by Amy Sumida
Zeus lifted his glowing hand, and the poor tree hovered between the adversaries, unable to move. But Persephone wasn't trying to focus on an entire forest as he was. She waved her other hand out, and massive vines burst out of Zeus's porch and wrapped around him. Some of the trees fell back; the combination of magical attacks and Zeus's failing focus becoming too much for them.
But the oaks recovered quickly and came rushing back at us. I was about to shift into a dragon and just blast everything to fiery bits, when Hades beat me to the punch–or the flames, as it were. Waves of fire streamed past me, setting the tree army aflame. A horrible shrieking, popping sound began to come from the trees. At first, I thought they were screaming. Then I realized that it was their sap boiling, hissing, and popping out of their trunks. The tree's roots waved wildly as the oaks fell to the earth and rolled out of our way.
Zeus's magic faded from his fingers when he saw that he had lost. Persephone pushed the vines back into the earth, leaving jagged wounds in Zeus's wood veranda. Zeus just stood there, over the hole in his porch, staring at us with undisguised hatred, while his oaks went from an army to firewood. Flames lit the sides of Zeus's home, painting it in savage colors as the scent of smoke filled the yard.
“I've done nothing wrong,” Zeus snapped. “I left the God Realm, and I went to live among the humans. I've done the best that I could with what I had left to me. I can't be blamed for that. I haven't manipulated anyone. I've merely used my magic to make some money and acquire some worshipers.”
“You've done a hell of a job,” I noted.
“We're gods”–Hera strode out of the house–“whether we have magic or not. You can steal our power, but you cannot change our blood, Godhunter. Atlanteans are the superior species, and we will always triumph.”
Hera was dressed in human clothing as well, looking like a trophy wife. Her dress and hair were immaculate, and her face, though scornful, was also beautiful. I wanted to smack the pretty right off her. She had no right to look so good after all she and her husband had done to their pantheon. I had pictured Zeus and Hera in squalor, crying into their SpagettiOs, and the reality was pissing me off royally.
“The two of you should have kept your heads down. All of this”–Hades waved a hand out to indicate the property–“is just asking for me to come here and put an end to it.”
“We can't even live comfortably in our banishment?” Zeus asked. “What does it matter to you? I've been replaced by my daughter, kicked out of my home, and ostracized. Now, you won't even allow us some creature comforts?”
“Creature comforts?” Vali scoffed. “You're living like American royalty.”
“Enough”–I slashed my hand down–“where is Lesya?”
“Who is Lesya?” Zeus's high forehead wrinkled.
“My daughter, you son of a bitch,” I growled. “It was stupid of you to take her. As if I wouldn't come looking for you? You're Suspect Zero. Now, hand her over, or I'll kill you and tear your home apart.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Zeus said.
“What's this nonsense?” Hera sniffed.
“Fine, play it that way.” I shifted my hands into claws and started up the steps. “There are things I can do to you that are far worse than removing your magic.”
“I don't have your daughter!” Zeus shouted, and the burning oaks shuddered. “I swear it! I didn't even know that you had a daughter.”
I paused and stared him down. Zeus met my gaze steadily. I swept past him, into his house, and the rest of the Squad followed me. All but Hades, who remained on the porch with Zeus and Hera.
We searched the entire building, every nook and cranny from the basement to the flat rooftop, but Lesya wasn't there. I was shrieking mad by the time we were done and convinced that Zeus had Lesya stashed at some other location. I needed for Zeus to be guilty. The thought of another useless search was too much for me to bear.
Torrent catered to my fury and found the locations for Zeus's real estate properties in the human world. They were all in Dallas, and would several of them would be perfect places to stash a kidnapped child. Hades and Persephone remained with Zeus and Hera while the rest of us took Zeus's car and went to search every piece of property he owned.
It took us all day. There were only four locations total, but they were massive. One of them was a timber mill, and we had to deal with Zeus's human employees before we could search it. Not a big deal, but it took up more time–time that we didn't have to spare. After we had searched every site, we returned to Zeus's home, exhausted and downtrodden. Lesya hadn't been hidden on any of his properties. I had to accept the possibility that Zeus was innocent, of this, at least.
