Divine Descendant (Nikki Glass #5)

by Jenna Black

  Cyrus sent us an inventory of the missing Olympian Liberi and Descendants, and it painted an ugly picture. Most of the Liberi had been Konstantin’s closest associates. That meant they were the oldest and most experienced—and that they had the least amount of conscience. I couldn’t believe they were willing to wipe out the entire human race in return for whatever reward Niobe was offering them. Then again, these were people who thought it was okay to murder Descendant children on the off chance that those children might grow up to be a threat to them someday. Cyrus had never been and would never become a good guy, but he was about a thousand times less cruel than his father, which meant that he’d been putting the reins on the worst of the Olympian excesses. Something Konstantin’s associates had to resent.

  All in all, it seemed that thirteen of Cyrus’s Liberi had defected, along with six mortal Descendants, who would be their most lethal weapons. If it came down to a battle, those Descendants would be especially eager to make a kill and steal another Liberi’s immortality. There would be at least nineteen people standing between us and that altar, and if we were really trying to fight our way through them and then hold them off long enough for the renewal ritual, I would not have liked our chances.

  Not that our plan to draw Niobe out was what you’d call easy. We were confident she would be nearby so that she could swoop in for the kill as soon as her followers got hold of Violet, but nearby wasn’t good enough. We had to get her out in the open so that Anderson could attempt to negotiate with her, and that probably wouldn’t happen unless we fought our way through enough of her people to make ourselves into a real threat.

  To increase the chances that Niobe would put in an appearance, we gave her advance warning we were coming by renting the same cottages we had stayed in during our previous attempt. Anderson’s Liberi and a handful of Cyrus’s people would travel to Bermuda by conventional means, but Anderson would bring the rest over through the Underworld to hide our numbers.

  Unfortunately, Cyrus would not be providing as many warm bodies as we might have hoped.

  “I can only bring people I feel one hundred percent certain won’t turn on us,” he told Anderson in one of our strategy meetings. “Even some of the most loyal of my people have friends who have defected, and I don’t trust them not to try to warn those friends.”

  “And these are the people you want to spend your immortal life with,” Blake muttered in a voice Cyrus was obviously meant to hear.

  Cyrus cast him a quick, dark look, but didn’t otherwise respond. “I have six people I’m absolutely sure will keep their mouths shut.”

  “That’s it?” I asked incredulously. “Six people? When we’re facing nineteen? Are you—”

  “Six Liberi.” He was definitely testy. I suspect he was finding it unsettling to take such a close look at the people he led and find how little loyalty existed. “It’s the mortal Descendants who’ll be the most use to us anyway, and it’s much easier to incentivize them.”

  Of course it was. They were all waiting for their chance to become Liberi—a chance that some of them would never get and that some would wait a long time for—and if they were offered the opportunity to kill some of the Olympians they had once served, they’d jump at it.

  “I’ll bring a dozen of my most loyal candidates, but I’m not going to tell them in advance. The more people who know what we’re planning, the more chances it will leak to Niobe.”

  “So you’re just going to show up on their doorsteps on the day of the attack and say, ‘Hey, I’m going on this exciting little adventure today, wanna come, too?’ ”

  “Something like that,” Cyrus replied, failing to bristle this time. “I’ll make them an offer they can’t refuse, but I don’t imagine any of them would be inclined to refuse anyway. Their job will be to take down any Olympian they can, but I’m particularly worried about one of my father’s closest friends. His name is Jonathan, and he’s descended from Hephaestus. He can create and control fire, and none of my people has a good counter to that power.”

  Anderson furrowed his brow. “You have several descendants of Poseidon, don’t you? We’ll be right by the water, so can’t they—”

  “I had several descendants of Poseidon. They’re all on the wrong side now.”

  “So we’ve got a guy who’s going to try to set us all on fire and who we can’t do anything about, and we’ve got several descendants of Poseidon when we’re going to be conveniently close to the ocean,” I summarized. “What could possibly go wrong?”

  “That’s why we have to concentrate on taking them out first,” Cyrus said patiently.

  “What about the Nyx descendant?” Jamaal asked. “No one can do much of anything in the kind of dark that guy can create. Assuming it is a guy, since none of us saw who did it.”

  “I’m a descendant of Helios,” Cyrus reminded him. “I’m the perfect counter. It also means I’m going to be kept very busy fighting the darkness and won’t be much use otherwise.”

  “Don’t forget,” Anderson said, “I’m going to be there, too.”

  “No offense,” I said, “but you’re not that great in a battle.”

  “How would you know?”

  He had me there. But still . . . “Do you have powers I don’t know about? Because your Hand of Doom takes a while to work.”

  Anderson shrugged. “Maybe so, but I can certainly keep someone occupied and keep them from using their own powers. After all, they know what I can do, and they won’t want any part of me.”

  “So you’re basically going to run around chasing people?”

  The glance he tossed my way was distinctly annoyed. “Look, we can make elaborate plans, but until we fully know what we’re up against, our plans are mostly useless. Niobe’s had plenty of time to prepare, and she knows the house and the surroundings better than we do.”

