by Jamie Wyman
“Never better,” I lied.
“Bullshit, Cat,” Flynn said. “Your clothes are steaming. What the hell did you just do?”
“Checked in with the boss man. Where’s Marius?”
“Your chariot awaits,” the satyr’s voice called from the suite door. “But I suggest we hurry.”
“You’re driving,” I said to Flynn. “You’re the one with the map in your head.”
Flynn spun, grabbed his bag, and charged out into the hall. Nate bounded after him. Weary, I padded out into the main part of the suite and hitched my duffel up on my shoulder. I was about to ignore a direct order from the god that held the deed to my soul. Insane? Suicidal? Perhaps. But it needed to be done.
Right?
Marius waited for me at the door to the suite, holding it open with one arm.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said.
As I passed him, his fingers caught mine with a featherlight touch. “Catherine, can I ask you something?”
The vulnerability in his green eyes gripped me with the familiar, throat-tightening fear. “Yes?”
“Back at the church, were you truly afraid that I’d die?”
Embarrassment rose with a wave of heat stronger than the fires of Pele’s den. Even my ears felt like they were burning. It didn’t help when Marius’s eyes wrinkled with a smile.
“You were,” he said. Marius stroked my cheek with the back of his hand, his touch a whisper to match his voice. “Oh, Catherine. You really do give a damn, don’t you?”
I wanted to run and hide in the closet where he couldn’t see me, where he couldn’t give me that bedroom stare that made my knees weak. But I couldn’t. I could only stand there and let him read me like an open book.
I nodded.
“You know, cursed or not, I think I might actually enjoy that date of ours.” He brought my hand up in his and laid the lightest of kisses on it, his moustache tickling my fingers.
My breath caught in my chest at the surge of desire that was wholly mine. No magic or coercion necessary. For most of a decade I’d loathed Marius, and now…what? My cheeks burned with shame and anger. I stared at him, thinking, Damn whatever gods put you in my way, and an extra fuck off to Eris for sending you here now.
Marius dropped my hand. “Come,” he said, offering me his arm. “Let’s go save the day.”
…
Barely past last call, buses and cars still used the Strip to ferry revelers hither and yon. Flynn angrily used his magic so that our stolen ride hit every single green light on Las Vegas Boulevard, pedestrians be damned. Once we put the lights of Las Vegas in the rearview, he stood on the accelerator and sent us roaring into the open desert.
Nate drummed his fingers on his knees in the front seat. Marius relaxed beside me in the back.
“How the fuck can you be so calm?” I asked.
“Part of my mystique,” he said, his consonants crisp.
“All right, Cat,” Flynn said. “There’s one thing about your theory that I don’t understand.”
“Lay it on me.”
“Muriel. How does she fit into all this?”
“Leverage, maybe? I don’t know for sure,” I said. I had other ideas, but none of them painted a pretty picture of Muriel Harper. I tried to couch my suspicions with a gentle tone. “Maybe she was working for Grey to get the veil from Polly.”
“No!” Nate yelled, his voice ricocheting around the car, skewering my ears. “She wouldn’t!”
Flynn spoke up but kept his tone calm. “Could she have helped them use it?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Muriel, being the child of a god, knows divine beings exist. Likewise with Polly. I mean, look at her family. She doesn’t have to meet every god to know that they are doing their thing somewhere in the world. To her, that’s concrete knowledge. It’s not the same thing as faith. That’s why they couldn’t use Muriel to find your father.”
“And that’s why they took Father Calvert,” Flynn added.
“Bingo! He believes. And that makes all the difference.”
Marius’s voice was a cynical purr. “Let me see if I understand. A group of mages with private sponsorship from a high-ranking Prince of Hell has stolen the veil of a Muse. They’ve kidnapped a priest to make him hum a few bars in order to make a phone call to the Almighty, a god who has disappeared of his own damn-fool volition. Did I miss anything?”
“That’s what it looks like,” I said. I chewed my lip. “Nate, do you have any insight on why Belial might want to find your pop?”