But Hades couldn't just walk away. He was way too angry over the power and wealth his brother still possessed, and then there was the fact that Zeus attacked us. I couldn't say that I blamed Hades. I wasn't able to take the last of Zeus's magic without killing him, and the bargain we made with Hera still stood, so killing Zeus wasn't an option. It was frustrating. But the bargain only guaranteed Zeus's life; it promised nothing about how he would live it.
So, Hades set fire to Zeus's new palace, throwing the burning oaks onto the building like he was adding logs to his campfire. Then he watched it burn with sublime satisfaction. He even took his sunglasses off. The sight of Hades standing before a burning Grecian building, arms crossed and expression smug, as the fires of the Underworld burned even brighter in his eyes, was ironically chilling. Persephone stood beside Hades, a silent witness and obvious supporter, looking just as satisfied, if not nearly as vicious, as her husband.
“Where's a marshmallow when you need one?” Pan whined with merry menace.
I would have thought that Pan's comment would incite some verbal sparring, but Hera and Zeus remained silent. They didn't even glance at Pan. The ex-monarchs of Mount Olympus simply stood to the side of their burning home and stared hard at Hades.
I knew that look; I'd received it often enough. There was a violent promise in their eyes–a god-bullet with Hades's name on it. It was enough to make me consider going back on my word and draining Zeus. Because I knew that despite his weakened state, Zeus would come gunning for Hades one day. That kind of hatred didn't dissipate. Not ever. If Zeus wasn't a vengeful god before, he was now.
Chapter Twenty-Two
We headed home with heavy hearts and empty arms. I was profoundly exhausted; both mentally and physically. I could barely focus; everything was going hazy at the edges of my vision. I'd been up for 48 hours, and my body was finally calling foul.
I stumbled toward the elevator, and my men steadied me; warm hands on my chilled skin. The rest of the Squad had returned to their own homes, all except Morpheus, Lugh, and my sons, who were staying with us. The other members of the Squad would return in the morning after we'd all had some sleep.
I didn't think I'd be able to rest at all; your mind never stops racing when you're scared for someone you love. My body was cold and hot, all at once; a panicked zinging going up and down my arms. I'd been scared before, terrified even, but it had never lasted this long, not at this level. Sure, I'd been in several situations where I'd feared for my life or that of someone I loved, but when it's myself who I'm worried about, there comes a point where my mind just accepts that things will be as they'll be and it shuts down the fear-panic production.
All the loved ones I'd been afraid for in the past had been adults, and being scared for an adult is different than a child. Fear is like love or grief; it can't be quantified; I'm not saying that I feared any less for Trevor when he was held hostage than I did for Lesya. What I mean is; with a child, you have extra concerns. Lesya wasn't big enough to fend for herself, so there was no chance of her escaping. She also didn't have the same understanding of things as an adult, so there's the added worry that she was scared and confused–which I knew for certain that she was. Finally, there's the bond between mother and child; being afraid for your child is unlike any other fear a person can
experience. It's gut-wrenching terror interspersed with incapacitating moments during which you can't even draw breath. It's an unsteady sorrow; a loss which you're hoping will not be permanent. You imagine things that are both ridiculous and psychotic. In short: you lose your damn mind.
I had stepped out of my clothes, leaving them on the floor as I went, and crawled beneath the blankets in just my underwear. My men snuggled in around me, they even made room for Re, and I let go of my brittle control. I sobbed; frustrated, furious, and deeply frightful tears that seemed endless. My body shook with my misery until it just couldn't process any more, and I fell into a blessed oblivion.
In my dreams, I held Lesya. She was safe and surrounded by her family. I inhaled her musky, baby lion scent and was finally at peace. But then a little voice crept into my happiness. Softly at first, just a whisper, it slowly grew in volume until my daughter's terrified cry rang in my head like a struck bell.
“Mommy!”
I jolted out of sleep, sitting up straight in bed. My heart was racing, and a cold sweat had formed a film over my skin. Shivers swept down my back as the echo of Lesya's voice haunted me. I put my face in my hands and sobbed.
“Minn Elska,” Trevor whispered as he climbed into bed beside me, “we will find her. The Squad will be here soon, but the guys and I have been up for hours, trying to work out our next move.”
