Caged Lightning

by Marina Finlayson

  “Thanks,” I said, forbearing to point out that I wasn’t going to a ball, even if they’d dolled me up like Cinderella. Having a great time wasn’t really part of the deal. The ceremony would be full of cowed fireshapers, and I’d have to make like a goddess and pretend I had a clue what I was doing. All while being close enough to Jake to touch him, with him doing his best to ignore me, no doubt. Yes, this was going to be a super fun event, for sure.

  Syl had gone to get changed, since I’d decided I needed the moral support and had wangled an invitation for her, too. I strode down the hallway, practising walking in the heels, and nearly twisted my ankle. Too bad if the shadow shapers attacked while I was dressed like this; I’d never be able to run.

  Limping into my bedroom, I surveyed the final effect in the full-length mirror on the inside of my wardrobe door. A stranger stared back at me, her green eyes luminous, widened and emphasised by expertly applied eyeliner and shadow. Dark hair was piled on her head, with curling strands falling in front of her ears in an elegant yet casual style. Deep red lips were parted uncertainly. And the dress! She was wearing liquid moonlight, sparkling as she moved. I could believe that this woman was a goddess.

  In short, I looked beautiful, but I didn’t look like me. Did I really want to become this person, who seemed so different? This whole goddess thing was scaring me. I liked myself and the friends I had just fine. What if being a goddess changed me into someone else? Would they still like me? Would I? The beautiful reflection frowned at me. This was all so weird.

  I took refuge in the practical. Apollo’s insistence on my carrying my bow and quiver everywhere was going to be a problem. They definitely weren’t the right kind of accessory for this dress. I’d feel like an idiot, but I didn’t dare leave them behind after how he’d gone off at me the other day.

  Let’s face it, I felt like an idiot anyway. This look wasn’t me—I was awkward as a kid playing dress-ups in someone else’s clothes. I teetered on one foot, removing the first strappy sandal. I certainly wasn’t going to convince anyone of my divinity staggering around in these ridiculous heels. How did Norma even walk in them? I was more likely to provide the comic relief when I went arse over apex down the stairs.

  The other shoe came off and I sighed in relief. Even after such a short time in them, the balls of my feet were stinging from trying to walk in the high heels. Then I considered the dress. It was beautiful, but too long without the strappy sandals. I’d be tripping over the hem every second step.

  A few minutes later, Syl walked in and stopped with a gasp, hands flying to her mouth in horror. “What are you doing?” she squeaked.

  “Fixing this dress,” I said, without looking up.

  “Fixing it? You’ve ruined it! Are you crazy?”

  I concentrated on what I was doing; the snip of the scissors, the soft sigh of fabric falling to the floor. Nearly done. The dress now came to just above my knees. Okay, the hem was a little ragged, but the length was much more practical.

  “Did I miss the part of the invitation that said ‘come as a homeless person’?” she continued.

  She looked lovely, in a red halter neck dress that clung to her curves and a pair of nude shoes. She wore no jewellery, but she didn’t need it: her black hair cascaded alluringly over one shoulder. She was enough, just on her own.

  “I couldn’t do it, Syl.” The last piece of the dress slithered to the floor and I did an experimental twirl in front of the mirror. The hem was only slightly uneven—good enough. “If I have to be a goddess, I’m going to do it on my own terms. I’m not a goddamn princess.”

  I strapped on a belt that held my favourite knife in a sheath, then sat down and pulled on my combat boots. Syl watched me lace them in silence.

  At last, I was ready. “What do you think?”

  “I think Apollo is going to be pissed.” She shook her head, grinning. “But I like it. Homeless person chic looks good on you.”

  4

  Winston smiled encouragingly, resplendent in what I thought of as his official uniform of long red robes and strange little hat. It was meant to be a stylised silken sun, but it looked to me more like an octopus perched on his thinning hair. “Ready?”

  I nodded and took his outstretched hand. Syl took his other one. “Ready.”

  Together, we stepped forward. The world shivered around us and my foot landed, not on the worn carpet of his tiny temple, but on the smooth tiles of the Great Temple of Apollo in Crosston.

