Rise of the Blood

by Lucienne Diver

  Rumbling rattled the windows and a flash fork of lightning chased itself from one bank of clouds to another. The plane veered sharply away, trying to escape the storm, but gale-force winds pushed at our tail in hot pursuit.

  An announcement came on about turbulence and returning to our seats. It was getting harder and harder to stay in mine. My internal alarms were now blaring full force, and I wanted to shout for the crew that the plane needed to be brought down now, now, NOW for an emergency landing while there was still a chance to control our descent. This was no natural storm. There’d been no warning before takeoff about rough weather ahead, and a storm like this would have been hard to miss on the radar.

  Paranoia? Maybe, if not for my internal alarms and the fact that Poseidon Stormbringer and Zeus of the fateful lightning were on the loose and that the people most responsible for their incarceration were all on this flight. Coincidence? Didn’t seem likely, but there was no time to think about that right now.

  To our left came a sudden crash like two monstrous hands clapping together and then bursting apart. The resultant shockwaves buffeted the airliner like a kite. Panic had me reaching for the armrest, but since Nick’s hand was already there, I nearly shredded him with my newly manicured nails. He hissed with pain, but didn’t draw back his hand. Instead, he turned it over to take mine. He looked into my eyes. I stared into his, and thought well, if the world ends, at least we’ll go out together. It was a shockingly romantic thought for me, and that, more than anything, snapped me to. We were not going to die. My cousin Tina would kill me. It would make her wedding party lopsided.

  I unbuckled my seatbelt and started to rise, to demand that we make an emergency landing or something, not caring how crazy I’d sound, when the lightning flashed again, cracking across the sky like a whip. The plane flinched as it struck, bucking like a thing alive desperate to escape the pain. I was flung forward, bashing myself on the overhead bin and falling into Nick’s lap. He gripped me close and held on tight.

  “Stay put,” he ordered. “There’s nowhere to go. We’ll get through this. It’ll be okay.”

  But I knew he was wrong. I struggled against him as the plane banked sharply. No, not banked. Sheared off, beginning to fall, as if something was off on one side…like an engine.

  “We have to land,” I yelled. “Now!” As if this was a newsflash.

  There was so much screaming going on—babies crying, grown men and women praying or wailing or whatever—that no one heard.

  Another crash of thunder came from the side of the plane, and punched into us like a fist, knocking us even farther off-kilter. The metal of the plane groaned in defiance, but it wasn’t a victorious sound. It was more like, “You’ll never take me alive.” And that’s exactly what I was afraid of.

  “We have to do something!” I shouted at Armani. Nick, dammit, Nick. Even as we rushed toward death, I couldn’t get it right. But that’s how I’d thought of him when I’d first met him, a defense mechanism against my attraction, one I’d never gotten over.

  “Like what?” he shouted back.

  I didn’t want questions, I wanted action, but I didn’t have any to suggest.

  Oxygen masks fell from the ceiling as the plane continued to drop altitude and the pilot was too busy, I supposed, trying to stop it to comfort his panicking passengers…as if an announcement would have made any difference. As if they, like me, couldn’t feel the ground rushing up to meet us.

  Armani lifted me off him to grab two masks before pushing me down into a seat and manhandling me to get my mask into place. I didn’t fight him, only because the sooner he knew I was okay, the sooner he’d see to himself and I could lunge past him.

  The second he was distracted, I did just that, avoiding his grabbing hands to lunge down the aisle. Down was the operative word. We were now at a forty-five degree angle, nose to the ground—falling, falling.

  I canted left and then right as the plane lurched, the pilot battling to level off. I apologized as I went, gripping a man in a very personal place when a really bad thunderclap threw me off balance and I had to catch myself.

  I hit the curtain between us and first class to the curses and cries of my fellow passengers. A flight attendant strapped down into her jump seat and counting off frantic prayers on a rosary tried reflexively to stop me from crossing the sacred threshold, but I stopped her with a look. The look. I froze her in place. She’d space right through at least a few minutes of panic, long enough for me to invade first class.

