“Turner’s wife stocked me up.” Derek pulled off his tight fitting backpack and opened it up for Kala to see. Inside was a stack of plastic vials filled with black goop next to a gun that looked like a tranquilizer. Kala recognized the ooze straightaway. It was a concoction made by Roberta that incapacitated Malaks and Demons.
Kala understood at that moment that Derek not only believed, but he was prepared for battle. She turned to Talan. “This stuff works. He can help.”
Talan walked over to Derek and touched him.
Derek disappeared.
“Dick!” Kala spun on Talan with an uncontrollable fury. “What the hell did you just do?”
“You would never have sent him away,” Talan stated confidently.
Penny added, “You wouldn’t have.”
“Shut up, Penny!” But Kala kept her eyes on Talan. “Where is he?!”
Talan stayed calm, which only made Kala angrier. “He’s safe. I sent him back to Turner. Roberta and Turner should know you’re still alive.”
Kala couldn’t control her rage. She wanted to lash out and attack Talan. “How could you do that? Derek is the only person I trust! I needed him!”
Penny was livid now herself. “Get over it! Were you planning on taking him to the 5th Level of Hell? I don’t care if those play guns hurt Malaks and Demons, they’ll do nothing against the creatures there.”
“You know what? Screw you both!” Kala had reached her limit. She stormed toward the door. Talan reached out and touched her arm, but Kala shrugged it off. “Don’t touch me!” Kala was out the door before Talan or Penny could stop her.
Kala had no idea where she was going, but she kept walking down the street. Remembering that Clifton had every surveillance camera in existence on the lookout for her, Kala brushed her auburn hair forward lamely. She was a sitting duck out here and she knew it. Not that Clifton’s men could kill her, but Kala didn’t feel like dealing with bullets. She didn’t feel like dealing with anything.
Seeing Derek had given Kala a moment of happiness and peace, and Talan had ripped that from her. Derek was all she had left of her past. Of Jack. The fact that Talan had the nerve to make decisions for her made Kala furious. It was bad enough that her brain was still reeling from Jack’s death.
She trusted Derek in a fight much more than stupid-dumb-face Talan.
Kala knew she was overreacting, but it felt good to loathe someone. To have someone to blame for everything. And Talan was an easy target.
Walking by a small electronics store, Kala tried to ignore the televisions replaying the vision of destroying Fortski’s cure. She needed to keep it together. The idea of what she had to do was unfathomable to her. Kala had thought that killing Jack would be the worst thing she’d ever have to do. That whatever Atlas task she’d do next would be cake compared to murdering the only man she ever loved. But by destroying that cure, thousands would die. Even though she’d never see their faces, it would still feel like she had pulled the trigger on them all. No matter how much she tried to rationalize what possible benefit destroying the cure for cancer would have for the greater good, Kala came up with zilch. She started to feel like her job was evil and not a balancer as everyone claimed it was. Zeus was a genuine jerk for coming up with this punishment.
Kala rounded a corner and smacked right into…
Talan.
Kala didn’t even stop, shoving past him. “Go away.” She made sure he could hear her.
But instead of having the decency to act human and run to catch up, he materialized in front of her instead. “You’re not safe,” he replied calmly.
Kala stopped in her tracks. “You think?” she responded sarcastically. “Gee, I’m so glad you popped in to tell me that. I had no idea. I’ve only been chased by Demons, Malaks, gods, and my own freaking government for the past four days. I’m so glad you warned me. Thank you so much. You’re such a savior. What are you Grigori or something?” Kala pushed her way past him again. It felt good to go into a tirade.
But Talan was persistent. He kept teleporting in front of her so she’d almost smack into him every time. So. Annoying.
“Kala, I understand that you’re angry, and I’m sorry I didn’t give you a choice in the matter of your friend.” Talan let the apology sit there for a moment, apparently thinking it would make a difference in Kala’s mood, then he continued, “But if the Demons didn’t know where you were before that fire fight, they do now. Extracting that bullet from your chest took magic. Your magic. Atlas’s magic. It was like a beacon.”
Kala grudgingly listened, her mood starting to thaw a bit. Just a bit.
