The Pantheon Saga | Book 4 | Gods of Wrath

by Ekeke, C. C.

  “C’mon nothing!” Raphael barked. He was angry. “Two friends don’t talk cuz she banged both guys.”

  “Are the rumors true?” JT asked, glancing at Abby refilling a soda with a mix of lust and disgust. “About her banging all the varsity basketball starters?”

  Brent slapped JT’s arm, clearly insulted. “One. Basketball starter here,” he reminded. “Two. I wouldn’t touch her with yours. So…most varsity starters. Can't stop looking at those legs, though.”

  Raphael and JT laughed. Simon tried not to smile.

  Hugo found none of this funny. He glanced at Abby, who immediately turned away. She sucked in a breath to muster some strength. Hugo could only guess how many times she’d suffered this.

  JT regained composure, eyeing her again. “Too bad. She’s gorgeous.”

  Simon rolled his eyes. “So are Bengal tigers,” he chided. “Until they bite your face off.”

  More laughter from his friends, acting like the very assholes at school he disliked.

  “Enough,” Hugo snapped, silencing the table. From the soda machine, Abby observed closely.

  “Relax!” Brent gave a shaky laugh. “We’re just joking.” He glanced around the table for support.

  Hugo wasn’t buying that excuse. “And it’s not funny.” He and Abby weren’t public for the same reason why Brent and the others derided her. That truth shamed Hugo. Still, he wouldn’t tolerate his friends shaming her. “Abby has suffered enough. And we know how karma nailed the person who started the slut-shaming.” Hugo didn’t say her name, but his friends’ guilty faces conveyed they remembered Brie and her squad’s vicious cyberbullying Abby.

  “Wanna call anyone a slut?” Hugo pointed at himself. “Start here.” Hyperbolic, but his message landed. And he heard Abby’s grateful sigh.

  “Point made.” Brett raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry.”

  Raphael also apologized, shamefaced. As JT and Simon followed, a set of heels click-clacked forward.

  Someone gripped Hugo’s jaw from behind, tilting his head back. Suddenly Abby was devouring his mouth. Hugo froze in shock, steam nearly shooting from his ears. Then he just sank on into it.

  Abby pulled up for air after several seconds, running fingers through Hugo’s hair. Giving Hugo’s friends a smoldering sneer, she strutted out of the restaurant.

  Hugo viewed her through lust-filled eyes, buzzing from head to toe. He wished Abby hadn’t done that. Yet Hugo swore his tongue had changed color. Brent, JT, Simon, and Raphael stared at him with dropped jaws. Then came the eruption.

  “What…the whaaa?” Brent exclaimed.

  Raphael shoved him from across the table. “Explain!”

  Hugo leaned back with a smug little smirk, popping two fries in his mouth. “Chivalry’s not dead.”

  Chapter 5

  “He nearly bailed--again?” Helena Madden sounded irked. “This Walt has no balls!”

  Quinn sighed, expecting this from SLOCO Daily’s Editor-in-Chief. Wearing earbuds on her cellphone, she paced back and forth, defending her source. “Walt’s scared, Helena. Besides, he got intel on Paxton-Brandt’s dirty Caribbean and Asia dealings.” The topic left Quinn cold all over, despite the morning sunshine. She'd been investigating Paxton-Brandt with the Spotlight team for months. The multinational's crimes were terrifying, stomach-turning, and numerous.

  And they’ve gotten away with it. Quinn shook her curly afro, long enough to wrestle back with a headband and ponytail.

  Helena, back in San Miguel, mirrored her fury. “Using disaster relief as cover to kidnap and experiment on superhumans,” she stated in disgust.

  “How sick!” Quinn’s outburst drew the attention of her friend nearby. She waved off the concern.

  “The solar panels they installed in Somalian and Rwandan villages?” Helena probed. “Anything there?”

  Quinn had to laugh. “Nothing, surprisingly.” Paxton-Brandt was only ninety percent evil, their nonprofit initiatives meant for publicity.

  She soaked in her location. The nostalgia of downtown Providence’s Waterplace Park helped quiet her snowballing anger. The common next to Woonasquatucket River wasn’t crowded this early besides joggers. Quinn, donning a jean jacket and khakis over a cropped t-shirt, resembled a student herself. Waterplace had been where she and other friends studied or ate during her time at Brown University. A lifetime ago when life was so simple.

  Quinn refocused on Helena. “How are you, outside work?”

