I hope she finds her peace, and I hope one day, when she is ready, her believers will return to give her life in a better world.
Garen looks stunned, eyes locked on the spot where his mother disappeared. He’s still on his knees, hands splayed on the ground in front of him. Tears run freely down his cheeks. Nathan looks between him and me. “Now what?” he asks at last.
That breaks me out of my reverie. “I … can you see a way down from there?”
He glances around, then shakes his head. “No—I can’t go much farther along the gap in either direction. Do you have a spell for this?”
I grimace. “Nothing useful.”
He sighs. “Well, that’s just great.”
A light rain begins to fall, misting down from the gathering clouds. It hisses when it hits the lava, sending up wisps of steam. The lake is a lot closer now, maybe twenty-five feet, and the heat is incredible. “At least we won’t have long to wait,” Nathan says, looking down.
“Sorry, Nate,” I say, shoulders slumped.
He glances up at the building tilted above him. “Maybe I can climb it?” he says halfheartedly, putting out a hand on one crumbling wall.
I nod, looking up at my own half. It’s a long shot, but … “It’s better than noth—”
A raging gust of wind takes away the rest of my words. High-pitched laughter echoes out of the clouds, and something glints in the sky above us. “Woo! Need a lift?” Hi‘iaka’s voice cries from the heavens, echoing in the wind. The glinting metal resolves into a car, a cherry-red convertible held aloft on a furious current of air. The machine zooms down from the skies, pulling level with me. Pele, Nāmaka, and Hi‘iaka are all crammed in the front seat, beaming. The trunk is jam-packed, overflowing with an incredible assortment of divine artifacts held down by bungee cords.
“Not bad, eh?” Pele says, motioning with her head at the lava lake.
“Get in!” Hi‘iaka calls out, reaching back to pat the rear seat.
I grin at them, then point across at the other half of the building. “Nathan and Sekhmet first!” I yell over the wind.
Hi‘iaka nods and the car veers away, rushing to the other side of the divide and stopping just below Nathan’s floor. My friend looks at me, then leaps into the backseat with a cry of happiness. The car lurches forward, and Pele reaches out to grab Sekhmet’s unconscious body, which she shoves into the backseat with Nathan’s help.
“What about him?” Hi‘iaka says, pointing at Garen, who’s been watching the proceedings with traumatized dismay.
“Leave him,” I reply. “‘Another day.’ Isn’t that right, Specialist?”
He glares at me through red-rimmed eyes. “You’re all dead,” he croaks. “Hunt you down. Every last resource I can get my hands on. It’ll all be for you. Enjoy this. Really. Because you are all royally—”
“Ah, actually, I believe you’re the one who’s in trouble,” Nāmaka interrupts.
“Yeah, see, before we picked up this sweet little number, we had some fun in your computer core,” Hi‘iaka says. “Nothing special. Just sent some emergency broadcasts about how this ‘Specialist Garen’ guy had snapped, taken out the whole complex because of his mom. Easy stuff.”
“I think there was supposed to be a whole lot more transmitted, all sorts of important files and records, but they had a little flood,” Nāmaka says, shrugging. “Shame.”
“I had a spell ready to impersonate you, just in case,” I add. “Even had some of your blood on hand for the illusion”—I point at the patch on my shoulder that’s his—“but it never really came up, and the only one who’d know any better is currently melting along with his facility.”
“Oh, you got him?” Pele asks.
“Your lava!” I reply. She grins at that and laughs.
Garen looks completely shell-shocked at this point. “They … they won’t—”
“C’mon, you know better than that,” I say. “A whole facility down the tubes and the only evidence they have is a secure transmission naming the culprit? Oh, they are never going to believe you, are they?”
It looks like he’s going to reply, to fight back, but then he seems to deflate, head sinking to his chest. Hi‘iaka shrugs and spins the wheel of the car, giggling. The movement is just for show—all it does is turn the tires—but she has her winds move the convertible back across the rift at the same time, rocking to a halt when it’s next to me.
