by C M Thorne
Her power had grown with the death of both Greeks and she reached out across her city with minimal effort. Anywhere the light of the sun touched was open to her, to her mind. Nothing was out of place, however. Nothing to warrant the growing despair inside her. She could feel her family, sense them, see them moving towards the park for the blossoming. All was fine. All was well.
Asuka could not shake the feeling, however, even as they pulled up to the park. She stepped out onto the sidewalk, noticing that the mortals were all leaving, repulsed by the magical workings of her family. A light breeze danced across the pond that the trees surrounded, and she inhaled deeply, attempting to take in the peace of the day. Her eldest half-brother, Takumi Akiyama, waited dressed in a brown suit, looking uncomfortable. His daughters waited at his sides, Naoko to his left dressed in dark clothes and a stone grey coat, and Kimiko, whose power would encourage the blossoming today, to his right. She was stunning is a pale pink long-sleeved, embroidered dress.
Despite the chill in the air, Kimiko looked perfectly content, standing with her long, thick dark hair blowing back around her is flawless, loose curls. As they walked up to them, Asuka noticed that the embroidery work was of roses, sparkling with silver and gold, trailing down from the bodice to the hem, which scooped up revealing her white lace pumps.
They all bowed to Asuka as she walked up with her daughter, flanking them as they walked to the others of their large family. They moved out onto a large footbridge as a unit, Asuka standing in the middle, with her brother and his daughters waiting to the left. Aiko crossed to the other side and stood with her uncle Shinobu and Asuka’s elder half-sister, Umeko.
The earthly deities stood off to her left and the heavenly to her right, as it ever was and ever would be. The others spread out along the sides, waiting as Kimiko and Aiko each took four steps forward onto the bridge. Kimiko lifted her arms, softly whispering in a language that was quite old and now forgotten to mortals. The flowers on the trees shook in the breeze, branches dancing heavily with their buds. A second later Aiko raised her arms and a burst of sunlight shone down as the flowers bloomed. The family applauded, offering traditional words for the blooming of the cherry blossoms.
Asuka smiled and looked out over her family, pausing as the feeling of dread punched her gut and wracked through her body. She turned to look at her niece, Tamiko, whose face was twisted in confusion and perhaps pain. Her wild dark brown hair was piled up on top of her head, and she was wearing a thick scarlet dress and black coat. A shining piece of silver was on her breast and Asuka realized it was not a necklace nor pin, but the top of blade. Dark blood soaked down from the gleaming silver point over her clothes.
Others turned and noticed the scene that had drawn Asuka’s attention, gasps and a single scream ringing out in response. A figure clad in black and shrouded in shadow pulled the blade from Tamiko as she fell over, a brilliant blue and yellow burst of energy rising from her body and exploding outward as her immortal life was extinguished.
Ren and Hiroto, two of Asuka’s brothers, flashed forward from her right over the water, drawing their own swords, though theirs did not glow with the power that could kill a god. The shadowy figure sunk into the ground, melting into darkness and teleporting away. The others flocked over to the fallen Tamiko, though Asuka knew her poor niece was long gone. She was already entering Yomi-no-kuni to kneel before Izanami, the mother of most of Asuka’s siblings.
Her brothers’ voice rose over the breeze whipping through the park, swearing and vowing revenge. The others either knelt next to Tamiko or clung to each other. Asuka, however, stayed where she was, frozen in place, the scents of the blossoming trees whirling around her. She did not weep. She only let her niece’s true name leave her lips, “Otohime.” The wind whipped it away and Asuka bowed her head.
CHAPTER 12: ISTANBUL WAS CONSTANTINOPLE
CARMEN APPEARED IN Istanbul through the dying embers of a fire, in a home that was more a palace than house. She pulled the shadows in close around her so that she would not be noticed by anyone. The mortals of the house were having dinner, not two rooms over. She let herself out of the house, silently slipping through shadows and making her way to the dark red sports car parked in front of three other cars on the bricked driveway. She waved her fingers over the door handle of the car, letting herself in. Her power ignited the engine and she drove off, punching the gas and blowing the iron gates of the property open before they could damage the car. She was on her way to a meeting that would either force her family into action, or at the very least, secure her future.
