by G. Bailey
I’m the only one left to speak, and I do my best to still the pounding of my heart as I stand up and make my slow way up to the podium. Looking out at the mournful faces of my loved ones only increases my despair, and for a second, I feel like I can’t speak, my throat dry in spite of how wet my cheeks are. Swallowing hard, I look to Killian, who gives me a reassuring nod, and that’s enough to make me clear my throat and begin to speak. “My brother was…a good man,” I begin, “although that was probably obvious to everyone who knew him. He had a good spirit. You got the sense that he really did care about balancing the scales in the world, about rewarding goodness and bringing evil to justice. That was what made him so good at his job, and it was also what made him such a strong presence in our lives.” Swallowing, I go on, “A lot of times I envied him, because he seemed to be everything that I wasn’t. Strong, capable, successful, good-humoured…but I think we should try to keep those qualities alive, even if…” I choke back a sob, squeezing my eyes shut. “Even if he’s not with us anymore.”
I take a shaky breath. “Hugo was dedicated to karma, even if he sometimes got up to mischief along the way. He really believed in it, believed in balancing the scales. Considering everything that’s happened, I think now is the time to continue to live by his example. By spreading good where we can, and…and putting a stop to evil. Whatever it takes.” I can feel the others’ eyes on me, and I know that they’ve picked up the underlying meaning of my words; I catch a glimpse of Peyton giving me a grim nod, and that spurs me on. “No matter what else happens,” I say, my voice full of renewed courage, “we owe it to Hugo to put a stop to the people who took him away from us. I can’t promise much else, but I will promise everyone here today that his death will not be in vain. I will continue to fight, whatever it takes.”
Backing away from the podium, I move to go back to my seat, but then pause in my tracks and turn around. Slowly, I approach the coffin, staring down at my reflection in the shiny black surface, and gingerly lay a hand on it. “I promise,” I whisper, not loudly enough for the others to hear, as I run my hand over it before letting it drop to my side. “Goodbye, Hugo,” I tell my brother, my voice low with finality. “We’ll never forget you.”
Chapter 15
The others and I don’t speak much for the next day. I meant what I said at Hugo’s funeral: the time for revenge is now, and I’m not about to let Neritous get away with what he’s done. He’s made it personal, more personal than it ever was before, and we owe it to Hugo to make sure he can never hurt anyone like that again. In spite of that, though, I keep to myself, practising my powers when I know no one is watching and praying for the strength to do what I have to do when the time comes. I think I’m slowly starting to get the hang of the life magic, but it’s intimidating in its power, and I feel uneasy using something so destructive. That said, if it can help us defeat Neritous, I’m willing to risk it.
I think on some level, the others know I need to be by myself, and I sure as hell know that they need to. We’re all processing everything that’s happened, and it’s going to be a long time before things go back to normal. Having the funeral for Hugo does seem to have given some closure to my family, especially mum, who’s doing her valiant best to step up and help us plan our next move, but I can tell that she’s hurting. We all are.
Neritous and the twins having access to life powers has thrown yet another wrench into our plans. We’re going to need to confront him, guns blazing, but in our current state, I’m not sure how effective we’ll be. It’s not just a matter of being broken down by tragedy; considering what I was able to do with no training and next to no preparation, fighting them when they’ve had time to hone their powers feels almost like a death sentence.
Oddly appropriate.
I’m alone in the living room the next morning, my knees curled up to my chest as I perch on the couch. Elsewhere in the house, I can hear the sounds of my parents talking in low voices, as well as Damien padding around upstairs; out in the yard, Peyton is showing Mads how to use her powers, and from what I’ve gathered, it seems to be going well. There’s a learning curve to these things, that much is clear, but in lieu of turning her back into a human, it’s better that she knows how to control her abilities. I’d like to think my speech at the funeral inspired them somewhat, but at the end of the day, they were all probably thinking the same thing. I just put it into words.
