by Carmen Kern
Hades rested his head against the van window and closed his eyes, diving down into the rush of power, the whispered praise, the awe, the adoration of true belief of the citizens of Necromourn. He didn’t care if he deserved it or not. He hadn’t met a god yet who truly did, but none of them had a problem gobbling it all up, regardless.
All sounds around him ceased. The muffled curses of the prisoners as they were hauled out of the truck. The bot character who sucked up the yakked mess on the ground, sterilizing the area with a neutralizing mist sprayed from a hose pulled out of its stomach compartment. There were no creaks or clanks. No thoughts of the upcoming showdown. Hades swam in the currents of power that welled to overflowing. In his pocket, his bident soaked in the leftovers, the extras, storing it up to be used against the god of death.
It wasn’t until they had loaded their supplies and were bouncing down the road once again that Hades jerked out of his trance, his body stiff, eyes wide. “There’re others. More prayers, but not for me. For Thanatos.”
Kirkus shrugged. “We knew there would be. He commands his characters to worship him. Many of us have been beaten or imprisoned for not bowing down. There are many more of us who would rebel against Thanatos, but they are too weak or too scared. Most of us here have nothing or no one to lose. The others have families or lovers or a thriving business. For them, it’s a hard decision to fight against their creator.”
Wind howled through a broken seal in the van door. The rain continued to pour.
Hades stared at Jethro, who looked back with fire in his eyes. The man hadn’t moved, but he was coiled like a spring.
Hades checked his weapons, sliding them in and out of his holsters, checking magazines. He rolled his small bident back and forth between his hands, as if trying to start a fire. “Let’s make it so they can choose what they want without having to pay with their lives.”
Kirkus grinned, his canine fangs showing. “That’s the general idea.”
Hades thought for a moment. “Thanatos is arrogant, but he’s not dumb. He’ll be expecting me.” He turned toward Jethro. “You think they’re listening in on your radio? Huh?” Hades leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You think he’ll send someone out to see if you and your men are okay? You think he gives a rat’s ass?”
“No doubt Thanatos is expecting something.” Kirkus kicked Jethro’s leg hard enough to make him cry out.
Hades slid his mouth into a wicked grin. “Now we just have to convince our new friend here to sell our Trojan horse to the god of death. How do you think we do that?”
“I have a few suggestions,” Kirkus growled and flashed his fangs. “But just in case he’s stubborn, we’ve got his daughter. Snatched her right out of her bedroom window.” His canine eyes studied the prisoner with an almost scientific fascination. “You’d think a guy so versed in security would have bars on his windows, even on the third floor. I mean, I would.”
Jethro closed his eyes and slammed his head back against the van.
“And here I was looking forward to carving out some hellish designs on his face.” Hades fingered the edge of his bident.
“We could always use a backup plan.”
“I doubt we’ll need it, not by the look on his face.”
“We can find out for sure,” Kirkus retrieved Jethro’s walkie-talkie from the corner of the van. “Here.” He tossed it to Hades.
Hades caught it and held it up to Jethro’s mouth. “Tell Thanatos that you’re bringing me in. You say those words and none other.”
“Your daughter’s safety is on the line,” Kirkus added.
Hades thrust the walkie-talkie closer and pressed the button on the side.
Turns out Hades didn’t need to use his bident on Jethro. He did what he was told and then slumped back into silence.
“Well see if Thanatos bought it.” Hades placed the walkie-talkie on the floor of the van.
“I guess we’ll know if we can drive right into Necromourn without a fight,” Kirkus said.
Hades nodded. After a few moments of silence he said, “Didn’t you say you knew a good dog joke?”
The streets of Necromourn sloped gently down from Corvus Tower toward the serpentine river slithering from one end of the world to the other. The water flowed with polluted rainwater, sewage, corpses, and garbage.