Talan seemed to pick up on this. “I know you think Derek can handle himself, and yes, Roberta’s magic would give him some protection, but in about five minutes this whole area is going to be crawling with Demons searching for you. He wouldn’t have survived. I was trying to save him,” Talan pleaded. “I know how much he means to you,” he finished softly.
Damn him. Kala softened. But she had to make one thing clear before she let it go. “You could have told me that and let me have the choice. Even if it ends up being the same choice. I need to be the one to decide. Okay?”
Talan nodded solemnly. “Deal.”
Kala ran her hand through her hair and sighed heavily. “Where’s Penny?”
“I sent her to a safe place. I’ll take you there now.” Talan started to reach out to touch Kala…
…When his face grimaced in pain. Kala glimpsed the tip of a blade protruding from Talan’s stomach, then it was yanked out viciously. Blood poured from the wound causing Talan to stumble slightly.
A man had materialized behind Talan, and he held a gnarly looking knife covered in Talan’s blood. Talan grabbed his gut from the newly inflicted gash. The fact that a metal blade could actually hurt Talan momentarily threw Kala off.
Talan turned to face his attacker. “Miss me, Brother?” The man smiled wickedly.
Chapter Six
“Rotoph.” Talan looked horrified.
Kala’s training kicked in.
She studied Rotoph as an enemy combatant. He referred to Talan as brother, so that told her he was Grigori.
A flash in her memory.
Or Atlas’s memory...
Atlas knew Rotoph, or at least knew of him. Kala couldn’t seem to pull any memories together in the heat of the moment.
The Grigori’s expression was cold and calculating, though his bright green eyes twinkled with evil delight at stabbing Talan. Short, brown hair framed his angular face, making his long crooked nose the centerpiece. He was undeniably handsome. Not the ethereal beauty of the Angels and Demons that Kala was used to, but he was definitely easy on the eyes in a rugged kind of way.
Seeing Talan clutching his stomach and Rotoph’s triumphant grin made Kala angry beyond belief. She could be mad at Talan all she wanted, but no way was she going to let this jerk hurt him.
She took advantage of the classic mistake Rotoph was making: enjoying the kill.
Before he could respond, Kala snatched the bloody weapon from his hand and slashed Rotoph’s throat. Rotoph’s hands grabbed futilely at his neck, trying to stem the bleeding, his eyes rounded from the shock of Kala’s move.
He dropped to his knees and gargled his own blood. Within seconds, Rotoph was lying face first on the cement, completely still.
Kala pocketed the knife and supported Talan with her weight. “We have to get you someplace safe. Are you okay?”
Talan nodded then pulled away. “I’m okay. Look.” Talan pulled away his bloody slashed shirt to reveal smooth skin free of any injury. “That knife doesn’t kill. Nothing can kill a Grigori. It does, however, take away my powers.”
“For good?” Kala was appalled.
Talan shook his head. “No. At least an hour though.” Then he looked over at Rotoph’s still form. His face was angry. “You did well. Cutting him like that will make him powerless too.”
Rotoph’s body stirred. He was healing. Power or not,
the guy wasn’t someone Kala wanted to have around. “We should get out of here.” Kala took Talan’s hand and pulled. He didn’t budge.
“I have to face him.” Talan looked resolute.
“Actually, you don’t.” Kala yanked harder and Talan reluctantly went with her.
When they were halfway down the street, Kala heard Rotoph’s voice. “Talan!” he screamed. Kala recognized that tone. He was pissed.
Talan let go of Kala’s hand and turned to face Rotoph.
Rotoph’s throat was bloody, but there was no wound.
With Talan’s bloody shirt and Rotoph’s horror-movie neck, people were staring. No one seemed to be calling the police though, which wasn’t a surprise to Kala. She found that most people didn’t believe what was in front of them, as if there were some other explanation for bloody throats and shirts. They would rather look the other way, too scared to get involved. Kala knew it wouldn’t last long. Especially since she planned to cause a scene.
As Rotoph neared the two of them, his eyes never left Talan. “So you have a Titan as your bodyguard now?” He nodded to Kala. “Nice move by the way.”
