A Reckoning so Sweet (The Reckoning Book 3) Page 4

  Just when I’m ready to roast him—and he’s ready to lunge for me again—a portal of fire opens behind him, and a strong arm bursts through his chest, grasping his heart. Though it’s gory and I flinch, I’m able to see how black and distorted the man’s heart is. Full of goo, oozing dark metallic liquid.

  Dagon removes his hand and drops the man’s heart, burning the blood off himself with his Devil fire. The man collapses like stone, falling directly on his face.

  My own fire diminishes, and I say, “I had him.”

  Dagon says nothing as he steps over the man, rolling him to his back. “The Mark of the Beast,” he whispers about the numbers. “Fool thought it would keep him safe.”

  “It kept him alive.” The numbers are more metaphorical anyway. If anyone here has the Mark of the Beast, it’s me. On my chest. Smack-dab on a boob. Dagon’s evil father has seen me naked more than he has.

  “But not safe.” Dagon brings his gaze to the hanging woman, who has stopped that terrible thumping. She now hangs completely still, her feet bare under her nightgown. “He got what he deserved.”

  Brow furrowing, I follow his line of sight. The new Dagon hardly ever says stuff like that. I’ve been trying to break him of his habit of sourness and gloom, plus that superiority complex he might’ve gotten from his father. And then I see it.

  There’s no chair near the woman. Nothing at all she could’ve hung herself on, nothing to jump off of.

  The implications make me feel sick. Humanity has never had a spotless record, but the end of the world is bringing out all the crazies, it seems.

  I’m the first out of the basement. I sling my bow across my shoulders and watch as Dagon has to duck his head to climb out of the cellar that belongs in a horror movie. Kind of cute when he has to focus on hunching his shoulders and trying to be small…

  Ick. Someone slap me. I refuse to turn into one of those people. I have the end of the world to deal with. My love life is far down on the list, and it’s going to stay there.

  I break the silence, and try to bury the butterflies in my stomach when he looks at me, “I saw my dad.”

  His deep blue eyes widen. “I thought your dad was dead.”

  “He is.”

  “Then Hades let him escape the Underworld to find you. There’s no way he—”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think Hades authorized it.”

  Dagon moves before me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. So much for avoiding any romantic gestures altogether. “What did he say?”

  “There’s something else Hades is gearing up to fight.” I make a general motion around us. “I think it’s whatever is down there. But why would that matter? Why would fighting whatever is it matter?”

  All he can do is shrug.

  I rub the snake-adorned golden bands on my wrists. If I tell him that I have to call for Athena, he wouldn’t like it one bit. He’s not a fan of the Greek gods, for many reasons. Neither am I, at this point. However, Athena has done nothing but help me. Surely, she wouldn’t refuse me now.

  “We will figure it out,” Dagon adds quietly.

  I nod.

  For now, we wait until the blood rain subsides, and then it’s back to hunting.

  Mike is oddly talkative as he cooks the rabbit. “I’m just saying, if we can catch them alive, I could do a little—” His fingers sway like he’s the middle-aged, male version of Sabrina. “—of this and we could start our own little farm of them.”

  Near him, Eve rolls her eyes. “They are vicious things.” She looks at me. “Didn’t you say you saw one eating a cow?”

  I hold in a chuckle. “That was a goat, Mom. Not a rabbit. A goat. It’d be pretty hard for a rabbit to eat a cow.” As I say it, I realize it must’ve been difficult for the goat as well. Nature is turned on its head.

  Off to the side, where Nat and Penny sit mostly keeping to themselves, I hear Nat say in her broken English, “Cow skin tough.” She makes Penny giggle, and as I watch them cuddle closer, I can’t help but grow envious.

  How can they seem so content when the world is turning to hell in handbasket? I’ve never been to Hell, but I imagine it’s ten times worse than the Underworld, especially if Lucifer is in charge of it. Full of Demons with no shapes and souls that were unfortunately sold. It’d be my resting place, once I bite the bullet. Guns, swords and other various instruments of death might not be able to kill me, but I figure old age will.

