Chapter 18

 

Three Marked and two Guardians, I thought as I leapt clear of the table and dodged a blow from the Marked in front of me. I had faced more than that and lived to tell the tale.

Of course, I hadn’t been in a hostile temple at the time. But Tridamos’s Marked and Guardians weren’t the strongest of enemies, either. Yes, they had done well in the battle against Humanity Ascendant, but that had been with the rest of us to support them, and fill in for their weak spots. The fact remained that they didn’t have many opportunities to fight, and while I was sure they kept their skills up, there was no substitute for real-world experience. And all I needed to do was stay alive long enough to make it out the front door.

But with Persephone’s threat hanging over their heads, they had a very good incentive to keep that from happening.

The Marked tucked my weapon into her waistband. She smirked. That was it. She was going down first.

Before she could make another move, I grabbed her and pulled her against me, using her as a shield as I turned to face the doorway. That meant turning my back on the Guardian behind the table, but I had already seen what she could do. The other Guardian was the wild card—her and the two remaining Marked.

As I had suspected, no one moved fast enough to stop me from grabbing the Marked. That was what I meant by real-world experience. When all you do is spar against each other, you start learning each other’s styles, and stop seeing your own blind spots. With any luck, I could use that in my favor.

I retrieved my gun. I trained it on the enemies in front of me with one hand, and kept my grip on the Marked with the other, as I walked toward the door.

The other two Marked looked at each other uncertainly. The Guardian started speaking under her breath, but I had spent enough time around Lissa by now to know the difference between a Guardian who was about to attack, and one who was frantically asking her god what she was supposed to do.

With the hand holding the gun, I motioned the Marked in the doorway aside. Their eyes widened. They stepped back.

This was going to be even easier than I had thought. Maybe we hadn’t missed out on much by not getting this temple on our side.

Then my hostage’s skin started rippling and bulging in my grip, and I realized they weren’t looking at me.

That was what I got for letting myself get complacent.

Her clothes ripped, then fell away as her muscles grew and shifted. She fell heavily forward, out of my grip, and her hands transformed into hooves as they hit the floor.

Where the Marked had been seconds ago, now I was staring at a cow, with a few shreds of t-shirt fabric draped over one shoulder. Apparently Tridamos hadn’t entirely moved away from the cow thing.

The transformed Marked turned to face me. She snuffed and snorted, sending shards flying out behind her. Or him now, I supposed. Because that was no cow. I was facing down several hundred pounds of angry bull.

The bull lowered his head and charged.

My last-minute leap to the side was all that saved me from becoming a smear of red paste on the wall. As it was, the bull’s charge still caught me in the side. I avoided getting impaled by his horns, by approximately half an inch, but I was pretty sure I had felt something in my ribcage crack. And my back was one giant undifferentiated mass of pain. Chunks of drywall fell to the floor around me, and I coughed as I breathed in the chalky dust. When I stepped forward, I caught a glimpse of the Mal-sized dent I had left behind.

I shot the bull in the shoulder, then the center of the chest. He screamed in a human voice, and backed up as far as he could—which, in the small room, wasn’t very far.

The Guardian in the doorway called out—and it wasn’t in a request for guidance this time. She stepped into the room, and pulled the other two Marked in behind her, a second before the wall bubbled and stretched to block off the doorway.

Careful not to get between me and the bull, one of the two remaining Marked advanced on me. His weapon might have been a sword in some previous life, but now it was something else entirely. Dozens of jagged growths extended off it at odd angles, and some seemed to grow and change even as I watched. I caught myself staring, and shook my head. Mesmerizing as the blade might be, this wasn’t the time to geek out about weaponry. And my plain old gun would do just fine.

I got off a couple of shots at the two Marked as I moved along the side wall, toward the front where the door had been. None of them landed. The Marked might have been unpracticed, but they were still Marked, with all the speed and agility that implied.

I hit the corner and flattened myself against the front wall. The last Marked sized me up, and reached for a weapon.

I didn’t wait around to find out whether his weapon was as interesting as his companion’s.

Ignoring the other advancing Marked and his mutated sword, I aimed my gun at the bull. But I didn’t fire.

The bull’s pain-maddened eyes rolled as he saw the weapon. He pawed at the ground again.

I didn’t shoot. And I didn’t move.

Only when he began to charge did I make a last-minute dodge to the side. Again, I couldn’t evade the blow completely. I felt something else snap, on my other side this time, which at least made me symmetrical.

