Persuasion (Curse of the Gods Book 2)

by Jane Washington

  “He doesn’t want them anymore,” Coen answered, his voice harder than the others. “He thinks they’re faulty. Don’t forget, Willa, this is Staviti’s perfect world. His Topia. He has no tolerance for things that aren’t perfect.”

  “He’d love me, then,” I scoffed, turning to look at the cave again. “Let’s go back, before they figure out where we are.”

  “We can’t.” Siret nudged Aros out of the way and cupped my head in his hands, lifting it up until I was meeting his eyes. His expression was serious. “You need to re-link to us, otherwise you’ll never survive leaving Topia without Cyrus, just like those servers will never survive leaving that cave without Staviti.”

  “I don’t know how,” I shot back quickly, beginning to panic all over again. “It’s not like I did it deliberately with Cyrus! One click I was just casually about to plummet to my death—”

  “Of course she was,” Yael groaned, cutting into my tirade.

  “And the next click,” I forcefully continued, ignoring Yael, “he was grabbing me and throwing me around and giving me stupid nicknames, and bam! He did the linky thing.”

  “Bam,” Siret echoed, still looming close to my face, his attention flicking between my eyes. “The linky thing.”

  “Right.” I attempted to nod, but he was still holding my face. “So how do I break it? How do I transfer it? Or reverse it? Or whatever needs to be done.”

  “I’ll try something,” Siret muttered, and then he was looming even closer.

  I felt his breath on my lips, and I might have stopped breathing for a fraction of a click.

  “What the hell is he doing?” Coen asked loudly.

  “True love’s first kiss,” Siret shot back smoothly, not even missing a beat. “Isn’t that supposed to solve everything?”

  The words were spoken right against my lips, and I was trying not to press forward and force it to happen. Already, I was leaning closer. My hands were somehow gripping his shirt, and my body was somehow pressed up against his. I had clearly been the one to do it, because he hadn’t moved at all, but I had no memory of it and therefore couldn’t be held accountable for it.

  “Wait—what the fuck did he just say?” Rome grunted, sounding halfway appalled and halfway disbelieving.

  There was a chuckle against my lips. Siret still wasn’t kissing me. That fact was annoying … until I realised what he had said.

  “Wait—what?” I more or less repeated Rome, pulling my head back several inches. Siret let me go, and the look on his face was pure, evil amusement. “Oh my gods!” I swung out, punching him hard in the chest, before yelping and cradling my arm against myself, attempting to rub away the ache. “What is wrong with you, Five!”

  “And this whole time you thought I was the good brother?” he asked with an arch to one perfect brow, tapping me beneath the chin. He was staring at my mouth now, as though he wanted to drag me back up against him. “I’m the brother that makes bad jokes while everyone else is trying to save your life.”

  “It’s true,” Aros added, sounding a little bit exasperated. “You really should have seen that coming.”

  “Have you finished playing yet, doll?” a voice asked from the trees.

  I didn’t need to look to know who it was. There was only one person who would call me that, which meant that our impossible situation had just become even worse. The Abcurses all blurred into motion, somehow knowing just what each of them needed to do with only a single, shared look. Siret and Aros stepped to either side of me while Yael stood in front of me. I could barely see around him, but I could see enough to know that Coen and Rome were advancing toward the trees. Coen was taking Point. His pace wasn’t fast: it was cautious, as though he expected Cyrus to jump out of the trees and bite his neck or something. I didn’t really think Cyrus was the ‘jumping out of trees’ type, so I wasn’t at all surprised to see him casually step out into the open and walk toward the other two.

  He had ditched his white robes and was now shirtless, with only a pair of white pants tucked into white leather boots. I wondered if he had been halfway through changing when he realised I wasn’t in his cave anymore. I also kind of wanted to know if he wore white underwear and only put white sugar in his Neutral tea. The colour-schemes of the gods were starting to annoy me, but there was the smallest amount of guilt in the back of my mind that I had forced Cyrus to emerge into Topia before he’d even had a chance to dress properly. That I snuck away from him without an explanation, which probably meant that he had no idea if I had been captured, or was being stomped to death by raging bullsen. I mean, would he know if I died?

