The ten soldiers who had squeezed into the elevator with Isis and Daniel rushed out, and Isis quickly stepped between them and Anu’s guards.
“Stop!” she cried, raising her hands. “I command you to put your weapons down. We would not have your blood on our hands.”
Anu’s guards faltered and lowered their weapons. Ares’s soldiers quickly took advantage of their hesitation and moved in fast, slamming into their opponents and disarming them with little struggle.
“Is Anu inside?” Daniel asked one of the defeated Opiri.
“You,” the Opir said with belated recognition. “He will kill you.”
The second group of Ares’s soldiers arrived, and Daniel ordered several of them to stand watch over the captives. “Shoot them if they move,” he said.
Isis joined him and the other soldiers as they burst into the dimly lit room, coming upon a tableau she had never expected to find. It took her a moment to realize what was wrong.
The dark-haired Opir who sat on the throne was not Anu. At first she didn’t recognize him. The sharper features, the toothy smile, the bare chest and bullet-shaped crown. He had Anu’s coloring, like most of the Nine. He was familiar, and yet...
“Hannibal,” Daniel said.
Isis followed his gaze from the heavily armed guards behind Hannibal to the new set of courtiers and the four members of the Nine who stood below him on the dais. Sprawled across the floor in a wide semicircle knelt at least a hundred humans, foreheads pressed to the floor. Men in the garments of ancient priests stood among them, chanting songs of praise.
And between them and the dais stood a lovely young dhampir woman with auburn hair and hazel eyes, her expression defiant and fearful, chained to the floor by a collar and manacles around her wrists.
Trinity, Isis thought. She could guess the reason for the woman’s fear. Ares faced Hannibal with clenched fists and the clear desire to tear the Opir’s throat out.
“If you attempt to harm me in any way,” Hannibal was saying, “your mate will die.”
“Where is Anu?” Daniel demanded, striding up to the dais.
“Indisposed,” Hannibal said. “Welcome to my court, Daniel.”
“Who are you?”
Ares spun around, taking in Daniel’s battered appearance with a single hard glance. Isis came to stand beside Daniel.
“He calls himself Ba’al,” Ares said. “Lord Ba’al, who once posed as Palemon’s right hand in Erebus.”
“Posed, indeed,” the Opir now called Ba’al said with a slight inclination of his head. “It is simple enough to change the color of one’s skin and hair by chemical means. And to change them back.”
“Ba’al,” Isis said. “God of Phoenicia.” And as ancient, she thought, as any of them. An Elder as powerful as Anu.
“It was his plan to conquer Erebus and rule as a tyrant,” Ares said. “I knew nothing of this when I defeated him and cast him out of the Citadel.”
Ba’al shot Ares a poisonous glare. “You are the defeated one now,” he said. He looked from Isis to Daniel and back again. “When I was exiled from Erebus, I searched for another Citadel to take as my own. It was remarkably easy to gain Anu’s confidence. I manipulated him as he manipulated others, because he was not aware of my power. He did not know that I was also a god. And his superior.”
“You’ve killed him, haven’t you?” Daniel asked, his head high.
“He learned of his mistake too late,” Ba’al said. “He did not expect that a mere Opir could destroy the mighty leader of the Nine.” He clucked his tongue. “Perhaps if he had cooperated, like my most loyal servants...” He waved his hand toward Ereshkigal, Hera, Hermes and Bes.
Bes, Isis thought. Not you.
And why had Hermes helped her find Daniel in his cell, if he had committed himself to this new and highly ambitious usurper? Had he felt a moment of regret?
“Where are Athena, Hephaestus and Ishtar?” she asked Ba’al.
“I will find them.”
“The way you found Isis when she disappeared for two weeks?” Daniel asked. “Or did you believe she was already dead?”
“I did not need to find her,” Ba’al said. “She has returned to me.” He flashed his teeth at Isis, showing off cuspids filed to even sharper points. “Anu knew you would be first to oppose his plans, Lady Isis, as he knew that you had the power to draw humans and Opiri to you. But he hesitated to take action against you. I was the one to convince him to give you the tainted blood.”