At the start, when Thanatos had drawn the structure of the world, the river ran clear and cold, a source of life for the foliage and the characters who first walked and lived here. But evolution, an ever-growing population, and lack of attention by the god who created it, soon tainted its purity. As the heavy rains pummeled the land, great rivulets formed and flowed, gutters and sewers were filled, and eventually, all made their way to the mighty river.
Near the center of the city, the houses were old, tall, and narrow, tilting things that sagged with age. Rotted wood and damp plaster hung with moisture, and shingles slid down steep roofs as rusted nails loosened their hold. Necromourn wept with sorrow and the pain of old age.
Thanatos made his stand in the oldest of streets, at the first building to emerge from the tip of his pen.
Jethro and his men had failed to check in. There was no response to the urgent calls Kintos had placed. Thanatos had stormed—at his men’s incompetence, at his brother’s betrayal, at the god of the Underworld, and any other slights that came to mind. His anger burst out of him and onto his city. Time had no end. His existence lived in the vicious winds and hammering rain and the cauldron of clouds that couldn’t seem to purge their heavy bellies before they filled again. With his arms outstretched to the heavens, Thanatos called his powers down on his creation.
The storm had chased his characters, his worshipers, back inside their homes and shops and pubs. The soldiers had kept them contained until bolts of lightning struck the ground and funnel clouds swirled over their heads. Only then did the characters break through barricades and the defensive lines of soldiers, screaming and running for shelter from the violent show of nature that flowed from Thanatos.
Kintos pleaded with Thanatos to stop, yelling and even slapping the god’s clenched jaw in desperation, but the god was oblivious to anything other than his rage. Until finally, Kintos said the only three words that could pop the bubble of fury surrounding the god. “They got Hades.”
The skies sunk in as if breathing out a sigh of relief. Rain slowed and stopped. The winds stilled with a deafening suddenness. Thanatos lowered his tired arms. The night calmed. The crackling sounds of burning fires, the sighs of ancient architecture, and boots splashing through sitting water could be heard now that the thunder had quieted.
The god’s attention switched from his inner awareness and focused out on the lonely streets of his city. “They found him?”
“Jethro radioed in. They’ve got Hades.”
Thanatos turned in a slow circuit. “Where are my worshipers?” he asked, voice rippling like an out-of-tune station.
“They sought shelter from the storm, sir. I tried to tell you—”
“Round them up again. Drag them out by their necks if you need to. I need more power.” Thanatos dragged his palms over his shorn head, wiping away the rain. His hands shook as he lowered them.
Kintos looked at the god with hard eyes, accusing eyes. “Sir, if I might say, it may be too late. Our men spotted the van you sent out crossing the border almost twenty minutes ago. They should be here shortly.”
Thanatos flew at his security officer, snatching up the loose skin around his wolf neck. He wanted to kill him, rip apart the body he’d brought into being one line at a time, agonizing over every detail and feathering of wolf fur and the form of muscle along Kintos’s haunches. “You were made for speed and strength. I poured myself into you—you exist because of me.”
The god of death let loose a deranged chuckle, releasing Kintos’s fur. “I can unmake you by the time you take half a breath. Now, go tell the others that we need a revival. One with loud prayers an
d chanting, and maybe some good ol’ fashioned sacrifices. We’ve got those portable altars, make use of them.” The growling of engines and revving motors could be heard, faintly, but growing louder. Thanatos turned toward the sound.
Kintos unveiled his long white fangs. “Yes, sir.” And before Thanatos could turn back around, he was gone, bounding up the street to the squad of men to relay the god’s command. Word went out on radios and in person, and the soldiers regrouped and began the tiresome work of forcing people back out into the streets.
They had only just begun their roundup when a caravan of vehicles turned onto Center Street, the black van in the lead.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Persephone ran with her knife in one hand and the hound’s tooth cradled in the other, turning into certain streets or alleyways, following the direction of the pull. She felt like a wrung-out rag being swept across a bar top by an unseen hand.