  David has the few kids left sitting before him in a half-circle, busying himself with story-telling. This one is about a fat, green ogre and a donkey sidekick. He meets a princess with her own baggage, and…well, everyone who was old enough already knew the story. Deb, with her sheltered, underground life, clearly hasn’t heard or seen the movie. She sits with a hand on her belly, more intent on listening than the kids.

  I try not to see the gauntness in her freckled cheeks, to ignore the way the kids’ clothes get looser with each passing day. And when Night falls, I close my eyes when Nat excuses herself from Penny’s company and wanders to the front of the cave, where she can see out, but where she’s safe from the roaming hordes of Locusts.

  You see, I blame myself for a lot of things that may or may not be my fault. It’s a bad personality trait. Nat’s daily journey to the cave’s entrance, though, is my fault. It was my dumb idea. I don’t know why I thought it’d be possible.

  My eyes fall to Penny. Her shoulders slumped, her stare on the stone ground. The soldier who stood side by side with Aries was also blindsided by his betrayal. She blames herself for the town’s fall, too, along with all the deaths that came from it.

  Dagon has joined in on the story, raising his hand and asking, “But how does the donkey speak?” The children around him hide their smiling mouths in laughter. “It is a simple question,” he adds, confused at the merriment. “Animals cannot talk.”

  I flex my knuckles. I don’t want to keep moping. I need to figure something out.

  The golden band seems to glimmer in the darkness of the cave, reflecting the dim light of the fire. It seems to know what’s coming, what I have to do. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Athena. I hope she still thinks I’m worthy of her aid.

  I recall the first moment I met her, right after I was saved—and I use that term loosely—from Hades by Gabriel. She wanted to see if the rumors about an invincible mortal were true, and so she impaled me and cut my throat. Yes, it hurt, but the scars are completely gone now, and ever since then she’s been mostly polite.

  There’s a regal air about Athena that I like. I couldn’t even be mad at her for attacking me. Something beneath her gilded armor demanded respect. Any chick that fights for justice is a cool chick in my book.

  I sigh.

  I know what I have to do, I just hope Athena will be as helpful as she was when I rescued Dagon from Hades. Gods are a fickle bunch if the stories have any ring of truth in them, and I have to meet the head honcho.

  It should probably go without saying that I hardly get any sleep. I lay awake most of the night, playing with my fingers, staring at the cavern around us. Dagon is probably visiting the world in his sleep while I go over what might happen.

  Zapped by lightning, chained to a rock to have my innards picked out every day, turned to stone…

  After a few hours of sleeplessness, I realize there’s a lot of violence in the Greek stories I learned in junior high English class. A lot. And I’m far from Hercules, Perseus and Odysseus. On the opposite of the spectrum, really. I’m not noble, not a hero with songs sung about me. Do I have the balls to march into Olympus?

  Would Athena even agree to take me there?

  Tired of lying there and not sleeping, I quietly roll to my feet and meander to the front of the cave, stepping around the sleepers. Lucky them. I soon find that Nat hasn’t moved; she still stands, arms crossed, gazing out into the darkness. An eerie stillness, utterly dark, no moon’s light to guide the way. No more floating balls, no more magic. The world is
ugly no matter which way you look.

  Nat frowns. “Thought he be back by now. Gone too long.” Her teeth grind.

  “I know,” I say, kicking a rock at my feet. “I’m sorry. It was a stupid idea.”

  She looks at me, serious as she says, “He volunteer. Do not blame you.” She heaves a heavy sigh, even though the need for her to breathe has never been lower. “I…miss him.”

  “Maybe he’s out there, somewhere. Maybe he found others.” I smile bitterly. “Heck, maybe he’s found us food, shelter and an army to protect us.”

  Nat brings a hand to her face. She’s probably thinking the same thing I am—that the sun got to him. The mere thought hurts, and yet it’s nothing new. Everything lately hurts, and when I think I’ve reached my breaking point, I’m pushed further.

  That’s why I’m done, why I need answers.

  And those Greeks up in Olympus are going to give them to me.

