The Pantheon Saga Books 1-3: A Superhero Boxset

by C. C. Ekeke

  “Thank God!” Wale exclaimed, rushing up.

  Hugo glanced at Jodie, then his friends. “Something wrong?”

  Grace, her hair in crazy braid twists, pointed to Groban lying down wincing as JT stretched him.

  “Groban pulled his hamstring,” Karin explained.

  “Badly,” Marin added.

  “Please sub in!” both Stanleys begged simultaneously, startling Jodie.

  Hugo definitely wanted to perform, but with no preparation? “I don’t know the routines.”

  Grace scoffed at the challenge. “I can show you in fifteen minutes. They're easy.”

  But that would leave Jordana alone.

  Wale, ever intense, grabbed Hugo’s shoulders in desperation. “We need you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Jordana murmured. “And I can watch you dance again.” She sounded excited.

  With rock-solid confidence, Hugo turned to his friends. “Let’s do it.” That received unanimous cheers.

  “Saving the day again, Bogota.” Jodie slapped his butt playfully.

  Grace was right. The routine was easy, even the twisty sequences. Hugo knew he could perform them after less than five minutes. By the time the Fab Phenoms were up, inside SLO 805 was packed to the rafters. Jodie stood in the front of the crowd.

  The competition pitted eight crews against each other in three elimination rounds. Judges and crowd reactions decided the winners. Fab Phenoms fought the Lompoc Lyons in Round One. At first, Hugo got a bit nervous. Within minutes of falling in sync with the Phenoms, enslaved to the thudding trip-hop beat and the crowd's roar, Hugo was at home. He especially nailed any freestyling as the groups responded to each other’s improvised dance sets.

  The Fab Phenoms beat the Lompoc Lyons overwhelmingly. Same with the next crew, the Hot Boys. Hugo was exhilarated. Jodie screamed approval from the crowd. Wale, Grace, and the others were bouncing off the walls to make the final round versus some LA crew called Freeway Flow.

  Their dance-off went long. And despite the god-awful name, Freeway Flow narrowly beat the Phenoms. Grace and the Stanleys were disappointed. Hugo was just happy to perform.

  Surprisingly, Wale was okay with second place. “We showed everyone what the Phenoms can do,” he rallied the group. “There will be more competitions to win!”

  The group raucously agreed.

  Grace’s mood improved in short order. She hugged everyone in the group, giving Hugo the longest and fiercest embrace. Thank you, she mouthed.

  Hugo winked, his heart overflowing.

  Grace then addressed anyone in earshot. “We got SLO 805 another few hours. Dance party?” That drew thunderous approval.

  “What the…is she serious?” Jodie exclaimed after Hugo found her in the crowd. “I’ve been trying to get into her dance parties for a minute.”

  Hugo reached out, fingers grazing against her cheek. She melted. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Jordana gave him a bedroomy smile. “Me too.” She stood on her tiptoes.

  Hugo met her halfway with a passionate kiss. For the next hour, Hugo grooved with Jordana while friends and other partiers danced around them. Jesus, Jodie could move and seduce. Those hips, the want in her eyes. If they weren’t in a crowd right now…

  Later, as Jordana grinded her backside against his frontside, Hugo somehow managed to speak with one of Freeway Flow’s dancers. Jackson Roggio was eighteen, with short black hair and a wiry build. His charisma was magnetic as he discussed taking their talents beyond dance competitions.

  “Worth a shot,” Jackson shouted over the music. “You and that Grace girl are super talented.”

  “He’s right, Bogota,” Jordana agreed, grinding away on him.

  Hugo had never considered a dance career. And with his superhero duties, that might not work. But with tonight flowing with energy and love, Hugo didn’t shut Jackson down. “I’ll consider it, when more blood is flowing to my brain.” Both boys guffawed.

  Outside was dark and starry when Jordana drove him home. They stayed in her car awhile, hormones taking over, kissing and groping, finishing two music albums.

  “Take me inside,” Jodie whispered, nuzzling his neck. “Do your worst.”

  Yes! It dumbfounded Hugo how much he craved her right now.

  Angry buzzing interrupted his answer. The work cellphone in his pocket. “Errgh.” He reluctantly pulled away and produced the device. The caller ID jolted alarm through him.

  Dammit. “I got an errand for my mom. Rain check?”