The others stomped and splashed through puddles behind her. They were all breathing hard, their mouths puffing steam like raging bulls. They didn’t stop and they didn’t talk, and if it wasn’t for the fact that they were in a strange and dangerous world, trying to save another world, she might have reveled in the adrenaline rushing through her system.
“We passed this place already,” Bob yelled from behind.
The goddess slowed to a jog, looking around.
“We’re heading back to the tower.” Bob caught up to them and pointed down the next block to the exact place they had started out from. “You sure you’re reading it right?”
They all slowed to a stop and caught their breath.
“It’s right, and she’s right.” Hecate studied the hound’s tooth in Persephone’s hand. “We keep going. The pull is stronger than it was. We’re getting close.”
“What if Thanatos has the damn thing?” Bob said. For the one hundredth time, it seemed, Bob wiped at his eyes, trying to clear the rain from his eyelashes. “He could be reeling us in, and we still don’t have the cuffs.”
“You really are a pessimist.” Hecate slapped him on his wet back.
“I keep telling you, I’m a realist. There’s a distinct difference.”
Rain rolled down Persephone’s face, pasting her black hair to her skin, her lashes clumped together as she looked down at the necklace. “We keep going. Flames, it’s getting hotter.” She gave it a slight toss in her hand, and the rain sizzled when it touched the tooth. She looked up at the other two a second before taking off again, her feet moving so fast they didn’t meet the cement.
“Guess we’re going,” Hecate stated and pulled Bob along with her.
They raced this way for two more blocks and came bursting around the corner, narrowly avoiding each other as Persephone came to a stop. She stared at the sidewalk in front of Thanatos’s tower.
Ferret scampered over to her, his tiny hands resting on her boots. He needed a good wringing out but was otherwise intact. “It’s you,” Persephone said and reached down. He sniffed her hand, smelling the metal from her necklace. Chattering away, Ferret pulled at her fingers again and again and finally broke away. He ran down the sidewalk and scurried underneath a city garbage can.
Bob stared. “I can’t believe it.”
Hecate elbowed Bob. “You better thank Kay Te for us when we get back. She’s damn good.”
“What is he doing?” Bob asked, walking toward the garbage can. “Wait, does Ferret have the necklace? Is that how we found him?”
Ferret ducked out from beneath the garbage, ran past Bob, and launched himself at Persephone.
She caught him against her wet chest, blinking hard with surprise. “What’s with you?”
Ferret snatched Persephone’s necklace and then held out another. A twin.
“You found it!” Bob stepped up to pet the critter’s wet fur.
Bob looked down the street and then back the other way. “The rain stopped.”
They looked around and at each other. In the distance, they heard chanting, the panicked cries and screams, and then short bursts from guns. And then silence.
Over the skyline, something rose. Impossibly large and dark and winged. Claws tore at the clouds, ripping them into fine ribbons of dark purple and blue and black. The colors ran like a water painting, leaving long streaks dripping down the sky. And then there he was, body made of bronze, wings glistening under the flashes of sheet lightning.
Bob watched. “Thanatos knows that’s not safe, right? Metal and lightning and water. That’s just an accident waiting to happen.”
Hecate walked slowly over to Bob, her eyes on the creature. “I feel like I’ve said this before but, that would be too easy. Nothing easy ever happens.” She spun around to face Persephone. “There’s a reason Thanatos is showing his god self.”
“Hades,” Persephone whispered. She held Ferret out and asked him, “You want to run or ride?”
Ferret fingered the necklace one last time, dropped it in her hand, and hopped out of Persephone’s arms, landing softly on the sidewalk.
“I guess that—”
“What the—?” Bob jumped back and spun around as Ferret climbed up his back and perched on his shoulder. His long tail curled around Bob’s throat. “Okay, buddy. Just don’t choke me.”
Persephone tucked the necklace in her pocket and pulled the knife from her sheath. Turning to the others, she said, “Ready or not.” And she began to run.
The other two followed. “I won’t have to work out for a month after we get back,” Bob said, his long legs pumping fast to keep up.