  “You need to step aside and hand her over,” Cyrus demanded calmly, bringing my attention back to the situation. He had stopped in front of Coen and Rome.

  All my guilt drained away, then, because he had force-linked my soul to his power, and he had kidnapped me in the first place. I had thought that I was pretty smart to get away and escape without him catching me, but apparently he had godly tracking skills or something.

  “Let’s not fight about this right now,” I quickly said, jumping away from Siret and Aros, and running over to Rome. I grabbed his arm, because I didn’t want him to go all ‘Crusher mad!’ on the person whose power my soul was apparently feeding on. “I actually have a really good solution to all of this. I think everyone will be happy with it.”

  Rome—who had been about to break my grip of his arm and probably punch Cyrus just to spite my attempts to hold him back—narrowed his eyes on me. Coen turned his head to look back at me, and Cyrus squinted at me.

  Why the hell does everyone look so suspicious?

  “Because you’re not … how do I say this …” Cyrus was answering my angry thought, his eyes still squinting at me, his arms folding over his bare chest. “Ah yes. Intelligent. You’re not intelligent enough to come up with solutions.”

  I quickly swallowed down my anger, because I had a plan, dammit. I wasn’t going to let Neutral-dick goad me into forgetting about it.

  “You’re wrong,” I stated, and I was proud that I sounded almost calm. “I do have a solution.” I released Rome and slipped past Coen, moving to stand in front of Cyrus.

  When I was almost there, I stumbled over absolutely nothing, and fell face-first onto the ground. Deliberately. Nobody else seemed to realise it was deliberate, though. I could hear Coen groaning beneath his breath as I reached out for a rock on the ground. An arm looped around my middle, and I quickly gripped the rock as I was set back onto my feet. Coen had been the one to pick me up, but it looked like Cyrus had attempted to, because Rome was holding him back at arm’s length.

  “Was that your grand plan?” Cyrus asked, his tone condescending.

  He shifted a look to Rome, who backed off.

  “I don’t know,” I stepped forward and swung the rock at his head as hard as I could. “You tell me.”

  I connected with his skull and the crunch was almost sickening. His pale eyes went wide, and his hand pulled up halfway to his head, as though he would touch the spot where I had smashed the rock, before it fell down again, completely slack. I watched as his large body crumpled.

  “What the fuck, Willa?” one of the guys blurted—Yael, I was pretty sure. “I know what your accidents look like and that was definitely not an accident!”

  I tossed the rock aside, spinning to face the others. They were all staring at me as though I had grown a second head. And murderous tendencies.

  “No.” I tried to keep from rolling my eyes. “It’s a solution! We can leave now! We’ll just take him with us.”

  “You mean kidnap him,” Coen stated dryly. He was actually smiling. He seemed to be the only one who approved of my solution.

  My own smile flashed in response. “I’m really just returning the favour. Bastard kidnapped me first, now he can know what it feels like.”

  Seventeen

  As we tried to decide what to do, I found my mind drifting back to the wraiths in the cave. Siret had already explained th
at we wouldn’t be able to break into Minatsol through the banishment cave the same way we had the last time. Apparently it had been the cup doing all the protecting on that sun-cycle, so there was no way that the wraiths would let us leave without it. Especially not after I just promised to help them … a promise that I wasn’t going to be able to keep. They probably wouldn’t be impressed if I ventured back through with a super-important, unconscious-and-possibly-kidnapped god, and asked them to let us escape. Maybe it would have worked if I had knocked out Staviti instead of Cyrus—Staviti himself had to be better than the cup that had allowed us to pass last time, but hitting the Original Creator over the head with a rock was probably something that would come with its own set of problems. Bigger problems.

  “We need to get them both somewhere safe,” Coen announced. “Somewhere the other gods won’t find us while we figure out how to break the link with Cyrus and bring her back to us.”

