Perun blinked at him then asked, “Can I go now?”
“Is that a no? I’m guessing that’s a no.”
“I think it’s a no,” Hanna agreed.
Perun disappeared so everyone shot Cameron a “What the hell?” look, but he shrugged and insisted, “It wasn’t me this time.”
So Hanna shrugged and also insisted, “He was obviously pretty useless.”
Cameron scowled at Veles again and demanded, “Seriously, turn back into a guy. I never promised Tartarus we’d deliver you in one piece.”
The dragon hissed at him in response.
Hanna covered his mouth in the same dense permafrost that had grounded him so he couldn’t hiss at them anymore, and Cameron nodded approvingly. “Wish you’d been around for all the other giant snakes I’ve had to fight.”
Prometheus eyed the silhouette of the dark mountain against the horizon and said, “I’m willing to bet his vessel is hidden there. Should we try to find it?”
Hanna thought about it, but despite what they’d been told, only Enlil seemed to be reconstructing some long-forgotten empire on Earth, and aside from his invisible fortress, they’d found nothing to prevent him from launching whatever invasion he believed would restore him to power over people who now worshipped a different god. “Take him to Tartarus,” she decided. “If we need to return for his vessel, we’ll handle it after Enlil is defeated.”
“I appreciate your confidence, but we don’t even know where to begin with Enlil,” Ares said.
The long, serpentine body of the dragon contracted and morphed into the shape of a man who didn’t look over thirty. His eyes betrayed a kind of madness peculiar to gods who’d once been feared and were now mostly erased from the pages of history. Hanna allowed the permafrost to melt from his face, and he squirmed uncomfortably against the restraints around his body.
“Do you know where Enlil’s soul is hidden?” she asked him.
“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” he replied. “And you’ve already made the mistake of telling me you plan to deliver me to Tartarus regardless of my actions now.”
“True, but we can still find your soul and destroy it.”
Veles snorted and tried to shrug a shoulder, but the permafrost around his arms allowed him little movement. “Go ahead. What difference does it make if I’m to spend eternity in Tartarus?”
“So he’s useless, too,” Cameron sighed.
Frustrated, Hanna grabbed Veles and transported them to the edge of Tartarus where she summoned the living abyss and shoved the Slavic god of the underworld toward the interminable darkness. “Your prisoner,” she announced.
The blackness between Athens and the purple whirlwinds of Olympus pulsed like a beating heart and Veles tried to back away from it, but Hanna blocked his path. He glanced over his shoulder at her and hissed, “What do you want? Enlil? I’ll lead you to him.”
Hanna hesitated, because she couldn’t break her promise to Tartarus, yet Veles might be the only god who could find Enlil. She chewed her bottom lip as she puzzled through her options, but dark tendrils reached up from the abyss, slick and oily like the tentacles of a giant squid. They snaked around Veles’s legs, and he screamed and tried to back away again. This time, Hanna pulled him away from the darkness trying to consume him.
“Wait,” she called out to Tartarus. “He may be my only chance of finding Enlil.”
“That,” Tartarus responded, “is not my problem.”
“No,” she agreed. “And we had a deal, so I have to honor it. But perhaps we can come to another agreement.”
“You have nothing else I want, girl.”
Her parents and friends joined her, and she shuffled her feet nervously, because she was out of ideas. Tartarus was right: They had nothing to offer him in exchange for the prisoner he’d demanded. Cameron’s gaze darted between her and Veles then between Veles and the black tentacles probing for the god against whom he wanted revenge. He smiled, a mischievous grin, and told Tartarus, “Okay, we’ll toss him in. But I’m coming with him so I can question him, and I’ll probably be back often since we have no other leads on Enlil.”
The slick tendrils stopped searching, frozen in place by Cameron’s implicit threat of frequently returning to the abyss. “You,” Tartarus hissed, “are not welcome here.”
Cameron shrugged then blinked at the darkness and said, “Can you see me? Because I just shrugged at you.”
Hanna thought Tartarus sighed.