“Hours?” I looked around the empty bed, then over to the little table in our kitchenette.
My husbands were all seated there, along with Re, and standing around them were Vidar, Vali, Morpheus, and Lugh; all of them were looking back at me with grim, but supportive, expressions.
“Re thinks that we need a new approach,” Odin said. “I agree with him. We're gods, beings of magic, surely we can find one little baby.”
“Magic,” I whispered. “Baby.”
“Carus, are you all right?” Azrael had joined us on the bed, and he laid his palm on my cheek, peering into my eyes like a physician.
I shook my head. Obviously, I wasn't all right. I didn't need an angel or a doctor to make that diagnoses.
“We just need to work this through,” Re said. “I'm sure that we have resources available to us that we haven't even thought of yet.”
Something clicked in my mind, and I remembered one of those resources. He also happened to be my son.
“You guys work it through all you want,” I growled as I crawled out of bed. “I'm going to see Brevyn.”
“Brevyn,” Azrael whispered, “I hadn't even thought of him.”
“Why Brevyn?” Lugh asked.
“My brother has powerful psychic abilities,” Vidar explained. “He can find Lesya faster than anyone else.”
“Your baby brother?” Lugh asked as if he needed clarification.
“That's right,” Vali confirmed. “Not me, I'm just an archer, but Brevyn is a powerful kid.”
Their conversation faded away as I asked my ring to take me back to Faerie; the place and time in which I had left it last. I didn't warn the men of what I was about to do. They'd figure it out as soon as I disappeared, and even if they didn't, I'd be back within moments. I wasn't wasting any more precious time on explanations. I needed to see my son.
I reformed in the bedroom that I shared with Arach in Castle Aithinne. He was in his usual pose; lying naked across the bed like a Playgirl model, waiting impatiently for my return, despite the fact that it always took mere seconds. Arach smiled lasciviously when he saw that I was only clad in a bra and panties, but then he saw my face. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rushed over to me.
“A Thaisce”–his palms went to my face–“tell me.”
“Someone has taken Lesya,” I sobbed.
Dexter, who had been sleeping in his mini version of our bed, woke up when he heard the fear in my voice. He hurried over to me as fast as his six legs could carry him. Which was pretty fast. Dex whined and rubbed around our legs. I reached down and trailed a hand through his silky black fur, taking the offered comfort. Blossom, the sentient flower who had once helped me escape Alfheim, shivered in her massive pot by the window, sending me her own version of sympathy. Arach held me for a moment, and I took that comfort too, but then I pulled myself together and eased away from my dragon king.
“I'm hoping that Brevyn will help me find her,” I said as I hurried out of the room.
“Very wise,” Arach noted as he and Dexter followed me to the nursery.
Arach didn't even mention the fact that I was striding through our hallways clad only in underwear. He simply snatched up a robe and hurried up behind me to place it over my shoulders. I absently slid my arms through the sleeves as I entered the nursery.
Grannuaile, one of our nannies, was watching the boys, stacking wooden blocks with Brevyn as Rian clawed at his scratching post determinedly. It was his second post; his first had been shredded and charred beyond use.
Rian is a dragon-sidhe, he needs to scratch to shed the outer husk of his claws... oh, never mind, just don't judge my baby. Brevyn is also a dragon-sidhe, but he hadn't been born with his fey essence, as Rian had, and he also had far less of it. So, Brev wasn't developing as many dragon qualities as his brother. Brevyn's growth had sped up a little since he'd become the keeper of his grandmother's essence, but it was nothing compared to Rian's dragon-sidhe maturity rate. Basically, Rian looked a few years older than Brevyn and had dragon needs.
Grannuaile jolted in surprise at our entrance, but Brevyn didn't look at all shocked to see me. He held his little arms out to me as soon as I entered the room.
“Hi, Brev,” I said as I picked him up.
“Mommy,” he said softly.
Dear gods, that got me every time. But hearing it so soon after Lesya had said it, made it a little bittersweet. Still, I had to take one brief moment to smile at Brevyn and bask in the love that's like no other; that between a mother and her child. Soon, I'd have this with Lesya as well, and it was Brevyn who would help me get it.
