by E. A. Copen
Emma trailed off as we stepped through an invisible barrier that took us out of the warehouse and onto a bustling concourse full of people. Sun warmed the back of my head. The air smelled like sand, sweat, and warm honey.
Ahead loomed a massive coliseum that would’ve put the one in Rome to shame. It stretched so high the top was lost in clouds. Constructed of what looked like one solid chunk of rough-hewn stone, it was easily bigger than the Superdome and twice as grand.
I turned to look behind us and just saw more crowds. We’d passed into another one of those weird micro-dimension things. I’d encountered them before, once in the house of the Roman goddess Vesta, and once when I attended the Black Bazaar. Neither venture had gone well for me.
“There you two are.” Morningstar’s voice cut through the dull roar of voices around us. He broke away from a small crowd of people to stride toward us. “I was beginning to worry I’d have to send someone to get you.”
I tightened my grip on my staff at the sight of his smug smile. When he extended a hand to Emma for a handshake, I swatted it aside with my staff and then stepped in, just in case he tried again. “Nice try, but I’m wise to that move. Don’t touch him, Emma. He has powers activated through touch.”
I didn’t know precisely what he could do, but Khaleda had told me the last time we’d worked together that I shouldn’t let him touch me. If anyone knew anything about Archons, it’d be her.
He sneered at me and shook his injured hand. “Wherever did you pick up that useful tidbit of information?”
“None of your concern. Keep your hands to yourself, blondie.”
He narrowed his eyes at me and gave me a warning look.
I returned it with equal ferocity. Morningstar was the first to look away. Score one for the home team.
“In any case, the others are already here. We need to get you two signed in and settled in.” He turned and waved for us to follow.
We navigated the meandering crowds in their suits, fancy dresses, and jewelry, following Morningstar toward the coliseum. On the way, I picked out some familiar faces from the party the night before. I didn’t see Haru or Freya, but I had no doubt they were there somewhere.
The bulk of the crowd flowed toward an entrance marked by a green triangle. Morningstar led us toward the one marked with a red square. A woman stood behind the podium, her dark hair pulled into a no-nonsense bun. Deep burgundy colored her full lips and dramatic wings of eyeliner accented full lashes. She wore a plain white button-up and a pencil skirt and made it look good.
I blinked. “Persephone?”
She looked up from the podium. Her eyes lit with recognition and her mouth turned up. “Lazarus?”
“In the flesh.”
Persephone stepped around the podium, grinning, and looked me up and down. “Well, look at you. Have you been working out? What happened to that skinny, awkward boy I was looking after? You look good.”
That was the first time anyone had ever said that to me. No one would ever call me muscular, but I supposed I had been getting quite the workout taking on gods and fae. The only weightlifting I’d been doing was picking up my daughter and carrying groceries, but hey, I could take the compliment. “Thanks. Good to see you too. What are you doing here?”
She pressed her lips together in a coy smile. “New gig. Not exactly a promotion, but being an overglorified temp for underworld deities isn’t so bad. Having been married to Hades for a couple millennia has given me enough experience to know how to handle the tempers. No offense.” The last line was spoken to Morningstar.
Morningstar frowned. “I’d just like to sign my team in.”
“You’re fighting?” Persephone gave me a worried look.
I shrugged. “Can’t be avoided. Besides, I hear the other Horsemen are.”
“War is, but Pestilence isn’t. She’s not the violent sort.” She slipped back behind the podium and started searching through some papers on a clipboard.
Persephone had said she. The fourth Horseman was a woman. Horsewoman. Horseperson? Whatever. I tried to remember if I’d seen anyone who would fit that description at Morningstar’s party. Pestilence was the White Horseman, and half the people at the party had been wearing white. Emma had been wearing white. I couldn’t count on clothing to be a giveaway like it had been with Haru.
“Ah, here you are.” Persephone lifted the clipboard and read from it. “Lazarus Kerrigan, mage for team Morningstar. And you must be Emma Knight. You’re the ranged for your team?”