“And you,” Cameron told Veles, “had better have something other than an invisible fortress in what used to be Nippur because we’ve already found that place. And it’s as useless as you are.”
Veles lifted his chin in the air, suddenly brave and defiant, and Cameron grabbed a fistful of his shirt and dragged him toward the abyss. Tartarus wrapped those inky tentacles around Veles’s legs again, and again, the Slavic god of the underworld screamed as if the living darkness burned him like fire rather than the oddly contradictory cold and heat, coarseness and silkiness. It was a primal scream, the sound of fear, and Hanna shivered, regretting her promise regardless of Veles’s crimes.
As Tartarus pulled him into the void, Cameron followed, and Hanna grew nervous. “Dad?” she pleaded, her voice quivering, but she wasn’t embarrassed by her own fear. Not this time.
He glanced over his shoulder at her, and she gripped his arm, shaking her head quickly, begging him to stay with her. He was far more powerful than Tartarus, but the living nothingness had been consumed by vengeance and anger, and she didn’t trust him not to act recklessly. Cameron’s expression softened, and he stepped back from the edge of the abyss, and the vise in Hanna’s chest loosened. She took a deep breath and fell into his embrace, those strong arms that had carried her so many times as a child.
The darkness swallowed the Slavic god and his screams disappeared along with his body, and Hanna shivered again. What had they done? To what fate had they condemned this god? They were supposed to be better than the gods who had lost their chance to rule this Earth long ago. They were supposed to forge a new understanding, an alliance between humans and the supernatural world that benefitted both rather than just themselves.
“This isn’t right,” she murmured against her father’s shoulder. “You spared Loki from a cruel punishment, and we delivered Veles to one that may be far worse. We have to fix this, Dad.”
“I know,” he assured her. “And we will… even if we have to destroy Tartarus, we’ll make this right.”
Hanna looked away from the darkness, above and beyond the black void to the remnants of Olympus, the reminder that the worlds of the gods were surprisingly fragile.
“Yes,” she agreed. “That’s exactly what we have to do. It’s the only way to forever change the Games of the Gods. And that’s what I’ve come to do.”
Chapter Fourteen
Hanna peered into her grandparents’ refrigerator, studying its contents carefully as if she expected Enlil to appear beside the leftover lasagna. Her grandmother entered the kitchen and put a hand on her back, asking, “Are you hungry? I can make you something.”
Hanna realized she’d been staring at the same plastic container for a while, and it still hadn’t revealed Enlil’s whereabouts so she closed the door and shook her head. “I don’t know if I’m hungry or just nauseated. For some crazy reason, I thought this would be easier.”
Alison opened a cabinet and pulled a red bag of coffee grounds out then gestured to her table. “Coffee always helps us think better. And it hasn’t even been one full day, Sweetheart. Your parents spent two months looking for a sword.”
“I heard that,” Cameron called from the living room.
“I meant for you to,” Alison called back.
“We always knew something would happen to signal it was time for me to become the Last Guardian of Tara, but I guess I never really expected it to be something so… huge,” Hanna admitted.
Alison flipped the switch on the coffeemaker and sat across from he
r granddaughter. “For a while, everything in our lives seemed to be potentially catastrophic. Your father’s decision to join the Tuatha Dé, these crazy gods wanting to take over Earth and triggering Ragnarok, your grandfather overreacting and threatening to tear our family apart. My whole world felt like it was on the verge of imploding. And then, your parents saved us all, and you were born and our family healed and everything became so normal. It’s just been our life, you know? And it’s been a good one. A really good one.”
“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming,” Hanna admitted.
“Beneath all of those happy moments, your grandfather and I have also lived with a kind of constant fear because of how dangerous your roles are. But we also have so much faith in each of you. This god you’re looking for now… he can’t touch you or your parents. That’s the one thing I’m absolutely confident about.”
Cameron appeared in the entryway and smiled mischievously at his mother. “Did I hear you offer to make food? I’m pretty sure I heard something about food.”