  A blast of trumpets nearly scared the crap out of me. Two trumpeters, one on each side of the huge double doors to the street, currently closed, blew a fanfare which echoed in the vast space. I flinched and glared at the offending musicians, but they ignored me, their gazes fixed straight ahead, standing at attention.

  There were fewer people in the large circular chamber than I had expected, but they were all looking at us. A little knot of priests in celebratory red, same as Winston, stood together in front of the great statue of Apollo that dominated the room. More red-robed priests formed a guard of honour, creating a sort of aisle from the closed temple doors, around the sacred fire to where the other priests waited at the base of a dais in front of the statue. Syl fit right in in her gorgeous red dress.

  Where had she gotten that dress? Her wardrobe was even more limited than mine, owing to the fact that she’d spent most of the last few months in cat form. I leaned over to whisper to her as the priests bowed in sync like a red wave.

  “Did Apollo send you that dress, too?”

  “No. I borrowed it from Holly.” That made sense. They were about the same height and build.

  The great golden statue of Apollo loomed above the priests. It showed Apollo seated, playing a harp, his golden curls tumbling about his shoulders. In the centre of the circular chamber, the sacred fire leapt in its hearth, directly under the dome that soared overhead. A row of windows circled the base of the dome like a necklace, allowing natural light to fall on the tiled floor below and offering glimpses of blue sky above. That and the sacred fire were the main sources of light, though small torches were spaced at intervals around the walls. I knew from my previous visit that the temple had electric lighting. I looked up and saw that, today, they were all dark. We were going old-school for the ceremony, apparently.

  In front of the statue of Apollo, raised above the waiting priests, two thrones sat on the dais. There were no other chairs. I hoped it wouldn’t be a long ceremony, since the spectators were obviously expected to stand throughout.

  Another trumpet blast made me jump. This time, the priests sank to the floor. Apollo stepped out of thin air in front of his statue, appearing on the dais. He wore the familiar black, but on his chest glowed the most enormous ruby I’d ever seen, suspended on a thick gold chain. Ignoring the priests, he took the steps down from the dais and strode across the floor toward me. The priests parted to let him through. My ears were still ringing from the trumpets, but I heard him clearly as he took my hand and leaned forward to brush his lips against my cheek.

  “You look beautiful.”

  I cast a triumphant look at Syl, who shrugged. “You don’t mind that I … modified the dress?”

  His lips twitched as he tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and drew me toward the dual thrones. “Modified. Is that what they call it? No, I think it was a good call. It’s time we put the fear of the gods back into the forefront of our enemies’ minds. Appearing as the huntress is a good reminder of what will happen to those who defy us.”

  The priests rustled like a field of wheat in the wind as we passed among them. Apollo led me up onto the dais. Standing in front of the thrones, we turned to face the audience. Nearly everyone in the chamber was a fireshaper. With the return of my divine powers, I could tell that at a glance now, without having to see a demonstration of their ability. The ones who weren’t priests mostly wore black, like their god, men and women alike. There were also a few shifters, like Syl, and a handful of ordinary humans.

  Apollo
took my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I am happy to welcome my sister to our ceremony today,” he said to the waiting assembly. The rustling had subsided, and his voice rang proudly in the cavernous chamber. “Sun and Moon together will welcome the new Ruby Adept.”

  A buzz of whispers flew around the room, and all eyes turned to me with renewed interest. Miracle enough to have one god walking among them, but two! These were strange times indeed for the local fireshapers. Winston beamed proudly at me from where he stood with Syl, close to his fellow priests but slightly apart, perhaps indicative of his new status. Whatever that was. He was something more than a simple servant of the Great Temple now, though his new duties hadn’t been clearly defined, as far as I knew. Was he a high priest of his own tiny temple?

  Yes, strange times, when a lowly priest with only weak fireshaping could become so favoured of the god. Difficult times, too. If these were all the fireshapers left, numbers were way down. Not really surprising, considering how many Apollo had killed in his rage, and how many more had fled with the traitorous former Ruby Adept. The fireshapers were at a fraction of their former strength.

