“Doesn’t matter, Kierson,” Casey interrupted. “The dead still call to me.”
“Fantastic. That means it should only take what, maybe a century or two to actually collect them, based on your stellar performance last time with the Stealers?” Oz mocked, uncurling himself from his station. He loomed above us all, several steps up the staircase. Even without his vast wings visible—they were fully retracted for once—his presence was intimidating. “Maybe Hades really does have a shot at figuring out a way to find them if those are the time constraints he’s working under.”
Unfortunately, Casey was one who would not back down. Ever.
In the blink of an eye, Casey launched himself across the room at Oz, a familiar scene playing out before us all yet again until it was stopped short. He was still weakened by the attack at the Acheron, but he did not care.
“Stop!” Drew shouted from the far side of the room. When Casey froze on the spot, even Drew looked startled by the abruptness with which he halted. He had no idea of the commanding power he could wield.
“He may not remember fuck all,” Oz laughed, “but the kid still has his mojo.” He was clearly amused by the situation and prepared to take full advantage of Casey’s verbally imposed imprisonment, advancing on him slowly. Teasingly. In the presence of the Dark One, Casey’s anger never faltered, though he remained frozen by Drew’s command. “I’m not sure what you hoped to achieve by attacking me, Casey, but you would be wise to remember that I am no longer the fallen one who used to live upstairs and fuck everything in sight. I owe you nothing. I am not your friend. I am far from your ally. And if your mission to rectify this shitshow relies on me in any way, consider yourselves fucked. I have one purpose here, and one purpose only.”
“And that is?” Drew asked, striding toward Oz, whose attention snapped to the one he clearly perceived as an incoming threat.
“None of your business, that’s what it is.”
It was then that Pierson quickly descended the stairs, my father close on his heels. He had learned something already. Something he deemed worthy of sharing.
“We’ve mapped out who the greatest threats are and where they would most likely be heading,” he announced as he rounded the newel post to join us in the living room.
“Did you account for all the souls I eradicated in the Underworld?” Oz drawled. “I must have taken out a few hundred on my own.”
“Since we have no way to ascertain who your kills were, we’re sticking to my plan. There is still much to research to be certain that we will succeed in the capture of those who escaped, but this is a start. A solid one. And, given who some of the potential escapees are, time is of the essence. We must split up if we wish to succeed. We will form three groups. Casey can track the dead and should find this task easier when provided with the information Hades and I have compiled. He and Drew will work together. Hades and I will join forces, leaving Kierson and Khara to pair up. Each team will have assigned targets—emphasis on the plural, though I have ranked them in order of importance. I have also divided them into regions so that there is less ground to cover while hunting them.”
“Um, Pierson?” Kierson called out, his tone laced with uncertainty. “I like this plan and all, but what exactly are we supposed to do with a bunch of disembodied souls once we do find and subdue them, assuming we can subdue them at all?”
“Drew should be able to command them. Hades believes he and I can use magic to entrap them, if only temporarily,” Pierson explained plainly.
“Right, but what about Khara and me?”
I looked up at Kierson to find worry etched deeply into his expression.
Pierson’s countenance soon matched that of his twin’s. “We can only hope that Khara will be able to replicate what she did when she aided in the evacuation of the Oudeis.”
“That’s a big fucking chance to take. What happens if she can’t do what you’re proposing? She could be slaughtered!”
“As could you,” I said, addressing my overprotective sibling. “Which is why I think I should hunt them alone. You should join Casey and Drew. I created this debacle, and I will face it. If my death is brought about in the process, then so be it.”
Kierson rolled his eyes dramatically.
“Why can’t death scare you even the tiniest bit? Please? It would make my life so much easier if it did. And you’re fucking nuts, by the way, if you think I’m leaving you alone.”
“I will go with her,” Drew said, distracting Kierson from his lamentations.
“No,” Kierson argued. “I would feel better if I was with her—you know, given your memory situation and all.”
“And if you can do nothing to stop them?” Drew volleyed, his tone flat. It was a stark contrast to his former concerned self. His desire to keep those around him safe was still inherent in his actions, but the loss of emotion in his words was unsettling to witness. It caused an ache in my chest that made me second-guess my decision to bring him back, though only for a moment. It also removed that brief sense of hope that I had entertained when I first caught a glimpse of the brother I had known.
While I pondered Drew’s rebirth, Kierson ruminated over Drew’s request, ultimately coming to the conclusion that Drew was right, though he admitted this grudgingly.
“Fine,” he snapped, storming out of the room and into the adjoining kitchen. “But you’d better hope your powers don’t fuck up somehow and get her killed, because I will send you back to the Underworld myself. You understand me?” The crashing sound of a table being overturned punctuated his remark.
Drew’s earnest face turned toward me, offering me what little comfort he could.
“I will not fail you.”
“In that, I have no doubt.”
“Then it is settled,” Pierson said, taking control of the situation once again. He handed each pairing a sheet that listed the names, estimated locations, powers, predilections, and weaknesses of those we hunted. It was a long and interesting list indeed. Drew looked over my shoulder, reading our list with me. Silence filled the room while the others took stock of which souls they would be responsible for removing from the earthly realm. It was in that silence that I had a thought. Perhaps an epiphany.
