“Perhaps you have forgotten that even though you walk among pure born gods, you are not one,” I retort, getting up from the table.
“Perhaps you have forgotten that my god is long since dead. I must look out for the balance of the universe now in whatever way I can. Ra is dead,” she repeats this fact, and I smirk.
“Look, I’m sorry. I realise now that expecting you to betray them, the pure, was silly of me. I just didn’t think you’d have forgotten the fact that they cast you aside so easily, Nu. I’m sorry about that. I truly am. Clearly, they’re you’re friends now, and everything is perfect,” I sneer at her.
“You better leave this place right now, and tell the Demon Lords that if they know what’s good for them that they’ll cease this quest to capture that girl. I might not be sole ruler here anymore, but I still command the armies,” she threatens.
“Are you sure that’s enough for you?” I retort. “We could take this place and rule it together you know… it doesn’t have to be this way. All you have to do is open the gates,” I tease now, knowing this will only infuriate her more.
“Did I think about rebelling, about fighting to keep Mortaria as mine? Yes, of course, I did. But you think that I could honestly do that without Ra?” She demands honesty and I merely shake my head.
“Of course not. But who said anything about doing it without him?” I add, and she purses her lips as her nostrils flare.
“He’s dead!” she exclaims, and I shake my head.
“No god truly dies forever. You know that as well as I do. His energy might be scattered… but he still exists,” I express, leading her on with half-truths that I spin as facts.
“What do you mean?” She demands an answer of me now, desperation rife in her voice.
“Nothing. It matters not. After all, why would I risk finding a way to bring him back with such a powerful and dangerous prophecy posing a threat?” I have my back turned to her now, having spun on my heel to leave, and smile, hearing her breathing quicken behind me.
“You’re lying. No-one has the power to do that, to resurrect a god,” Anubis accuses me, nonchalant in her arrogance.
“We shall see,” I mutter.
Pulling out a vial containing a tiny scroll from my cleavage, something that Gorgon had given me during our walk earlier, I turn back. “If you change your mind about the girl, you can summon me by using this. You know the drill.” I place the glass on the table where it tinkles against the metal surface, holding the gazes of both Titans as I smile.
Grasping the box from inside my dress pocket, I press into the desired panel, picturing the Fallen Kingdom, and walk, once more into another whirling portal.
As I tread through the scarlet mist which crackles with ebony lightning, I can only hope that the seeds I’ve sown have made Anubis curious enough to approach me again. I can only pray that she’s more power hungry than she seems, and as devout to her creator as I had always thought from our time in The Higher Plains together.
As for me, I have done my job as best I can, and now I have to merely watch and wait, yet again, for the opportune moment to strike.
Chapter Twenty One
On The Road Again
SEPHY
Everything is spinning, whirling, and it’s utterly freaking fantastic. Haedes and I saunter down the street, which sways oddly as it is filtered through the whisky fog tainting my field of vision. The velvet of his suit feels soft, so soft, and I’m sort of debating asking him for a hug just so I can run my fingers all over it.
I’d been intimidated by him at first, but as I try, almost successfully, to put one foot in front of the other, I hear myself say,
“You know, you’re not so scary… you’re like a blue care bear with explodey hands.” I grin at him, and he chuckles back at me.
“How drunk are we?” he asks, his own voice slurred, and I giggle, taking more steps down the street and ignoring onlooking sinners. It would be the early hours of the morning by now if we were in the mortal world, and things would be starting to quiet down. As it is, we’re not in the mortal world, and everywhere along the strip of street, which runs central to the city, is packed. I examine the sinners, their Victorian era attire; only a few still sport the black jumpsuits, and I wonder if these are the vanity sinners.
“God level drunk. UNHOLY LEVEL GOD DRUNK!” I stammer, yelling into his face for absolutely no reason and looking to him with a sudden overwhelming curiosity. This might be the drunkest I’ve ever been, and my only excuse is that I’m currently experiencing the most awkward identity crisis you can imagine.
“Hey! Where are we going? It’s not a dungeon, is it?” I ask, suspicious as the world continues to spin. It makes my stomach churn, but my mind is saturated in happy, so I don’t really mind much.
