Undead Gods, page 37
He gave her a funny smile. “The talisman will do its job and we will pursue the restoration of our homes.”
“You still won’t be… how you should be, though? Because of the deal gone wrong.”
He emitted a long sigh, chin tilting up to the ceiling. “Correct.”
Elysia gathered her frustration, releasing it back at him as logic. “What you’re offering me is an impossible quest for an undefined talisman. A talisman that won’t fully resolve your impotency, or guarantee we can restore our homes, which effectively makes this the worst proposition I’ve ever heard.” She threw him the most flat, unimpressed look she could muster.
“Would you prefer I lie to you? Tell you that I’ll be able to restore your land from rot to vitality in the blink of an eye? Trick you into taking my deal only to leave you feeling betrayed?”
“No—”
“I am not going to begin this relationship with lies. I have told you all I can within the constraints set by the fates. Is there more I wish I could tell you? Yes, of course, but for now the talisman is where we must start. Whether you come to hate me or trust me by the end of this, please know this was my only choice. You will understand once you find the talisman.” The god of the undead leveled her with a stare that saw right through to her quaking heart.
“And this all goes back to the deal that went wrong. The reckless deal you made that is now slowly killing my kingdom and your realm.” She held his stare, her mouth drawn tight. She knew it was unkind, but she needed to hear him acknowledge why they were all in this mess. A mess that he was now expecting her to clean up.
His eyes darkened. “Yes, Ms. Parker, because of my error. Trust me when I say that I have spent every day regretting that deal for a myriad of reasons, but one above all the others.”
“And what would that be?”
Blue eyes blazed into hers. “A conversation for another day. Do we have a deal?”
Elysia closed her eyes, disappointment crashing over her. The sorrow burrowing through her was not just for herself, but for all the Kavians who would not be getting their magic back.
Not tonight. Possibly not ever.
She knew an unachievable deal when she heard one, and she was wise enough to know when to walk away. She exhaled a small, bitter sound. “It sounds like we’re both just going to have to live with our regrets then. Then again, I’ll probably be seeing you soon enough unless I leave Kava.” Elysia looked around as if the dead were suddenly going to appear and she could ask them what it was like to die.
“You shouldn’t speak of such things.”
Elysia’s eyes flicked to his, noting how terse he sounded—as if it angered him to hear her speak so flippantly about her own death. “I didn’t think someone like yourself would be so precious about death. Happens to the best of us after all, doesn’t it?”
There wasn’t a shred of humor to be found on his face. “While the timing of mortals’ deaths is out of my control, I am deeply aware of the undue trauma of an early death upon a soul.”
Elysia softened at his response and found herself wishing she could keep talking to the pale, blue-eyed god in front of her. He appeared harsh, maybe a little compulsive or even obsessive, but there was a depth to him she found alluring. She got the feeling he was someone who would be happy to muse and ponder the mysteries long into the night so long as his day’s work was done.
“Since we’re being honest, I think I might like you. I feel like you’re someone I could talk to, and that’s a rare thing for someone like me. But my answer remains the same—no deal.” She studied him openly now, feeling oddly at ease with her disclosure.
The god of the dead wore a practiced impassive face. “I will give you two weeks to change your mind. Return when you are ready and give your final answer. Simply call my name three times.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Her words were matter-of-fact. His offer was nothing more than a wild goose chase without even the lure of a golden prize.
She stood to leave, but paused, giving him one last chance to give her a better deal. “There is an entire kingdom decaying and its people alongside it. People who are sick and people who are being hunted for being unlucky enough to be cursed with some broken remnant of magic. And your best offer is a quest for a talisman?” She stared at him beseechingly.
The fires in his eyes cooled and his shoulders drew back. “My name is Aidan. Until your return.” He touched his fingers to his lips, and then cupped the back of her neck, pressing his fingers firmly behind her ear.
There was a small twinge of heat upon her skin, and then she was gone. Ripped from the land of the dead with nothing to show for her efforts.
She had failed. Kava would remain exactly as it was—hopeless.
Chapter 34
Elysia’s eyes flew open, and a cold sweat coated her body. Her fingers grasped the bedding reflexively. Checking and testing. Making sure this was real.
She’d made it back. And she was in her room. She patted a hand down her body. In one piece at that.
Beatriz sat slumped and sound asleep in a chair with her feet propped up. Drool trickled down the corner of her mouth, and one hand was half shoved into the waistline of her pants. Jessa lay stretched out on the floor with an arm folded behind her head.
Footsteps sounded outside the door. Elysia was standing with her knife drawn before the door so much as cracked.
The Doorman entered with an amused smile. “Charming, aren’t you?”
Elysia’s shoulders slid back down, and she tucked the dagger away. “Is it odd that I’m almost glad to see you?”
The Doorman wrapped her fingers around a mug and nudged Jessa with the toe of her pointed leather boot, but Jessa’s mouth just opened wider on a soft snore. “Between these two, you would have been dead had anyone else snuck in here.” The Doorman glanced up. “Also, did you know there’s a man sitting on your roof? Looks an awful lot like a certain prince, but what do I know about these things...”
Elysia groaned and grabbed a pillow off her bed, launching it at her sister’s face where it hit its target with a satisfying smack.
Beatriz startled awake with a garbled sound and promptly snatched a brass candlestick holder from Elysia’s nightstand, brandishing it violently through the air.
The Doorman stared at this as if it were the most adorable sight. “You’re getting much faster, my love. Well done.”
Elysia looked between the two of them incredulously. Seriously? “She was asleep with drool running down her face. As you just said, I’m fairly certain she would’ve been dead if anyone had broken in here. That I would have been dead.”