“That’s me,” Emma said, nodding.
Persephone smiled and held the clipboard out. “Sign next to your name, please. Initial here and here. And this last form is a waiver stating you understand you may be killed or maimed in the fight and that you won’t hold any gods, goddesses, demigods, or other involved parties responsible for any harm that comes to you during the course of the tournament.”
Emma stopped signing, frowned and squinted at the clipboard, reading the fine print. Considering how tiny the writing was, we’d be there all day.
The sharp cry of a horn made me turn away from the podium. The crowds parted, and a tall, ash blond man with a braided beard strode through the opening. He wore a pair of black pants, a cape of forest green trimmed with gold, and a crown of hardened frost that didn’t melt, despite the warmth. Bare-chested and broad-shouldered, he was the epitome of godhood.
Muscular blonde women in snow white armor flanked him on either side, their hands gripping the swords at their sides. The tops of big, round shields framed the backs of their heads like a halo. Silver wings spread out on either side of the shield. Freya brought up the rear of the procession, garbed in matching armor.
That must make the guy Loki. I shifted my attention to him. In myth, Loki was a trickster and a shapeshifter. He was fond of pranks as a form of vengeance. This guy didn’t look like the whoopie cushion kind. He looked more like he’d twist off your head and use your spine to pick his teeth. Scary.
Loki’s procession stopped next to the podium. He acknowledged me with a nod. “Horseman.”
“Loki, right?” I might’ve had to turn down the offer to fight for the guy, but that didn’t mean I had to be impolite.
He grinned, showing perfect teeth. “I hear you turned down a spot on my team. That was brave of you.”
“Prior obligation. I honor my word.” Emma handed me the clipboard. I signed, initialed, and signed again.
“I respect that,” Loki said with a nod.
I eyed the heavily armed women with him over the edge of the clipboard. Valkyries. Fighting them would suck. Persephone took the clipboard from me and offered me a laminated pass with my name on it.
Morningstar hovered at the edge of my vision. “My condolences on the loss of your friend. I have to say I’m surprised not to see your name on the roster this time around.”
The Norse weren’t fighting? Oh, what a relief.
Loki focused on Morningstar the same way a cat with a full belly watched mice play. “I have no interest in Famine. It’s so depressing. I like eating. Drinking. Fucking. A drought in any of those areas makes me bored. When I get bored, I have to find other ways to entertain myself. Pulling the wings off flies like you will suffice today.”
Morningstar seized the pass Persephone offered him and held it up between two fingers. “Unfortunately, I do have a team in the running, and I believe attacking a tactician on coliseum grounds during an active tournament is grounds for ejection from the games.”
Loki laughed. An emerald sheen passed over his eyes in a flash. “I see you’ve read your handbook. Good. Then you’ll have read the part about harassing coliseum security.” He gestured to the Valkyries behind him. “Meet your wing’s security team.”
A look crossed Morningstar’s face that was a mix of surprise and indignant rage. It was the most satisfying expression I’d ever seen on his face. I wanted to grab Loki’s hand, shake it, and buy the guy a beer...or whatever Norse gods drank. With the Valkyries watching o
ur every move, he’d have a much harder time pulling any of his normal shenanigans. It also meant they were friendly to me, but hostile to him. I saw the sneers on the Valkyries’ faces. Well, maybe not friendly, but friendlier.
Loki took a red clipboard from Persephone, signed his whole crew in with a single mark, and took the pile of red badges she offered, slipping one over his neck before passing on the rest. “See you inside, Mr. Morningstar.” He put a hand on Morningstar’s chest and pushed him out of the way of the procession.
Freya met my eyes as she passed but didn’t say anything.
“Gods.” Morningstar said it like a curse. “Come on then. I’ll show you to your quarters.”
“Lazarus,” called Persephone after me. “When you have a minute, come find me. We should catch up.”
I nodded to let her know I heard her and followed Morningstar into the coliseum.