“Sugar… Skullz… and no… no torture for you. Not unless Xion sings…” he blows a raspberry and gives me a thumbs down as we stumble toward a building with a large neon sign.
“Sugar… Skullz…” I read it slowly, almost like the neon of the sign is blurring and turning the words into a foreign language.
“Come on… Muerta has the best tequila.” Haedes pulls me forward, and I pass a lot of pissed off looking faces as we enter the joint without having to queue once again.
“You’re like… famous, you know that?” I ask him, frowning, and he smirks.
“Yeah, I know, right?” he giggles like a little boy, pulling me down a long black corridor which is lit in a bloody hue. My feet struggle to place themselves on the hard floor, and as Haedes pushes aside a dark velvet curtain, revealing the innards, I find myself wanting to wrap myself up in it and start my life over as a burrito.
The place has scarlet carpet and black walls; the tables are alabaster and look like they’ve been made out of real human skeletons or animal bones, and I realise that I’ve seen this style of décor before. Each table holds a tiny candle, which flickers, but keeps the seated area dim, putting the real focus on the stage where a single microphone stands, next to an outdated and horrifically familiar looking machine. A figure approaches it, and my stomach falls into my ass.
Haedes said no torture.
He lied.
“Wait… this is a Karaoke bar?” I ask him, and he nods. “Oh God! Why would you bring me here… this… it sucks!” I pout, looking to the stage, lit up in stark spotlights from beneath. Atop it, a sinner climbs, beginning to sing Wind Beneath My Wings before I can even try to assassinate him in a ball of fiery inferno.
As I stand, paralysed by his pitchy melody, I suddenly begin to feel the urge to vomit rising quickly in my throat.
“Muerta! Tequilllaaaaaaa!” Haedes yells, pulling me towards the glass bar which is decorated with hundreds of tiny dots, forming a macrocosmic and mind-blowing pattern. It’s incredible, and I sort of want to know who designed it, how long it took them… must have been like forever.
I take a seat on a stool, looking down the length of the bar and turning my head so it’s parallel to the glass, staring until my eyes meet with another pair.
“Oh look, a kitty!” I smile, seeing a cat wrapped around a skull that’s sat on the bar. Two candles, one in each eye socket, waver. I reach out to pet its creamy fur but am met with yowls as the evil ball of fluff reaches out and slashes at my hand with a hiss.
“No! Bad kitty!” I curse the creature and turn to Haedes. “Why does this cat hate me so much? Like… am I a bad person?” I ask him, and he frowns.
“Nah, Cassie hates everyone. Everyone except Muerta.” He looks around once, then twice before losing his utter lack of patience and yelling out, “MUERTA!” at the top of his lungs yet again. A rattling of beaded curtains parting sounds and shortly after, the woman who I have met twice now emerges from the back room.
“Oh, Haedes, it’s you. I had a client. What’s the matter?” she asks him, cocking a dark eyebrow. I look at the bony makeup which covers her flawless skin and giggle a little. She reminds me of that book… Funny Bones that my mom used to read
to me when I was a little kid. That book was great; the skeleton family even had a little skeleton dog.
“Tequila, darling…” Haedes clicks his fingers, and Muerta rolls her eyes.
“Seriously? You pulled me away from business so you could get inebriated with your daughter?” she berates him, spinning on one foot.
From behind the bar, which is covered in large black x-rays pulled up against a too bright backlit panel, displaying some truly horrific breaks and fractures, she pulls two shot glasses and a large glass bottle of tequila. Slamming it down on the counter, Haedes smiles.
“He’s got the parenting thing down,” I add, and she rolls her eyes at me with an unimpressed expression.
“Thanks, you know you’re my favourite… Muerta…” He can’t think of a better compliment and so settles for this pitiful attempt. She rolls her eyes again and then looks between us, her glassy pupils scanning me with disapproval. I puff out my chest a little, not one to be underestimated, even if her cat did just try to assault me.