The angel snarled. “The only reason Belial does anything—power.”
“And just to make sure we’re all on the same page,” Flynn added, “that would be bad. Right?”
“Very,” Nate confirmed. “If Hell gains the Throne of Heaven by usurping the Almighty, Belial will have nothing to stop him from wreaking havoc upon humanity.”
Marius threw up his hands. “Oh, this isn’t going to end badly at all, is it?”
The car whined as Flynn pushed the engine to its limit. The needle on the speedometer quivered at the far right of its arc.
Nate turned in his seat and fixed me with a grief-stricken gaze. An angel, older than the world and strong as a mountain, Nate appeared tired and scared as a little boy. “Did Loki say he’d be able to help?”
“I don’t think we can count on that,” I hedged. “He seemed rather busy when I saw him.”
And he’s going to kill me when he finds out what I’m doing.
I kept that thought to myself.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Cave”
Flynn’s arcane trail to find Karma led us to an abandoned town out in the desert off of I-15. It looked like some intrepid twentieth-century settlers had tried to make a go of it out here in the barren scrub but couldn’t compete with the bright lights up the road. What remained of this little wasted burg had rusted and crumbled to the will of the elements. Skeletons of houses rose out of dried weeds and the crust of earth. And in the center of that once-upon-a-town squatted a foundry, the beating heart nestled in a zombie’s cold chest.
“She’s in there,” Flynn said.
The derelict foundry, with its broken windows and cobwebby aura, had been tagged with layers of graffiti. I didn’t need my Spidey-sense to know the web of spray-painted scribblings on the brick edifice surrounded the building with spells. Like the warehouse Flynn called home, the foundry hummed with its own power. Magic definitely lived here.
“Hang back,” I urged. “At least a dozen of those symbols have got to be wards. Like what you’ve got on YmFy,” I added. “If we don’t do something sneaky, Grey will know we’re coming.”
Flynn didn’t give a shit. He pulled right up to the front door, his face set with an anger that said he would pound down every wall with his bare fists until he found Karma.
A few cars were parked in the dirt lot with little regard for order. “This is definitely the place,” Flynn said as he unfolded out of the car. “That’s the van I saw them leave in when they took Karma from the church.”
I gingerly got out, closed my car door, and took a deep breath. I smelled something burning, the tang of copper and the chalky scent of dust. Shivering with the cold of predawn, I chafed my hands, and silently thanked Polly for the use of her jacket. Though it didn’t do as much for warmth as my old coat, I felt an odd comfort in wearing it. Looking over at Nate, I saw his eyes shining with resolute anger. He would be fighting for Polly and for Muriel, the twin he’d lost after so long together on this earth.
Something about his sister’s involvement still didn’t taste right. How the hell did she fit into all of this? How had she gotten mixed up with Grey? There was a wrong note somewhere in the orchestra. It grated on my nerves and tugged at my attention, but the answers seemed just out of my reach.
“All right, Flynn,” Marius said, slamming his car door. “You go rescue your lady fair. I’ll find the veil, and Bob’s your uncle, we all leave happy.”
>
“You’re not taking the veil,” Nate said, his voice like a blade.
Marius blinked, nonplussed. “Yes, I am. It is my task, and I will see it done. Catherine knows how testy my mistress can be when she doesn’t get what she wants.”
“Your mistress,” Flynn said, “can go fuck herself with a twisted chainsaw.”
“I’ll pass that suggestion along to the Lady, shall I? After I give her the relic.”
“Marius,” I said. “He’s right. If the veil does what we think it does, it’s not any safer with Eris than it is here.”
“Oh, and I suppose you’ll give it to Loki?”
“Look, I don’t know what we should do with it!” I snapped. “Let’s just take one thing at a time. We get Karma and Father Calvert out of this place and get the veil away from Grey. When we’re back on the Strip and eating breakfast we can discuss what to do with the veil.”
Marius grinned, fingers splayed over his chest. “Why, Catherine, did you just offer me breakfast? Perhaps there is hope for you yet.”