She drove quickly through the foreign streets, racing to meet her appointment. She had only visited the city two times before, but she knew her way to the Grand Bazar just fine. The expensive car purred and roared under her as she ripped her way through the city. Her anger had been quenched after the meeting with her family, but the hunger still burned in her core. She had quite literally burned through a trail of mortal men and women in the past days, but it did little for her. Many of them had died, overwhelmed with her power. Carmen knew that Carlos would have been enraged by her carelessness, but she doubted that he had recovered from the magma bath yet to find out about it all.
The car died as soon as she parked it, unexpectedly whipping to a stop near her destination and sliding out onto the street in a quick, fluid movement. A Turkish man approached her, arms flying as he yelled. She did not know the language, yet she understood his words when she directed her attention toward him. She glanced back at the car she had left practically sideways in the street and laughed a little. The man’s eyes widened and he launched into another tirade, sounding more angry than before. She put up her right hand half-heartedly and the man’s lips stopped moving. He looked away blankly, mouth caught open and making a strange gurgling sound as if choking. Carmen smiled as she walked past him, callously not watching as he began to bleed from every orifice. He would be dead soon. Screams rang out as she walked into the bazaar.
Despite the late hour, the bazar buzzed with the hum of mortals, hawking this or that, bargaining over prices, and loudly chatting while wandering around. Carmen was sick of it all. She paused, black heels stopping with a loud clack as she closed her eyes and willed the sounds to die down in her ears. It was then that she heard it, a voice. A deep voice, not speaking any of the languages of the country, but something older. Something ancient. She followed the sound of the voice, surprised when a feminine voice answered the distinctly male one. She knew the owner of the male voice, but was unsure about the female, as she wound her way towards the pair.
Carmen found them tucked into a blanket and tapestry stall, thousands of colors swirling around and interwoven. Altan Özkara stood in the middle of the shop next to a set of shelves with folded blankets, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, fine silvery lines striped downward over the expensive fabric. He had a deep red shirt underneath and a silky, charcoal tie. His textured dark hair was cut short, complimenting his full, neatly trimmed beard. He turned his golden eyes to Carmen as she stepped into the stall, and he nodded. She bowed her head in response, eyes trailing over him as she righted herself and noticed the woman behind him. Her jade green eyes flashed with an otherworldly glow as she met Carmen’s. She had the same deep golden brown skin tone as Altan, but her dark hair was wild and curly, cut just above her shoulders. The woman wore a long-sleeved metallic golden dress, which only seemed to accentuate her eyes further.
Her eyes narrowed and she stepped behind the shelves slowly. Carmen felt the woman’s presence disappear as she dematerialized away from them. Inexplicable anger rose in her, and she dug her nails into the cuffs of her red leather jacket, searching for words. She focused on the gorgeous man in front of her, breathing out, “Lovely to see you again, Altan.”
“Indeed,” he smirked and nodded to her, golden eyes trailing over her. She wore a black dress, which had a plunging neck and an asymmetrical handkerchief hem. The hem rose up into a slit to reveal most of the side of
her right thigh, glowing skin smooth and unmarked. The dress had thin straps, but they were hidden by her jacket. She hoped to have an excuse to take the jacket off, see what kind of response she could get out of the god.
“I was curious when I received your invitation, I must admit,” Carmen ran her hand absently over a handwoven blanket. “It has been a long time since word has come from you.”
“Time is a fickle thing,” Altan waved his hand almost dismissively, an action that looked strangely at ease on the man’s rigid frame. Carmen knew him to be constantly observing, evaluating, and scheming. Nothing was casual. Nothing was a mistake. “Time has the tendency to flit us by, does it not?”
“Indeed,” she nodded. “Not all remain with just a grasp of their power in the face of time.”
His lips twitched almost into a smirk. “Not all know how to adapt. To change. To remake themselves.”