  Displeasure fluttered briefly across Jordana’s face, something Hugo would have to get used to as a superhero. She recovered quickly, her smile full with mischief. “I’ll allow it.”

  Hugo laughed. After another kiss, he hopped out of the car. “I’ll cash that check soon.”

  Jordana’s gaze scorched down between his legs. “You better.”

  Once she’d driven away, Hugo’s smile vanished. Time to go to work. He entered his empty house, all business when making a call. “Hey, Geist.”

  Chapter 44

  Greyson’s screams echoed off walls, Tigre’s claw slowly puncturing his belly. Metallico held him fast, preventing any escape from the agony. Frostknife and Radiant watched in grim pleasure. Carga and Bosca couldn’t watch, ashamed and cowardly.

  I’m going to die, Greyson realized, consumed by mind-blowing anguish.

  An eruption blasted chunks of wall and dust throughout the chamber, startling everyone. Tigre and his lackeys whirled around for an attack. Greyson sagged in Metallico’s grip as Tigre removed his claws. But the stabbing pain and broken ribs intensified.

  A lone figure emerged from the dirty exhausts like a bronzed god of war, his body and armor covered in blood not his own.

  Greyson tensed while everyone else relaxed.

  “Solomon?” Tigre wasn’t pleased. “You’re supposed to deal with House Bowen’s army outside the city.”

  Solomon Shen studied the chamber, stern-faced. His eyes lingered on Greyson. “Already handled.” He noticed the golden sphere holding his sister. All semblance of poise broke.

  “Carolina…” Solomon sprinted forward. This mountain of a man pressed his face up against the sphere. “Caro. Its Sol! Wake up, carino!”

  Solomon slammed a fist on the sphere, again and again, each strike creating more cracks until it finally burst. Caroline slid out, covered in golden goo. Solomon crouched over his sister as she coughed back to life. Greyson sighed in wounded relief.

  “We just found her.” Frostknife knelt beside Solomon, her words wrapped in a cloak of concern. “House Bowen weaponized her to destroy Summerhill.” She gesticulated at the Bowen family’s corpses strewn across the room. “They almost did the same to AmeriForce’s cities.”

  Tigre, also faking concern, pointed to Greyson. “Greyson tried to kill her.” He gave Bosca a pointed look.

  The bark-skinned super winced and spoke. “We thwarted him in time.”

  These so-called heroes’ corruption took Greyson’s breath away.

  Solomon lay his sister down and stood. His expression was unreadable. “Is that true?”

  Greyson shook his head as best as possible in a chokehold. “No!” Pain from his injuries and adrenaline were the only things keeping him conscious.

  Tigre’s face twisted. “Don't believe him, Solomon,” he growled. “The Statesider almost killed you in Dourado’s gladiator pits. Now he targets your only family.” Again, no native Amaranthines protested this.

  Solomon nodded in acceptance. “I’ll finish him, yea.”

  Tigre motioned to Metallico to release Greyson. “Do it.”

  Suddenly, Greyson could breathe. He sank to all fours, midsection ablaze. Swaying and struggling to raise his head, Greyson saw two Solomons.

  “Okay,” Solomon grunted.

  Greyson forced himself not to flinch as the Amaranthine cocked a fist and swung…

  …striking Metallico with a solid clang. The metal-skinned super went flying.

  Solomo
n then hurtled at Bosca before he could react, punching a hole through his bark-covered chest. A backhand spun Carga three times. She fell, out cold.

  Tigre, Frostknife, and Radiant looked on in horror while Greyson’s gratitude soared.

  “No!” Tigre gripped his fluffy hair.

  “Yeah, Sol’s with me.” Greyson struggled back up. Fire scorched his spine, dropping him to a knee. Opening a private comm channel between himself, Solomon, and Connie had paid off. Finding Carolina had been unexpected. But AmeriForce wanting her dead only solidified Solomon’s allegiance.

  Solomon hoisted Frostknife up by the throat. “I heard everything you told Greyson. Even using Fastball to kill him. You sick—AH!” He tossed Frostknife away as she partially froze his forearm. Solomon shook his arm to regain feeling before Radiant rocketed forward, tackling him up toward the ceiling.

  Frostknife popped up. “Kill them and the girl!” she raged, moving furiously toward Carolina.

  Tigre lunged for Greyson, who panicked. He was too injured for prolonged combat. And Metallico had recovered, stomping forward like an iron bull.