“I think that’s his way of asking for a fancy sandwich,” Selena teased.
“Po-boy,” Hanna and Cameron corrected at the same time.
Alison laughed and pushed her chair back. “You’re in luck, Cameron. I have the—”
“Um…” Brent interrupted. “Does anyone else hear helicopters?”
Alison and the gods fell silent as they listened, and just as her grandfather had suggested, the sky did seem suddenly filled with the whirring noise of multiple helicopters. Cameron groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “This can’t be good.”
“Maybe it’s not about us,” Hanna said hopefully.
“It’s always about the gods we’re fighting,” Selena sighed. “We have yet to get so lucky that they just go away and leave everyone alone.”
“Turn on the news,” Cameron suggested. “We’ll go outside to see what’s going on.”
Before any of them could leave the kitchen, Badb appeared beside the table, her gray eyes angry and frustrated, and she put her hands on her hips and complained, “Some asshole set Tiger Stadium on fire.”
Cameron stood up straighter and snapped, “Oh, he is dead.”
“At least it was empty though, right?” Hanna asked.
Badb shook her head. “Graduate students still use those rooms that used to be dorms, so some of them are offices. There are people trapped inside.”
“On it,” Cameron said.
Her grandparents’ kitchen dissolved and Tiger Stadium, which Hanna had been to so many times for football games, loomed before her. Above them, helicopters swarmed, and the streets were filled with fire trucks and police. So far, nothing indicated the cause of the fire was supernatural, but the gods could sense something out of place.
Cameron immediately extinguished the flames, and the firefighters who’d been rushing to the hydrant to connect the hose stopped and stared at the stadium. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as everyone attempted to make sense of how the flames had disappeared. Cameron scowled at the fire damage and asked Badb, “Do we have a repair-god?”
“I would ask if you’re serious, but I’m afraid of your answer,” she admitted.
The street behind them, which had been filled with the vehicles of emergency responders, suddenly emptied, and the Guardians spun around, gaping stupidly at the now barren parking lot. Their friends finally joined them, and Thor gestured to the street and asked, “Weren’t there a bunch of people there a second ago?”
“Yep,” Cameron answered.
“And did they and their vehicles just disappear?”
“Yep,” he answered again.
“That’s probably not a good sign,” Thor said smartly.
“Where the hell did Enlil send them?” London asked. “And please don’t tell me we actually have to rescue them from Hell.”
“Fire and brimstone,” Selena sighed. “I knew it was coming.”
“The real Hell is probably filled with snakes,” Cameron complained.
Thor glanced at him then shook his head. “I’m needed in Falias. There’s a… giant… problem.”
“The giants are still in Jötunheim,” Badb said. “Nice try.”
“Damn it,” Thor sighed.
“I seriously doubt Enlil is sending all of these people he kidnaps to Hell,” Hanna interjected. “But they’re not in the Netherworld or Tartarus. Where else could they be?”
“What difference does it make?” a man responded, and Hanna jumped from the unexpected voice. She hadn’t sensed another god’s arrival, but this god had no soul.
“Enlil,” Cameron hissed. “So how many times do I have to kill you?”
Enlil opened his hands and held them up, as if telling the sun god his threats hardly mattered. And he was right… as long as his soul remained safely hidden, Cameron and the Guardians were helpless.
“Where are the humans you’ve taken?” Hanna asked, knowing he wouldn’t answer her, but she didn’t know what else to say.
“They, like all humans, will learn to fear me. And once they’ve learned fear, ruling them will be easy.”
“And if they don’t?” Hanna responded.
Enlil smiled and said, “It hardly matters. Mortals are surprisingly easy to enslave.”
In her peripheral vision, she noticed the bright blue flames of her father’s Spear as he conjured his weapon from Murias. It wouldn’t permanently kill Enlil, of course, but none of the Guardians seemed to have a better idea than to at least temporarily slow him down. But before Cameron could throw it, Enlil tilted his head and cooed, “And how, Sun God, do you think you’ll save these humans if you always resort to destroying this body?”