She drew in a breath, reminding herself to be careful with him, no matter how she felt about him or her family. Altan could be a powerful ally, but that also meant he was an equally powerful and dangerous enemy. Carmen angled herself to the other side of the shelves, making Altan stepped closer, more to the back of the stall. She now had a quicker line of escape. Her inability to teleport freely was a great hindrance, considering how many other immortals could essentially come and go wherever, whenever they pleased.
She finally spoke again, “Keeping your hold on this place has helped, I am sure.” Carmen looked around the bazaar and people passing by. The Özkara family had worked themselves into the very fabric of the lives of all in this city, in this country and beyond. Before this place was Istanbul, even before it bore the name Constantinople, their reach began seeding this land. They still used their home land far away, but Carmen knew that places of power had always drawn the Özkara where they needed to go.
“So, politics are changing, Carmen,” Altan’s tone switched and started talking business, golden eyes watching the people walking by outside of their stall. “I invited you for a few reasons. Firstly, you interest me, you and your power.” His voice was deep and gravelly, lingering over the last words. He had a deep hunger as she did. He craved her, she knew that now. Even if it was just for her power, it excited her.
“Secondly, your family is fractured and weak.” He looked to her as he spoke and she clenched her jaw, anger rising in her gut. Weakness was unacceptable to her and she loathed to have others point it out. He took a step forward and Carmen forced herself not to move, to appear strong. “Lastly,” he continued his slow movement forward, “my family needs more warriors on its side.” He stopped, now standing less than a foot away from her.
His power radiated about him, kindling the fire inside Carmen. She took a deep breath, trying to meet his eyes and not draw her hungry gaze down his body. She noticed that he had an intoxicatingly heady scent. It was not overwhelming, but as she stood close to him, it was impossible to ignore. Keeping her gaze steady, she stood up as straight as she could, squaring her shoulders and keeping her voice steady, “So what are you proposing?”
“Several things, really,” Altan breathed in deeply as his eyes slipped downward for a moment. “We could be interested in some other members of your family. Of course, assurances of fealty would need to be made.”
“I know most are too afraid,” Carmen held back the disgust in her tone.
Altan nodded, “Yes, I know. They do not interest me.” He reached out unexpectedly and rested his large, hot hand on her right wrist. The fire within her grew and her own skin began to burn. “I want you to join us regardless of your family. It is time you have a mantle worthy of your power and hunger.” He pulled her closer by her wrist, voice low and smoky. “They put you in a cage, Chantico.” He drew her name out as he tilted his head, breath warm against the skin of her neck and her ear.
“They did,” she responded softly, almost out of breath from Altan drawing so near. The fire within her was now unbearable and she realized that she was shining golden red, power flowing out from her skin unrestrained. No one seemed to notice. Altan’s power must have kept them shielded. She unfettered herself with a heavy gasp, reveling in the delicious sensation of letting her power shine.
Altan ran his hand up the sleeve of her jacket, stopping at her shoulder to move his hand under to her burning skin and slip the jacket off, which was starting to melt and singe. “I will offer you a crown,” he whispered deep and huskily in her ear.
With those words, she could not be held back. Carmen’s power burst outward lighting the stall on fire. Altan waved a hand, extinguishing the flames, and stepped up to her, wrapping his arms around her and bringing her with him as he left the bazaar. She could not tell where they were going, as he lowered his mouth to hers, crushing down with heat and hunger. She lost all doubts, giving herself over to his power and her need. She would be his queen.
CHAPTER 13: RETAIL THERAPY
THEA SAT IN her bed, staring up at the painting of the winged woman at the dark water. Her thoughts were all over the place. Dinner the previous night had been confusing and overwhelming. It was clear that her new family was highly political, rife with suspicion, tenuous alliances, and ancient feuds. Her brother, though she was not sure she wanted to call Harry that, was definitely scheming, deviously so. Thea was not sure why Adella wanted him on her side. She seemed to be so straight forward in her dealings, in her intellect. Everything had its use, its purpose. She could not see Harry having any purpose other than sowing dissent and mistrust amongst those who were siding with Adella, however. Perhaps, he was a warrior that Adella could not let their uncle Nigel have.