  “Anderson’s right,” Cyrus agreed. “I’m going to bring the people who can best counter the ones Niobe has won over, but beyond that we’re going to be reduced to winging it. Thanks to Anderson bringing people in through the Underworld, we may manage some measure of surprise, and that’s the best we can hope for.”

  I was not what you’d call excited about this so-called plan. There didn’t seem to be much more to it than “show up and hope for the best,” which was pretty much what Jamaal and Jack and I had done the last time, and look how that had turned out.

  “I can do some surveillance before we go in,” Jack said. “They’d notice any human who tried to get a good look at the place, and they probably figured out the cat thing from last time. I’ll have to go as something even smaller and less conspicuous. Like a mouse, maybe.”

  “It’s not like they don’t know about you and about what you can do,” Cyrus reminded him.

  “Knowing about me and stopping me are two very different things,” Jack said. “What are they going to do? Kill every living creature that tries to set foot on the property?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past them,” Anderson muttered.

  “As long as Jack doesn’t call undue attention to himself in whatever form he adopts,” Cyrus said, “his plan ought to work. Like he said, they can’t kill every living creature they see, so even knowing that he might try to sneak a look, it’ll be just about impossible for them to stop him. It’s worth the risk if we can get some idea what we’re up against and what kind of booby traps they might have in store for us.”

  “Easy to say when you’re not the one taking the risk,” Anderson said, and I feared things were about to get testy.

  “I’m the one who brought it up,” Jack said. “I’m willing to take the risk.”

  It says something about how dire the situation was that Jack actually stepped in to stop people from bickering. Usually, he enjoys egging it on, as if it’s a vital requirement of the trickster’s code of conduct.

  So we had something that vaguely—and I do mean vaguely—resembled a plan. Unfortunately, there was one vital component of the plan that we hadn’t fully work
ed out: Violet.

  To make our appearance at Jasmine’s house into a legitimate threat, one that Niobe had to counter personally, we had to have one of her sisters with us. Based on our last conversation with her, I didn’t think Violet was going to volunteer her services, especially when our plan was so ill-formed.

  “I don’t plan to give her a choice,” Anderson said when I voiced my concern. “Once everything is ready, I’ll go get her. I don’t want her to have a chance to warn Niobe.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I said.

  I wasn’t surprised when Anderson shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “I know. But I’m going anyway.”

  Violet hadn’t exactly warmed to me, nor I to her, but she sure as hell liked me better than she liked Anderson. “No offense, but Violet hates your guts, and she might be more willing to listen if I’m the one doing the talking.”

  “There’s only one thing she’s likely to listen to,” Anderson said, holding up his right hand. The Hand of Doom.

  “You promised you would try to reason with Niobe before doing anything . . . drastic. Is it too much to ask for you to give Violet the same courtesy? She has every right to hate you after what you did, and there’s no reason to be more of an asshole than you have to be.”

  I was pleasantly surprised when Anderson looked sheepish. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It was a lot easier to live with myself back in the days when I could almost convince myself it never happened. Though I suppose you of all people know about using anger as a coping mechanism.”

  I’d have been stung by the words, except I knew I didn’t use my anger as Anderson was doing, didn’t lash out at people who didn’t deserve it. Not since I was that angry little girl getting shuffled from foster home to foster home anyway.

  “So you’ll try to find a better way to cope when we talk to Violet? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “When I talk to Violet. Or don’t you trust my word?”

  I wasn’t sure I did, but it would be undiplomatic to say so. “If you’re going to be calm and rational, then there’s no reason for me not to be there, is there? And maybe I’ll be able to keep the two of you from falling into old patterns. I know you’ve been to see her at least once already, and it didn’t go well.”

  Anderson scowled. “I’m going to travel through the Underworld to get there. Haven’t you had enough of the place already?”

  I suppressed a shudder. Yes, I’d had more than enough of the Underworld. It wasn’t like I expected to do a whole lot of good, but I hoped Anderson would be more inclined to control his guilt-fueled temper if I was around. There was too much riding on this not to do everything possible to create the right environment for success.

  “I’m sure just this once our trip through the Underworld will be uneventful,” I said.

  Anderson groaned and rubbed his eyes as if tired. “You are relentless.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Fine. You can come with me. But I’m not going to tell Violet the whole truth. If she knows I’m using her as bait to draw Niobe out, we’ll have to watch our backs the entire time.”

  “So what are you going to tell her instead?”

  “That we’re making a second attempt to renew Jasmine’s altar. Maybe she’ll be more cooperative if she knows I’ll be there to protect her.”

  And maybe Niobe would have a sudden and inexplicable change of heart and decide we should all hug it out. Hey, it could happen.

  NINETEEN

  I was no fonder of the Underworld this time than I had been any other time I’d traveled through it, but I had to admit it was damn convenient. Instead of taking hours to get from D.C. to Memphis, it took a little less than five minutes. And I didn’t have to go through a TSA virtual strip search to get there.