“You failed to kill her,” Daniel said through clenched teeth.
Ba’al narrowed his eyes. “And what of you, Daniel? Even in exile, I learned everything about the time after your escape from Erebus—how you became a leader of humans and even Opiri, a person of some distinction among your colonies.” He toyed with a golden bracelet on one arm. “I helped Anu to understand that you, mere human that you appeared to be, were dangerous even apart from your relationship with Isis.”
“Did you try to kill Daniel at the Games?” Isis asked, giving Ba’al a clear glimpse of her own white teeth.
“A warning,” Ba’al said. “One neither of you heeded.” He narrowed his eyes. “Did you think Anu would have shown you mercy?”
“Anu was returning Tanis to the old ways,” Daniel said. “But you want something else, don’t you?”
“Anu thought like a human,” Ba’al said with obvious contempt. “He saw only small things. He imagined a city where his chosen servants and allies would regain their serfs and Households, and he would still hold a third of the humans for himself, to worship him as he so desired.”
“He wanted both,” Isis said. “Opiri to rule, and humans to conquer with his will.”
“Yes,” Ba’al said. “He created chaos in Tanis so that he would have the excuse to bring in his secret army to round up the humans and confine them until he could put his plan into effect.”
“But most Opiri in Tanis would have opposed him!” Isis said.
“Many, yes. But Anu had a plan to be rid of the rebellious ones once he had the humans in hand. A plan I have gladly taken up.”
“To kill the Opiri in the towers,” Daniel said.
“Except those who have sworn allegiance to me,” Ba’al said. “Those who have agreed to aid my army will help eradicate the rest.”
“He lies,” Ares said, addressing the courtiers. “He won’t allow his supposed allies to keep Households. Like Anu, he intends to return to the ancient past and rule as a true god. But he’ll permit only a handful of Opiri to survive, including these four—” he jerked his head toward the other members of the Nine “—as his acolytes.”
“He can’t control two thousand humans,” Daniel said, “no matter how powerful he thinks he is.”
“I am not Anu,” Ba’al said. “His limitations are not mine. Before the coming of the upstarts like Yahweh, I controlled hundreds of thousands. I will again.”
“You forget that you’re not really a god,” Daniel said. “You’re still only an Elder Opir. You can’t make the rain fall or the moon rise.”
Ba’al ignored him and turned to Ares. “You have your orders. Obey them, or I will make this female suffer.”
“No, Ares!” Trinity said.
Ares took a step toward the throne. Daniel caught his father’s arm, while Ba’al grabbed Trinity’s chain in his fist and yanked her toward him. Trinity’s face went white.
“Will none of you oppose him?” Isis demanded of her former peers.
“They understand their own interests,” Ba’al said. “And so they will survive when you are dead.” He pulled Trinity very close and smiled at Ares. “I can destroy her in an instant. Your time has run out.”
Isis stepped forward. “Not if I challenge you for rule of Tanis.”
The priests’ chanting stoppe
d. The guards shifted their weapons. Someone gasped.
“You would fight me?” Ba’al said with open amusement. “Isis the gentle, the good, the loving mother?”
“No,” Daniel said, stepping between her and Ba’al. He turned his back on the god and faced her. “You can’t,” he said softly. “I told you before, Isis. You were never meant to kill.”
“You would say or do anything to protect me.”
“Anything, Isis. For you.”
She stared at him, trying to make him feel what she felt: her love for him, her pride in his courage, her determination that he would not have suffered in vain. But her efforts were interrupted by the crack of a whip, and the curling tail of leather tore the remaining rags of Daniel’s shirt from his back, laying bare old scars and newer wounds.
With a cry of unbridled anger, Isis leaped between him and Ba’al. The god smiled as he coiled the whip. Daniel caught Isis, blood running down his fingers, and put her behind him again. She felt him gathering his strength, his heart pumping, his breathing labored.