The bull kept running. He barreled past me, through the wall the Guardian had grown over the door, and straight out the other side.

I smiled through the pain. There was my exit.

I turned my back on the remaining enemies, and took off running.

Every footfall hurt like someone was shoving twin knives into my ribs. But one of the things I had learned in my year of training was how to keep going through even the worst injuries. The lessons had seemed cruel at the time, but now I was grateful for every minute.

I heard three sets of human footsteps behind me as I ran—like I had suspected, the scared Guardian hadn’t joined them—as well as one furious bull. I didn’t waste time looking over my shoulder to see how fast they were gaining on me. I burst through the door, flew past the reception desk, and emerged into the building’s common hallway.

I ran for the stairs. A second later, I heard their feet on the steps—minus the bull, this time. I held my breath and remained crouched on the stairs, gun poking through the bars of the railing. But I didn’t catch sight of them, and their footsteps grew fainter as I listened.

They were on their way down, to hunt for me on the city streets. But I hadn’t gone for the exit. I had gone up.

Like I said, unpracticed. They didn’t know tricks like that.

As I waited, on the off chance they were more sophisticated than I thought and were trying to fake me out, I took stock. If the attack on their temple had been a sham, no doubt it was the same at the other temples on Ciara’s little tour. Which meant Persephone had turned all of Hades’s allies against him.

That didn’t mean we couldn’t win them back if we tried. If Persephone’s temple hadn’t wanted to give us the chance to make them any counteroffers, that meant she was at least a little afraid we could lure them away from her. But even if we won some of them back, we wouldn’t win them all. And each attempt would be another chance to die, and—assuming they dutifully reported back to Persephone’s temple—another flare sent up to the enemy, letting her know what we were up to.

And then there was the matter of what we could offer them in the first place. Two days ago, we might have been able to tempt them away with the assurance that we would win this conflict, and would have the power to either kick them out of the city or allow them to stay. Now I doubted anyone would believe that. Not with Hades’s temple occupied, and Persephone securing her dominance over the city. If I had been a Marked of Tridamos or Tithonus or whoever else, and a Marked of Hades had come to me and insisted Hades’s temple still had a chance, I would have laughed in their face.

That settled it. Trying to win Hades’s allies back was too great a risk, for too little reward. Which meant this idea was officially a bust.

But my mission wasn’t over yet. I still had one option left.

The option in question was probably going to laugh in my face, too. But it was still worth a try. Because if I won this ally to our side, I won big. We would no longer even be tempted to try to scrounge up a couple of Marked here and there from these tiny temples and try to turn them into an army.

When I had waited long enough to be sure my pursuers weren’t lying in wait, but not so long that they would be on their way back already, I crept down the stairs. I emerged into the bitter cold, and began the long trek to the Bronx.

When I arrived at The Venus Flytrap, the sun was high in the sky, and the pain in my ribs wouldn’t let me draw a full breath. I tried to keep my back straight as I walked inside. If I was going to negotiate with a goddess whose loyalties were ambiguous at best, it wouldn’t help my case if I started off by showing weakness.

The place wasn’t as crowded as it got on Friday and Saturday nights, but apparently there were people out there who thought noon on a weekday was the perfect time to visit a strip club. A few retirees, a couple of college kids, and one disheveled middle-aged man who looked like he had been here since the night before sat staring up at the stage. Without pausing her undulating dance, the woman on stage gave me a curious look. I had seen her around a couple of times—once at Sacred Grounds, and once flinging Ishtar’s power around in the battle against Melinoë—and I was sure she had also recognized me. If she was keeping up with the news, she was probably wondering what I was still doing in the city. I didn’t bother giving her an answering look. Instead, I walked straight up to the burly security guard glowering in the corner. “You know why I’m here.”

The man gave me a slow once-over. He didn’t answer me. Over my shoulder, he gave a signal.

Another guard at the other end of the room nodded. He disappeared behind a door. “Wait here,” the guard in front of me grunted.

I nodded. What else was I going to do, walk back out? I watched the stage for a moment, but seeing skin wasn’t my thing, even if I was impressed by some of the ways the Guardian could bend. Ishtar’s Guardians were the exception to the rule that the Marked were the athletic ones in a temple. Next, I shifted my gaze to the customers, but stopped when one of them turned to give me a nasty glare. I stared down at the floor for a minute, counting all the bottle caps and broken tortilla chips I could see, before looking back up at the security guard, who had kept his eyes on me the entire time.