  “I thought there’d be more people here,” I whispered to Apollo. The small crowd was not enough to stop the temple from feeling empty and echo-y. “Isn’t creating a new Ruby Adept a pretty big deal?”

  “Usually,” Apollo said. “Though I’ve never actually attended one of these things before. But, normally, it’s a three-day festival with crowds and parades. The temple is packed, and they broadcast the ceremony live. Under the circumstances, I thought it was better to get it done quickly and quietly, with the minimum of fuss. Only the fireshapers and a handful of their higher-up human servants are here.”

  Apollo sat down, so I hurriedly sat, too, placing my bow across my knees. As if that was the signal, the great doors to the temple creaked open and one of the priests broke from the little knot in front of the dais. His octopus hat was bigger and more elaborate than the other priests’, golden instead of red, so he must have been important. Probably the high priest.

  “Let the candidate come forward,” he boomed in a deep voice that seemed to come out of nowhere, as he wasn’t a particularly big man.

  A figure stepped inside, silhouetted against the bright light from the street. Jake, of course. I leaned forward to get a better look, squinting against the glare. He was dressed in white pants and a long white tunic with red embroidery around the neck and hem. His feet were bare.

  My heart did a little flip at the sight of him. He’d had a haircut since I’d seen him last, and the shorter length made him look younger. Still good enough to eat, though the shapeless tunic did nothing for him. The shadows under his eyes were nearly as blue as the eyes themselves. It looked like someone wasn’t getting enough sleep. That seemed only fair; I wasn’t sleeping that well, myself.

  Longing welled up inside me. He looked oddly vulnerable in the oversized tunic, with his bare feet. I wanted to leap down off the dais and throw myself into his arms, kiss that tired, careworn look away. Instead, I smoothed the silken folds of my dress over my thighs and watched him pad into the temple, taking slow, measured steps.

  The great doors boomed shut behind him, and one of the waiting fireshapers stepped up to meet him. He was only a little shorter than Jake and looked almost as tired. He wore black, like the other fireshapers. Though his clothing was no more elaborate than theirs, something proud in his carriage made him stand out from the others.

  “Who’s that?” I whispered to Apollo.

  “That’s Adani. Master of the West.”

  Ah. One of the masters on the inner council. Jake, who was Master of the South-East, was another. He probably knew this man well. Maybe they’d been burning the midnight oil together, trying to pull the tattered remnants of their organisation back together. Apollo had mentioned Adani’s name before; he’d been overseeing the interrogation of the fireshapers, trying to root out the last of the traitors. Together, Jake and Adani paced between the rows of red-clad priests until they reached the central fire. Then Adani bowed deeply to Apollo, followed by a slightly shallower bow to me. “My lord, Lady Artemis—the Ruby Council offers its candidate, Jacob Harlan Steele, for your approval.”

  Jake stared rigidly at Apollo and I felt a childish urge to get up and wave my hand in front of his face, just to make him notice me. He hadn’t looked at me once since he’d entered the temple. His tanned face was paler than usual; perhaps he was nervous. Or maybe he was still mad at Apollo for making him take on this role. Secretly, I hoped he was pining for me. He ought to be—he was making this way harder than it needed to be.

  “I approve,” Apollo said. “Proceed.”

  Adani bowed and resumed his place among the fireshapers. Alone, Jake paced around the sacred fire and stopped before the high priest at the foot of the dais.

  “Jacob Harlan Steele,” the high priest said in that sonorous voice. “Are you prepared to take on the duties and responsibilities of Ruby Adept, leader of the Ruby Council, protector and mentor of all fireshapers living in the lands within the council’s purview?”

  “I am.”

  “Kneel.”

  At a sign from the high priest, two priests brought forward a heavy red cape of some velvety material, richly embroidered with gold flames. Gently, they settled this cape about Jake’s shoulders as he knelt on the hard tiles in front of the high priest.

  Apollo sat, relaxed, in his chair, observing with interest, but I was tense. Jake’s eyes were firmly on the floor. Was he seriously going to pretend I didn’t exist? Staring at his bowed raven head, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to kiss him or shake him. Maybe a bit of both.