I rolled my eyes. “We can’t let them use Polly’s veil to find…” I hooked at thumb to Nate. “His, um…dad.” I shuddered at just how wrong that sounded. “Do you call Him ‘Dad’?”
Nate glowered, clearly not amused.
“One does not simply refer to the Almighty as ‘Dad,’” Marius scoffed. “I still can’t believe you people insist on calling the eldest Muse ‘Polly.’ Seriously, next you’ll be offering her crackers and taking her out on the high seas.”
“Will you just shut up so we can get this over with?” I snapped.
The satyr gave a courtly bow and gestured toward the door. “Yo-ho.”
I let out a frustrated growl. At least it distracted me from the fact I was about to go into a nest of mages backed by a Prince of Hell.
…
Stepping in from the cold, crisp night, I received a lesson in extremes. Inside the foundry, the dense, quivering air swaddled me with oppressive heat. The odors of metal, grime, and stale sweat permeated every inch from floor to ceiling. Hundreds of footprints marred the thick carpet of dust, exposing massive scars in the concrete floor, and thick, corroded chains hung from above. Empty iron braces dangled from some of the joists. Most of the equipment had “walked away” years ago, but those looters had left all of the ductwork intact. The ducts vibrated with life. Somewhere within these brick walls, the furnace still burned.
The four of us skulked, lingering close to the walls and dipping into the curtains of shadow. Flynn led us along through the passages, following the tracks on the floor and the thread in his mind that connected him to Karma.
I heard whispers in the gloaming, rat-quick skittering footfalls somewhere up ahead of us. Around us. I twitched my head this way and that, thinking I’d catch some demonic shape in my periphery, but I found only my friends.
I mimicked Flynn’s movement—a half-hunched sidestep with my arms out, hands to the wall at my back. Behind me, Marius held a crouch and stretched his long limbs like some cartoon villain. However silly he might have looked, it played to his strengths of stealth. When given the choice between hiding and fighting, it was no secret the satyr preferred the former. Bringing up the rear, Nate was the only one who walked at full height.
Flynn rounded a sharp corner then threw out a hand to stop me as he came to an abrupt halt. We’d come up on the main floor of the foundry. It was roughly the size of a football field with two blocky shapes creating a bottleneck and a furnace at the far end. Flames and shadows danced like ghosts or evil spirits struggling to be free. Oblivious to our presence, people walked near the furnace, their silhouettes passing this way and that in the orange glow. I heard them whispering, dragging their feet along the floor.
Flynn didn’t seem to care about them, though. His stare fixed on the bottleneck between us and the inferno. The flat brick walls on our side cast back darkness as thick as night.
“What is it?” I whispered.
“She’s in there. Room on the right,” he answered over his shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
His head twitched slightly. “There are guards.”
Squinting, I could see a sentinel on either side of the pathway. Taller than Flynn and broad as a mountain, the guards resembled suits of armor, their skin casting back the liquid echoes of flames.
“Bugger,” Marius hissed behind me. “Are those what I think they are?”
Flynn nodded. “Constructs. Golems like those faceless mooks back at the church.” When I jerked away. Flynn added, “Well, not quite. These are statues. Probably layered with warding spells to keep people locked in those rooms.”
“Lovely,” Marius said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
I smiled despite the situation. “Still not a fan of statues, Marius?”
“Forgive me if your escapades at Caesars last year didn’t exactly cure me of old grudges. You’re telling me you don’t occasionally see those caryatids coming to life in your dreams?”
Oh no, I thought. Far from it. I’d seen plenty of those statues in my nightmares since Marius and I had barely escaped their stony attack. The unsuppressed shiver tracing up my spine was all the answer he would need or get.
“Karma’s in the one on the right,” Flynn repeated. “I’m guessing the priest is in the other one.”
“I’ll get him,” Nate said softly. “You get Karma. We’ll head back this way and get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving without the veil,” Marius snapped.
“I don’t care about relics when innocent lives are at stake,” Nate countered.
