktor murmured quietly from a chair at the end of the couch, by her face, where he was running a wet cloth over her brow. "Hasn't woken up since," he added softly.
I flicked my eyes down to Nico, who sat with my friend's legs resting over his thighs. He looked exhausted. As did everyone, I noticed then. Weary, sorrowful eyes stared back at me.
"We think she fractured her skull," Theo's cousin announced in a reasonably steady voice. "She may have a bleed."
"We have to get her to a hospital, then," I immediately replied.
"Oraia," Theo said carefully from behind me. I hadn't realised he'd walked over to stand at my back. "What hospital? They're all gone."
It wasn't until that moment that I truly recognised the enormity of it all. The potential for a loss so deep it would leave nothing salvageable behind.
I'd known this was a disaster. I'd comprehended this was the destruction of the world as we knew it. I'd even been aware that it would get progressively worse. But I hadn't yet subscribed to the notion that this was the End of Days. The true Reckoning. The Apocalypse the bible spoke of. I hadn't been willing to accept that as fate.
I walked stiffly forward and held out my hand to Aktor in a silent request for the cloth he'd been using on my friend. He stood immediately, handing over the sponge and offering a shallow bow, then walked silently away. I slipped onto his chair, ignoring Nico who massaged Sonya's ankles tenderly, Theo who watched on from above worryingly, Isadora who stared at the flames and pretended we didn't exist, and Mark, who I'd finally spotted in amongst one of the shelves of wine downing hundred year old Claret, no doubt.
And all I could do was smooth my best friend's brow with clean water from the bowl that sat at my feet and speak soft words to let her know she was not alone.
In that moment it didn't fail to register that I'd spoken similar words of promise and comfort to the Elements, as I'd sat on the exposed roots of a Moreton Bay Fig Tree, that no longer existed, with my hands sifting through dirt.
It also wasn't missed by me that on both occasions, then and now, it was more of a hope, a fervent wish, than a foregone conclusion.
And right then, as I looked down at the unconscious, ashen face of my closest human friend I really couldn't have told you which dream I wanted more.
The saving of the world.
Or beautiful, effervescent Sonya Marin to live long enough to see the End of Days.
Chapter Twenty-One
It's Not Your Fault
Time seemed different down in what I thought of as the catacombs. Not that this was an underground cemetery, but death did hang on the air. Beckoning Sonya. I refused to let her accept its skeletal hand.
I crooned to her. I bathed her face, kissed her brow
. I even begged. But she didn't awaken.
At some point Theo knelt down at my feet and removed the shoes I'd been wearing. Sonya's shoes. I didn't have it in me to complain, just kept tending to my best friend and whispering quietly in her ear. When he dipped the first foot in warm soapy water I stiffened, rising slightly from the fog of oppressive defeat.
"What are you doing?" I asked. My voice was scratchy. I hadn't cried, although I felt like I might. But I'd been whispering non-stop to Sonya, scared if I paused she'd slip away.
"Washing your abused feet," Theo replied, as if it was quite normal to see a prince clean someone's filthy toes.
Nico watched on silently from his end of the couch, a slight change in his expression from before, when he'd just been watching me silently as I talked to Sonya.
"They're fine, Theo," I argued, trying to remove my foot and feeling strangely exposed and alarmed that he was doing this.
"Humour me," he murmured, gripping my ankle firmly and pushing my foot back in the water.
It did feel good. My cuts all healed, but the blood had caked on and dirt coated every surface. How I managed to get mud on top of my feet I don't know, I couldn't remember stepping in any puddles. But then, the streets had been nowhere near what you'd call pristine.
No one said anything as Theo cleaned me up and then from somewhere produced a pair of warm socks. He pulled them on my newly washed feet and then removed the dirty water without a further word.
My stunned eyes came up and found Nico's. He smiled a small amused grin.
"Your Thisavros has returned," he murmured, so as not to be heard in the rest of the seemingly vast room.
Immediately I was back on top of Mount Victoria, naked and wrapped up in Theo's arms. My hand came up to my shoulder, where I knew the bite mark would be under the t-shirt and shook my head.
"He's no longer my Thisavros," I announced, feeling every word as though it was a knife slicing through my chest.
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