I hop in, landing in the backseat beside Sekhmet, who’s still completely out of it. Nathan, grinning from ear to ear, gives me a thumbs-up. The car shifts, veering away from the side of the building. Garen glares at us as we go, eyes burning with promises of vengeance and destruction.
As we move forward, past the concrete spar with Nan’s fallen IV pole, I see into the rest of the hospital corridor and feel a stab of worry. Just beyond the open door to her room, the black chamber is sitting against one wall, listing on its side. The mercenary in charge of monitoring it is sprawled on the floor in the middle of the hall, his skin completely gray. The chamber’s hatch is open, and the creature it once held is nowhere to be seen.
That’s coming back to haunt me, I think as the car rises into the clouds, pulling away from the devastated wreck of Impulse Station.
18
BEST INTENTIONS
“Pan-seared Spam with pineapple glaze and rice!” Pele shouts, shoving aside various dips and a vegetable platter so she can set down a tray covered in little bowls.
“Spam?” I say, feeling cautious. I glance at my friends, and Nathan and Sekhmet seem to share my trepidation.
The other two Hawaiian sisters nod vigorously. “Don’t knock it till you try it!” Hi‘iaka says, reaching out and grabbing a bowl.
I shrug and take one of my own. It’s been three days since Impulse Station sank into an enormous lake of burning metal and rock, and we haven’t heard anything from Finemdi since. With their data center’s computer records destroyed before they could be backed up off-site, we’ve all been under the assumption that it will be a long time before they get around to finding us again. I’d be an idiot to think Garen died in the building, but I doubt I’ll be seeing him anytime soon, either.
After we were certain Finemdi wasn’t about to retaliate, we decided to celebrate. It’s just a little potluck get-together—certainly not like the parties we all remember from our heydays—but it’s a nice change of pace. I have a feeling Sekhmet, after years of imprisonment, is especially happy to have a chance to relax. I provided the chips, veggies, and dips (I’m a terrible cook), Nathan whipped up some pot stickers, Nāmaka mixed drinks, Hi‘iaka made pulled pork sandwiches on sweet rolls, Sekhmet brought baklava for dessert, and Pele, of course, has her Spam dish.
… Which isn’t bad, to be honest. It tastes salty and deliciously greasy, like a bit of homemade fast food. I can understand how it could become a guilty pleasure, though you have to see this from my perspective: It is completely impossible for me to gain weight. Or die from a heart attack. I know, I know, gods get all the perks.
“So what’s next?” Hi‘iaka asks before shoveling Spam strips and rice into her mouth.
“We lie low,” I say. “We gather our strength and see what they do. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need worshippers badly. I can handle humans just fine, but the moment someone starts throwing magic around, it’s over.”
Pele sighs and nods. “I think we all need a better source of belief than what Finemdi was providing.”
Sekhmet grimaces. I can tell she wants to get out there and crack some heads, but she knows we’re not prepared to take on the rest of the company right now. “I agree,” she says, though she doesn’t sound pleased. “I will try to find out more about our enemies, as well. We must also consider the fact that Apep is loose in this world.”
“Yeah, who is that?” I ask. “I thought Set—”
“Set is the product of many years of conflicting mythology,” Sekhmet says. “He was worshipped as a god of foreigners and the des
ert before mortal politicking placed him in shadow, and even at his worst, he was somewhat balanced by this upbringing. He is no friend of mine, but I can understand him. No, Apep is a literal god of evil. He is the personification of darkness and chaos, of all the things man fears in the night. His only goal is to cover the world in shadows and devour humanity. He is a threat to creation itself, and we were all his enemy. Set fought him daily, before the myths changed his role.”
She spears a piece of Spam with one claw and holds it before her beautiful golden eyes. “You know, sometimes I think Apep himself was responsible for that. I believe he wanted to hide, to make mortals forget him until it was too late. My people did not worship him, after all—they simply believed in his existence and the need for his destruction. He is a god with no followers. He exists to be hated.” Her mouth opens wide, showing off a terrifying array of teeth, and she tosses the meat in and chews thoughtfully. “I like it,” she says at last, nodding at Pele with a little purr.