  “Crappy.” Helena’s reply was curt, as if trying to speak before the pain resurfaced.

  Quinn pouted in understanding. “Oh.” Last month had been hell for Helena after dumping Jono McGowan.

  “Sometimes I’m thrilled that it’s over.” The achy undercurrent in Helena’s voice grew pronounced. “Other times...I just miss him.”

  “Focus on sometimes,” Quinn stressed, fingering a hoop earring. “Every time.”

  Helena laughed bitterly. “Sounds easy.” The Paxton-Brandt story had brought the two women closer, giving Quinn a front row seat to the ugly split.

  It had taken Quinn and Helena’s other friends’ combined efforts to make the breakup stick. But she still worried her mentor might relapse.

  “Seeing him at work every day is torture.” Helena gave a dark chuckle. “Too bad I can’t fire him.”

  Please don’t. Quinn despised Jono, but the last thing she wanted was Helena giving him fodder to retaliate. “It gets better,” she assured. “I promise.”

  “Mmmph…” Helena made that noise when feeling too vulnerable. “What’s your itinerary today?”

  Quinn smiled again. “The newlyweds and I are showing a friend around Newport and Providence.” She searched around. Johnny and Annie were running late.

  “I’ll let you go.” Helena sounded ready to cry. “Have fun, QB.”

  Quinn winced once the call ended. Wedding talk had to strike a nerve with Helena. She’d check in later. After removing her earbuds, a text arrived.

  TL: Stop ignoring me and call back

  Quinn rolled her eyes, closing the message. She already dreaded dealing with Therese upon returning to San Miguel. But today, Quinn focused on her guest.

  Mikaela Guerrero, aka Seraph, approached, strikingly beautiful with sunkissed olive skin. Floral print covered her strappy summer dress, flattering a fit and shapely body. With the sunglasses and bob-length brunette hair, most bystanders didn’t recognize her. Especially without angel wings, Quinn mused. But that was what Seraph wanted.

  “Everything okay?” she inquired, Cuban accent pronounced.

  “Work.” Quinn pulled Seraph into a hug. “Can I say again how much I love the new do?”

  Seraph was giggling when they drew apart. “Keep saying it!”

  Yesterday, Quinn had walked right by the hero upon arriving at Boston’s Logan Airport to pick her up. As one of the world’s most famous people, she’d loved the anonymity while Quinn showed her around.

  Seraph’s glee faded. “Kurt likes my hair longer.”

  Quinn scowled. Kurt, aka Sentinel, had become a better partner to Seraph these last few months. He was still too controlling for Quinn’s tastes. “Do you like your haircut?”

  Seraph hesitated. “Yes.” She wasn’t making excuses for Sentinel. Progress.

  “That’s the most important opinion.” Quinn glanced at her phone. The newlyweds were twenty minutes late. “Where are they?”

  Seraph looked over her shoulder and pointed. “There.”

  Quinn turned and exhaled in relief as Annie approached near the river’s edge. She dressed casual yet chic in a black suspender cropped top with matching hip-hugging jeans. Dark silken hair cascaded down her shoulders under a wide-brimmed sunhat. “Hey, friends,” Annie greeted ruefully. “Sorry I’m late.” She embraced both Quinn and Seraph.

  “Where’s your guy?” Quinn asked, searching the commons.

  Annie muttered something in exasperated Spanish, and Seraph choked back laughter. “Johnny’s parents chang
ed their minds last minute about a Cape Cod tour,” she explained in English. “Then they got mad we weren’t coming, despite us saying we had plans in advance.” She clutched her face, visibly distressed. “But you and I might not hang out for a while, so I told Johnny to go with his parents.”

  Guilt pooled in Quinn’s stomach at Annie’s post-wedding dilemma. “Sorry you had to choose.”

  Annie grimaced, shaking her head. “Don’t apologize. My in-laws can be stupidly indecisive.” She faced Seraph with a toothy smile. “Anyway. Hi, Mikaela!”

  Seraph rubbed Annie’s back. “Congratulations again, Gioconda,” she complimented. “I planned to attend as Quinn’s date, but trouble in Manhattan needed Vanguard’s attention.”

  “How dare you choose saving NYC over my wedding!” Annie scolded sarcastically.

  Quinn observed happily, pleased to see her friends vibing. “Let’s make some memories, ladies.”