  “What about his cave home?” I asked, pointing to the unconscious god now currently propped up between Rome and Coen.

  “You remember how to get back there?” Yael shot me a sharp look. At first I thought he was looking pissed because he didn’t trust my memory, or my plan, but then I noticed the rest of them making the same annoyed faces and I realised they didn’t like the fact that Cyrus had taken me to his hideout.

  “I could try …” I hedged. “But we’re going to need to go back to the cave.”

  Yael’s expression lightened. “Tell the servers we need to put Cyrus back in his cave before we can help them … and let’s hope there’s another exit … otherwise we won’t be able to leave again.”

  “There has to be another exit,” Aros added. “He didn’t come from the same direction as Willa.”

  He wouldn’t have even fit through the tiny little rock opening I had used: it was like a pet door or something. There was definitely another exit.

  We walked back into the cave with me taking the lead so that the servers would recognise me. Rome and Coen were carrying Cyrus at the back of our group and while I couldn’t see the creepy server-wraiths, I could still feel them around us in the darkness. They were hovering. Waiting. Waiting to see what we would do. I assumed it was pacifying them that I had returned with a group of powerful gods, just as I had promised them. I also assumed that if we kept going—if we moved straight past the secret back entrance to Cyrus’s hideout—and attempted to pass into Minatsol, they would no longer be so passive.

  My theory proved to be correct, and no one bothered us as we reached the wall, which I thankfully recognised. It wasn’t until I was standing there that I realised I should have actually said something to them about the gap being so small.

  “None of you are going to fit!” I gasped out. “The opening is barely big enough for me.”

  Rome handed Cyrus across to Coen and felt around near where I was pointing. I was a bit off—by about six feet—but we eventually found the invisible little opening.

  “I don’t think Cyrus left this here deliberately.” Rome sounded surprised, his hands halfway through the wall. “It feels like a weakness in his spelling. It’s been awhile since he reinforced his wards, and it’s already showing.”

  Yael and Aros leaned down on either side of him, both of them reaching out to trace the edge of the gap. “You’re right,” Aros agreed. “It’s crumbling away … which means we should be able to chip enough out so we can all crawl through.”

  Before I could say anything, hands were gripping my waist and I was being yanked into Aros. “In you go, sweetheart. You can fit already, and it will be safer for you on that side.”

  “What if the wraiths attack?” I hated the thought of them disappearing on me again. Or me disappearing on them. Or whatever was about to happen.

  The guys exchanged a glance.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Yael answered. “We can take care of ourselves.”

  “We’ll work fast,” Coen promised me.

  Aros placed me right in front of the barrier and I had no resistance this time as I crawled through. Whatever they were doing was interrupting the barrier. It also didn’t feel like quite as snug a fit, so they might have had a point about widening it. Once I was on the other side, I scooted off to the right so that I wouldn’t be in the way when the others came through. A few trickles of dirt and rock cascaded across my feet. My poor cut up and abused feet—I would never complain about shoes again.

  A cracking sound had me jumping and scuttling back a little more, my eyes locked on the wall. More rocks and debris fell; dust had me coughing and spluttering as my heart rate increased. I was just about to jump up and run for it when a very golden and familiar head of hair appeared.

  “Aros!” My cry sounded far too relieved for someone who had only been sitting alone for less than a click, and in no real danger.

  I hurried across to where he was wiggling through, his broad shoulder partly wedged in the opening. “Doesn’t this wall know that you’re a god?” I joked, trying to help by grabbing on to the top of his shirt and twisting him through. Of course, I mostly ended up gripping him around the neck and almost choking him.

  It’s the thought that counts, I mentally reminded myself.

  Aros let out a bit of a growl, and a white light burst from him for a brief moment, which blinded me. By the time I could see again he was through, a tonne of rock and dirt piling up around him. He was already standing, before he strode across to me and scooped me up. I thought it was a hug, at first, until I realised he was moving me away.

  “Wait here, I don’t want any of the stones to hit you,” he said quickly, before returning to the wall.