“Well, that’s cheery,” Nathan says. “So how do you kill a god without worshippers? How does he even exist?”
Sekhmet shrugs. “Strange, is it not? What brings him back if he is injured? We destroyed him countless times, and each night, he would spawn anew. Our past is filled with his demise, yet he always survives.”
I think of what Samantha said in the supply closet, about how gods can live off all sorts of belief once they’re formed. Then I remember what Drass said when I questioned him about killing Apep: reinforced by celestial mechanics. Those were his exact words, weren’t they?
“Night,” I say, putting two and two together. “When man fears the dark, Apep grows stronger. He’s tied to shadows, and even if it’s daylight outside, it’s always night somewhere.”
“There aren’t any other gods who do that?” Nathan asks.
Sekhmet shakes her head. “Your history is littered with gods of darkness, but I know of none like him. You either have mythical creatures of shadow that wish to destroy the light, such as sky dragons or great wolves”—she nods at me—“or humanlike gods with dark natures that still draw worship. You may believe some gods ‘act’ evil, but there is almost always a duality there, a hidden trait to be praised, or some need for them. A god of the underworld, for instance, may be brutal and merciless, but without them, the dead might roam free. In his heart, man believes in redemption and balance, a reason for everything to exist. Yin and yang, life and death. Apep is nothing like this. He is simply darkness and destruction, a waiting threat that must be battled and broken.”
“So he’s just … pure evil? Death for everyone? How boring,” Hi‘iaka says. “At least he’ll be easy to track down; follow the bodies, right?”
“If only,” Sekhmet says, showing off her fangs in what I think is her version of a wan smile. “Apep’s goals may be apocalyptic, but his threat is one of corruption, calculation, and intelligence. I would not expect to meet him on the battlefield—chaos and sorrow will follow in his wake, but always from behind proxies and mortal fools. In truth, this makes him far deadlier than some mindless, howling destroyer.”
Nathan groans. “All that, and he can’t die. Which brings us back to the main problem: How do we stop him?”
His question is met by blank stares. “I think we file that under ‘bridges to be crossed later,’ Nate,” I say at last, feeling as if there really isn’t much we can do. I may have screwed up letting that thing out, but it’s a big world and I’m still a small fish; even if we could find him right now, what good would it do?
Nathan looks equally unsettled, but then he gets a curious look. “All right. Table the whole ‘unkillable god of evil’ thing for now. What are you going to do about Finemdi?”
I frown. Is that a trick question? “Uh, destroy them?”
“Right, but how? You keep talking about that like it’s on the grocery list between ‘milk’ and ‘bagels.’ These guys are bad news and all of you seem totally ‘whatever’ about them.” He pauses, thinking. “Always have, actually.”
We look at one another for a moment, then Sekhmet speaks up. “It is … hard, I think, for us to take them seriously. Even after everything they have done, they are still mortal.”
“I think we’re kind of hardwired to not see humanity as a threat,” I explain. “Apep? Yeah, we can see the danger there. Finemdi, though…”
“Seriously?” Nathan says, setting down his food and looking at us like we’ve grown extra heads. “Did you see the look on Garen’s face when you left him there? I was already terrified of the dude, and now his mom is dead and he’s got nothing to lose? And that’s one guy! Finemdi probably has a zillion more just like him, and their only mission is hunting you all down. How does this not register any higher on DEFCON God than ‘mild inconvenience’?”
I’m about to reply with more static about how immortality changes your view of the world, but then I stop myself. He’s right. These creeps turn divinity inside out, bend gods to their will, and collect us like very dangerous stamps. I don’t need more reasons to hate Finemdi, but maybe it’s a good idea to fear them, too. Just a little. “Mortal’s got a point,” I say, smiling. “If we go into this with blinders on, we could fall right into their hands. They know us, right? They’d expect us to underestimate them.”