“So… Happy New Year, I guess,” I said.

He grunted in response.

“Nice weather we’re having.”

“Cold,” he muttered.

I opted not to strain his brain by asking any questions that might have required a complete sentence, and passed the rest of the wait in silence.

Finally, a familiar Marked walked through the inner door. Tamara and I had worked together on several missions over the years. I had saved her life more than once, and she had done the same for me. Once upon a time, I had even considered her something close to a friend.

Then she had double-crossed me, locked me up in this very temple, and left me to die. This was getting to be a pattern with my friendships.

As always, Tamara looked like she had stepped straight off a movie set. The Marked of Ishtar have an aura about them. I’ve never been able to explain it. Everything they do is smooth and graceful; every movement looks carefully choreographed; every battle becomes a cinematic masterpiece—with them in the starring role, of course. She looked at me and raised one perfect eyebrow. “I heard you were exiled.”

“You heard wrong.” I tried not to wince at the pain the simple act of speaking caused. “I’ve got a deal to offer your senior Marked.”

“What makes you think she’d be interested in listening to you?” Tamara smirked. “She told your senior Marked we would wait to see how the conflict shook out. It looks to me like we have our answer.”

I swallowed. “Persephone won’t be willing to offer you what we’re offering.”

“We already heard Ginevra’s offer. We weren’t impressed.”

“Times have changed. And so has the deal.” I gritted my teeth—at the pain or at my own words, I wasn’t sure.

“You’d be better off walking away.” Her eyes flashed a warning.

Message received. This wasn’t a safe place for a Marked of Hades right now. But neither was anywhere else. “Let me talk to the senior Marked.”

“That’s her call, not mine.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped out a message. After a moment, she looked down at the screen and nodded. “She’s willing to meet.”

She started toward the inner door, and looked over her shoulder, clearly expecting me to follow. I shook my head. “If she wants to hear what I have to say, she’ll come out to meet me.” I knew better than to go into a warded room in Ishtar’s temple. I had made that mistake before, and almost hadn’t survived it.

Even Tamara’s sigh sounded elegant. “Fair enough, I suppose. In that case, have a seat and wait.” She waved me toward a table in the corner. “We’ll even have someone bring you free onion rings.”

When the senior Marked slid into the seat across from me, the greasy basket of onion rings was still sitting in front of me, untouched. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against junk food. Grease is one of my favorite food groups. But I couldn’t be certain anything Ishtar’s temple gave me to eat wasn’t poisoned. The senior Marked gave the food a pointed glance; my refusal to eat hadn’t gone unnoticed.

I had never met the woman before, but if I had ever passed her on the street, I would have known her for a Marked of Ishtar instantly. She looked three or four decades older than Tamara, but moved with the same supernatural grace that all Marked of Ishtar shared, and held herself as if she could feel an invisible spotlight shining down on her. After my night on the scratchy carpet of the motel room, listening to the rat scurry around in the bathroom before coming back out to gnaw on the lamp cord, I felt grubbier and more awkward than ever. The dollar-store outfit didn’t help.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marked of Hades,” said the senior Marked. “Although I do wish it were under better circumstances. My name is Isabella.” She extended her hand.

I clasped her hand in mine and gave it a quick shake. “Mal.”

She nodded—whether in recognition or simple politeness, I couldn’t tell. She leaned back in her chair. “I hear you have an offer for me.” Her eyes glinted at me across the table. “It had better be a good one, if you want us to consider backing the losing side in this war.”

I shifted, trying to subtly take a little of the pressure off my ribs. I could already feel them knitting back together, but not quickly enough. “It won’t be the losing side if you and your allies join us against Persephone. She has Hades’s former allies behind her, but I’ve gotten a taste today of just how weak they are.”

“I didn’t ask to hear an inspiring speech. I asked you to explain your offer.”

I swallowed, and thought again of Antarctica. I reached into the pocket of my sweatpants and pulled out a map Ginevra had found in the nightstand drawer back in the motel room. I unfolded it onto the table, and wordlessly pointed to the border we had drawn.

Isabella’s face remained smooth, but I thought I saw her eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “That’s half the city.”

Antarctica, I reminded myself. Ice. Frostbite. Polar bears. Or maybe polar bears only lived at the North Pole. Well, if I could persuade Ishtar to take our offer, I would never have to find out. “It’s yours, if you help us,” I said. “Full sovereignty.”

“A generous offer.” Isabella paused to pop an onion ring into her mouth. “But not generous enough.”