Nigel. Thea thought about who he could be. If myths were correct, her father had two brothers, Poseidon and Hades. Poseidon seemed less likely to be the malicious sounding Nigel. The god of the underworld and the dead, however, that seemed fitting. She tried to think back to her grade school education. She knew Hades had always been depicted as unhappy with his lot following the overthrowing of the Titans. She wanted to ask about Nigel, but wasn’t sure who to ask. She was no longer sure she could trust Adella, not that she had kept anything from her to her knowledge yet. Harry’s words rang through her mind nonetheless. Was she just a piece on the board, a trophy to show off and inspire more to follow her sister?
She shook her head. Harry was being mischievous, she could feel it. He wanted her to doubt Adella. To doubt all her sister had told her. Thea rolled off the bed and shrugged off her negligee as she walked across the bathroom. She paused a moment to look herself over, deciding that she could not skip a shower. Her wild red hair resembled a nest on top of her head, a product of her restless, tossing night of sleep. She sighed and stepped into the massive shower, turning on the rain shower head, as well as the regular one.
Her skin no longer sparked and sizzled with electric energy, since Diane had taught her how to properly contain her power. She stared at her skin for a moment, waving her hands around a little, still expecting something to happen, before deciding to get to work on her tangled hair. She slowly pulled her hair apart under the falling water, looking around the shower and noticing that the glass bottles in the wall did not have any labels. Thea decided to smell them to see which she would want to use. She had been pretty picky at home about the products she used in her hair, but she doubted she could get any of them here. Plus, she was already in the shower and it was too late to poke around for other products.
The pale red liquid in the first bottle smelled clean and sweet. The pale purple smelled flowery and like warm, lazy summer days. She reached for the shimmery gold one last, inhaling deeply and loving the fragrant clean, but sweet scent. It almost made her hungry.
Thea tipped out a generous amount into her hands and set to working it through her hair. It lathered thickly, running down her body in foamy trails as she massaged her scalp. The water was warm and soothing, steamy up the large shower, filling the space with the mouth-watering scent of the shampoo. Her stomach rumbled and she remembered that she had bar
ely eaten any of the fancy dinner the previous night after her interaction with Harry. She quickly finished up and toweled off, stepping out onto the plush white rug and wiggling her toes. Throwing the towel onto its rack, she padded into the closet.
She rummaged around the drawers until she found fresh underwear, which conformed perfectly to her body as she slipped them on. Thea shook her head, unsure if she would ever become accustomed to the magic that seemed to be integral to her new family’s daily comings and goings. She shrugged into and clasped a nude bra, looking around at the clothes, pulling down a black, ribbed-knit long-sleeved top. She pulled it on and liked how soft it was, as she ran her hands along her arms comfortingly. She threw on a pair of dark wash jeans and black loafers. It was simple, but she did not feel too different than if she was at home.
Thea stopped to look at her wet hair in the mirror. It was pretty wet and she did not know how to do any of the wondrous things that seemed to be possible to her family. Theoretically, possible to her as well. She had worked some kind of power under Diane’s instruction after all, hadn’t she?
Thea closed her eyes and tried to remember how she felt, imagining herself changing. She conjured the image of her that day, skin looking so clear and her hair falling in perfect curls. Her body had dimmed that day as well, divinity hiding itself once more. She remembered the feeling of power and her skin tingled with the memory. She opened her eyes and found herself as she had seen, hair dry and glossy, fiery curls behaving perfectly. The one thing that was out of place was that she was emanating a pale, sunny glow.
Taking a deep breath, she willed her reflection to dim and settle into a natural state. On her exhale, she was surprised and pleased to see herself return to normal. She smiled and spun on her heel, making for the door to her room. She was hoping to find someone other than Harry, or even Adella, unsure of exactly who was still in the house. She headed down the wide hallway to the stairs and went down the stairs to the second floor.