The Pantheon Saga | Book 4 | Gods of Wrath

by Ekeke, C. C.

  That pissed Hugo off. Was she trying to out their relationship again? Anger aside, an intense grip of longing kept him from leaving. He weaved through the crowd, greeting familiar faces while hunting for Spencer. Hugo had to shake his head in disbelief. Him and Spencer? I could say the same about me and Jodie. Hugo ignored the sharp guilt and the pungent alcohol odor, continuing his search.

  He soon found her on a couch full of friends. Spencer looked amazing in her white mesh top with a matching bra and miniskirt, glossy black locks tucked behind her ears.

  She was nuzzling the neck of a sloshed Jen Thomas, whose hand was roaming down Spencer’s skirt.

  “Your new hip tattoo’s so sexy,” J-Tom giggled, flushed and swaying.

  “Thanks,” Spencer purred, visibly blitzed herself. “It’s like Chinese…I think.”

  Some partygoers watched their PDA shamelessly, providing lecherous commentary. But no one was clutching their pearls. Spencer and J-Tom had been openly affectionate since the Mr. Quiet crisis.

  But Hugo knew this was another of Spencer’s games to make him react publicly. And he wouldn’t play. Like Jordana and Abby, Spencer was just a situationship—sometimes a frustrationship. But not playing her games didn’t mean Hugo would leave unsatisfied. He sent a quick text.

  ME: Upstairs in your shower.

  Heading through the crowd for the stairwell, Hugo caught Spencer gasp in delight. “He’s here.”

  J-Tom made a disappointed noise.

  “Jenny…”

  “It’s fine,” J-Tom countered wearily. “Go have fun.”

  Yep, Hugo had gotten himself in a triangle. J-Tom had been surprisingly okay with this open relationship, not even telling Jodie. A guilty lump formed in his throat.

  He still heard the rowdiness below from Spencer’s third-floor bedroom, despite ‘soundproof’ walls. Hugo made a beeline past two walk-in closets for the private bathroom with a ceiling shower. Cascades of heated water spilled down sore muscles.

  Within minutes, approaching footsteps caught Hugo’s ear through the torrent. There were two soft plops of clothing hitting the floor as the new arrival undressed.

  The shower slid open. Hugo turned.

  Spencer stood there bronzed, buxom, and bare. Hugo’s jaw dropped, blood draining from his brain.

  She inspected him up and down with ferocious hunger. “Want company?” she cooed suggestively.

  Hugo grabbed Spencer's waist, pulling her under the torrents and into a wolfish kiss. She responded just as passionately, her tongue tangling with Hugo’s and warm in his mouth. Under the hot shower, he dialed down his hypersensitivity and sank on into Spencer.

  Hours later, Hugo lay sprawled on a king-sized bed. He watched Spencer slumber, wearing a Titan-branded shirt of his several sizes too big on her. She looked so innocent and peaceful curled up against him. Hugo heard the party below dispersing thanks to Spencer’s housekeepers.

  She abruptly came to, staring back with puffy and confused eyes.

  Hugo stroked her thigh in circles, savoring the softness. “Party just ended.”

  Spencer rolled her eyes scornfully and rose from bed. “Whatever.”

  The curtness stung. Hugo looked on as she headed for the liquor cabinet beneath the widescreen mounted on her wall. She found a Jack Daniels bottle and poured herself a glass.

  Hugo frowned. That was Spencer's way of avoiding issues too painful to process. “You alright?”

  Spencer didn’t face him. “No.” The answer was blunt and terse.

  Hugo had to chuckle. “Descriptive.”

  “I’m feeling monosyllabic.” Spencer drained her drink, quickly refilling it.

  Hugo sensed her walling off. He hopped out of bed, crossing the room with three strides.

  “Don’t hide.” Slipping one arm around her waist, he took her glass with the other and placed it on the liquor cabinet. He turned Spencer around by the hips so they were facing. “Talk to me.”

  Spencer glared up at him with pure loathing, standing no taller than his nipples. She disliked how well he could read her.

  Moments later, her eyes fell. “I’m feeling really soft right now,” she mumbled. “A family friend died almost a year ago. And…I’m unraveling.” She melted into Hugo and sighed.

  He wrapped his arms around her. It’s been a year since I gained Titan’s powers. By how she trembled, Hugo knew what Spencer needed. “Wanna show me?”