  Only one way to protect himself and Carolina. Scrambling across the chamber, he threw himself over her limp body and tapped into his power. The effort stabbed worse than Tigre’s claws. Somehow, he fought through dizzying pain, tapping deeper. If not, he and Carolina were dead. At first, nothing happened. Tigre and Metallico were almost on top of him. Greyson kept digging until a pale glow reflected around him.

  Tigre stopped, but not Metallico. “Why are you glowing?” he demanded, advancing.

  “I’m…concentrating.” Greyson looked to the ceilings. “Solomon…!”

  The man known as Skylord punted Radiant away, the loud crack signaling a severed spine. He swooped down, snatching Carolina up and soared back to the ceiling at breakneck speed.

  Greyson smiled knowing they were safe. His intensifying glow revealed fear on Tigre’s and Frostknife’s faces. They bolted to safety. Metallico still didn’t understand. Not until Greyson discharged a shockwave of power in all directions, scorching the room in white-hot radiance.

  Moments later, the light faded before blackened walls, charbroiled machinery spurting sparks. Thick and dirty smoke blanketed the entire chamber, fouling the air. Greyson wrinkled his nose.

  The sphere once holding Carolina littered the floor in shards amid the ashes of House Bowen’s corpses. Greyson almost succumbed to the lull of sleep, clutching his screaming midsection. Radiant, or what remained of his scorched carcass, lay in a folded-up heap in front of Greyson. Partially melted silver fragments scattered behind him. It took him a few horrified seconds to recognize Metallico’s remains.

  By Frostknife’s and Tigre’s motionless bodies, they hadn’t reached the exit fast enough. However, Carga’s body was missing.

  Greyson pushed upright again, groaning from the effort. Blood dribbled from the stinging puncture in his belly. Worry surmounted his agony. “Solomon? Carolina?” he called out, cradling his wounds.

  “We're fine.” A silhouette floated down. When Solomon stepped through curtains of smoke carrying his sister, Greyson was overjoyed.

  Carolina began to stir. “Sol?” she murmured.

  Solomon knelt down to get his sister back on her feet. “Hey, Caro!”

  Carolina studied her brother, unsure if he was real. “You’re alive.” She threw her arms around him.

  Solomon gladly returned her affection. “I kept fighting until I found you.” His eyes sparkled with tears. “Now we’re free, Caro. Amaranthine supers are free.”

  Greyson’s vision grew watery. Not from pain. He thought of his sister, Sara, if she could see him now. Greyson smothered that grief, watching the Shen reunion.

  Carolina pulled away, noticing Greyson for the first time. “Who’s that?”

  Solomon followed her gaze, smiling. “My friend, Greyson, who saved your life—”

  “Traitor!” The shriek came from behind him. Frostknife lunged headlong, wielding a long ice spear to run both Solomon and Carolina through.

  Greyson flicked a wrist, altering the spear’s gravity as Frostknife charged at the Shens.

  The weapon abruptly increased in weight, swinging downward. Frostknife cried and dropped to her knees, finding her own spear lodged between her breasts.

  Solomon gaped at the woman. Carolina clung to her older brother, shivering.

  Solomon shook off the surprise. Placing Carolina aside, he advanced on Frostknife angrily.

  Greyson gripped Solomon’s shoulder, holding him in place. Then he limped forward, every step torture. Greyson was ready to pass out. Yet something fueled Greyson beyond the fumes he was running on. Seeing AmeriForce defeated. Exposing AmeriForce for almost killing a child…and him. For these monsters claiming to be heroes, Greyson had only ungovernable hatred.

  Even as Frostknife’s lifeblood spilled out around the spear in syrupy drops, she remained defiant. “Small-minded idiot,” she panted at Greyson. “We…were so close… You ruined…everything.”

  Greyson smiled down at her. “For the record, my comm channel was turned on so your entire army heard what AmeriForce planned for me and Carolina.”

  Frostknife’s face turned paler than before. “You tricked us.”

  Greyson glanced over his shoulder at Solomon. “Think I’d…face AmeriForce with truth, justice, and my plucky little self?” He clutched his skull from the wave of nausea rushing through. “I wanted AmeriForce's crimes to be judged by Amarantha. Then you almost kill Carolina…”

  Hate dripped from Frostknife’s face like the blood from her chest. “So here we are,” she whispered.