“Could we not just kill them?” I asked, remembering how easily Oz had slain those attacking us on the shore of the Acheron. My brothers were unable to fight them below with earthly weapons, but if it were possible that being above was an advantage for the PC—that being on Earth would somehow make their weapons effective—then maybe the tables would be turned in our favor. Smiting those that had escaped would be the quickest way to rid the Earth of them. Perhaps, if our efforts proved as effective as Oz’s had been in the Underworld, they would be wiped from existence entirely.
Hades took a deep breath, sighing heavily in response.
“I fear it is not so simple.”
“Why not?”
“Because souls that escape the clutches of the Underworld are impervious to the weapons of man—even those of my kingdom. The conditions under which they now live preclude them from being put down as they had been before.”
“So if it comes to a fight?” Casey asked, clearly seeing the subtext of my father’s statement.
“There won’t be a fight at all,” he said plainly. “There will be you losing. There is no other possible outcome.”
Casey’s evil grin spread widely across his darkened expression.
“We’ll see about that, Soul Keeper,” he said with a snarl. “Maybe it just takes someone of the Underworld to put them down, and I can’t think of a better person to try that theory out. They’re on my turf this time. . . .” He methodically wiped one of his blades back and forth across his pant leg, itching to begin this battle, even if he might prove the underdog. Ironic that he believed me to be the crazy one.
“But Oz can—”
“Not stand listening to all this fucking talk much longer,” he interrupted, shooting me a scathing look across the room. “Are we do
ing this or not?”
“We?” Casey asked, quirking his brow menacingly.
“I said I couldn’t track them. I never said I wasn’t tagging along for entertainment value.”
“I have contacted Sean about this,” Pierson volunteered, ignoring the tension between Oz and Casey. I, however, was left questioning why Oz had silenced me so abruptly. If I could find out, I planned to. “He is amassing an army of the PC to join us, but this endeavor will take time. Time we may or may not have, so I believe it is in the collective best interest for us to head out. Now.”
Without any further argument or distraction, my brothers went about collecting all that they would need, stashing cell phones securely away and strapping copious weapons to themselves, handing me sparingly few. They had seen my ineptitude with them before. A blade was all I could safely wield, and, if Hades’ words were true, weapons would do little if it came down to it, so there was little need for them at all, really. For the boys, it was a matter of comfort. They felt complete with weapons at the ready.
While they rushed about preparing themselves, Oz sat on the stairs, staring at me intently. When Pierson was satisfied that we had all that was needed, he gave the go-ahead for us to leave. I made my way to the front door of the Victorian, following behind my family, ready to right my wrong.
Then Oz’s voice in my ear stopped me cold.
“You didn’t think you were leaving without me, did you?” he whispered. “You and I move as one, remember?” Every hair on my body stood at attention, but the feeling was not entirely disagreeable. “And as for what I did back in the Underworld . . .” His voice was so low and faint that I strained to hear his warning. “That is something we will keep between you and me.”
I said nothing in response. It took me a moment to recover from my traitorous body’s response to his proximity; only then did I continue on my way out of the house. The others had already filed into the night without us.
I was in no way surprised that Oz was coming with me. To have expected a sudden change in that regard would have required either naïveté or stupidity on my part. I possessed neither, as far as Oz was concerned. But his need to keep secret his ability to take out those that we hunted was a twist that I had not foreseen. For the moment, I chose to comply with his demand.
But I made no promises for the long term.
“So are you telling me that you will not assist in our endeavor to either detain or eliminate the souls? That you are simply coming along as my chaperone? Again?” I asked, my words curt and heated. They failed to have the effect that I sought. Instead, they amused him greatly.
“I will keep you from falling victim to your own lack of judgment,” he replied tightly. “Had I been present the last time that occurred, you would not be in this predicament now.” As we joined the others in the front yard, he plucked the paper that Pierson had given me from my hand, and a wicked smile spread across his face when he read it. “I was hoping there’d be more . . .”
Again I remained silent, unable to agree with his sentiment. I knew exactly what we were about to hunt down. The thought of facing the beings I had released at the Acheron was not especially inviting. And yet it was what we had to do.
There would be no rest for the wicked.
29
With the cover of night tucked around us, Oz suggested that we fly to our destination. He seemed familiar with the location, which was fortunate, given that I had only spent time in two places on Earth and Drew had no recollection of anything. For a moment, it made me grateful for his unwavering commitment to accompanying me.
“I’ll take Drew,” he told me, snapping his wings out to their full breadth. Mine were still hidden beneath my skin, since Aery had brought me all the way back to Detroit. I had not chosen to force mine to emerge along the way. Standing before Oz and Drew, I focused, demanding my newfound appendages to break through. It was still a painful process, but in less than a minute they were free. While I stretched them, testing each cautiously, I saw Drew reach for the tip of my left wing, a curious expression on his face.
“So strange that something so large can be hidden in someone so slight,” he observed, slipping a feather gently between his fingers.
