Shattered Heir (Broken Gods Book 1)

by N. M. Howell

  Tears welled up in her eyes and threatened to spill from her lids as she gazed out the window of the rickety bus. They had left the city a while before and were on the highway west toward Chicago. She looked up to the sky and saw the dim sun shining through heavy clouds. She guessed it was around noon. She figured they had another two or so hours on the bus, and she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand as she blew out a slow, steady sigh and closed her eyes to rest.

  Rhea was awoken by a gentle shake of her shoulder. She jumped at the start, a quick wave of panic flooding through her as she stared, wide-eyed, into the dull brown eyes of the driver.

  “You looked like you really needed to sleep,” he said softly. “We arrived about twenty minutes ago, but I’m going to need to turn around soon, so if you don’t mind…”

  Rhea took a minute to process what was happening. She glanced around the bus and noticed she was the only one on it, apart from the driver who hunched over her with an impatient smile.

  She nodded quickly and tugged her jacket around her shoulders. “Oh yeah, sorry. I’ll go.”

  The driver nodded and returned to the front of the bus, readying his things for the return voyage. Rhea slowly slunk out of her seat, stretching her tired limbs as she made her way down the aisle and off the bus into the cold Chicago air.

  Snow was falling quite heavily now that she was off the bus. She looked around to gather her bearings and immediately saw a group of local Chicago police officers chatting at the far corner of the station. There was no reason their attention would be drawn toward her, but considering she just stole a bus ticket and caught a free trip from Detroit to Chicago, she figured she’d better lay low as best she could.

  She turned the corner and yawned, trying to figure out exactly where she should go and how she should tackle finding a place to live in this unfamiliar place. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and shivered, the cold setting in rather quickly from the damp air.

  It wasn’t cold enough for the snow to really stick and the streets were slushy with gray sludge. She kicked the slush on the sidewalk below her, chewing on her lip and trying to decide where to go. She’d never been to Chicago before, but she had heard a lot of really good things about it. Mostly about its architecture, and, considering it was still full daylight—at least what shone of it through the heavy clouds and snow—she decided to take herself on a self-guided tour of the downtown area and try to find a place to settle in for the night that was warm.

  Walking down the long alleyway behind the train station, she paused when she heard voices around the corner. The voices were soft and talking excitedly, and for some reason it sent a chill through her spine and caused her awareness to spike. She stepped closer toward the back wall of the building, hiding behind a dumpster as she listened. The voices stopped, and she waited a few moments before stepping back out from the wall.

  But as she stepped into full sight, she found herself surrounded. She swallowed hard at the five heavily-cloaked figures before her. Her heart then sank as she realized that they had found her so soon.

  “How the hell did you guys know where I was going?” she asked exasperated, her hands firmly planted on her hips as she tapped her foot, waiting. But when they didn’t answer and simply stared at her, her blood began to cool. These weren’t the same five men who had been in her home hours earlier.

  Panic coursed through her veins as the instinct to flee became overwhelming.

  “Oh, sorry. I thought you were my friends. Never mind, bye,” she muttered quickly before turning and pushing herself off from the wall. But before she could get three feet, one of the hooded figures stood before her.

  Rhea shook, glancing around wildly trying to figure out a plan of escape. If worst came to worst, she could just shout for help. Hopefully the police around the corner would hear her. She could just pretend she lost her ID and say she was on her way home if they asked her any questions. At least it seemed a decent alternative to getting the crap kicked out of her in the back alley by a bunch of thugs. But just as she opened her mouth to call for help, the five figures lowered their hoods simultaneously.

  A loud gasp escaped Rhea’s lips as she stepped back. Her shoulders pressed firmly against the rough stone wall of the train station and her knuckles grew white as she clenched her hands into fists.

  “Who are you?” Her voice came out a whisper. Her skin was cold, much colder than it had been moments before from the snow. Something inside of her told her that she was in more danger than she’d initially thought.

  Five pairs of icy, dangerous-looking eyes stared at her from beneath thin brows and sleek colored hair. Elves, she thought to herself. Or fae. But whoever they were, she had a feeling they weren’t there to chat.

  The one closest to her reached under his robe and pulled out a long silver sword, with intricate symbols carved into its surface. It gleamed with an ethereal glow, shining brightly in the dim light. She gulped and pressed herself firmly back, willing herself to meld into the wall and disappear.

  “Who are you?” she asked again.

  She heard a few more swishes of metal being drawn, and suddenly there were five otherworldly weapons held in front of her, each glowing its own unique hue. The men stood in place, frozen only the way Otherworld creatures could be.

  Rhea shivered, her blood pumping through her veins and thundering wildly in her ears. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to think of a new plan of escape. She had no hope in attacking these creatures, and human police would be no match for a group of Otherworld assassins.

  When he didn’t answer her question, she sucked in a quick breath. “Who sent you?”

  The man closest to her, with piercing green eyes and long emerald hair, raised his eyebrow curiously. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” his voice practically sang, and the sound came out muted in the dampening snow.

  Rhea desperately tried to think of a way out of the situation. The corners of her mouth twitched up when an idea came to her. “Was it my brother? Did he send you to collect the debt?”