My head is bowed, my eyes half-lidded with thought, but at least the tears seem to have passed for now. It already feels like there’s a gaping hole in my life where Hugo used to be, and as much as I’ve been keeping to myself, his absence still hounds at me like a festering wound. Kit is sitting on the coffee table, gnawing at a chicken leg that I scrounged up for him from the fridge. Even he seems to understand that something is wrong, although that doesn’t stop him from being his usual bitey self. He peers up at me with wide eyes, as if sensing that he’s being watched, letting the chicken drop onto the coffee table and raising his little arms to me. I can’t help but give him a weak smile at that, reaching forward and scooping him into my lap. “You’re not going to attack me, are you?” I ask him quietly. As if in response, he bites gently down on my forefinger, not hard enough to hurt, watching me with his big, dark eyes as he does. “Right,” I mutter, heaving a heavy sigh. “Of course.”
I’m aware that the little goblin might be our saving grace, although I’m loath to force him to use his powers if he’s not ready yet. He’s still young, and in spite of his power, he hasn’t had much time to hone his teleportation abilities. That said, if we’re looking for a discreet way of getting back to London, that might be it. Both Seth and Storm have brought up the possibility, the latter a little surprising, considering his tornado travel ability, although I suppose that’s not what we should be going for if we’re trying not to draw attention to ourselves. It feels like we’re all waiting for something with bated breath, a sign that we’re ready, perhaps, or maybe just a final push that confirms we have no choice but to see this through to the end. Either way, there’s no reason to place undue burden on the little creature right now. Gods know, there’s plenty of that going around.
“How is he?” comes a familiar voice, and I turn to see Seth entering the living room. His eyes look tired, like he didn’t sleep well last night, and I can’t say I’m surprised. None of us are sleeping well these days.
Shifting a little to make room for him on the sofa, I put Kit back on the coffee table. “About how you’d expect,” I reply. “An arsehole, as usual. But at least he’s cute.”
Seth lets out a half-hearted chuckle, moving to drop onto the couch beside me. “Have you thought about it?” he asks. “Using him to get to London?”
Swallowing, I nod grimly. “I can’t say I’m a fan of the idea, but we don’t have much of a choice. We’ll just have to hope he’s ready when the time comes.”
Seth makes a noise of agreement, his eyes lingering on the little goblin. “That time is coming sooner rather than later, I think.”
That sounds ominous enough to get my attention, and I turn to stare at him. He’s making a point of avoiding my gaze, which doesn’t put my mind at ease. “Why?” I prompt. “Did something happen?” Seth hesitates, looking pained. His face is drawn, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. “Seth…” I urge him again, and he finally grabs the TV remote off the coffee table and switches it on, flicking between channels until he finally arrives at a news broadcast.
“Reports are still conflicted as to what caused the disaster in New York. Expert opinions are ranging from terrorism to an uncontrolled bioweapon as the unchecked growth and mutations continue to ravage the city. If this was an attack, no group has yet claimed responsibility. The President has been brought to a secure location, and the White House is discussing possible countermeasures. It is unclear whether this most recent event is in any way related to the biological event in San Francisco several days ago, but authorities say an investigation is ongoing…” The broadca
st switches to an overhead view of New York city; I’ve never been there, but even I can tell that it’s practically unrecognisable. Overgrown tangles of plant life envelop the island, twisting vines and bowing trees blocking off roadways and punching holes in buildings. Abandoned cars litter the streets. It looks like something apocalyptic, an explosion of natural destruction that no amount of human creativity can prevent. Aerial footage shows workers desperately attempting to pick their way through the dense foliage and get to stranded civilians, many of whom are dead. The ones that aren’t, though… Their eyes are wide and staring, bursts of green light exploding out of them like beacons, and with every new flash, more plant life manifests. They look lost, beside themselves, and I can feel my gorge rising even as I sit there and watch.