  She and Annie played tour guides around Providence, before driving across the bridge over Narragansett Bay. Seraph was like an awestruck kid gawking at the sailboats and deep-blue waters below. A mouthwatering lunch at Newport’s Black Pearl ignited an old college rivalry.

  “This clam chowder’s better than Scituate’s,” Annie teased.

  Quinn shot daggers at her. “Scituate has the best chowder, butthole!”

  After lunch, the ladies toured Newport’s Gilded Age mansions, including where Annie had got hitched. Quinn, a New England history geek, provided backstory for each estate. The banter and shared laughter made her thankful for whatever she’d done to have such good friends in her life.

  During a beach stroll under a fiery sunset, the trio decided to hit up The Dockside in downtown Newport for dinner, drinks, and dancing.

  The crowd was electric, beautiful bodies contorting to classic hip-hop.

  Quinn cut loose on the dancefloor like there was no tomorrow, buzzed off alcohol and joy. But she kept watch, making sure Seraph was having fun and Annie wasn’t having too much fun. Her BFF guzzled drink after drink, rattling her hips as if possessed. Annie had curbed her drinking, only getting rowdy when out with friends. Quinn wasn’t worried—yet.

  Seraph, despite a sheltered childhood as a novitiate, danced quite well. This attracted many suitors.

  “You’re so sexy,” one meathead yelled over the music.

  Seraph smiled, genuinely flattered. “Thank you!”

  The man kept staring, trying to decipher something. “You look like that Vanguard angel chick!”

  Quinn’s Spidey sense tingled. But Seraph laughed her melodic laugh, defusing any suspicion. “Happens a lot,” she replied.

  Quinn giggled and kept dancing. Until Annie went missing. Frantically searching the dancefloor, Quinn found her farther away. Some gangly punk with spiky green hair was grinding on Annie from behind. He nibbled her neck like a snack, tattooed arms wrapped possessively around her waist.

  Annie looked plastered, writhing too seductively against her horny partner.

  Knowing where this would lead with Annie so drunk, Quinn went into den mother mode.

  “Mrs. Sherwood!” She dragged Annie from her infuriated suitor’s clutches. “Last Call.”

  “Relaaaxie, Quinnie,” Annie slurred in protest as Quinn led her away. “Ya know I like ta flirty flirt inna club.”

  “Exactly,” Quinn insisted. “Meaning, you’re done.” She caught Seraph’s attention and nodded at the exit. The superhero quickly understood and shouldered through the crowd toward them.

  “Jesus!” someone cried when stepping outside. “Look!”

  Quinn, Annie, and Seraph turned. At first the burnt stench bemused the reporter.

  Then Quinn saw the brilliant orange glow alongside the harbor. “Fire…”

  A nearby warehouse pub was burning bright. Chaos consumed the swanky waterfront. People were fleeing in droves from the fiery bar. And despite distant fire sirens blaring, there were no firetrucks in sight. What crushed Quinn was if people were trapped inside.

  While she and Annie stood frozen, Seraph ran toward the inferno, glowing angel wings sprouting from her back. A hero’s instinct, naturally. The chaotic crowd gaped, shrieked, and stumbled out of the way. Seraph leaped into the dark heavens, soaring toward the churning firestorm.

  Quinn clung to Annie as the hero furled her majestic wings around herself and dove into the flaming bar.

  Quinn’s heart lurched in panic. Then she remembered, Seraph did this for a living. But the height of those flames unsettled Quinn.

  Worry filled Annie’s unfocused and bloodshot eyes. “Isshe gonna be okay?” Annie slurred.

  Quinn nodded. “Seraph’s fine.” More time passed and the blaze leaped higher, weakening her resolve.

  Until Seraph exploded out of the flame-engulfed roof, wings spread breathtakingly.

  Quinn unclenched her jaw in gratitude. From afar, Seraph looked to be holding someone in either arm. Landing and placing them far from the conflagration, Seraph leaped up again and plunged back into the building. She emerged quicker next time with two more people.

  Seraph checked on the four people she’d rescued. Three were coughing and soot-stained but unharmed. One lay motionless, covered in still-sizzling burns. Quinn turned away.

  Crowds swarmed the scene. Many people eagerly snapped cellphone photos of The Vanguard member in their midst instead of helping the victims. Quinn wasn’t surprised.

  Annie smiled woozily. “I’mma miss that.”