“Marius is right,” I said, a piece of my soul dying at the admission. “We have to get it away from Grey and Belial. You said so yourself,” I reminded the angel.
Nate’s jaw worked as he eyed Marius warily. Tense silence stretched between them. Like a gambler, the angel was weighing the choice of where to place the bet of his trust. Finally, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed his ire.
“Fine,” Nate rasped. He disappeared into the inky dark, his footsteps little more than the ruffle of wings.
Marius let out a breath, his lips flapping. Though I didn’t see his face, I could sense the roll of his eyes in the tone of his voice. “Someone needs a shag.”
“Come on,” Flynn said, his voice hard.
Marius grabbed his shoulder. “Wait. The choir boy is going to set off the alarm when he goes for the priest. Those golems will spring to life, and we’ll have a fight on our hands. Then there will be a ruckus and more people hell-bent on killing us will show up. More fighting and more damage to my impeccable wardrobe.”
“Do you have a point?” Flynn asked.
“Why don’t we just let the Winged Wonder up there deal with all that. When he’s finished we’ll pop in, snag the girl and the veil, and get a spot of breakfast. Catherine’s buying.”
“No one is going to set off anything,” Flynn said confidently. He rose to full height and squared his shoulders.
“Ah, I see. And just how do you plan to get past those guards?”
Flynn’s eyes were lambent in the shadows. “I’m going to walk right past them.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Escape”
Stepping quickly and gently, Marius and I followed Flynn to the flat wall of the room where Karma was being held. Undeterred—hell, unfazed—Flynn marched right up to the door, keeping the sentinel’s body between him and the milling people near the furnace.
“Come around,” Flynn whispered to me.
When I did, I blinked in astonishment. The statue just stood there. Cast in metal, the thing reminded me of a cross between a comic book bruiser and a chess piece.
Incredible Rook takes pawn. Checkmate.
Its sculpted arms depicted bulging muscles, and its fists—each large enough to snap my spine like a toothpick—pushed together in front of its chest around the hilt of a behemoth axe. Though made of iron or bronze, the sentinel wore something between armor and footbal
l pads over its double-wide shoulders and thick neck.
As I took in its head, I quailed. Lantern-jawed and massive, the statue’s obscenely wide eyes took up most of the real estate of its face. The slope of its nose led to bulbous nostrils, and its ears stood out on either side of its head like the rings of Saturn. Like the golems at the church, a blank void was smeared over the place where lips and teeth should’ve been.
I broke my gaze, expecting to hear the thing creak as it turned to face me. The statue remained inert, but if I reached out I could feel power around it. Yes. As with golems at the church, rank, slimy energy coursed into the ether in a halo around the colossus.
I huddled into myself. “Why isn’t it moving?” I asked. “Why hasn’t it ripped off our heads?”
Flynn tossed me a smile. “Unplugged ’em.”
For the second time in as many days, I marveled at his skill. He hadn’t bothered to prepare power. It didn’t seem that he had expended any effort at all, and yet, he disabled the golems. He’d done nothing to refresh himself, either. No sleep or food at the hotel. How did he do it?
Then the lock on the door popped, and Flynn disappeared into the room. Marius pushed past me to bring himself alongside the statue. With one knuckle, he tapped its cheek. When it didn’t respond, the slightest of smiles played on Marius’s face.
“Reminds me of the guards at Buckingham. Just as still and twice as easy to get past.”
“How would you know?” I said.
Marius’s leer widened. He continued taunting the silent bruiser with obscene gestures, whispering insults and jabbing at its chest.
Making my way after Flynn, I was pleased to find the air a little less musty inside the room. Though still ripe with the tang of fire and molten metal, the space had been swept and the floors padded with blankets. Small cots with dirty sheets and lumpy pillows lined the walls. With a pang of sad revulsion, I realized that people lived here. I tiptoed over the blankets to the far corner where Flynn knelt.
Karma came into view over his shoulder. Her hair was wilted and dishwater gray, her skin ashen and eyes dull. She looked like hell, and her voice was sandpapery when she spoke.