  Apollo was already out of his seat and met me halfway down the aisle.

  “You okay?” he asked. It was a silly question, so I ignored it.

  “What do we do?” Scratch the we. If there was anything I could do, I’d have done it. “Don’t you have some power to stop all this?”

  But I knew the answer before I heard it from his lips. I could see it in his eyes.

  “I’m the god of the sun, and they’ve cut me off from it. Even if I could harness it still, I have no control over storms. There’s nothing—”

  “Screw nothing!” I said. I looked around frantically for something, anything. But there was nothing physical to fight or fight with.

  A male flight attendant risked life and limb to close in on us, coming from the front alcove.

  “Sir, ma’am, you’re going to have to return to your seats!” he yelled over the noise of the screaming plane and howling passengers.

  The aircraft bucked again, and I screamed myself. Apollo’s arms went around me, and we fell hard into the seat beside us, into the laps of an elderly man and woman who looked dumbstruck. The armrest between them dented my side. As we scrambled to right ourselves, the plane started to roll. I screamed again and gripped Apollo for dear life. If only I could freeze the air like I could people, but I couldn’t stare it down. Eye of the Storm was just an expression and anyway, we were locked tight in its abusive embrace.

  Thunderclaps crashed to our left and right as if trying to crush us between them. The plane was blown forward and shot ahead like a torpedo, momentum giving it momentary stability.

  Then the miracle happened… We stayed that way. The plane rocked from side to side, but the gut-wrenching roll had halted, and we started to level off.

  Apollo and I looked at each other, as close as lovers on the bony knees of the old couple we’d crashed into. The man bounced his knees upward at that moment as a prompt to move, and Apollo helped me stand. We both held to the back of the surrounding seats, sure the reprieve was only temporary.

  Someone snapped a picture with a cell phone camera, which I knew only because it took the pic with the totally unnecessary shutter sound. I whipped my head around to look for the source and was stopped by Serena’s death glare. She was turned around in her seat, glowing green eyes taking us in.

  Glowing green.

  Crapcakes.

  I turned back to Apollo. “Um, about Serena…is there anything you want to tell me?”

  Apollo looked toward the woman in question, but the glow in her eyes was gone. Now she looked more miffed than outright homicidal. Had I truly seen what I thought I’d seen or was I now imagining monsters where none existed? Was my mind playing tricks on me, turning simple jealousy into a literal green-eyed monster?

  “Serena?” he asked, “What do you want me to tell you? You wanted the press off your back, the new film’s PR guy wanted a little off-screen romance to help sell the movie…it seemed like a win-win. Surely you’re not jealous.” He was watching me closely. Too closely. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

  He was right. It was what I wanted. Maybe. Possibly. Anyway, it was what had to be. There was Armani. And besides, Apollo would swallow me whole. With those turquoise eyes and that toned…everything…and the sparks that flew between us… It was amazing the oxygen in the air hadn’t ignited on our spark. But he was also a god, and even if ancient history wasn’t full of cautionary tales about trifling with gods, my own experience would have been enough to warn me off.
/>
  “Yes,” I lied. “That’s what I want.”

  “Good.”

  “Good.”

  “Fine.”

  “Great,” Serena cut in, rising from her seat. “Then if everything’s back to normal, perhaps you’ll unhand my co-star and return to your…class.”

  I ignored her, especially since I hadn’t “handed” him to begin with, and turned back to Apollo.

  “What do you think happened?”

  He gave Serena an in a second look before answering. “I’d guess we flew out of range or they ran out of power. I think that last thunderclap was meant to be the coup de grace.”

  “But they missed.”

  “They’ll try again—themselves or…well, they have adherents still in the old country.”

  “Oh joy.”

  “I have to go,” he said, as Serena’s glare seemed to gather force.