  The high priest rested one hand on Jake’s head. “Place your right fist over your heart and repeat after me: I, Jacob Harlan Steele, do solemnly swear …”

  In a clear voice, Jake echoed him. “I, Jacob Harlan Steele, do solemnly swear …”

  “To guide and protect the fireshapers of New Hollandia …”

  “To guide and protect the fireshapers of New Hollandia …”

  “To the best of my ability, always striving for the glorification of our Lord God Apollo, from whom our fire springs.”

  “To the best of my ability, always striving for the glorification of our Lord God Apollo, from whom our fire springs.”

  A priest stepped forward with a red velvet cushion bearing a golden circlet, too simple to be called a crown—and Jake was no king, anyway. Its main feature was a central ruby, large by most standards but dwarfed by the one around Apollo’s neck. The high priest took this from the cushion reverently and lowered it onto Jake’s dark head.

  At once, all the gathered priests began to chant a long, monotonous prayer to Apollo, glorifying him and praising the new Ruby Adept who served him. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as the prayer droned on, fingers curling impatiently around my bow. The quiver at my back made it impossible to lounge back against the throne as Apollo was doing. He appeared to be enjoying the priests’ long listing of his many attributes. Jake remained patiently on his knees, an obedient statue—I bet he could have done with that velvet cushion by now—but I began to look around. How long would this go on?

  Winston was absorbed in the prayer, chanting along with the rest of the red robes. Syl, next to him, looked as bored as I felt. She rolled her eyes when I caught her gaze, and I grinned back. Adani and the other black-clad fireshapers chanted, too, though Adani’s eyes were roving around the temple as much as mine. Not religious, then. If only Jake were the same. I wondered what Adani thought of having his god actually in attendance, after centuries without any contact or any reason beyond faith to believe he actually existed. Most men would probably have found religion pretty damn fast. I liked the fact that he hadn’t.

  I leaned closer to Apollo. “How long are these guys going to be singing your praises?”

  His blue eyes, so like Jake’s, sparkled with amusement at my evident restlessness. “Sometimes they go on for hours.”


  “No wonder other gods don’t normally come,” I muttered. “No offence, but I don’t need chapter and verse on your magnificence.”

  “Then you’re in luck. I believe today they’re reciting the shorter version of this prayer. They should be finished soon.”

  Zeus’s balls. If this was the shorter version, I’d hate to hear the long one. I fiddled with my bow, my fingers stroking the smooth wood over and over. Why had I come? There was no point seeing Jake when Jake refused to see me. No one liked being ignored. And this ceremony only emphasised how hopeless my cause was. Jake was the Ruby Adept now, with a massive workload. He was tied to this city, probably even tied to the Ruby Palace. He was no longer free to run around the world with me, rescuing gods and killing shadow shapers. His life would be full of paperwork and council meetings. I certainly didn’t envy him—I could hardly think of anything worse.

  Finally, the interminable prayer ground to a close, and the priests fell silent. Jake rose. If his knees were screaming, he gave no sign. Accompanied by a priest on either side, he moved to face the sacred fire and bowed his head.

  “What’s he doing?” I whispered, when nothing else happened.

  “He’s praying to me,” Apollo said.

  “They’re not going to start chanting again, are they?”

  “Don’t sound so horrified. No, this time, it’s just Jake, asking for strength for the next part of the ceremony.”

  “Can you hear him when he prays to you?” I asked, suddenly diverted.

  “Of course.”

  “Do you hear everyone that prays?” That would be horrifying. Millions of people, all begging for things inside your head. “Why can’t I hear anyone praying to me?” Surely someone, somewhere, was praying for Artemis’s help.

  “You learn to tune them out. You probably don’t even realise you’re hearing them. Occasionally, something catches my attention, particularly if the supplicant makes a good sacrifice.”

  I shook my head. Sacrifices? The surprises just never stopped coming with this god thing. Prayers and supplicants would have to go in the too hard basket for now. “What’s the next part of the ceremony?”