  She bit her lower lip and drew blood, pleased to see an expression of confusion begin to spread on their faces.

  The man nearest her narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  Rhea relaxed somewhat, raising her hands in mock surrender and forcing her voice an octave higher, faking a valley girl accent as best she could. “Okay, I get it. Jeremy sent you to get his money. Honestly, it’s been six years and he still doesn’t trust me. I’ll have it to you after school next week, okay?”

  The weapons lowered and she unclenched her muscles in relief. It was working. All she had to do was convince them that she wasn’t who they were looking for long enough to get away, and then she could run. And this time she wouldn’t be so stupid as to get caught.

  As the men turned to look at each other, their eyes wondering, she turned and stepped away. She lunged into a run, but one of the men extended his arm and held his hand firmly against her chest, preventing her from moving further.

  “Wait just a second,” he growled. “I think she’s playing us.”

  “It’s not her. Rhea doesn’t have a brother,” another one spat.

  “We’re wasting our time here.”

  There was an awkward moment of silence when Rhea stood there, surrounded by her attackers, locked in place both from fear and from the incredible strength in the elf’s arm.

  This was the second time in one day she had been cornered like this. How she had become so stupid and careless, she had no idea.

  She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head sideways, giving the most innocent look. “Who’s Rhea? I’m Stacy.” It was the first thing that came to her mind.

  The man slowly began to lower his hand and she could taste the sweet scent of freedom. But then a loud snap of magic sounded around her, causing her to fall back toward the wall. She felt strong elven magic envelop her skin and wind tight around her, burning her as it slithered over her wrists, binding them t
o her sides. She could feel it prodding at her own magic, thin tendrils pulling away her own protective glamor as it bound her tighter together. The power was suffocating.

  “If that’s so, then how come I can sense powerful glamor magic around you,” the green-haired elf sneered. From the concentrated expression on his face, Rhea figured he was the one casting the magic.

  “It’s an awful thing, lying,” another one said. “It’ll make your death just that much sweeter.”

  Suddenly all the weapons were drawn, five sharp metal points held right up to her eyes.

  “Well, shit,” she swore. She was all out of ideas.

  Rhea squeezed her eyes shut, pressing herself firmly back against the wall. She sucked in a quick breath, prayed a silent goodbye to the girl who had become her only family, and prepared herself for death.

  5

  A deafening bang sounded all around her. It filled her ears and shook her bones as she braced herself for what she knew to be the end. But when she found herself breathing and realized she could still feel her fingers and toes, the peaceful calm that washed over her skin and settled into the pit of her stomach was suddenly replaced by a glimmer of hope.

  Carefully opening her eyes, Rhea’s vision slowly adjusted as she looked out at the scene that lay before her. The five men with their hooded cloaks stood frozen, their weapons raised and faces angry. But they weren’t simply holding their pose. They had been spelled into place, stiller than the crystal statues of the Greystone Castle.

  Desperately scanning her surroundings, she looked to see who had cast a spell. Her stomach lurched when she made out four figures walking toward her. Arry, Keaven, Roan, and Grayson. One was missing—Taelor. She let her head fall back and smack into the hard stone, and in the process, her gaze was lifted above her.

  “Shit,” she swore as she jumped back, scraping her shoulder against the rough surface.

  Taelor was sitting up atop the nearby garbage bin, his legs swinging haphazardly from the edge and his back propped up casually against the stone wall. He was sucking on something that looked like a long piece of grass, and he stared down at her with an expression of mild amusement. It was the happiest she had seen him, yet.

  “Happy to see me?” she asked with a frown.

  “No.”

  “Then why the smirk?”

  “Just pleased you were unable to scurry away from us.”

  “I don’t scurry,” Rhea said.

  “You do.” He looked down at her with amusement.

  Rhea frowned. “You have a thing for high places, don’t you?”

  “Only if it means I get to look down upon well-kept little princesses, like you.”

  “You always this sarcastic?”

  Taelor shrugged. “You always run away from your problems, little princess?”

  Rhea glared up at him.

  The other four had gotten close enough that she knew there was nowhere she could run. She’d given up to the five assassins and knew she’d have no hope against these guys, either. At least, she hoped they weren’t actually there to kill her. From the bemused looks on their faces, she suspected she was right. Although luring her back to her home world was not that much different than an assassination attempt, she supposed.

  “How did you guys know I was here?” Her voice was irritated, and her heart thundered in her chest. Her muscles were loose, though, and she realized how scared she’d been. She had quite readily accepted the fact that she was going to die, but now that she was very much alive, she could feel the nuances of her body heighten. She swore she could even hear the blood as it pumped through her veins, fueling her body with life and energy.

  “Well, we were just gonna leave you, but then we saw you were replacing us with these new guys,” Roan smirked as he nodded his head toward the frozen assassins. He leaned against the side of the dumpster, his body relaxed and casual as he always seemed to be. Nothing ever fazed that guy, it seemed.

  “We can’t let you replace us that quickly,” Arry laughed.