  Cyrus was being sent through now—Aros helped guide the god, before lifting him up and dumping him at my feet.

  “None of us would have gotten the drop on him like that,” Aros chuckled, shaking his head as he stared down at the prone form. “We’ve never gone up against Cyrus—never tested it. We all treat him with a certain level of respect and caution. He’s the sort of monster they scare kids with in your world. The one who punishes the gods.”

  I gulped loudly. “Do you think he’s going to be mad?” My tentative question had Aros laughing even harder, and he didn’t answer it, which was a little worrying.

  Aros turned back to see if his brothers needed help—Siret and Yael were through, and Coen brought down another chunk of rock, but he was also through. So that left Rome. I might have held my breath while I waited for him, but somehow his huge body slipped through easily. He was way too graceful for a muscled giant, which was so unfair. He needed to share some grace with me.

  Once we were all inside, Rome hauled Cyrus up again and then we were in the living area. I pointed out where the bed was in the next room and the Neutral god was dropped there. The rest of us sat across the white couches, around the smouldering fire.

  “He won’t be out much longer,” Rome started to say without preamble. “We need a plan now.”

  My eyes flicked toward the alcove, which separated us from his room. “How is he even out at all? I mean, he’s a big scary god, and I don’t have any muscle tone.”

  Yael, who was on my right side, shifted forward on the couch before angling his body toward me. “Haven’t you noticed that you, on occasion, produce energy of more than a dweller? That you have strength of more than a dweller?”

  I nodded a few times. I had definitely noticed that, but it was so random that it was still difficult to tell if it was me, or something the Abcurses had done.

  Yael continued. “You hit him hard, Rocks. It’s not easy to knock a god out.” He ruffled my hair as he added, “Proud of you.”

  I pushed his hand away and scowled. “You’ll be next if you keep it up.”

  He laughed. “We expect you to try and knock into us, usually by accident, so we’re always on our guard.”

  I elbowed him in the ribs, hoping to prove him wrong, but he was ready, deflecting my blow with little more than a swipe of his hand. “Asshole.”

  H
e sobered up then. “I miss hearing that in my head; it seems awfully quiet without your constant and inane chatter.”

  I swallowed hard, trying to moisten my dry lips. “I wondered if you all might be … relieved. You know, that you weren’t tied to a weak, clumsy-cursed dweller any longer.”

  I was staring at my hands, willing myself not to crack apart inside. I knew that the link wasn’t something that any of us had asked for, but for me it was something I ended up cherishing. It was hard for me to tell if the guys felt the same way.

  Coen was suddenly on his feet, and the fierceness of his expression just about sucked all the air from my lungs. He held me captive for what felt like an eternity, our silent conversation filled with pain and heartache and truth.

  He had just parted those perfect lips—I was hanging onto the edge of my seat waiting for him to speak—when a voice boomed from the doorway between the bedroom and lounge room.

  “What the hell just happened?” Cyrus was beyond mad. There was so much fury on his face, his cheeks tinged with a dark red, his eyes flaming as he stalked toward our group. He was still shirtless, his muscles bunched up as he clenched his fists by his side.

  His focus was on me, and I knew I needed to deal with it before an all-out god-war erupted. I was up and over the back of the couch before Yael could stop me—and he did at least lunge for my arm. I landed in front of Cyrus, intercepting him.

  “You need to break our soul-link,” I demanded. “I know you can do it, you said you were going to break it and hand me over to Rau.” My fists were clenched and I could feel my nails cutting into my palms as I shook them at him.

  Cyrus had stopped moving. His eyes were a glittering vortex of darkness as he dragged his gaze across me. “I do not take orders from you, dweller. You are nothing more than a possession.”

  The Abcurses were right behind me now, so I spun around and held a hand up. Silently telling them to hold the heck up. To give me a moment.

  Cue multiple growls and curses, but they did all briefly pause. I spun back to Cyrus, who hadn’t moved. There was a mocking grin on his face, some of the darkness fading from his eyes.