  Her yearning stabbed Quinn like a knife. Another dilemma she'd wanted to avoid. “Germany’s got superheroes,” Quinn scoffed.

  Annie shook her head, swaying so much that Quinn had to catch her. “Not like ours.”

  Quinn knew she was right. Annie and Johnny were leaving tomorrow for San Miguel to pack up their lives before the honeymoon. Two weeks later, they would move to Berlin for Johnny’s new position. It worked perfectly for Annie, whose PR agency had European offices. Tonight was the last night Quinn would see Annie for a while.

  San Miguel wouldn’t be the same. She swallowed that truth hard to stop the tears.

  Minutes later, flashing red and yellow lights of firetrucks flooded the untidy scene.

  “Uh-oh,” Annie grunted. “Here come the diehards.”

  A tidal wave of bystanders swarmed Seraph, who greeted everyone jovially. From yards away, she caught Quinn’s gaze. Her shrug said: This might take a while.

  “That’s our cue to bounce.” Quinn guided a stumbling Annie away so they could dial a Lyft ride.

  Chapter 6

  Once they reached the wedding party's hotel in Jamestown, Annie became very emotional.

  “What’s wrong?” Quinn asked while exiting their rideshare.

  “Nothing.” Annie crumpled her sunhat with clumsy fingers, evading her stare.

  Quinn longed to say goodbye like they’d see each other tomorrow. She couldn’t. Quinn guided her drunk BFF to a bench outside the hotel. “Talk to me.”

  Annie sucked in tiny, wounded breaths. “I’m scared,” she murmured, rubbing a hand over her face. “What if we drift apart?”

  Quinn closed her eyes, nausea spreading through her over the possibility. “We won’t.” By sheer force of will, she wouldn’t let that happen.

  Annie wasn’t convinced, hugging herself. “Like how you and Devon stayed close after college? You guys barely talk now.”

  Quinn didn’t respond. Not much talking happens the few times Devon and I meet up. But she’d rather die before sharing that.

  Annie looked so sad and scared. “You’re the most important person in my life. If I lose you—”

  It was too much. If Quinn heard anymore, she’d break. “Hey.” She grabbed Annie’s plump and tear-stained cheeks so their eyes met. “You and I are a coil spring. It can bend or stretch far apart. But we always come back together.” She and Annie were forever. Quinn had known since college.

  Annie gave a honking laugh. “Cornball!”

  Quinn wiped away tears. “Wis
e cornball.”

  Annie wrapped Quinn in a hug. “Love ya.”

  The reporter squeezed back. “Love ya more.”

  “Love you most!” Annie exclaimed, leading to a weepy giggle fest. For the next hour, the BFFs cracked up over reactions to their social media pics with Seraph earlier. When Annie started drooping over her knees, Quinn helped her inside to her hotel suite.

  Johnny opened the door after one knock, wearing plaid pajamas. Relief became amusement as Annie drunkenly pawed his face. Johnny and Quinn tucked his wife into bed, Annie passing out as soon as her head touched the pillows.

  “How’d she do?” Johnny asked after moving into the hallway with Quinn.

  “Decent,” Quinn admitted. “Annie obeyed when I cut her off.” No need to mention the tattooed douche kissing Annie’s neck. “She’s scared about the move. Be mindful of that.”

  Johnny frowned, digesting the info. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

  “Of course!” Quinn replied happily. They both loved Annie, even if their mindsets differed.

  “Once we settle in Berlin…” Johnny placed a hand on her shoulder. “Our home is your home.”

  Fulsome warmth flushed up Quinn’s body. “Thanks.” Her lower lip quivered. God, she was going to miss these two. Quinn and Johnny hugged for a long while before bidding each other farewell.

  The Uber ride to Massachusetts was filled with reflection and tears over this bittersweet vacation. Quinn then thought of Helena who was still undecided on the Paxton-Brandt exposé's release date. Quinn understood why. With a global conglomerate like Paxton-Brandt, this had to be a kill shot.

  She returned to her parents’ home in Scituate after one in the morning. The lights were dark, meaning everyone was asleep. Seraph was staying in the guesthouse.

  Quinn yawned, going through the side gate to see if Seraph had returned.

  The cottage-shaped guesthouse sat on the far right of a vast yard. Quinn would check in before going to bed.

  She shouldered open the door and shuffled into the bedroom, flicking on the lights.

  “Mikaela—AAAH! GAWWD!” Quinn tripped, falling on her behind.