Chapter Ten
A man calling himself a liaison met us just inside the doorway, checked our badges, and ushered us down a curved hallway. There were fewer people in the hall than outside, but it was still a relatively crowded walk for the first few hundred yards. Gradually, the crowds thinned out. By the time our liaison turned us down another shorter hallway, we were alone.
The hallway spilled into a semi-circle of five rooms. He walked to the center of the room, turned, and bowed. “Your apartments.” He held out his hand as if he were expecting a tip.
“Yes, very good. Off with you.” Morningstar waved him away without one.
The man frowned and looked unhappy, but hurried back the way he’d come.
The door on my right opened, and Khaleda leaned on the door frame with a smile. She winked in my direction. “Hey, roomie.”
“Roomie?” Like hell was that happening. I turned to Morningstar. “I said I’d fight on your team, but I’m not sleeping here.”
He smoothed his hands over his charcoal suit jacket. “Afraid that’s part of the deal. All fighters are sequestered to the coliseum until the end of the tournament. Makes it easier to keep tabs on everyone.”
I exchanged a worried glance with Emma. “And you didn’t think to mention this before because it just slipped your mind?”
“I thought you knew.” The grin on his face told me otherwise. He was enjoying springing it on me entirely too much. Made me wonder what other secrets he’d kept to himself.
“Either way there’s no way I’m sharing a room with your hellspawn.”
Morningstar rolled his eyes and made a disgusted sound. “There are three sleeping chambers with two beds each. I have no intention of sharing my space with any of you, so that leaves two rooms for you to choose from. How the four of you choose to divide that up is up to you. Work it out among yourselves.”
He went to the door immediately on his right, jerked it open and went inside. A second later, the click of the lock told us he didn’t want to be disturbed.
Spot wandered through the door Khaleda held open and flopped onto the floor, focused on chewing on his nuts. Oh, to have a dog’s life, even the life of a three-headed monster dog.
Khaleda crossed her arms and rolled her shoulders. “You know, we could all share a room and set the other up for sparring. I don’t mind sharing.”
I bit my tongue. In a perfect world, I’d be able to trust her not to fuck with Emma and the two women could have their own space. Unfortunately, I couldn’t trust Khaleda to do anything but be Khaleda, and Khaleda was a succubus. Five minutes alone with Emma and she’d be trying to seduce her. Part of me wondered if that’d be such a bad thing. I beat that part down with a stick. Emma’s soul was already on the line. She didn’t need Khaleda scrambling her head on top of that.
I nodded to Spot. “You can have the dog.”
Two out of three pink doggie tongues panted while the third went to town on his crotch.
Khaleda shrugged. “Well, at least I’ll have good company. And you know where to find me if either of you change your mind.” She blew Emma a kiss.
“Please,” Emma growled. “You couldn’t handle me on my best day, and right now I’m not having a very good day, so just back that up, honey. You don’t want to mess with me.”
She stormed to the door straight ahead and opened it on a meeting room with a long table, a bunch of chairs, a computer, and a projector. After peering inside a minute, she slammed the door shut again and went to the next door.
I peeked over her shoulder. The room next to the meeting room was a big rec room, complete with a huge hot tub, a weight bench, and a stereo system. A second door in the back stood ajar, revealing a bathroom with a huge glass shower. “Nice.”
Emma bumped me back and shut the door, going to the very last door, which must’ve led to our room. It was much narrower than the first two, barely wide enough to contain the two beds. They were pushed up against opposite walls leaving a narrow space to walk between. If one of us rolled over, we might roll right into the other bed. Fat pillows rested against a white headboard. A hand-stitched quilt spread over each bed.
“Cozy,” I noted, glad I didn’t have to share such a cramped space with Khaleda. She’d have totally taken advantage.
“And right up against Morningstar’s room,” Emma added.
She was right. Bastard would probably spy on us. We wouldn’t be able to sneeze without him hearing, let alone have any kind of private conversation.
