by A. J. Menden
He frowned. “Shut up.”
“What in God’s name did they promise you, Dylan? World domination? I’ve got news for you, kid—if the Dragon brings back the Ancient Ones, they’ll destroy the Earth. There’s not going to be anything for you to dominate. And do you really think the Ancient Ones would let you share any of their power? If so, you’re more delusional than I thought.”
“Once the Dragon gets his way and the Ancient Ones reclaim the world, she’s going to take me back to her world,” Dylan said, in an almost reverent tone. “It’s a place beyond compare. It’s beautiful and perfect, nothing like this crappy place. No mortal can even set foot there, but she’s been changing me, making me into something new so that I can go with her. Well, not something new. Something ancient.”
“ ‘She’? What are you babbling about, kid?” Cyrus asked, casting wary glances at Dylan’s cronies, who seemed to be advancing.
“Have you ever heard of a demigod?” Dylan bragged. “Because that’s what I’m becoming. Back when gods roamed the Earth and were pretty much worshipped by everyone—not ignored like they are now—if one of them took a shine to a mortal, she would bestow gifts upon him to make him more like her.”
I scoffed. “One of the gods is stupid enough to try and make you a demigod?”
Dylan glared. “Don’t call her stupid! She loves me. She saw the potential in me and changed me.”
“If you think one of the gods loves you, you’re the stupid one. Whoever it is, she’s just using you to get what she wants. Though, why she didn’t just let the Dragon out herself—”
“She can’t!” Dylan crowed. “She needed me. And she saw my potential and—”
“Why did she need you if she’s so powerful?” I asked. Kate could probably have let the Dragon out anytime she wanted. Scary thought, but true. Had Dylan truly hooked up with one of the lesser gods?
“Her powers are based on inspiration.”
I felt like a knife punctured my stomach. “Inspiration? W-who? Which one?”
Cyrus was staring at me, confused. “You know what he’s talking about? It’s all nonsense to me.”
“A Muse. He’s hooked up with a Muse.” I turned back to our enemy. “Which one, Dylan?” Please don’t say her name, please don’t say her name.
“Mneme.”
“Goddamn it!” I swore violently and threw in an extra few curses in Italian for emphasis.
“Who’s Mneme?” Cyrus asked.
“The Muse of remembrance. Older than her better-known sisters. And a crazy bitch.”
“She was much more complimentary regarding you, Fantazia,” Dylan said.
“There’s a first time for everything.”
Dylan laughed. “I wanted to kill you, but she said no. I sent the Cult of the Dragon to get you, and she got angry. She was in a real snit about it, wouldn’t have sex with me for days. Got pretty mad at me when I had control of Cyrus earlier and threatened to take your head. Don’t know how mad she’ll be after I kill you here, but I’ll tell her it was in self-defense.”
“Dylan,” I warned. “I’m give you this one chance. Walk away now, before I’m forced to kill you.”
“Funny. But you see, I’m the one with the power here, and I’m not nearly that generous.”
He and his minions attacked. Cyrus took on the minions, somehow managing to cast a magic-blocking spell and also charging at them with his sword. “I’ll take care of them, you take care of Dylan,” he called. The minions looked for weaponry of their own.
“That’s going to be easier said than done,” Dylan replied, blasting me with some sort of draining spell. I raised a shield just in time, but felt it waver. “I’m a demigod now!”
“You’re still no match for me,” I said, flinging a bolt of energy. It should have knocked him off his feet and into the wall behind him, but he only took one small step back. I was definitely down, power-wise. But I was also unwilling to give up, so I quickly added an oxygen-stealing spell, wrapping it with a few words around his head.
He brushed it away like a cobweb from his face. “You want to try again?” he asked, mocking me.
I took a different approach, trying to affect his mind with a spell that summoned all of his worst nightmares—or should have. He frowned. “Being naked in school without remembering to study for a test? Hardly your best work, Fantazia.” He gave me a nasty look. “I’ll give you one more shot.”