Cameron hesitated but didn’t lower his Spear. “What difference does it make? You’re not going to tell us where they are.”
“No,” he agreed with a disconcerting smile, “I’m not.”
Enlil flicked his wrist and vanished, but in his place, he left behind a large serpent whose head vaguely resembled a human’s. Cameron grunted at the monster and yelled, “You have got to be kidding me!”
Thor stepped back and glanced at Hanna, mumbling, “I’m… going to Jötunheim.”
The giant serpent hissed at him, but with its oddly shaped head and mouth, it sounded like a disturbing cross between a whisper and a cackle. “We can leave it here, right?” Badb asked hopefully. “I mean, Enlil kidnapped all of the humans that were around… who’s it going to hurt?”
“The rest of Baton Rouge,” Cameron snapped.
The snake-man hissed again, so Cameron shouted at it again. “Knock that shit off! You’re freaking me out!”
“Yeah, that should work,” Hanna said smartly.
“I think I know who this is,” London said as the creature slithered toward them.
“Satan?” Cameron asked.
“Ningishzida,” she replied. “But close enough.”
“Ningi… screw it, I don’t care,” Cameron said. He threw his Spear at the serpent’s nightmarish head, which pierced its cheek. Ningishzida paused, shaking its head violently, and the Spear tumbled to the pavement, allowing the giant serpent to resume its frighteningly fast attack on the Guardians.
Cameron pointed to his Spear and opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He scratched the back of his neck and pointed to his Spear again, and again, opened his mouth, but he was still speechless. Thor blinked at the Spear, too, and offered, “I think the words you’re looking for are, ‘Holy shit.’”
Cameron just nodded.
“Um…” London stammered. “If Cameron’s Spear didn’t work, I doubt mine will. Hanna, please tell us you have some serpent-god killing power.”
But Hanna was a little preoccupied with trying not to throw up.
Selena grabbed her arm and by the time she looked at her mother, she was standing a hundred yards away from Ningishzida. Selena had transported them farther from the Sumerian deity in order to buy themselves a little time, but not so far that the god or
goddess might decide to attack someone else on campus.
“London,” Hanna squeaked, “please tell me you know the legends about this deity and how it was killed.”
“I’m not sure it ever was,” London responded. “I don’t even think it’s really clear if it’s male or female.”
“What does that matter?” Cameron demanded.
London shrugged. “Just saying we don’t have much to go on.”
“I could resurrect the Nemean lion again,” Hanna offered.
“That worked with the scorpion men because they’re not gods,” Athena said. “This thing is supposed to be a deity of some sort.”
“Fire,” Cameron decided. “The answer is always fire.”
He ignited a ring of flames around Ningishzida, who stopped but studied the wall of fire surrounding it as if contemplating its chances of survival if it attempted to pass through. Cameron blew a quick breath through his lips and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Okay, now that we’ve trapped the bastard, let’s see what Wikipedia can tell us.”
For once, no one teased him about his love affair with Wikipedia.
Cameron quickly scanned the page then shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Why the hell is a god of vegetation so terrifying?”
“Peas, Dad,” Hanna answered. “It’s the god of peas.”
Thor snickered then muttered, “Oh, crap,” as Ningishzida figured out how to pass through the wall of fire unharmed. Its entire body had been covered in some sort of thick bark that the serpent simply shook off as it emerged safely on the other side of the flames.
“Ice?” Hanna guessed.
“I’m willing to try anything that doesn’t involve me holding it down,” Cameron replied.
Hanna pulled the moisture from the air again, forming layer after layer on the Sumerian god of vegetation, and for the third time, the Guardians managed to slow the creature down but it was only temporary. The warm Louisiana air caused the ice to melt too quickly, no matter how many layers she kept adding to the serpent’s body.
“This is ridiculous,” she complained. “And traumatizing. Can I go to Jötunheim?”
The Last Guardian of Tara (The Guardians of Tara Book 5) Page 11