  The next morning, I pull David aside, away from everybody else. We head out of the cave, into the harsh, grey and brown landscape. When the distance is good, I begin to tell him my plan, and to his credit, he waits until it’s all out there before telling me what he thinks of it.

  “That’s fucking stupid.”

  I blink. “Never claimed it was a smart plan, but it’s—”

  “It’s a plan,” he finishes for me. “Better than nothing, I guess. And what am I supposed to tell your lover boy while you’re out playing dress-up?”

  Chuckling, I say, “I’m not going to play dress-up. I’ll have you know I haven’t played Pretty, Pretty Princess since before the apocalypse.”

  “Monopoly’s better, anyway.”

  I resist the urge to slap him for that grievous insult. “Anyway, before you got me rudely off-track—”

  “You got yourself off-track, Lex.”

  “As I was saying, it doesn’t matter what you do with him. He can’t come with me. He’s not, uh, on friendly terms with any of the gods.”

  David’s eyebrows lift. “And you are?”

  “Amicable. Acquaintances. Whatever. I just need you to keep them safe, don’t let any of them take risks.” I pause as I note the exhaustion in his eyes. “Keep giving them water. Dagon can take care of the hunting.”

  With a sigh, my old friend agrees with me. “Fine. Go off and do what you think you have to do, but…there’s only so much I can do, only so much hunting to be done. Deb won’t eat when there’s not enough food to go around…”

  “But the baby,” I say, to which he just shrugs helplessly.

  “None of us can last much longer like this. Don’t think that I’m putting all the pressure on you, but—” He gives me the saddest fist-bump on record, a gesture we haven’t done in, I don’t know, ten years, when people actually did fist-bump. “—all the pressure’s on those thin, tattooed shoulders. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

  Ah, such rousing words.

  Makes me feel like I could take down both Hades and Lucifer, and their armies. Such a great pep-talk.

  I take a step away from my Warlock friend, smile as he scratches his pointed ear—the key signal that he’s uncomfortable. He doesn’t want me to go, but there’s really nowhere else I can go. There’s nothing left on this world I can do, so I have to go off-earth. I mean, I assume Olympus is off-earth, because otherwise I’m sure someone would’ve found it by now.

  Who knows for sure, though? Maybe it really is a kingdom in the clouds.

  Once I’m far enough away to say it dramatically, I say, “Goodbye, David. I’ll be back soon.” I turn and head off without another word, away from the cave, with no bow and no arrows on my back.

  Nailed the exit. If my life was a television show, it would be time for a commercial break, possibly a fade-to-black, in-two-weeks-we’ll-return end of episode preview.

  Wow. Do I really miss me some TV.

  Chapter Three

  I wander aimlessly for a good thirty-ish minutes. It’s not that I don’t know what I have to do, it’s more that I’m nervous to do it. I know—me, nervous? Ridiculous. I never get nervous. Depressed, yes. Anxious, of course. Nostalgic, you bet! But nervous? Not an emotion I’m used to feeling.

  How does one even call a god? Do I just call her name out? If it was that easy, shouldn’t she have shown up every time I said her name?

  I kind of want to throw up.

  Starting to pace the dead field, I practice what I’m going to say. “Athena, take me to Olympus. Athena, please take me to Olympus. I would like to go to Olympus, Athena.” I emphasize different words each time, fiddling with my fingers.

  This is so out of character for me.

  I’m about to say another version of the sentence when I spin on my heels, startled to find that I’m no longer alone.

  The goddess herself stands with her head held high, tilted to the side, studying me. Shiny golden armor covers her body, yellow chainmail hanging from her waist like a short warrior’s skirt. Gilded greaves cling to her legs, her suit of armor more practical than sexualized, as women’s armor usually is in movies and videogames.

  I have to force my eyes up off gilded her chest piece when she says, “We do hear every time you speak our names, Champion. More often than not, we simply choose not to come.”

  “Oh. Good to know.”