“You will not fight him, Lady Isis,” he said. “I will.”
Ba’al burst into laughter. “You—a serf, a piece of property?”
“You said I was dangerous,” Daniel said. “Are you afraid of me?”
Ba’al sprang to his feet, his expression twisted with contempt. “You would die in a heartbeat.”
“Then you have nothing to fear.”
In sudden rage, Ba’al cracked the whip at Daniel. Daniel caught the fall of the whip in his fist and dragged Ba’al halfway off the dais before the Elder stopped himself and pulled free.
“Kill him,” Ba’al instructed the guards.
Immediately Ba’al’s Opir guards took aim. Isis cried out. Ares charged toward the dais and only stopped when the guards trained their rifles at Trinity’s head.
“If you will not accept a challenge from a half-blood,” Daniel said, standing straight and unbowed, “you must accept one from another god.”
His face a mask of fury, Ba’al gave an ugly laugh. “Ares cannot touch me,” he sneered. “Guards—”
“You know what I am,” Daniel said. “Ares is my father.”
“I remember the great revelation in Erebus,” Ba’al said, “and the shame it brought down upon Ares’s head.”
“Shame?” Ares asked. “You were as poor at observation then as you are now.” He smiled. “He is half-Opir, and he has the right to challenge you.”
Isis expected Ba’al to laugh again, to declare that a half-blood—son of a god or not—was no fit opponent...to remind them that no dhampir or Darketan had ever formally challenged a full Opir in living memory.
Because, Isis thought, no half-blood in the Citadels had ever been given the chance. But Ba’al was far from stupid. He could refuse, but it would paint him a coward in the eyes of the few allies he might actually need...the four of the Nine below him on the dais. He noticed when Hera and Ereshkigal shifted and exchanged glances, waiting for his answer.
He had to believe that he had every advantage, Isis thought. Challenges were fought hand to hand, body to body and teeth to teeth. Daniel was lacking one essential weapon.
Daniel looked at Isis and smiled with warmth and encouragement—he exchanged glances with his father and then walked between the genuflecting humans to stand at the foot of the dais.
“I challenge you, Ba’al,” he said formally, “by the ancient traditions of the Opiri. If you refuse or I defeat you, you will surrender your property and be expelled from this Citadel.”
“What?” Ba’al asked, nearly spitting the word. “You would not kill me?”
“Only if I must.”
At this moment, Isis thought, Ba’al appeared less enraged than genuinely confounded. But as Daniel stared at him, he began to smile.
“By all means,” he said, removing the jewelry from his arms and around his neck. “Since I am challenged, I choose the time. It will be now.”
Ba’al descended from the throne and disappeared through a door in the wall behind it. His guards followed close on his heels.
“Boy,” Ares said to Daniel, his voice unsteady, “you’re a fool.”
Trinity stared from her mate to Daniel with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s done,” Daniel said.
Ares met Isis’s gaze. He knew how she felt. He knew because he couldn’t bear to lose the woman on the dais.
But he wouldn’t try to stop Daniel, and neither would Isis. They wouldn’t dishonor him by taking his choices away from him. They wouldn’t steal what remained of his pride.
The humans kneeling on the floor looked up with bewildered faces as Daniel returned to Isis. He reached for her hand, noticed the streaks of blood on his skin, and dropped his arm.
She grabbed his hand as it fell to his side. “You will not escape me so easily, Daniel,” she said. “Ba’al still does not realize that he cannot control you with his influence.”
“I know.” He gazed into her eyes, blinked and looked again.
“You’re crying,” he breathed. He brushed his thumb across her cheek and caught an errant tear. “That’s impossible.”
“It isn’t so for the Elders,” she said, glancing away. “It makes us different from other Opiri, like our skin and hair.”
“God.” He took her face between his hands and kissed her cheeks, one and then the other. “Don’t weep for me, Isis.”