“Still not sure how being afraid helps us, but all right,” Nāmaka says, seeming unconvinced but not particularly interested in arguing.
“No, no, I think I get it!” Hi‘iaka pipes up. “We know we’re awesome, and they know we know that, so they might get the drop on us because they think we won’t know that they know we know that!”
“Uh. Yes. Probably,” I say, then turn back to Nathan. “Thank you. If we ever start ignoring obvious stuff like that again, just pipe up. Godhood has its blind spots.”
He grins at that, clearly pleased with the compliment, then nods and returns to Pele’s dish.
“So … big baddies are great and all, but what about the important stuff? How are we going to get new worshippers so we can deal with all this nonsense?” Pele asks, clearly trying to change the subject.
“The parks,” I reply, grateful for the chance. “I have a job there.”
“You need a job?” she says, surprised.
“Well, no. My job gets me my worship.” Quickly, I explain the relationship between the heartfelt belief of the children at the parks and our own divine natures.
“Can you…” Nāmaka begins when I’m done. She seems caught between amazement at what I’ve found and embarrassment about having to ask for help. “Can you get us jobs like that?”
I look around, and the rest of them nod eagerly. “I think so…” I murmur. “There are more than enough tourists to go around, and I’m pretty sure there are even a few Hawaiian characters you can play. That, and I can always try to whip up some illusions to help you land more roles.”
“Might be a good idea for all of us. I mean, she’s probably going to raise some eyebrows,” Hi‘iaka says, pointing at Sekhmet.
“Honestly,” the woman says, rolling her eyes. Her brow furrows for a moment, and then the air shimmers and her face warps. A new head snaps into existence atop her shoulders like a slide clicking into place on a projector. She’s completely human now, a Nile princess with brown almond-shaped eyes and strong, chiseled features.
“I never knew you could do that!” Hi‘iaka exclaims.
“What, you think I just walk around town as a lion-headed woman and no one’s the wiser?” she says, seeming amused at the idea. “Ages ago, Thoth gifted me with an enchantment to let me change my appearance. Useful for times when I wish to be less conspicuous.”
“I always loved that trick,” I say, watching in fascination as her features slide back to their former leonine glory. “Okay, well, you’re all set, but if the rest of you need an illusion, I can probably figure something out.”
“That, or we start going through the trunkload of artifacts you stole,” Nathan says, smiling at Hi‘iaka.
�
�Hey, good idea,” the windy goddess replies.
“Jobs, new belief, and careful plotting,” Nāmaka summarizes. “Seems like we have everything well in hand.”
“Hear! Hear!” Pele says, raising her glass for a toast.
We all join her, sipping on some of Nāmaka’s island punch.
“So where are you ladies planning on staying?” Nathan asks when we’re done.
They all share guilty looks, then turn to me.
“What?” I say, caught off guard.
“Just until we get some finances. Won’t be long,” Pele says.
“Wait, really?” Nathan asks. “You’re all homeless? Homeless gods?”
They nod in unison, and I sigh. “Fine. Sure. We’ll figure something out. Invest in some sleeping bags or something.”
“Ooh, I want a hammock!” Hi‘iaka chirps.
Groaning inwardly, I return to the meal. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all very nice, and I’ve known Sekhmet for centuries, but this is a two-bedroom, two-bath apartment. Things are going to get incredibly cramped in no time at all.
* * *
A few hours later, as our new houseguests are cleaning up, I take Nathan aside. “I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to discuss that,” I say. “Priest or not, this is your house, too.”
“Seriously?” Nathan says. “Don’t worry about it. I just keep it all in perspective.”
“Perspective?”
“A few months ago, I was stressing out over a job. Now I’m trying to figure out how four goddesses are going to be able to crash at our place. Before that, it was how to escape an evil corporate headquarters that was sinking into a lava pit. Trust me, this is much more exciting than I ever could have hoped for, Sara.”
I smile at that. “Okay. Just let me know if it starts getting to you.”
“Will do,” he says, giving me a friendly salute.
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