“When I last saw you, I did not know how to hide them away. I had only just gotten them,” I replied gently. “Perhaps there will come a time when you will remember that night.”
Oz’s dark form suddenly loomed over my brother and me, disturbing our conversation.
“If you two are finished, it’s time to go.” He looked at Drew, who had released my feather but still stared at the mottled-gray wing as though it perplexed him. It was strange that the sight of Oz’s wings did not give him a second’s pause. “Let’s go, amnesiac,” Oz called amusedly. “You should make for amazing conversation along the way.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“How about you just try to keep up,” he challenged, his familiar hubris still firmly in place. Not allowing me a chance to retort, he snatched Drew up and took flight; the cloud-covered, moonlit sky created a hazy background that was nearly blocked by his ominous silhouette. Seconds after he took flight, I followed.
The view from above was greatly obscured by the low-lying cloud layer, but an occasional break in the haze gave us a glorious view of Detroit. Its downtown lights sparkled brightly. As we flew east, I felt a slight pang of longing—a longing to stay behind. Detroit had quickly become part of my life. It was a symbol for who I had become and the family I had discovered—I was part of the PC. But my father’s kingdom represented the other part of my life. The part where I had been a princess of the Underworld. The part that no longer existed.
As I climbed higher and higher, ascending to the safety and cover of the thickening clouds, I heard the scream of a female. An unholy, ear-piercing cry that rang out through the night so clearly that it seemed as though whoever had released the sound had done so from beside me. Without thought, I dove toward the Earth below. Toward the outskirts of Detroit. Again the shrill cry cut through the noisy air rushing around me while I careened toward a familiar part of town. I was nearing the Heidelberg Project and the seedy neighborhoods that surrounded it.
But the sudden silence that greeted me once I hovered just above the abandoned homes thwarted my search. No longer able to follow the ominous call of pain and torture—sounds I knew very well—I could not locate the victim. Why I felt compelled to find her in the first place was strange enough, but my desire to track her only increased as the quiet drew on. There had been an inhuman quality to her cry. After landing quickly, I found myself running through the deserted urban area. I rushed past boarded-up houses and empty lots, populated only by the rubble of what had once been stately homes. I had no idea where Oz was or if he had even realized I was no longer following his lead. I did not care. My mind was consumed by my need to find the owner of that tortured scream and aid her.
If I could not do that, then I would bring her assailant to justice—providing I could find him. That was the way of the PC, and I was one of them.
As I weaved my way through the deteriorated streets and downtrodden alleyways, a rustle of leaves from a copse of trees at the end of a vacant lot attracted my attention. Approaching cautiously, I listened for further indications that there was indeed someone there—perhaps multiple someones. All I heard was the occasional snapping of twigs and a wet feeding sound—one that a predator would make while gnawing on its prey.
Despite the fact that it was nighttime and there were a multitude of nocturnal animals capable of making the sounds I heard, I approached, unable to shake the feeling that something was amiss. The closer I got, the more I felt compelled to continue on.
When I finally arrived at the trees, I instinctively drew my blade, though I was still unsure what awaited me. Father had said that earthly weapons would do nothing against those that had escaped. He had seemed so convinced of that fact, but when I stepped closer, pushing just past the layer of brush, I was far le
ss certain. The eyes of the one I found hiding in the shadows turned to lock onto mine, and my need to bury the dagger hilt-deep into him was all-consuming.
I was willing to test the accuracy of Hades’ claim.
30
“You,” he sneered accusingly, looking over his shoulder at me as I approached him. His eyes were wild. Rabid. Feral. As the blue light of the full moon shone down upon us through a crack in the clouds above, I took in the grisly sight. The face that glared back at me was familiar. I had seen pictures of the statues erected in his honor before; the likeness was undeniable. Hermes. Messenger of the gods. Conductor of the dead.
Persephone had been wrong about the fate of the fallen gods.
Undaunted, I stared at the former god before me. His legendary boyish handsomeness was marred by the blood he had streaked across his face when he wiped the back of his arm along his mouth. Rising slowly, he turned his gore-covered, naked body to face me. When my eyes met his, I saw no semblance of sanity in his gaze.
I took in the sight of a mangled corpse lying at his feet, quickly realizing that there was no semblance of sanity in his actions either.
I was transfixed by the sight of her. Her blood-soaked hair was matted to her ghostly pale face. Her dull, dead blue eyes stared back at me hauntingly. Her agony may have been over, but the evidence of it lingered.
The devilish smile that had overtaken his countenance was quickly left behind when he threw his head back and laughed maniacally. Stunned, I looked on, not quite processing the macabre scene that lay before me or what it implied. Hermes, the cunning god of flight and former guide to the Underworld, stood before me, and he was very much corporeal.
“You know who I am,” he said, sounding rather pleased with himself. Vanity was only one of the many sins the gods often fell victim to. “But do you know what I have done?” A challenge was contained within his words. He wished to play a game with me.
“You have murdered that woman,” I said plainly, unwilling to give him that which he desired: a reaction.
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