I cast the most brutal spell I know, one that reached inside his body and caused his heart to stop. Nine times out of ten it kills whomever it’s thrown at, so I don’t use it very often. This time, it was a complete fizzle. Dylan just brushed it off his chest with a chuckle.
“That tickled,” he said. Then he gave me a fiery look. “My turn.”
With a growl, he threw a blasting spell at me. It was more powerful than any attack I’d ever faced, and it obliterated my defenses and knocked me off my feet, sending me crashing into the wall. More importantly, it knocked the sword from my hand and sent it clattering across the floor. The edges of my vision started to go black. I heard Cyrus call my name. I could barely move, but turned my head to see that he’d gotten rid of Dylan’s cronies.
The effect of our soul bond was hitting him, though, and he was curled up in pain on the floor. So, Wesley was right: Cyrus and I would die together.
Dylan walked over to where my sword lay and nonchalantly leaned down to pick it up. “Poor Fantazia,” he said. “Not as tough as you used to be. Maybe it’s because you gave a big part of yourself to this no-talent loser. I’m betting you wish you could rethink that, huh?” He hefted the blade and gave it a few experimental swings. “Let me give you a little hint, though. This weapon?” He held it out. “It wouldn’t have worked on me. See, a human can wield a weapon made by the gods against a god, but they can’t kill one with it. You don’t think the gods would be that stupid, do you? To let humans get their hands on such a weapon? A mere human can’t kill a god.”
“You’re not a god, Dylan,” I choked out.
“I’m a demigod, and that counts for this, Fantazia. While you’re just a human.” He started to swing the sword down at me.
I moved as quickly as I could, lurching upward and plunging the dagger Kate had given me straight into his chest. “Oh, sweetie,” I crooned into his ear, holding his body for leverage. “I’m not human.”
I gave the dagger another hard shove, and the light died in his eyes. He crashed to the floor, dead. After all of these many years, having to kill someone that’s turned evil never gets any easier, but sometimes my hand is forced. Yet another reason why I separated myself from the rest of humanity.
My sword fell beside him and I picked it up. Knowing it had to be done, with one quick motion I took off his head. Instantly I felt the weight of magic slip out of the room. Whatever spells he’d cast were finished, but I wasn’t sure that helped. Not now. The Dragon was already loose.
Cyrus walked over and eyed my grisly handiwork. “Seems like overkill.”
“Had to make sure,” I said. “With demigods you never know. Always a good idea to take off the head.”
“Done this before, have you?”
“A time or two,” I admitted.
“Good thing he was wrong.”
I glanced at Cyrus. “About what?”
“About these weapons being useless in the hands of a human. Against gods, I mean. They worked just fine against his cronies.” He motioned to the bodies of Dylan’s minions.
“He wasn’t wrong,” I said. Glancing at Cyrus I said, “I knew when I asked Kate for them: had anyone else on the team tried this, it wouldn’t have worked.”
Cyrus looked flabbergasted. “I don’t understand. Your father’s human. I know he’s got more power than most magic-users and the whole reincarnating thing, but they’re still just powers. And maybe your mother was a great magician like he says—”
I laughed. “You trust his shoddy memory? Who do you think told him she was a magician?” I gave Cyrus
a wry smile.
He was shaking his head. “I don’t understand.”
“No, but you’re going to.” I put a hand to my headset. “Kate? If we’re lucky enough that the Dragon’s dead or if my father can spare you, I need to borrow you for a second.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I don’t think it’s a good idea leaving the battle like that,” Cyrus was saying, following me. “Dragging Kate out of it, too . . .”
“We’ll only be gone a second. Literally. Where we’re going is kind of out of time as you folk know it,” I said.
“I’ll be back before anyone notices I’m gone,” Kate agreed. “Possibly with reinforcements.”