“Because you are not worth it?” She pressed his hand against her chest, just over her heart. “You say I am not a fighter, but if Ba’al harms you—”
“You’ll run the instant he pulls me down,” he said. “You’ll find allies. You’ll survive to take Tanis back.”
“Perhaps I do not wish to survive without you.”
“But you will.” He kissed her very lightly on the lips, as if he feared he would soil her. “Knowing that will give me strength.”
“You will not lose,” she said fiercely. “I have faith in you.”
They fell silent as a human servant approached with a clean tunic and pants. Surprised by the gesture, Isis helped Daniel find a place where he could change. The closest they could get to privacy was in a darker corner of the room.
Daniel began to remove his torn and bloodied clothing. The ragged shirt stuck to his skin when he tried to pull it off, and there was hardly an inch of his body that hadn’t been injured. The marks of Hannibal’s whip had barely stopped bleeding.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, noticing her stare.
Isis clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. The anger was there. Oh, yes. And it was powerful, this searing rage, this desire for revenge.
In Egypt, Sekhmet the lioness had been a deity of war and vengeance. If Isis gave way to this anger, she would become exactly like the goddess whose mask she had worn at the Festival.
But Sekhmet was also a goddess of healing. “You know that I can help with your wounds,” she said to Daniel, keeping her voice level and calm.
Working his left shoulder, Daniel couldn’t quite hide a wince of pain. Isis didn’t wait for his permission. She locked her arms around his waist and bit him through the scar tissue and the more recent bites, releasing the healing chemicals into his veins. He jerked free after a few moments, holding her away from him.
Then he lifted her head and kissed her—hungrily, desperately, with a sense of finality that chilled Isis to the bone.
CHAPTER 26
The rising hum of voices drove them apart. Isis tried to hold Daniel, gripping his hand as if she could keep him from the inevitable. But he only kissed her forehead and eyelids with great tenderness, worked his hand free of hers and walked out into the room.
Ba’al had returned to the foot of the dais. He wore only a kilt and p
added gracefully on bare feet. Isis knew that he was a true predator, more than Anu had ever been, and he clearly intended to fight like one.
But Daniel was also prepared. He moved with surprising agility in spite of his wounds, his head slightly down, his face expressionless. Isis walked beside him to the dais, holding her anger in check. If the worst happened, she would need the element of surprise, the chance to reveal the full force of her nature when it would be most effective.
The room seemed to have one heartbeat now, both the humans’ and Opiri’s pulses falling into a single, terrible rhythm. Ares lightly rested his hand on Daniel’s shoulder, careful not to put pressure on his wounds, and clasped the back of Daniel’s head in a gesture of deep affection. Then he stepped away, and so did Isis.
Ares’s soldiers formed a loose circle in the center of the room, creating a living arena. Ba’al and Daniel faced each other in the center. Half-crouched, Ba’al’s fingers curled into claws. He bared his teeth to expose his cuspids.
Daniel had none to display, but he flashed Ba’al a mocking grin. It was enough to provoke the god into attack.
Isis’s gaze remained fixed on Daniel: each feint, each retreat, each time he scarcely avoided the bite that could take his life. She watched him seem to weaken, and then suddenly find enough strength to force Ba’al back; his kicks and punches were almost too fast for the eye to detect, even though Ba’al retained the advantage of natural weapons Daniel didn’t possess.
But if Ba’al tried to use his influence to slow Daniel or daze him, the effort failed. Each time his teeth snapped close to Daniel’s neck, Daniel dodged and counterattacked. Red stained his shirt where his deepest wounds broke open with his exertion, but he paid no attention to blood or pain.
It soon became clear that Ba’al would not attain victory as easily as he had expected. With every minute, his frustration became more apparent, his attacks less measured. Daniel maintained a detached sense of calm, as if he had no stake in whether he lived or died.
Perhaps he doesn’t, Isis thought in panic, remembering Daniel’s kiss. Perhaps part of him would be relieved to lose all the pain, the humiliation, the shame of being treated no better than a caged animal.
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