Ahead of them, lightning zinged from the sky to the ground. Crack! Gunshots rat-tat-tatted. They ran toward the metal beast with the gleaming skull, fire burning from his sockets and behind his evil grin. Thanatos flexed his wings, the true form of his wings. His body gleamed gold and bronze, all but his black wings and the tiny grotesque souls that peeked out from between the feathers. He descended like a god born from night.
Rebels waited at the mouth of manholes in the downtown core, one behind the other, weapons ready. At the end of the line, in each location, there was one who clutched a detonator. Its signal would be transmitted to a receiver set in strategic points along the sewers, sending a jolt down the wire to a bomb. Those individuals would be the last ones out of the tunnels and the final punctuation to an awfully long story.
Many of them stood in waist- or chest-deep waters, breathing through their mouths or orifices so they wouldn’t gag at the stink. Some thanked the stars there was little light to see what brushed against them as they waited, while others tried to keep themselves from thrashing at the imagined creatures swimming around them. They did their best to still their minds and bodies, weapons held high over their heads, breathing in and out.
Above them, a van door opened.
The caravan of vehicles had peeled off behind the van and the tanks, each taking a different route along the side streets, and blocking off most of the downtown intersections.
Kirkus opened the back door of the van at the same time the other vehicles emptied. The rebels took to the streets on foot, surging toward Thanatos and his throng of soldiers.
Kirkus threw Jethro from the van.
His body seemed to hover above the ground as if he’d learned how to fly, but then he crashed to the ground with a violent thud. Jethro’s face slammed against the cement. His bound hands went limp behind his back. Blood pooled beneath his head. He groaned but lay still.
Thanatos touched down like some deranged angel dripping with metal and stared at Jethro. Talon-like fingers clutched the shaft of his scythe, the blade curved above him like a steel rainbow. He wondered why hate, pure, concentrated hate, couldn’t give him the power he needed. “If only,” he hissed.
Jethro didn’t have Hades, that much was clear. Thanatos’s insides were almost empty; he’d wasted it away on the fury of his storm. But this was still his world, and he would draw from it. “Damn you, Hades,” he whispered fiercely and stampe
d the bottom of his scythe on the ground.
Thanatos stretched his wings to the angry skies. “You think I didn’t know you’d show up this way?” His voice boomed with the lie. “That you’d throw my man to me like some scrap of food?” A blazing light flashed behind his smile. Its brilliance glared off windows and reflected off the slick streets.
From the belly of the van came a voice that crashed like a wave. “I’m flattered.”
Thanatos knew that voice. The street was silent but for the shuffling of boots and distant cries. Rebels continued to file up the street, partially hidden in the shadows of the shops and eateries.
Thanatos glanced over his shoulder at his men, and then turned back, his flaming eyes on the van.
He ground his teeth and shouted, “Why, exactly, are you flattered, Hades?”
The second door swung open. Hades emerged in god form, bident extended. Beneath his feet, the ground opened up to black flame and shadows that formed and grew and deepened beneath the city—they were both of this world and a reflection of another. They were the shades that couldn’t die, who had never been granted death but were no longer truly alive. Their loyalty was to the one who called them from the deepest of earth, from the core of chaos from which all things were born. The shadows swarmed the god of the Underworld, bursting out of the ground, black smoke and fury streaming from him, through him, their dark forms spreading like spilled ink from a bottle.
Hades grinned wickedly. “That you would do all of this for me.” He threw his muscled arms out as if to embrace the whole world, bident pointed at the sky. Hades cut the distance between them and stood a few yards away from Thanatos. He dropped his hands, stamped the end of his bident into the ground, and leaned casually against it. “Everything you’ve done is because of me. Because of an incessant need for revenge. You created a world, a people you could rule over. But you wanted more. You plotted against me, against the other gods, while you hid away, torturing the beings you created. And then you brought that torture to the Overworld. That was your fatal flaw. Well, one of them.”