  Rhea ran her hands through her hair, her fingers catching in the many knots. Lanei regularly chastised her about touching her hair, claiming that she just made her hair get greasy faster, and with the lack of showers on the streets, one has to maintain her hair as best she can. She could even hear her friend’s high-pitched voice as she repeated the words in her head.

  “So, are you just gonna stand there and wait for them to wake up?” Keaven asked. He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, looking at her with sparkling eyes, his head tilted to the side curiously.

  Rhea raised her eyebrow and blinked at him. “Wait for who?”

  Taelor groaned from above the dumpster and rolled his eyes, causing Rhea to cross her arms and glare up at him.

  “Don’t groan at me from up on your perch, little elf,” she mocked.

  His eyebrow raised in mock amusement. “I’d listen to the pale one,” he yawned, picking away at his nails as if he were bored of the situation. “He’s got a point.”

  She glanced back to the frozen assassins then back up to Taelor.

  He pushed himself off the dumpster, landing gracefully on his feet without a sound. He then reached his arms overhead and cracked his knuckles, his fingers intertwined together. He allowed them to drop to the sides as he looked at her with an expectant expression on his face. “Seriously, I’d run if I were you. You don’t want to be here when these guys wake up.”

  Rhea glanced nervously back to the assassins and swore she saw one of them twitch.

  “Are they—”

  “Or, you know, you could just stand there and get squished into a little princess sandwich, finally gone for good like the rumors say you are. That sounds great, too.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  She glared at him. “I—”

  “Yeah, you’re really good at saying that,” Arry laughed. He rolled back onto the heels of his feet as he stretched and cracked his knuckles, as in preparing for a fight. “I’d run.”

  Her eyes went wide as she looked to him, and they glanced back to the assassins.

  “Like now!” Arry shouted, his voice squealing with glee.

  Rhea sucked in a quick breath and bolted. Her legs carried her down the alley and around the far corner, and from the sound of it, just in time. A loud snap sounded, and the sensation of a magical release washed over her, prickling her skin even from around the corner. The magic burned as it pushed her away, like a dark, invisible wave coursing through the air.

  She skidded to a halt, pushing back against the magic, and backtracked, peeking carefully around the corner of the building. Her mouth hung open as she watched the five assassins snapping back to reality and bursting into an attack on her five guardians.

  Her eyes could hardly process what she was seeing. They moved so quickly, nothing more than a blur of shapes and colors. The air grew hot and the snow around them melted in the air. Rhea glanced around her, wondering why none of the other people walking by had turned to look. She wondered if the magic somehow concealed them from the non-magical world. A neat trick, she thought. One she would have to learn if she could.

  The waves of magic were almost unbearable, and Rhea clung to the corner of the building, her knuckles going white as they held her flat against the stone. She wanted to go help them, to do anything to protect the five men who were fighting on her behalf, but she would be no match for any them. Besides, she wasn’t sure who she wanted to hurt more—the assassins sent to kill her, or the five demigods trying to take her back home. Not that the Otherworld was home, anymore. Perhaps both groups would take each other out and solve both problems in one.

  Sighing, she cursed herself for being so cruel. It wasn’t her guardians’ fault that she was the rightful heir to the Otherworld throne. They were only trying to do what they felt was right. She groaned loudly, absentmindedly picking away at the cuticle on her thumb. The fighting appeared to be slowing, but by the looks of it, it didn’t sound like the battle was in their favor.


  She stepped out away from the corner, facing the fighting creatures head on. She cursed under her breath and what she was about to do. She’d vowed she would never use her powers again, and it was a vow she’d thought she would take to the grave. But looking on at her guardians, she knew she had no choice.

  Rhea closed her eyes and focused on her inner magic that she had buried so deep when she escaped the Otherworld. There, deep in the center of her chest, she found the spark of magic she’d planted there. It was woven so deeply within her core that the magic had become a part of her. It had been buried so deep, she’d almost forgotten about it. She tugged at the little spark, and it roared to life like a raging wildfire within her.

  She felt her own magic course through her veins, invigorating her with a sensation she hadn’t felt in years. Only this time it was infinitely stronger than she’d ever experienced it before. It felt part like home and part like a curse. She hated herself for it, but for better or worse, it was part of her.

  Rhea’s magic was the one thing that linked her to her father, and she supposed she was done denying who she was. Calming her heart rate and focusing on her inner energy, she allowed her magic to flow outward like thin tendrils feeling their way through the air and wrapping themselves around each individual creature within the alleyway. Her magic could sense all ten of them, individuals in their own right. Each with their own strong magic and identity. She pulled and tasted each one, trying to decide the best way to play this.

  Her magic was hungry and began pulling at all ten at once. She had to focus even harder, scrunching her eyes closed and squeezing every muscle in her body in an effort to control her magic. She didn’t need to draw from them all, she just needed to choose one. The right one.

  She could sense all of their magic within her. Roan’s blazing hot animal energy burned her skin and Keaven’s cold, undead magic cooled her at the same time. Grayson felt like heavy stone pressing in around her, and Arry’s golden luck sent a chill of euphoria through her.

  Her magic finally settled on Taelor, and she felt that cool blue energy wash through her, similar to the magic she had felt previously when she opened her eyes in the alley to see the five assassins frozen. Perfect.