“Come on, Cassie,” she calls the cat, who gives me the stink eye before jumping down off the bar and following her mistress. The tinkle of beads sounds once more, and then it’s just me and Haedes, sitting, alone with the sound of Copacabana.
“Does Muerta… ya know… what kind of clients does she see?” I ask Haedes, winking at him in the least subtle way you can imagine.
“She can see into people’s souls, see their sins as you know. That power is amplified when someone sings… like even if they SUCK AT SINGING!” he yells at the tone-deaf woman on stage before continuing. “People who come here, they’re often seeking advice about how to speed things along, or if they need to be reassigned. That kind of sinner crap.” Haedes sounds like he’s sobering up quicker than I am, probably because he’s a god and all, and so pulls the stopper from the bottle of tequila and takes it to his lips, rendering the shot glass beside him as obsolete.
“Will I end up here? I’d look bad in one of those jumpsuits,” I ask him, confused as to where I fit.
“Nah, you’ll go to The Higher Plains, or if you’re not accepted there, then you’ll go to The Nether Realm… kind of like limbo but without the pole,” he enlightens me, his mouth quirking up at the side.
“That’s a shame, I do love a good pole. Wait… What do you mean? Not accepted?” I ask him, and he shrugs.
“I dunno. My brother is an asshole.”
“I read about your dad… in that book Xion gave me. He seems like an asshole too.” I take the bottle from him, tipping it up and downing the salty draft far too quickly.
“Oh yeah, I come from a long line of assholes.” Haedes nods, pressing his lips together and closing his eyes.
“I guess that means I do too.” I laugh, and he smiles at me.
“Well, you’re lucky, you’re only a demi-asshole. That’d be your mother, saving you once again from the torment of being completely made up of my genetic makeup… I should thank her.” He takes the bottle from my hand again and holds it up above his head.
“Thanks, Demi! You made our daughter only part asshole, and for that, I am lucky. Miss you always, babe.” He takes a giant slug of the alcohol once more, blowing a kiss into the air as he swallows, and I feel myself getting sad, untethered emotions rising to the surface because of the booze.
“It’s my fault she’s dead,” I mutter and Haedes shrugs.
“Yeah, well, it’s my fault she got pregnant with you. So, I guess we’re both to blame.” He hands me the bottle again and I take another swig, my mind falling deeper into a fog of intoxication.
“Should’ve worn a condom.” I look at him, smirking, and he laughs.
“Eh… then who would I be drinking with?” he asks me, and I shrug.
“I dunno… some dead chick… like… probably Marilyn Monroe; I heard she was fun,” I muse, and he looks at me with a deadpan expression.
“She was until she got drunk. Damn. You could NOT get that woman to shut up,” he complains, and this time, it’s my turn to laugh.
“You must have met so many famous people. What’s that like?” I enquire, and he shrugs again.
“Boring. Famous people are just regular people, regular people with the same sins as everyone else. They’re a tad self-obsessed too.” I smile at his reply, mainly because I know it’s true.
“I see. Well, I can imagine my mortal half you find horribly predictable.” I sigh, and he shakes his head.
“Nope, you’re too much like me. Volatile, like fire; the mortal half only exacerbates that.” He takes in more alcohol, shifting atop the stool on which he’s perched.
“I am not like you. Not at all.” I argue and he looks curious now.
“Why would you say that?” he asks, curiosity flickering behind the grey mistiness of his gaze.
“I’m not afraid to die,” I enlighten him, and he cocks his head.
“How can that be?” He’s seriously curious, leaning in to me so I can examine all of his features, finding only more similarities between us.
“I don’t know. Nothing and nobody keeping me here I guess.” I shrug, and he looks at me again.
“What about Xion?” he asks me, and I sputter, almost choking on my own salty saliva.
“That great goober? Ha! No. I’m good there. Thanks though. I’d rather take a bath in lava.” I laugh it off, and Haedes cocks an eyebrow.
“Seemed like it this morning with you being all cozied up together.” At this sentiment, I snatch the bottle from him, and he smirks.
“That was a mistake. I was tired from all the almost being killed that you let happen.” I exclaim, and he doesn’t reply to this, simply keeps his eyebrow cocked as he exhales.