  Anderson’s portal let us out practically on Violet’s doorstep. I found myself unable to resist asking the really stupid question, “What if she won’t answer the door?” The lights were on, so I was pretty sure she was home.

  Anderson gave me a dry look. “Do you really think a closed door would stop me?”

  No, of course not. He probably could have made the portal open up directly in her living room if he wanted to. Knocking on her door like an ordinary visitor was kind of a courteous gesture. Not that I thought Violet would see it that way.

  Anderson’s first knock was polite. His second was firm. His third threatened to break down the door and convinced Violet she had a limited number of choices.

  She threw the door open, but didn’t invite us in. Her fierce glare communicated without words how glad she was to see us—or at least Anderson. I got the feeling in present company I was basically beneath her notice.

  “I have nothing more to say to you,” she growled at Anderson. “I have no intention of getting between you and Niobe.”

  Unwisely, she went for the door-slam. Anderson stopped the door with his hand, and she tried slamming it again. I was reminded once again that these were not just ordinary people when the door hit his hand so hard his fist went straight through. And he didn’t even flinch.

  Violet made a frustrated huffing noise. She frowned at the door as Anderson calmly pulled his hand back through, scattering a handful of splinters.

  “You’re paying for that,” she said irrelevantly, then turned away and stomped into the house. This was not unlike the greeting Jamaal and I had received, although that had come with less door splintering.

  Apparently Violet was feeling even more unwelcoming this time than she had before, because instead of leading the way into her comfortable living room, she stopped in the foyer, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned to face us once more. Her mouth was set in a sullen moue, and when she looked at Anderson, she didn’t quite meet his eyes. She spared me nothing but a brief, reproachful glance, as if it were somehow all my fault Anderson was standing here in her living room. I tried an encouraging half smile in response, but shockingly, that didn’t win her over. I closed the door behind me, which would have done more good if the fist-sized hole weren’t letting in a wintry breeze.

  “What can you possibly say that you haven’t said already?” Violet asked. Everything about her, from her face to her body language, was closed off, screaming that she was not prepared to listen.

  Anderson can be extremely persuasive when he wants to. Believe me, he’s persuaded me to do any number of things I very much didn’t want to do. But apparently when he’d promised to be reasonable and diplomatic about this, he’d been lying through his divine teeth.

  “How about this?” he asked with menace oozing from every pore. “You’re coming with me to Bermuda and you’re going to renew Jasmine’s altar.”

  Violet’s spine stiffened, and the look on her face became positively forbidding. I wondered if it would be safer for me not to be standing so close to Anderson. The air felt charged with intensity and danger, and being anywhere near a battle between gods was not good for anyone’s health. Reminding Anderson that he’d promised not to be an asshole would be even worse.

  “What makes you think—”

  Anderson cut her off, taking a step closer to her. His eyes were starting to glow white, which was a bad sign. His hand was starting to glow, too, and that was an even worse sign. He’d never had any intention of trying to convince her to come voluntarily. No wonder he hadn’t wanted me here to witness it.

  “I’m through trying to be reasonable and diplomatic about this,” Anderson said. “There’s too much at stake. You have two choices: you come with me and do your fucking duty, or I kill you right here and now.” He held up that glowing hand of his.

  Violet’s eyes went wide and frightened, and she took a hasty step backward to stay out of Anderson’s reach. Her face had gone pale, and she put her own hand in front of her in a defensive gesture that had no hope of doing her any good.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” she said not very convincingly.

  “Why the hell not? I’m sure once I’ve demonstrated my
willingness to kill, I can persuade one of your sisters it’s in her best interests to take care of that altar.”

  “They would never help you if you killed me.”

  Anderson grinned, and it was not a nice expression. “Want to bet your life on that?”

  Neither one of them seemed to care—or even notice—that I was standing there. Which was probably a good thing. I doubted I was having much luck hiding the turmoil that was chewing away at my insides.

  I liked and respected Anderson. At least, I liked and respected the man I’d once thought he was. But this man who stood before me and coldly threatened to commit murder to get his way was a stranger to me.

  Yes, it was of vital importance that we get Violet to that altar and lure Niobe out. I did not need to be reminded that the fate of all mankind rested on it. But this was now the second time I’d seen Anderson pull the “do what I want or I’ll kill you” tactic, and it triggered all sorts of unpleasant thoughts in my mind.

  For all that he was supposedly one of the good guys, Anderson had a terrifying amount of power. He was truly immortal, and as the son of Death, he could kill anyone—mortal, Liberi, or goddess—who stood in his way. Once upon a time, he’d had to keep his identity a secret, and that had forced him to keep his power—and his ability to abuse it—under wraps. But such was not the case anymore. I was disturbed and disappointed to see the change in him. Or maybe it wasn’t a change. Maybe this was finally the true Anderson Kane I was seeing, and the one I’d thought I’d known was nothing but an illusion.

  Violet swallowed hard and put her hand to her throat. “Niobe will kill me if I set foot near that altar. Just like she killed Jasmine and Rose.”