by E. A. Copen
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 our 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 i
t 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 clean. 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.
I frowned. First a Valkyrie and now a Russian god. On the surface, they didn’t seem to have much in common other than both being celestial beings. They weren’t even from the same pantheon. But if they were both on teams, then the tournament was the connection we were looking for. Find the connection, find the motive, and that would hopefully lead us to the killer.
The liaison nodded. “Well, technically only one. The Norse could’ve found a replacement if they’d wanted, but now that the sign in process is complete, the Russians will be disqualified.”
I tilted my head to the side. “They’ll be disqualified for losing a team member?”
“No, no.” The liaison fidgeted with his fingers. “A team must h
ave at least three surviving members to make it to the finals, but just losing one wouldn’t be grounds for disqualification. I mean, unless it was the tactician. No team can fight without a tactician, and Chernobog was the tactician for the Russian team. The Norse also lost the Valkyrie they’d planned to sign in as a tactician, though I’m not sure why Loki himself didn’t just step in. He’d have made an excellent tactician.”
I was glad he decided not to. Loki didn’t strike me as the sort of guy who did something for no reason. With him as the tactician and the Valkyries as a fighting team, the Norse would’ve been near unstoppable in the arena. He’d passed on the promise of a win, which would’ve given him a lot of power. There had to be a reason he chose to do so.
More importantly, we had a starting point for our search for the killer. Whoever was behind all the deaths was smart enough to choose their targets with care, and to strike at an opportune time. The Valkyrie security team hadn’t been fully in place when Chernobog went down. Five more minutes and they would’ve been.
With the killer targeting gods, that’d normally narrow down my suspect pool, but just about everyone in the coliseum was either a god, demigod, or another monster. Who knew how many of them could kill a god? It wasn’t limited to Horsemen, though I wasn’t ready to rule out War and Pestilence. If Pestilence was even here. If she wasn’t fighting, maybe she wouldn’t show. I had to find out who was here and who wasn’t.
At least I could make up an easy list of potential next victims. It looked like the killer was targeting team tacticians, trying to take out the competition. That made me like War for the murders a little more. For starters, Pestilence had no reason to be eliminating competition if she wasn’t fighting. Second, someone that smart wouldn’t leave behind such an obvious calling card as bubonic plague and smallpox. That sounded like the work of a second-rate hack trying to pin it on someone else. If that were true, said second-rate hack had magic and the ability to drop a bunch of deadly diseases on a god with deadly results, maybe even from a distance. Anyone could be exposed and killed, especially humans like me and Knight. We’d have to proceed with extreme caution. I didn’t want to die of the plague.