“Turn it off,” I beg Seth, putting a hand on his arm without even realising it. “Please.”
Seth looks at me, seeing the tears that are welling up in my eyes, and gives me a small nod, wordlessly turning off the television before leaning forward and putting his head in his hands. It’s only now that I’m noticing that it’s not just exhaustion I’m seeing on his face, it’s devastation. Swallowing back my tears, I scoot closer to him, desperate to get him to look at me. “What happened?” I ask, as if the answer isn’t already clear as day. Somehow, I feel like I need to hear it from someone else, and yet I hardly dare to consider what it all means.
“They got to New York,” Seth replies, his voice dull and listless. “Neritous and those twins. They must have.”
“I…” My voice trails off, my mind rebelling at the possibility. “How do you know?” I plead desperately, aware of how stupid the question is but too reluctant to consider the truth.
Seth looks at me incredulously. “What the hell else could it be?” he asks, the frustration making his words come out short and clipped. He’s hurting. “A natural disaster in a major U.S. city—a major human hub? Days after Neritous gets your powers from you?” He shakes his head, letting out a long breath. “There’s no other explanation.”
“I don’t…” I feel at a loss, part of me wishing I could crawl underground and never emerge. Rubbing the back of my neck, I look away from him. “That was what happened in San Francisco,” I admit at last, my voice cracking. “After I… After the last attack.”
“The humans think someone’s declaring war,” Seth states glumly. “If only they knew who the war was really against.”
I close my eyes for a long moment, trying my best to stay calm. “Why is he doing this?” I ask quietly, hating the quiver in my voice. “I mean…what the hell is he trying to do?”
Seth shakes his head, clearly at a loss. “I wish I knew,” he confesses, running a hand through his golden hair. “Those people in New York—they didn’t look human anymore.”
“No,” I say. “But they didn’t look like gods, either. They were something else.”
“Some kind of sick bastardisation,” Seth agrees, his jaw working as he struggles to hold in his anger. “They couldn’t even be bothered to complete the transformation, like they did with Mads. It was like they unleashed their magic on the whole damn city and just…”
“Let it run wild,” I finish for him.
“Right.” He looks up at me, and I’m surprised to see his eyes shining with tears. For someone as relatively stoic as Seth, I’m not used to seeing him get emotional. Seemingly embarrassed by it, he wipes furiously at his eyes, and when he speaks again, his voice is unsteady. “I have friends in New York,” he says, not making eye contact with me. “Good people. Humans.”
“I…” I blink, not sure what to say. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“You wouldn’t have known,” Seth says, sounding melancholic. “They were back from when I was…” He glances at me, clearing his throat, and I could swear I see his cheeks go a little red. “Back from before. Another life.” I know better than to press him on this; we’ve only spoken of his loved ones twice, and the last time was only because it was part of Eenta’s sick game. I know he was married, but he lost her and his unborn child. It strikes me now, as I watch him struggle with his emotions, that he understands, better than most, exactly what I’m going through. He’s lost family, and now, it sounds like he’s losing friends, too. My heart breaks for him, and I can’t resist reaching out to put a hand on his face. Seth leans into my touch, his eyes drifting closed as he covers my hand with his own. He looks like he’s about to say something but then seems to change his mind, moving my hand gently away before letting it go.
Not wanting to upset him, I clear my throat and say, “I was just thinking about whether there would be a sign, you know? That it’s time to go after Neritous. I think this might be it.”
Seth nods in agreement. “He’s not going to stop after New York. It’s obvious this is all part of some plan.”
“What kind of plan?” I ask, not voicing the question that’s really burning in my mind: and does it even matter?
“It’s obvious that the status quo means nothing to him,” Seth replies. “If he cared about humans finding out about gods, then he wouldn’t have attacked two of the biggest cities in the world.”
“Which means…,” I begin, a horrible realisation dawning on me.