  She stands tall, one hand on her jeweled sword’s hilt, waiting. A small smile graces her mouth, her light eyes sparkling. She’s beautiful, majestic—not as drop-dead gorgeous as Aphrodite, but still better looking than most anyone I’ve ever seen. All of the gods I’ve met so far are attractive in their own way; Hades begrudgingly included. I wonder if they’re all like that.

  Hopefully I’ll find out, if my plan works.

  “I need to go to Olympus,” I blurt. In practice I was so much better.

  “It has been many millennia since any mortal stepped foot in Olympus. Why should you be an exception?”

  Okay…I’m definitely not prepared to answer that question. Here goes nothing.

  “I know Hades wants revenge, but there’s something else he’s getting ready for. Something big with a lot of eyes. I need to know what it is, then maybe I’ll be able to use it to stop him.”

  Something passes over Athena before she says, “You’ve felt it, then?”

  I nod. “So has Dagon, and the Vamps.”

  “Dagon’s link to it is because of his father, and the Vampire’s origins are not of this world. They are connected to old magic, as is the thing you speak of.” Athena, for once, looks confused. “Even with your Mark, you should not be able to feel it.”

  All I can do is say, “Well, I did. And I think I saw it, too.”

  “Remarkable. You continue to surprise me.” Athena gives me a short nod. “Very well. I will take you to Olympus, however once we are there, I—”

  “I can take care of myself. All I need is a ride.” I give her my best smile.

  She chuckles lightly. “Then I shall be your ride.” I start laughing myself, because I never imagined her saying that modern phrase of words, but stop the moment she holds out her hands. “This will not be as hard as the journey to the Underworld. The welcome might be worse.”

  I swallow. “That sounds great.” My lack of enthusiasm seeps in my voice, and I’m quick to grab her wrists, shivering as her fingers close around the brace beneath my jacket’s sleeves. I close my eyes, knowing from experience that it’s always better to keep them shut tight.

  Otherwise, you know. The ick factor comes into play.

  Warm tendrils, slithering and alive, envelope me. I visualize them as golden feathers, though the imagery is a little weird and gives me goosebumps. As my skin tingles, I become a strange mixture of excited and weary. I’m tired of the big fight—and it hasn’t even happened yet—and the nine-year-old inside of me is super pumped to go to Olympus.

  And then, again, I grow nervous.

  What if this is a bad idea? What if I’m locked up and can’t get back? What if—

  Athena’s voice breaks into m
y worrying: “Open your eyes, Champion, and view a place mortals have long forgotten about.”

  I’m slow to open them. My breath hitches as I take in everything that’s around me.

  Whatever I was expecting Olympus to be, this isn’t it.

  Breathtaking.

  Green grass, flowering plants, towering trees. Stone hills with plentiful waterfalls whose waters aren’t tainted red. Buildings stand tall, carved in marble, their columns at least three stories high. Little wisps of clouds float through the numerous temples, the sun shining a bit hot but nowhere near as harsh as it was on earth.

  I inhaled its smell, breathing out a sigh. The scent of the flower garden behind us calms me. When was the last time I smelled flowers? Even before the apocalypse, I couldn’t say. Butterflies that I’ve never seen before, with wings the size of my hand, flutter onto the roses, their designs sparkling with glitter dust.

  Statues of, I’m guessing, the gods dot the area, all in ridiculous, over-the-top poses. The one nearest to me must belong to Aries, because he’s flexing his muscles like the self-involved, narcissistic jackass I know he is.

  “Welcome to Mount Olympus, Champion.” Athena turns, heading up the few stairs the temple before us has.

  As I go to follow her, we’re intercepted by a robed man who seems to float upon the ground, intricate wings adorned on his strappy sandals and the brown band around his head. His eyes, though a tad too small, reveal a mask of intelligence on a clean-cut, noble face. He clutches a stone tablet to his chest, which—unlike Aries and Hades—is more akin to a normal, human chest. His thinness suits him, though.

  “Athena, you are aware that each descent into the mortal realm must be chronicled. And yet you…” His voice trails off as Athena steps to the side, revealing to him my presence. His floating ceases, and his feet meet with the ground. “Is that a mortal?”