“Your sister, Lesya, has been born, Brevyn,” I informed him.
Brevyn stared at me serenely with his blue eyes, so like Ull's. My dear friend had died in battle, and I had placed his soul within my son's body. It really was Ull in Brevyn's eyes, but he had become my son. This was a new life for him, which was exactly what he'd wanted. Ull was now Brevyn, and along with his new life, he had a lot of new magic.
“Someone took her from us,” I went on, and Grannuaile gasped. “I need your help finding her. Do you think that you can help Mommy find Lesya?”
Brevyn just stared at me thoughtfully. Dexter whined again, and Rian watched us somberly.
“Please, baby”–I laid my forehead on his–“this is so important. Your sister is in danger.”
I felt his little hands touch my cheeks and I prepared myself for a vision, but none came. I waited anxiously until I finally pulled back and looked at Brevyn. His ancient eyes seemed sad.
“Brevyn,” I said sharply. “You need to help Mommy. Your sister's life depends on it.”
“Vervain!” Arach snapped. “Do not speak to our son like that. He's just a child. Don't you dare lay that kind of a burden on him!”
Dexter started growling at Arach, but Arach ignored him, just as I was ignoring Arach.
“Brevyn, show me where she is,” I said sternly.
“Vervain.” Arach came up beside me a laid a hand on my arm. “Stop this. Brevyn is your child too, do not abuse one to find the other.”
“There is no compassion in grief,” I choked on the words as I clutched Brevyn to my chest. “I'm sorry, Son, I'm so sorry. But Lesya's just a tiny thing, barely finished forming. I ...” I cried and rocked Brevyn as Arach wrapped his arms around us both.
Dexter twined about our legs again, yipping and crying. Rian plopped onto the floor and started wailing, responding to our sorrow, and Grannuaile went over to quiet him. But Rian wouldn't calm for her, and Arach had to leave me to help her. As soon as Rian went quiet, it seemed that the silence w
as encompassing, and the world shifted around me.
The nursery faded into a brilliant light. I blinked my eyes and squinted into a harsh sunrise. Brevyn was still in my arms, but he squirmed upright so he could watch it with me. Brevyn had just turned two-years-old, three months back, and was becoming a bit more squirmy. Plus, there was that added bit of dragon essence in him now, which had slightly sped his development. He was speaking more and more, forming full sentences even. Brevyn wiggled his way down me until he stood beside me on the sand, and then he reached up and took my hand.
“Mommy,” he said, “I see the baby. You see Lay-lay?”
I looked from him to the horizon. Lay-lay. They hadn't even met yet, and Brevyn already had his own name for her. I would have treasured that if I hadn't been desperately looking for our Lay-lay. Looking and not finding.
“No, Brev, I don't.” I turned back to him. “Where is she? Can you point her out to me?”
“There.” He pointed directly into the sun. “I hear her. Can't you hear her?”
Suddenly, a roaring filled my ears, and I gasped. Was that Lesya? I frowned and narrowed my eyes, peering deeper into the light. There seemed to be specks of black moving against the face of the sun.
“Sun's bright,” Brevyn said and shielded his eyes. “But the Sun likes Mommy. He will help you.”
“The Sun will help me?” I looked from Brevyn to the light. “Do you mean, Re?”
“Rah-rah.” Brevyn did that bouncy baby thing they do by bending their knees. “Rah-rah's baby has Mommy's baby.”
“Re's baby?”
The lion roared again, and slowly, a shadow crossed over the rising sun. A sleek shape without a mane. Not a lion, but a lioness. She wasn't Lesya, and she certainly wasn't me.
“Oh my gods,” I whispered. “That horrid, evil ...” I trailed off as I squeezed Brevyn's hand. “You did so well, Brevyn. Mommy is proud of you!”
“You see Lay-lay?” Brevyn held his arms up to me.
I picked him up and gave the horizon one last look–and I did see her. I finally saw my daughter. There she was, my Lesya, lying at the feet of a lioness. The wrong lioness. Lesya was crying, waving her arms about angrily. The lioness crouched over my daughter, and above them, a flock of birds circled. Carrion birds, waiting for a corpse to consume.