  He felt her nodding on his chest. “Sure.”

  Hugo guided Spencer back to bed, sitting her on his lap. Her skin against his felt wondrously warm. She rested her head on his shoulder, eyes like twin dark-blue pools watching him. He slipped a hand beneath her shirt, finding purchase on her flat belly. From there he sank into Spencer's psyche with a subset of his psychometry power—memory walking.

  Hugo had told Spencer this was energetic healing he’d learned from Samoa. If Spencer didn’t buy that lie, she’d never say. But her gratitude was always effusive.

  She went limp in his embrace, the bedroom around him vanishing.

  His first memory walk with Spencer at Halloween had been accidental. Her mind had been a nightmarish minefield of untended emotional wounds. After helping Spencer heal from these, Hugo loved journeying through her soul's velvety depths.

  Hugo found himself in a forest clearing encircled by pines. The air tasted crisp, the burnt-orange heavens signaling early evening. At a glance, Hugo recognized the Bishop Peak summit. A black marble plaque with a lit candle sat before him.

  Huh? He turned—and yelped, leaping back.

  Lady Liberty stood there in costume, frozen. Her striking face was a freeze-frame of grief. Sentinel was beside her wearing that drab tactical uniform without the helmet, revealing short blond hair. His handsome Americana features and that ridiculous jaw were in stock-still grief. Surprising Hugo more was seeing a man of pure ice, with glittering black eyes and a slash for a mouth. A black suit or any normal clothing looked odd on December, a retired hero from The Vanguard's Sensational Seven era. A short, wiry man with streaks of silver in his hair and a narrow face resembled an older Whiz Kid, also from the Sensational Seven era. Beside him was an older Mexican woman in a black dress on the thicker side. Tsunami’s enduring beauty was unmistakable.

  “What the fuck?” Hugo recovered from his initial shock. He could only see the memories Spencer allowed him to. But of The Vanguard? This appeared like a genuine memory of a private memorial service. Guilt sat on Hugo's chest for observing something not meant for the public. In the rest of the clearing beyond the remnant of the Sensational Seven were the present-day Vanguard; Seraph in a chaste funeral dress. Vulcan, big and brooding, clutched that hammer like a possessive baby. Wyldcat, in mid-sob, leaned heavily on wild-haired Robbie Rocket who was also distraught. Justice Jones loomed behind the current team, same height as Vulcan. The ex-biker, in an all-black suit with a black bandana, barely held back tears.

  Behind them were former Vanguard members and other heroes, like the UK-based Champions and the cowboy-styled Texas Red from Southern Justice. One woman stood out, a golden-haired beauty staring ahead vacantly.

  Hugo recoiled. Morningstar, who was in jail. Just a memory. He relaxed. A pit formed in his stomach as he looked around. Herogasm’s speculation about a private memorial for Titan after the televised funeral had been accurate. The scene also sharply reminded Hugo of how he’d never truly grieved Titan’s passing. Would he ever?

  Several regular people he didn’t recognize stood farther back. But no sign of Spencer.

  “Bogie.” Her whisper rustled across the clearing.

  Hugo swiveled around with searching eyes. “Where are you?”

  “Here.” Her voice came from behind even the regular people cluster. Hugo weaved around frozen figures, each showing varying sadness.

  Soon, among a group of kids, Hugo found Spencer. She wore a dark plaid skirt and black blouse. A headband sat atop her even bob hairstyle from ninth grade. The short and slim girl beside Spencer wit
h similar features and dark-blue eyes was her younger sister, Rowan. Hugo had met her a few times. Quite a character, liker her older sister. Rowan held a weeping Zelda Ortiz.

  Hugo’s heart crawled up his throat. Spencer knows Zelda? And why would Lady Liberty bring Zelda here…unless…

  It struck Hugo like a gut punch. Zelda’s father was Titan?

  Hugo fought down bald-faced shock, advancing on Spencer. “Why were you at Titan’s private memorial?” he demanded quietly, glancing over his shoulder.

  Spencer’s eyes were red-rimmed from crying. Wind tousled her sleek hair. “Titan and my dad were best friends. He was family.” She gave a sad smile as her voice cracked. “I miss him so much.”