Cyrus mouthed, “ ‘You folk,’ ” giving me a strange look. Then, staring at the wall in front of us he asked, “Are we going to another pocket universe like yours, or did you drag me to this corner to look at advertisements for musical theater?”
“Last time I try to broaden your horizons,” I joked.
We were standing in front of an abandoned playhouse. Someone had painted the wall with an advertisement for the work last performed here, some corny musical romp that seemed to center on boy meets girl with a bit of magic thrown in. Looked delightful. But while we were many years too late to attend the play, we weren’t interested in the actual playhouse. Cyrus was right, sort of; where we were headed was a place akin to my pocket universe. There were portals to it, interdimensional doors that only certain people could see, mainly its inhabitants. Hence, me bringing Kate. She knew where the dimension’s owners, metaphorically speaking, hid the key.
She frowned, studied the wall and then walked forward and started to press her hand onto it. Instead, her hand went through. “It’s been a while since I used this doorway,” she admitted. “I’d almost forgotten about it, and I figured everyone else had as well. But someone’s used it recently.”
“Mneme,” I grumbled. “She’s been using this door to sneak out to see her little boyfriend Dylan and wreak havoc.”
Kate shook her head. “Mneme? This is so confusing. Why is she doing this? She’s always been so unassuming. We forget she’s there half the time!” She studied me. “And how did I not know and you did?”
I brushed away her concerns. “We can go over all of that later. Right now we’re going to put a stop to her before she destroys the world with whatever harebrained scheme she’s running.”
Kate gave me another long look, then passed through the wall without another word. I followed, taking care to grab Cyrus by the arm and pull him afterward.
We were met by a wave of cold that seemed to chill us to our very bones. There was complete darkness, and then a bright light. Things gradually began to slip into focus again.
“Where are we?” Cyrus whispered.
“Olympus,” I said. “The realm of the gods.”
Everything exuded an otherworldly glow. There were buildings, roads and even trees, but everything seemed made of a combination of crystal, glitter, diamonds and gold. Everything was just so bright—and off. I didn’t know how the gods could stand it.
Kate touched my arm. “Are you sure you can handle this?”
I nodded. “I haven’t been scared of her in a long time.”
“I’m going to go talk to him, so he’s aware of the situation,” she said, motioning toward the biggest and brightest building of all. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
“You know where to find us,” I said.
“Last place on the left,” Kate said, and hurried off.
I hefted the sword I still carried and started off toward Mneme’s house. Cyrus followed after me, surely confused. He was hiding his frustration well.
“I take it that you and this Muse of remembrance go way back?”
“Waaaaaay back,” I said.
“And you don’t get along?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“So, we’re going to show up at her door, surprise her with your unwelcome presence and then tell her to stop her evil schemes or . . .”
“Or I cut off her head. Yup, that’s pretty much the plan.”
“So, she’s the one that put the hex on me.”
“Yep.”
“She’s pretty powerful then.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“And we’re not.”
I eyed him and shrugged. “But we have one advantage.”
“Which is?”
“We’re sane.”
He shook his head and laughed. “That’s debatable, considering that we’re charging in like this. And being sane isn’t always all it’s cracked up to be.”
We stood in front of the final building. It was done in the style of Grecian nobility, all columns in glittering white. I turned back and brought my lips to Cyrus’s, giving him a long, lingering kiss, one that he returned wholeheartedly, which seemed a good sign. If you can’t make out in the face of death, when can you?
“Hey,” I said softly, trying to give him a reassuring smile. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
“God, I hope so.”
I winked at him. Then, without another word, I turned and blasted the door with a spell.
Sword at the ready, I rushed in and faced the woman inside. She was gorgeous in the way that all goddesses are, with that strange, ethereal quality of perfection that makes people nervous, especially because it never changes. Like me, she would never age. What she looked like now was what she would look like a hundred years from now.