Kala leveled the knife at Rotoph. “I can repeat it if you like.”
Okay. Kala saw someone dialing their cell phone. It wouldn’t be long before another crew of Clifton’s men would be on their way. Not to mention real cops.
Rotoph looked like he was a cat about to pounce.
Kala was far too good of a soldier to let some amateur fighter take her weapon from her. The guy may have super Grigori powers but, according to Talan, Rotoph was running on empty. That made it an even playing field to her human self. But she was a god now so Kala could do some real damage.
Rotoph leapt forward to grab the knife.
Idiot. Kala wanted to roll her eyes, but she went into fighter-mode instead.
As Rotoph’s hand grabbed at the blade, Kala swung her body to the side: now she could use Rotoph’s momentum to her benefit. When his hand didn’t grab onto the intended target, Rotoph had nothing but air for support. He stumbled forward. Kala took advantage of the opening, used her Atlas-strength, and elbowed Rotoph hard in the small of his back.
He screamed in anguish as he collapsed to the ground.
“You Grigori are babies without your powers.” Kala rested her foot on Rotoph’s back to keep him down. “I’m keeping this knife. So stop trying to take it back.”
It was mayhem now. People were screaming and running away. Sirens echoed in the distance.
Kala viewed the knife more closely. Every part of its surface was covered in strange runic markings. It was a stunning piece of work. The blade itself was slightly curved with a jagged edge on the outside and a smooth sharpness on the inside. The handle was made of bone. “How can this knife take your powers away?” Kala asked Talan as if Rotoph weren’t there.
“There used to be twelve of them. One for each Olympian. How do you think the Grigori were banished? The gods needed help, so the Titans had Hephaestus forge them,” Talan shared.
Kala remembered now Penny mentioning a weapon that drained both the Grigori and the Olympians of their powers. This blade must be it.
Talan nodded toward the screaming pedestrians. “I’d teleport us out of here…”
“But you can’t. Right. What about him? Do we take him with us?” Kala asked.
Rotoph responded. “This wasn’t how I planned my morning.”
Kala dug her foot in harder into his back, making Rotoph groan. “Did I say you could talk?” She turned to Talan. “Well? He’s your family. What would Owen do with him?” Kala asked of her foster father.
Talan didn’t even blink. “He’d kill him if he could.”
“Right.” That was all Kala needed to hear. She leaned down to Rotoph’s ear and whispered. “This is for my dad.”
“Dad?”
But before Rotoph could utter another word, Kala slit his throat again. She knew it wouldn’t kill him, but the mayhem of her stabbing him so publicly would give her and Talan enough time to escape.
The area was filling up with quite a crowd. The audible screams and gasps when Kala cut Rotoph made her feel as if she was a gladiator in some kind of ancient Roman stadium.
Talan grabbed Kala’s hand and they were off down the first alley they ran past. Before long, they had twisted and turned so many times Kala wouldn’t have been surprised if they had made a giant circle. But Talan knew his way around and he led her into a small hole-in-the-wall bar at least a mile away.
It was still morning, so there were only a few patrons inside. The place was darkly lit and barely fit six small tables. There was a seven-foot bar on the left where a plump, balding bartender served his only customers. He nodded at Talan as if they knew one another. Talan gave a friendly wave back and the two of them sat at the table farthest from the door.
Always the soldier, Kala sat facing the entrance so she could see whoever entered the establishment.
She knew they were hiding out, but she felt she could really use a drink. “I’m ordering, so get over it.”
As if on cue, a waitress arrived at their table.
Kala got right to it. “Glenlivet on the rocks and some fries. You serve fries, right?” The waitress nodded. “Make it a double order then.”
“Coming right up,” the waitress chirped warmly.
“You’re paying,” Kala replied pointedly.
“With what? My good looks?” Talan said with an ample amount of sarcasm.