“You could always push the beds together,” Khaleda suggested from behind me. “More room that way and you wouldn’t be right up against the wall. Of course, the walls are pretty thin. Don’t worry. He’s disappointingly quiet.”
I spun on her. “You know, I’ve had just about enough from you.”
She eyed my fist clenched at my side. “You wouldn’t hit a girl, would you?”
Emma pushed her back by the shoulder to make room. “He won’t have to. You’re getting on my nerves too.”
Khaleda took two steps back. “We’re on the same side, you know. We want the same thing.”
“You want me to get my soul back?” Emma crossed her arms.
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
Her eyes flicked to the door to Morningstar’s room behind us, and Khaleda lowered her voice. “If Morningstar wins, who do you think he’s going to choose as Famine?”
My skin prickled. There was only one person he could have in mind. “You.”
Khaleda nodded.
She hated her father almost as much as I did, though Morningstar’s ego was so big he didn’t see it. He believed she was the perfect daughter, totally dedicated to their collective goal of gaining more power. Khaleda wanted power all right, but not so she could serve as the Devil’s second fiddle. I was pretty sure she wanted the job for herself, and getting it meant killing Daddy Dearest. As the Black Horseman, she’d have the power to do that.
I didn’t know who in their not-so-dynamic duo was scarier, father or daughter.
“She’ll help us,” I said, glancing over at Emma. “As long as it gets her a victory, expect her to be on our side. The minute she thinks she stands to lose something though, she’ll turn on us both and bury us.”
“So dramatic.” Khaleda leaned forward and pretended to pick some lint off my shirt. “I won’t bury you. That’s no fun, and you can’t help me win if you’re dead. All I have to do is touch you now and you’re mine.”
I shivered, remembering what it’d been like to be with her. It wasn’t magic that was easy to resist. Even harder now that I knew what I was missing out on. I couldn’t remember the details of the night we spent together since it all fell behind a blur of magic, but I knew I’d never been closer to understanding true magic than I had been in those moments. I’d had that knowledge and power literally in my grasp, and as soon as she stopped touching me, I’d wept at the loss of it. Sleeping with Khaleda had been a desperate move, a decision I never should’ve made. At the time, it made sense, but now? Now every time I tried to think about it I felt like an addict who was only a few days clea
n. With the right push, I’d jump at the chance to get it back.
Emma drew her gun and pointed it at Khaleda’s head. “Step away, bitch.”
Khaleda smiled. “Your girlfriend seems jealous.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” I glanced at Emma. “Are you?”
Emma gritted her teeth. “I said step away, Khaleda, or I will kill you.”
Khaleda eyed the gun, winked at me and took three steps back. “There will be a meeting to discuss strategy over dinner in an hour. I suggest you both get settled in before then.”
A scream from outside the apartments pierced the air. All three of us snapped to attention, but I was the first one out the door, charging down the corridor to the next set of apartments. The screaming didn’t stop the entire time I was running.
The door to the apartments stood open. I barged inside to find a woman crouched on the floor with her back to me. A man sprawled over her lap, feet twitching. I couldn’t see his face until I stepped further into the room, but she was definitely the one screaming.
I recoiled at what I saw. Hundreds of red boils marked the man’s face, and his neck was lined in larger, black boils. An overturned bottle of vodka rolled across the floor near his outstretched hand. I recognized him from the party the night before. Chernobog, the Russian god.
The woman holding him looked up at me, tears streaming from her eyes. “He’s dead! Someone killed my papa!”
Chapter Eleven
The liaison stood over the medic team wringing his hands. Security had responded to the screaming just after I got into the room and pushed us into the hall. The medic team in HAZMAT gear arrived just minutes later with a body bag, a stretcher, and a flamethrower. They’d loaded up the body and taken it out, and now were busy blasting the floor with the flamethrower just in case.
“This is bad,” said the liaison, chewing on his fingernails. “Very bad. Two teams in as many days. People are going to start asking questions.”
“Two teams?” Emma asked next to me.