What did she want, a castle and a pony to go along with it? “Right now, Ishtar has a couple of blocks. This is a big step up. What could Persephone be offering you that’s better than this?”

“It’s not about what she’s offering,” Isabella answered. “It’s about who she has behind her. Hades’s former allies aren’t the only ones willing to stand with the goddess of spring. Sobek may not be able to create new Marked, but his Guardians are a formidable force on their own. If he ships even a fraction of his forces here, they could do a great deal of damage.” She ate another onion ring, then licked her fingers clean. She managed to make even that look elegant. “And I’ve heard rumors of an alliance with Ma’at. Nothing more than whispers, for now, but who knows which rumors might turn out to contain a grain of truth? I’ve heard Persephone may even be more friendly with Zeus and his allies than Hades has been in the past. If memory serves, she’s already made a deal with him.” The corners of her mouth turned up in amusement, and I knew she was entirely aware of where I had been yesterday, and where I was supposed to be now. “You’re asking us to take a big risk, going up against that kind of power.”

“Your temple hasn’t shied away from risk in the past. Not so long ago, you freed Melinoë from her prison and let her spread a plague of nightmares through the city, all in the hope of creating a power vacuum that you could step into.” On the map, I tapped the center of the new territory Ginevra and I had outlined for her. “If half the city isn’t enough to get you to take another risk, then what is?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Isabella gave me a close-lipped smile. “We don’t want half. We want the entire city. Shared between us and Hades, of course. We’re not asking for you to pack up and leave. All we want is a full alliance.” Her smile broadened. “Such an agreement would be to your benefit as well as ours. It sounds to me like Hades is a little short on friends these days.”

I kept myself from visibly choking at her offer. Barely. “I don’t think Hades is looking for a Persephone replacement just yet,” I said lightly. “You want my advice? Give the guy a little time. You don’t want to be his rebound.”

“You misunderstand. Hades would be joining our alliance. He would be allowed to keep his temple, of course. And we wouldn’t need to approve his smaller strategic decisions—at least after he’s proven himself. Not much would change for you, as long as your temple didn’t make the transition difficult.”

“Ha,” I said in a monotone. “Funny.”

Isabella’s smile hardened. “You’re the only one who’s laughing.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You don’t want an alliance with Hades. You want him to surrender to you. Without you having to do anything but sit back and eat onion rings.”

“It’s the best offer you’ll get from us,” said Isabella. “And you have nothing to offer anyone else.”

Maybe she was right. But the more I stared at her smirking face, the better Antarctica sounded. Hell, I would swim down there naked if the alternative was signing the temple over to Isabella. I hadn’t risked my life to stop Ishtar’s scheme with Melinoë just to hand us all over to her on a silver platter now.

“Do you need some time to think?” Isabella asked, exaggerating the courtesy in her voice just enough to make the mockery in it plain. “I warn you, this offer won’t stay on the table for long.”

“The answer is no.” I rose from my seat, then picked up the map and ripped it in half. I let the pieces drift to the floor. “Good luck getting anything better from Persephone.”

Isabella chuckled under her breath. “Do you think we’re that desperate? What Persephone has offered us is more than enough for now. The rest of the city will come later. We know how to bide our time.” She snapped her fingers, and a few seconds later, Tamara appeared at her side.

“Escort the Marked of Hades to a comfortable room where she can wait for an escort from Persephone’s temple,” said Isabella, with a gesture toward me. “I’ll get in touch with their senior Marked and tell her we’re ready to accept their deal.”

I reached for my gun. Around the room, I saw half a dozen people do the same. The two security guards, three more Marked who had positioned themselves around the room while I was talking to Isabella, and even one of the college-aged customers, who apparently wasn’t a customer at all.

I let my hand fall to my side.

Tamara held out her hand. “Your weapon.”

I drew the gun. For an instant, I considered going ahead and shooting her, and maybe Isabella for good measure. But I thought about everyone waiting in that motel room, and what their odds of survival would look like if they suddenly found themselves with one Marked to defend them instead of two. I handed Tamara the gun, and added an anatomically improbable suggestion to go along with it.

That earned a smile of respect from Tamara, quickly suppressed. “This way,” she said, placing a hand on the small of my back and leading me forward.

I shook her off, but didn’t try to run. I followed her through the door into the back of the temple, where I had sworn I would never go again. I felt, rather than saw, Isabella’s amused smile as the door closed behind me.