  “Here we are,” Greyson repeated. Part of him pitied this woman and her now-dead teammates. Regardless, this confirmed what Greyson had discovered back in St. Louis. “So-called heroes like you sell the world a bag of lies about doing good,” he spat, “when all you want is power no matter who dies.” He trembled. Fuck AmeriForce.

  Frostknife grabbed hold of the ice spear lodged in her chest, struggling to pull it out. “AmeriForce would’ve made this island a paradise…for supers.” Her whisper-breaths grew more labored than Greyson’s. “What we sacrificed to survive…defeat the royals? We had no choice.”

  “There’s always a choice.” Greyson seized Frostknife’s spear. “You just chose wrong.”

  He shoved the weapon in until the tip punched through her shoulder blades, spurting out blood. Frostknife arched back, arms splaying out involuntarily. Her blue eyes dulled, and she sagged onto her side.

  Greyson’s body gave out, dropping in a heap. “I don’t feel well.” The world swam and dimmed.

  He was somewhat aware of Solomon approaching. “Carolina, help me with him.”

  Suddenly, Greyson was on his feet thanks to Solomon and Carolina. His vision blurred at the edges. The need to sleep felt so strong. But he didn’t want to go, focusing on anything he could to keep awake. “Thanks…” Greyson murmured, sounding fuzzy. “Not sure how much I have left.”

  “Do not give up,” Solomon ordered. “Constance is waiting.”

  So is Lauren… a voice stated. Greyson ignored the reverie, realizing that they were outside now under brilliant sunshine. Curls of smoke were rising from all around Merenwjick. But the AmeriForce flag was raised while the House Bowen flag with a King Crab had been discarded.

  Greyson took full stock of his surroundings. A balcony, with cheers booming from below. Solomon and his sister raised their hands in front of him to the masses below. Bodies pressed against him, offering eager congrats in English or Amaranthine. Greyson barely recognized anyone past the wall of queasiness and throbbing pain in his abdomen. He was close to vomiting from all the rapid motion around him.

  “Hirsch?” Her voice was like sweet nectar. Connie dropped behind Greyson, full of worry and stained in blood. But she looked unharmed. “Oh God.” She kissed Greyson and gingerly hugged him.

  “I’m fine. Sorta,” Greyson lied. Vertigo nearly pulled him under aga
in. “Okay, not really.” Connie helped him up and guided him to a makeshift hospital a few rooms away.

  Several resistance soldiers lay in beds, some worse off than Greyson. He refused to associate this rebellion as AmeriForce’s any longer. A sweaty doctor soon came running. His nervous carriage told Greyson this was a House Bowen doctor pre-rebellion. The roar from outside grew louder by the minute.

  “I take it by the cheering we won?” Greyson noted as the doctor stitched up his puncture wound.

  Connie nodded happily. “Merenwjick is ours. House Fourmon is on the run.” She moved closer, her smile devious. “AmeriForce’s top Amaranthine lieutenants heard everything, like you planned.”

  Greyson matched her smile, light and triumphant despite the pain. “Like we planned.” He stiffened, realizing one of the AmeriForce originals was missing. “Carga—”

  “Dead,” Connie interjected, waving away the concern. “Rodrigo killed the bitch himself.”

  Greyson hadn’t expected that. “Oh.” He cringed. His doctor had begun setting his fractured ribs.

  Connie watched him, growing somber. “I’m sorry about what you had to do.”

  Greyson felt no remorse. “The AmeriForce originals were too far gone.”

  Connie sighed. “I know. Thank you for trusting me.”

  Greyson stroked her cheek. “We’re a team. Always.” He gave her a full and deep kiss, much to his doctor’s chagrin. Greyson ignored him and kept kissing Connie. When he pulled back, Lauren watched from the other side of the makeshift hospital. Greyson almost shrank from piercing shame.

  A hallucination, he remembered and calmed. But Ghost-Lauren harbored no jealousy. Only a message. “There’s still work to do, Grey,” the hallucination declared in breathy whispers.

  Chapter 45

  Awareness returned in slow trickles, a faucet that wouldn’t stop leaking.

  Drip by drip, Quinn came back to the waking world. Both arms were tied to her sides. Whirring noises grew nearer and louder. Quinn then noticed how swollen her throat was from Damián Hazard’s grip. Simple breaths were a chore. As her vision cleared, Quinn found herself seated on dusty earth and tied to some pillar. She turned her head.