Her skin was like flawless cream. A faint blush swept her cheeks, and her eyes were a warm brown, wide like a doe’s and framed with gorgeously thick lashes that most women would need three tubes of mascara to perfect. Her lips were a natural cherry, perfectly plump in a way that never would require collagen. Long, wavy brown hair cascaded down her back and shimmered as it caught the light, warm hues of amber, chocolate, auburn and blonde.
She was wearing a long, flowing white gown in the typical Grecian fashion that dipped low enough to flaunt her perfect cleavage and clung to her curves to show off a tiny waist and hips. A slit went up the side of the dress, showing an indecent amount of thigh. Women everywhere would weep at her perfection, knowing they would never be anywhere near as beautiful, no matter how much dieting and plastic surgery they suffered. Men would commit murder just for the chance to be with her.
I just glared.
Her gorgeous mouth curved into a smile, despite the fact that I’d just knocked down her door. “Why, hello, my darling!” Her voice was just as I remembered it: almost ordinary, despite coming out of that perfect body.
I gave her a malicious smile in return. “Hello, Mom.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Cyrus stared from me to her. “ ‘Mom’?”
My mother gave me a cool look of appraisal. “The last time we saw each other, you swore that if you ever saw me again you’d kill me.”
I hefted my sword. “The day’s still young.”
She frowned. “You really think to harm me? Me? A god?”
“I took out the little boyfriend you were grooming as a demigod. I could work my way up to something a little bigger.”
She glared at me. “You’re the one who killed Dylan? He was so easy to manipulate, so eager and willing to do whatever needed to be done. You don’t find that often nowadays. Nasty girl, always spoiling Mommy’s fun.”
“Seems fair,” I replied. “You weren’t exactly protecting my fun. You left me to take care of Dad as soon as he became inconvenient. That’s all you’ve ever done: when it gets the slightest bit tough, you bail and look for something less complicated. That’s why you were with Dad to begin with, I know. You played human because you were tired of life here with the gods, but that didn’t work out and you came right back here. As soon as the future looks anything less than perfect, you run.”
“Same as you, Fantazia,” my mother said.
I winced. I hated to admit it, but she was right. As much as I’d never wanted to be anything like her, how
had I been acting for the last century or so? When life got a little too real, a little too rough, I’d run for my pocket universe and kept everyone at bay with mercenary thinking and cold calculations. I’d staved off friendship and family, camaraderie and love . . .
But I was trying to change. I was working with the Elite Hands of Justice now, helping save the world. I was trying to mend fences with my father, and I was trying to have a real relationship with a man—one that inadvertently looked like it could be deliciously long-term. I was starting to care more for other people than myself. I wasn’t a selfish person anymore, concerned only with my own wants and needs and not caring a damn bit for how my actions affected others.
“I’m nothing like you, Mom,” I said, staring her down and dropping the sword. “I’m not a selfish bitch.”
Her smiled widened spitefully. “Such words to your mother.”
“ ‘Mother,’ ” Cyrus repeated coldly behind me. “That’s a title that has to be earned. Some people are little more than egg or sperm donors. Abandoning your kid for a lover or because life got complicated . . . you’re no parent. Not a real one, anyway.”
He was clearly thinking of his ex and how she put their daughter in jeopardy by choosing Syn, but I also knew it was a jab at Mneme. Cyrus should have saved his breath. My mother didn’t have a conscience like normal people. Gods were like spoiled, selfish children, only concerned with their own wants and needs. You couldn’t shame them by pointing out their bad behavior; they wouldn’t recognize it as wrong.
My mother just smiled at him. Not a good sign. “This is your lover?” she threw back at me. “You certainly elevated him the hard way, my dear. Does he know he’s part demigod?”
“You tried to kill him with your magic,” I snarled. “I should have known it was you when I saw it. You always were good at hexes.”
“So”—she shook her head—“you killed my lover out of vengeance for what I did to yours? Such a spiteful child. And after I told him and the Dragon not to hurt you. This is the thanks I get.”