  Hugo heard but couldn’t process. “No kidding.” He’d learned so much about Spencer; the imprisoned mom who hadn’t abandoned her like she’d told everyone. The father she’d convinced after her bat mitzvah to let her live with caretakers as long as she maintained high grades. Then her dad could contribute more to his genetics company. How in fifth grade she’d given a classmate a love letter, only for the girl to spread that around the prep school. The relentless bullying that followed had forced Spencer to change schools and leave Connecticut.

  But learning that Ezra Michelman was Titan’s best friend? Hugo shook his head to clear it, with no success. “Your dad worked for The Vanguard?”

  Spencer hesitated, weighing her next words. “My dad was born normal,” she answered firmly. “A baseline as they’re called. He gave himself powers using science.”

  Hugo opened his mouth but found nothing coherent to say.

  Spencer took his hand, leading him to the heart of the clearing. “Daddy hid his identity from everyone outside the team even after he retired.” When they reached the remnants of the Sensational Seven, she pointed a dainty finger. “There he is.”

  Hugo followed her finger and did a double take, then a triple take.

  She was pointing at the ice-covered December. The surprise jolted Hugo out of Spencer’s memories. He was back on her bed, jaw hanging open. Spencer stirred, blinking rapidly as she woke up.

  Hugo stared at her. “December’s your father?!”

  “Yeah,” she whispered, wiping tears from her cheeks.

  Hugo breathed deeply to sort the many questions stampeding through his brain. Spencer was a legacy, the child of a superhero. She was hiding in plain sight. “Do you have powers?”

  She shook her head. Anger flashed across her bronzed features. “Rowan does. She attends Steinholt Academy for Supers, learning how to be a hero.” Her bitterness was unmistakable. This had to be why the sisters weren’t close.

  Hugo gently placed Spencer beside him so he could calm himself. That explained Dr. Michelman’s vast wealth. Aside from his many real estate investments and job as a world-renowned geneticist, the retired hero surely still received royalties from his tenure as December.

  Another epiphany struck, nearly knocking him off the bed. “Your squad was called ‘the Sensational Six.’ Did you make that name up?”

  Spencer nodded. “Yea.” Her voice was with thick with nostalgia.

  Hugo frowned, questions coming fast and furious. “Do any of them know?”

  Spencer looked offended. “Of course not.”

  “And your mom?” Hugo scratched his chin, recalling a Brazilian pyrokinetic who December had feuded with two decades ago. There had been rumors of a secret romance. That explained Spencer’s half-Brazilian descent. “Kimura, right?”

  She nodded, visibly impressed. “She went legit after I was born, to be a good mother.” She swallowed a sob. “But one day, when I was eight, OSA showed up at our door and arrested her.”

  “Holy shit!” Hugo slumped back against the headrest, his brain sagging under these revelations. Spencer knelt at his side. Worry filled her dark eyes, as if she waited for him to treat her different.

  Hugo pushed away budding questions about Titan. He reached out, caressing her cheek. Spencer melted. “Who else knows about your parents?”

  Spencer timidly poked his chest.

  Hugo’s throat went dry. Of all the people Spencer could’ve told… “Why me?” His voice wavered.

  “I trust you, Bogie.” Spencer glanced away with a half-smile. “A year ago, if someone told me about this?” She gesticulated dramatically between Hugo and herself. “I’d have clawed my eyes out.”

  Hugo both agreed yet didn’t how to take that. “Uh…thanks?”

  “Remember how I’d been numbing myself with drugs?” Spencer continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Getting off on hurting people and being a bitch?” She searched his face. “Until you showed up…”

  Hugo flinched from the praise. “Spence…”

  “The other boys I’ve slept with? I just used them to hide being queer.” Spencer looked famished yet fearful as she straddled Hugo. “With you, I’m not hiding.”

  Hugo gulped. He couldn’t deny the electricity and chemistry here. But was Spencer being honest or a shit disturber? “One. I thought you loved J-Tom,” Hugo remarked as she leaned in with sex-glazed eyes. “Two. Aren’t you worried about upsetting Jordana?”

  “No one asked you to make this a math discussion,” Spencer remarked frostily. She walked her fingers up Hugo’s leg, making him rock-hard. “One. I do love Jenny. But I’m a selfish, scheming bitch. Jen will find a stray dog and waste a whole day finding its owner.”

  “Sounds like a quality human,” Hugo observed dryly.

  “Two. Jenny doesn’t make my legs quiver hours after we’re finished.” She slipped an arm around Hugo’s neck.