“Mhmmm.”
“What?!” I snap at him, and he shakes his head, pressing his lips together, trying not to laugh.
“Oh nothing… nothing at all.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way,” I growl.
A few moments pass, and we sit, turning our stools to gaze only at the wicked selection of alcohol hung behind the bar, each bottle wedged between the teeth of a skull, though whether they’re real or not, I couldn’t tell you. I look at the spirits, smirking at the names as I pick up a cocktail menu to my right:
Kraken’s piss- Rum mix,
Banshee’s blood- Bourbon mix,
Succubi’s kiss- sangria mix,
Abraxian illusion -Absinthe mix,
Tarantula Terror- Tequila Mix,
Gorgonian Venom-Vodka mix,
Haedes’ torment- Whisky mix.
I frown, wondering if you become desensitized to the thought of demon horrors after such a long time. After all, how scared can these people be if they’re branding alcohol after them?
“So, what was that you were just saying about Xion again?” Haedes asks me, and I take another slug of tequila, letting the salt burn the back of my throat.
“Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you people? We’re just friends!” I exclaim, and he smirks, his eyes flitting over my shoulder. I twist on my stool, whirling round and coming face to face with the friend in question.
I don’t know why, but for some reason, I can’t help but spit tequila all over him, baptising him in alcohol, the real fuel behind my belief that I, Sephy Sinclair, can do anything. I stare at him, eyes wide, flushing bright red but unable to stop myself as I burst out laughing in surprise.
“Sorry!” I sputter, feeling the sting of the liquid as it creeps up the back of my nasal passages.
Jesus Haedes, you’re such an asshole. I cuss, shooting daggers at him over my shoulder.
“What’s going on here?” Xion demands, as I turn back only to spot Luce entering the building behind him with Thane in tow. I wonder what could be the cause of such a gathering.
“Well, Mr. Grumpy, Mayor of Grumpusville, we’re having a drink. Want to join? Or will you be having… a water?” I berate him, and he rolls his eyes.
“You took her drinking?” He looks over my shoulder in disbelief
at Haedes with a disapproving glare.
“Hey, she’s a grown up. She can have a drink with her pops. Can’t you?” He nudges me with the back of his hand, heavy silver rings clinking against the glass, taking the tequila bottle in his palm again, despite the grip I try to maintain.
“Sure pops. Whatever you say.” I give Xion a look and place a finger up to the side of my head, whirling it round in a circular motion. “I think he’s crazy...” I whisper loud enough so he can hear. All I hear back from him is an audible, “Hey!”, before he continues to suck down spirit like it’s honey and he’s Queen bee.
“Sephy, we have to get you out of here. There’s been another attack, this time on Luce and Thane.” Xion explains, his tone urgent. I want to take him seriously, but as he grabs my arm, yet another giggle escapes my lips.
“Look at you, all… I am man. You woman. We must run into the dawn from bad demon men on epic adventure!” I mock him in a cave man voice, and he scowls. I look behind him now, craning my neck around his large torso to see Luce and Thane staring at me, looking shocked.
I wave at them.
“Hi guys… sorry about the demon attack. Guess I should have left them another home address.” I spin around on my stool as more laughter hits me.
“Wheeeeee!” I exclaim, laughing as the room spins. Haedes joins me, laughing too, and I see his blue hair blurred as the room becomes a hurricane of colour and sound. This is the first time I’ve felt truly weightless since I can remember, but as Xion puts his foot on the bottom rung of my stool and stops me dead, the weight of being mortal, or at least partially so, comes back full force, thwacking me in the stomach and causing me to throw up down Xion’s front. I look up to him, his eyes not full of amusement or anger but instead, pity.
I scowl, wishing he would stop pitying me, stop caring, stop making me like him… just stop.
This is my final thought as he hoists me off my stool and over one shoulder, in what seems to be becoming ritual for us, before blackness creeps in, and I lose consciousness in a haze of whisky, tequila and giggles.
The Opal Blade (The Ashen Touch Trilogy Book 1) Page 31