Kala was impressed. “You have a sense of humor. Noted.” She patted her pockets looking for money. “I’m not into dining and dashing so if I don’t have cash I’m cancelling my order.” Being a foster kid, Kala had lived in some pretty sketchy homes. Some of the other foster kids would make a habit out of going to seedy diners, eating, and then taking off without paying the bill before anyone could stop them. Kala always cringed when a new set of kids dined and dashed. When she refused to go along with it, Kala ended up washing dishes or cleaning toilets for a week as a result. It just wasn’t in her to do something like that.
A few seconds later, Kala pulled out a fifty-dollar bill from her back pocket. She couldn’t remember how it got there, but she was happy she found it. Fries and scotch sounded like the perfect breakfast. Kala wondered if her constitution would be much different as a god. Maybe horribly unhealthy foods wouldn’t give her indigestion. At least she knew she wouldn’t die from it. Kala didn’t think Titans had to worry about cholesterol much.
Kala waved the fifty bucks triumphantly, then asked, “Did you want anything?” She paused. “Do angels eat?”
Talan replied, “We don’t have to, but we like to. I’m sure you saw Owen eating once or twice.”
“True,” Kala acknowledged. Mentioning Owen brought her back to reality. “Who was that guy? I gathered that he’s Grigori, but I thought all of you were best pals or something.”
“Like you’re best pals with General Clifton? Grigori are no different than any other species. We don’t all get along. Rotoph betrayed the Grigori and will never be forgiven, nor does he want to be,” Talan stated as if he were an offended child.
Kala raised her eyebrow in fascination. She wasn’t used to seeing Talan in this light. He was normally so calm, cool, and collected. To see him almost human was actually quite comforting. “Where’d he get the knife? You said Penny’s dad made them. Was that the weapon that the Titan’s spelled?”
Before Talan could answer, a memory took shape before Kala’s eyes. She was relieved that she was still conscious, but it was still more jarring that a normal human memory. It was as if she was in two places at once. A part of her sat in front of Talan in a bar, while another part of her was Atlas standing in front of Hephaestus on a beach overlooking the ocean. Hephaestus was both familiar and new to Kala. Logically, this was because Atlas knew Hephaestus, but it still tripped her out. He was tall, but not like Cronus and the other Titans. Kala guessed that the Olympian gods, being the next round of offspring, were small
er. His hair was black, long, and curly and there was a lot of it. Even his beard went down to his flat belly. The Olympian was in shape, Kala gave him that. Her Atlas memory bank told her it was because he was the god of fire and spent most of his time blacksmithing. His arms were like tree trunks he was so built. Derek had nothing on this guy and Derek was seriously cut. Atlas/Kala was eye-to-eye with Hephaestus and she could sense that Atlas was excited by the meeting.
“I’m here,” a familiar voice called out.
Kala recognized Rotoph as he walked up to Atlas and Hephaestus.
From thin air, Hephaestus produced a long ebony box. He opened it in front of Atlas and Rotoph.
Inside, resting on black satin, were twelve knives identical to the one Kala had stolen from Rotoph.
Except one thing: there were no runic markings.
The blades were a beauty to behold without the engravings, but the more Kala watched the more she understood why Owen and Talan hated Rotoph.
Hephaestus handed the box to Rotoph. “Your turn,” he said. Though Atlas couldn’t see it, Kala could – Hephaestus didn’t trust Rotoph.
Poor, pathetic Atlas did, of course. He really believed that the Olympians were going to double-cross the Titans after they took down the Grigori, and that Rotoph was like him: willing to turn on his own kind to save his skin.
Kala watched as Rotoph took the box and recited an ancient spell. As each word fell out of his mouth, a new rune would appear on all twelve knives until they looked like the blade Kala currently had stashed in her jacket.
“It’s done.” Rotoph nodded. “One cut to a Grigori and they are powerless for a time. Make sure it’s enough to banish them or, god or not, they will destroy you.”
Hephaestus looked worried. He definitely feared the Grigori. “Are you sure the blades will work?”
“They’ll work,” Rotoph replied flatly. “Just make sure you’re ready.”
The memory faded. Kala came back into focus. Fries and a glass of scotch had been placed in front of her.
Talan watched her carefully. “A memory?”
Grigori Returned (The Atlas Series Book 2) Page 4