“Which means he intends to keep going until everyone has been mutated like this,” Seth finishes for me, not meeting my eyes. “He’s rebuilding the world in his image. Whoever dies along the way doesn’t matter.”
“Then we have to stop him,” I say grimly, hands bunching into fists in my lap.
“That was never in question,” Seth replies. “He’s murdered innocents. He killed your brother. We might not be official justice gods anymore, but I’ll be damned if this is justice. And I’m going to fight like hell to end it. I’ll die if I have to.”
That gives me pause, and I find myself turning to look at him, my eyes wide with fear. Something horrible is dawning on me, something I can hardly bear to acknowledge, but seeing the look of grim determination in Seth’s amber eyes has thrown everything into sharp clarity, and there’s no turning back the clock. Wordlessly, I get to my feet and move towards the living room door.
“Karma?” Seth calls after me. “Where are you going?”
I turn around, ready to respond, but then shake my head, wordlessly departing from the room, my hands still clenched at my sides. Feeling like I’m in a trance, I start up the stairs, desperately hoping I won’t run into anyone else on my way to my room. I feel like if I have to speak to anyone, this gumption I’m feeling will vanish, and I’ll be left as nothing but a scared puddle on the floor. Blessedly, no one intercepts me, and I feel my jaw set as I hear Seth continuing to call my name, sounding both confused and worried. Please don’t follow me, I will him desperately. Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.
The realisation hit me like a train. Seth is willing to die for this cause. He just said he’s willing to put his life on the line to end something that I started, something that my stupid arse set in motion all those weeks ago at that night club. And I’m not going to let him.
It seems so simple; I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to come to this conclusion. Maybe, on some level, I knew, and I just didn’t want to have to face the truth. I didn’t want to have to think about the possibility that people would be willing to sacrifice themselves for my sake, but hearing him say it outright like that was like a knife to the heart. Thousands have already died because of me. Hugo died. And if Seth, the stoic, hard to read justice god who took so long to warm up to me, is willing to put himself at risk for this cause, then I have no doubt Killian and Storm will, too. Hell, why should it stop there? Peyton seems ready to go in guns blazing, and Mads, gods bless her, is shaping up to do the same thing. Mum and dad might still have Damien to care for, but I’m not naive enough to assume that they won’t try to get revenge on the man who killed their son. It’s what I would do.
I can’t have anyone else dying because of me.
Okay, I think when I reach m
y room, closing the door behind me and running my hands through my hair, you can do this. Get your stuff together. When the rest of the family has gone to bed, you can leave in the middle of the night. No one will know you’re gone until tomorrow morning. Kit can give you a lift to London. From there, you can track down Neritous and confront him. He won’t be alone, I know that much, and I know better than to think I can face him and the twins on my own. But maybe, if I’m lucky, I can isolate them from one another. I still don’t like my odds in a one on one fight, but if there’s a chance of being able to pick them off one at a time, I’m going to take it. Maybe I can smuggle some of mum’s charms out to help me. Maybe…
Possibilities continue to swirl through my mind. Numbly, I begin to gather up my things and stuff them into my bag, feeling like a puppet being controlled by someone else. The likelihood of coming back from something like this in one piece isn’t high, and I know that if the others catch wind of what I’m planning, they’ll try to stop me. But that’s the whole damn problem: their willingness to clean up the messes I’ve made is going to get them killed, and I can’t bear to watch that happen. I would rather risk my own life than theirs, and if that means going at this alone, then so be it. At least I’ll know they aren’t walking right into the wolf’s den.
Briefly, I wonder if I should write a note, but then dismiss the idea; there would be no way to get it to them without tipping them off, and knowing the guys, they’ll come after me the moment they know what I’m planning. Better to just disappear and let them come to their own conclusions. Maybe I ran away because I felt guilty. Maybe Neritous finally got to me. It doesn’t really matter, as long as whatever it is keeps them away from the bastard long enough for me to finish the job. This all started with me; one way or another, it’s going to end with me.