  His eyebrows shot up, heat surging through his body.

  An evil smirk played across Spencer’s lips, as if saying Gotcha. “Three, Jodie’s your problem.” She drew Hugo close before he could protest, her mouth hard and hungry.

  Spencer leaned back after a few minutes, leaving him breathless. “Four. You gonna fuck my brains out again or not?” She pulled her shirt off over her head, tossing it aside.

  Staggering lust swamped Hugo’s brain. He flipped Spencer on her back, and sank on into her.

  After they finished, he dressed and kissed her goodbye. The apartment was empty when he left, as if the party had never happened. Spencer’s housekeepers were good.

  Soon Hugo was strolling through downtown, both hands in his pockets. The streets were less chaotic at one in the morning but still flush with bustle, scents, and sounds unique to San Miguel.

  Hugo’s mind was spinning. A walk at normal speed helped process everything. If an exclusive relationship was what he wanted, Hugo had always considered Jordana as girlfriend material.

  Then Spencer had surprised him again. Spencer, December’s daughter.

  And Zelda, Titan’s daughter? Jesus.

  “Maybe,” Hugo muttered. Maybe he could trust Spencer with his secret. He smiled as the idea took root.

  His buzzing cellphone interrupted the bliss. Hugo fished it from his pocket and answered. “Whaddup?” he greeted. “You get my message about Nipomo—”

  “Longshadow’s bleeding to death in my condo,” Quinn choked out. “Help me!”

  Hugo stopped smiling and walking. A deeper listen found Longshadow’s dangerously slow heartbeat in the background. Countless questions buffeted his mind, none which mattered if Longshadow died.

  Hugo smothered his shock and straightened to his full height. “On my way.”

  Chapter 13

  It was like Annie at Mistura again. Except, Quinn didn’t think Therese would survive. The vigilante hadn’t moved since passing out. And the bleeding wouldn’t stop.

  Quinn’s thoughts zigzagging as she pushed more bath towels over Therese’s wounds. Within minutes, the towels were soaked red. Now Therese had stopped breathing.

  “Don’t you die!” Quinn begged, pressing the towels harder. Where the hell is Hugo?

  Urgent knocking made he squeal. “Who—?”

  “Quinn?” Hugo called. “I’d rather not bust your door down.”
<
br />   It took a moment of staring dumbly for Quinn's harried brain to catch up. "Right!" She rose and opened the door.

  Hugo filled the entrance. His eyes widened. “My God. Are you hurt?”

  Quinn glanced down. Red saturated her clothes. She shook her head and stepped aside. “Not mine…Longshadow’s.” Her voice trembled.

  Hugo strode inside, all business. “Where is she?”

  Quinn closed the door, pointing down the hallway where Therese’s body lay. The sight nearly made her vomit.

  Hugo knelt beside Therese. “What happened?”

  Quinn followed him. “I don’t know. She was in here when I got home.” Quinn was too panicked to cry, despite the unreal terror consuming her. “Longshadow, Geist, and the others were casing a Paxton-Brandt facility tonight. Something bad happened. Therese said that…” These words still hadn’t sunk in. “…Geist got killed?”

  Hugo remained surprisingly calm, which Quinn appreciated. He pressed an ear to Therese’s chest. “There’s a pulse,” Hugo announced. “She’s breathing…barely.” He looked up, brown eyes radiating fear that belied his man-sized physique. “But not for long.”

  “She needs a hospital.” This wasn’t just Quinn’s fear speaking. “I don’t care if her identity—”

  Hugo rose, lifting Therese up in his huge arms. She looked lifeless. “I know where to take her.”

  This sounded like a shortcut. “Hugo—” Quinn began angrily.

  “Quinn.” Hugo met her stare with unyielding confidence. “Trust me. Be back soon.” Half a second later, he’d raced off. The door swung back and forth in his wake.

  Minutes stretched on like hours after Hugo’s departure. Quinn was too wired to clean up the bloody towels and splotches. She sat against the wall, waiting for Hugo, hating herself. Why couldn’t she have swallowed her pride to answer Therese’s calls? Quinn knocked her head against the wall, fighting back the tears. She watched the phone beside the soggy towel pile. Over half an hour had passed. Quinn snatched her cell desperately to text him.

  A rush of wind made Quinn flatten herself against the wall.