  He started to move past me, and it hurt, even though it shouldn’t. I was with Nick. He had the right to be with whoever he wanted, for real or for show. “Thanks for…” What? He hadn’t done anything. But then, neither had I. “For being there,” I finished lamely.

  He gave me a look over his shoulder that mimicked my regret. “You too.”

  Dammit.

  I made my way back to Nick, who was staring intently at the curtain through which I’d disappeared. He breathed a huge sigh of relief as I came back into view. But there was something else in his eyes…pain, maybe. The pilot came over the loudspeaker, talking about the plane being damaged by the storm and an emergency landing. The passengers set up a subdued cheer at that. I wondered how many would be brave enough to continue on to their final destinations.

  I dropped into the seat next to Nick, and he looked like he couldn’t decide whether to hug me or throttle me. I made the decision for him, launching myself at him and holding him as tightly as I could. After a moment, he held me back and stroked my hair. I put Apollo behind me in the reality of Nick’s strong arms and feelings I knew to be all mine with nothing ever done “for my own good” without my consent. I breathed Nick in—his spicy, woodsy scent, as if he’d just been for a run in the woods instead of a near-death experience. His body was radiating heat, and for a second, I wanted to drag him back to the bathroom, tear off all his clothes and celebrate our survival…only I’d been in there earlier and was fairly certain it wasn’t remotely possible. Not unless I was some kind of contortionist and his shoulders were a lot less broad. But since I wasn’t and they weren’t, I just held him and held him and held him.

  “Don’t you dare ever do that again,” he said finally, his breath warm, almost hot, on my ear.

  I almost asked, “Do what?” but really I knew. Regardless of why I’d done it, I’d run out on Nick in the face of almost-certain death. I’d chosen to spend what could have been our final moments with another man. But it hadn’t been like that. I hadn’t picked Apollo over Nick. I’d chosen to DO something rather than huddle up when the storm struck. The fact that I hadn’t made a bit of difference shouldn’t matter. I’d had the best of intentions. Still, I’d have felt a helluva lot less guilty if I’d had anything to show for leaving him alone. The fact that we were all still alive was nothing short of miraculous. I should have been there for him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, looking away. “I thought…I thought maybe I could do something.”

  “And did you?” The hand stroking my hair had stilled.

  “No,” I admitted. “It was all the pilot’s skill and maybe the gods running out of steam.”

  Nick let out a heated breath. “So then we have no way to fight them if they come at us again?”

  “They’d have finished us off if they could,” I answered. It wasn’t nearly as comforting as I’d meant it to be.

  “Great.”

  When Nick would have pulled back, I held his hand and refused to let it go. He didn’t fight me, but it was an awkward silence that fell between us, full of a million and one things we didn’t know how to express.

  The emergency landing was a rough one. Really rough. But the passengers cheered again, with more fervor this time, as we touched down and slowed to a stop. Some even kissed the tarmac when the ground crew brought stairs to get us all out rather than taxi us to a gate. Others held up the line by picking a fight with the flight crew and threatening lawsuits. I felt terrible for them, especially since I knew there was nothing they could have done.

  We waited for Jesus on the tarmac, since he was even farther back on the plane than we were. The lights of the runway lit his face quite clearly. All the color had fled, and the usual swing had gone straight out of his step.

  “I think I found God,” he said as he approached us, eyes as big as peanut butter cups, which sounded incredibly good right then. Or, just pure chocolate, hold any pollutants like nuts or caramel.

  “Which one?” I asked.

  Chapter Four

  Jesus didn’t turn back for home, though he complained loudly that he would talk to Apollo about hazard pay. We didn’t turn back either. It wasn’t so much bravery as stubbornness—on my part, at least. Zeus and Poseidon were not going to ruin the first reunion I’d had with my family since the Rialto Brothers Circus had given me the heave ho. They weren’t going to ruin my cousin Tina’s wedding with a funeral. I felt pretty strongly about that, since the funeral would likely be mine.

  I could be flippant or I could be afraid. I’d found it was pretty difficult to be both at once.

  The airline whisked us all off to a private lounge as soon as we hit the terminal, presumably so we couldn’t frighten other flyers with the horror story of our ordeal. Jesus helped himself to a good bit of the complimentary booze they supplied to help us drown out the horror and blunt our memory.

  Finally, though, we were rebooked on a flight from our emergency landing airport to New York, where we’d catch the next leg of our flight. Jesus grabbed some of the free booze in their tiny travel sized bottles and brought them along for fortification. Nick and I didn’t risk it, both determined to stay sharp for no good reason I could tell. It wasn’t like we’d be any better in the face of a new attack than the last, but still, I wanted my wits about me, such as they were. Plus, I wasn’t so sure how ambrosia and booze would mix. Would the whole super-healing thing allow me to get drunk or would the ambrosia treat booze as some kind of poison to be fought? I didn’t really need my body becoming a battleground.

  That thought lasted until takeoff. At the first bump on the runway, I shrieked and grabbed at the bottle of vodka Jesus had tucked into the seatback pocket in front of him. I downed it like a shot as Jesus eyed me sourly. “By all means, chica, help yourself.”

  “Got more?” I asked.

  He toed open the shoulder bag at his feet to reveal enough booze to open a fairy bar. Not that fairies existed…that I knew of.

  I reached for two more bottles but was stopped by my seatbelt. Then we were lifting off, being bounced around by stray air currents, and my heart nearly stopped in panic. I grabbed Nick’s hand and he grabbed mine right back. Jesus gripped my other hand, and we sat there like a ring-around-the-rosie of fear.

  Nick smiled at me, and those incredible midnight blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “It’s going to be okay,” he lied.

  “How can you be so calm?” I asked.

  He brought my hand to his chest, and I could feel that his heart had picked up all the beats mine had dropped. It was going double time.

  “I’m not calm. I’m confident. The way your luck runs, you will not die before I get to see you in a puke-green bridesmaid’s gown. And take pictures. And hang them up around the precinct.”

  That surprised a laugh out of me, and I felt the vice grip around my heart begin to ease.

  “You’re right,” I answered.

  His smile got even bigger. “Can I get that in writing?”

  “Now that really would be the end of the world.”

  This kind of moment, this banter, was exactly why I’d fallen for him to
begin with.

  “You still want that vodka?” Jesus asked, watching Nick and I have our moment.

  “No, I’m good,” I heard myself answer.

  “More for me.”

  Nick and I smiled like fond parents half an hour later when Jesus fell fast asleep like a child who’d tuckered himself out. He snored softly, and his head lolled onto my shoulder. If there was drool, I’d never let him live it down.

  I didn’t sleep. By the fifth hour, it was glaringly apparent that wouldn’t change any time soon. I didn’t know if it was the ambrosia heightening all my senses or my new oversensitivity that made every single air current feel like a death sentence. I’d become the princess and the pea, only with the outside air my mattress and the deceptively fluffy clouds pillows waiting to smother me. Paranoia was a symptom of ambrosia withdrawal. It wasn’t supposed to happen when I was dosed, which I’d made sure of before leaving the apartment. Maybe all that fear-fueled adrenaline had rushed it through my body faster than normal. If so, it was a terrifying thought. I’d need to find a new supply when we landed in Greece. I only had one contact there who could get me what I needed…and I hadn’t seen him since our crash landing when he and Serena had been whisked away to, I presumed, some kind of VIP lounge where they were pampered and placated. I had his number, but he’d pointed out recently and rightly that I only used it when I needed something—when it was convenient for me—and then I pushed him away again. I’d never been a user…before ambrosia. I didn’t want to become one now. I needed to quit it, regardless of the possibility of deadly withdrawal, but there was always a reason it was a bad time. I was in the middle of a case; my uncle had been taken by a killer cult; my cousin was getting married…