The Doorman frowned. “Positive reinforcement is a much better tool than verbal flagellation, Elysia. Sometimes I think you two were raised by demons the way you respond.”
Elysia rubbed her eyes, mumbling to herself, “The Doorman. The Doorman is telling me my damages. Perfect.”
The bedroom window popped open, and the prince stuck his head in from where he had been apparently sitting on the ledge and surveilling the situation.
“They really are snarly little beasts sometimes. I’ve tried training her, but…” The prince shrugged as if it were too great a burden for even him to bear.
Elysia grabbed the nearest tome from her desk and chucked it with all the force she could gather straight at his chest. The book hit his chest with a thump, both his arms reflexively flapping and letting go of the building.
Elysia watched him fall straight back and down out the window. Good riddance. A muffled groan echoed up to the flat. She turned and faced the room again. “He thinks now is the time to find his sense of humor again? Ugh.”
Jessa sat up with a yawn. “What the fuck was that noise?”
“Elysia’s bound and determined to assassinate the prince. I tried so hard to stop her...” The Doorman fanned her fingers and examined her nails.
Still off kilter from her travels, Elysia’s temper cracked. “I swear to the undead fucking gods if you all don’t get your shit together—do you think this is a carnival? A time for laughs and half-assed measures? I go to the realm of the dead and you’re taking a nap? Are you kidding me right now?”
Elysia marched over to the window, slamming it shut and locking it this time. “You couldn’t even manage to lock a window, Beatriz? Honestly, it’s like you wanted something to go wrong.”
Jessa cleared her throat and cut in before the Parkers could scratch and hiss away the time. “If we could redirect our attention to Elysia visiting a death god?”
All the girls fell quiet, and Elysia deflated, the familiar restriction of shame and fear tightening within her. She’d failed them. She’d failed all of them. Her beloved home with its beautiful, stubbornly colorful doors and all its people. Not that they’d ever know. But she had.
“Do you think we could make some tea?” Disappointment softened all of their faces, and Elysia swallowed against the sinking pit in her stomach.
Jessa hesitated as she walked past before finally wordlessly clapping a hand on Elysia’s shoulder in silent solidarity. Elysia looked down at the floor, feeling her face tense against tears that suddenly wanted to flow. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. It had been a long shot and yet she clearly had been banking on it more than she realized to feel this bleak and miserable now.
A few minutes later, they were all curled up like cats amongst the couch, pillows, and blankets of Elysia’s living room. Scents of chamomile and lavender curled into the air. She was glad she’d remembered to snag some tea off of Lynd because tonight called for a little warmth and was well worth the indulgence.
Beatriz plunked down her mug, seemingly tired of waiting. She’d been making faces for the past five minutes while she sipped her tea and apparently had hit her limit of pretending to like the taste of dead plants.
“So, death god, undead god of the dead. What’re we workin’ with? Negotiations? A deal? Hit me.” She rubbed her hands together.
Elysia took in the razor glint of excitement and something akin to lust shining in her sister’s eyes with some perplexity. “You get off on this shit, don’t you?”
The Doorman grinned with pride and ran perfectly manicured fingers down Beatriz’s silky locks. “Obviously. You’re not the only talented Parker, Elysia.”
Triz shushed her girlfriend by pressing an indelicate hand over her painted mouth and didn't seem to mind when sharp teeth caught her fingers. “So?”
Elysia set her mug on the floor and avoided eye contact as she answered. “There’s no deal. No negotiations. The bastard wants me to find a talisman to unlock his bound powers. Long story short, he fucked up a deal and now Kava and his realm are screwed. He’s useless.” She bit off the words and folded her arms.
Triz waggled her brows. “What kind of talisman?”
“For the undead gods’ sake, Beatriz, I am not hunting for an object that could be anywhere. I’m not a treasure hunter! It’s a terrible deal. Actually, it’s worse than a terrible deal. It’s a trap. I refuse to be the one who pays the price for this god’s stupidity. He got us all into this mess and he can figure out a solution himself.”
The Doorman toyed with a strand of Triz’s hair. “Then what do you propose? Since he’s so useless.”
Elysia sat up and shot the Doorman a look. “I propose that we do what we should have done in the first place—we get the dirt we need to make a better deal. I don’t buy that this is the best he can do. If anyone can find a chokehold on someone, it’s me, and I swear I will find the secret that will bend this god’s will. He gave me two weeks to return.”
The Doorman shivered and fanned herself. “Good night, you could have just told us he’s hot as the death realm itself and that your panties are in a twist. No wonder you negotiated so terribly.” She patted Elysia’s knee. “It’s okay, darling, we can train that out of you. You’ve spent far too much time with only one man, but the House always provides what you need.” She dropped a coy, understanding sort of look in Elysia’s direction.
Beatriz made barfing noises, while Elysia glared silently at them all.
Jessa’s eyes went wide at Elysia’s reaction, her eyebrows practically to her hairline. “Oh my gods, you really did have it out for the god of the dead. Soot and storms, Elysia, first a prince who could turn you in and have you hung at any last breath, and now the god of the dead? You need serious help.” She hooted mercilessly, and Elysia turned a vibrant shade of red.
“I do not,” she muttered. “And his name is Aidan.”
All three women blinked.
“He has a name?” Beatriz looked repulsed by this.
“He has three pint-size dogs and a beautiful home.”
They all sat back and pondered this for a moment until Beatriz finally got down to it. “Alright. So, he’s sexy. He's got three tiny-ass dogs. And we need a secret to force his hand. Anything else I’m missing?”
Elysia nodded at her sister’s summary. “We each belong to an important sector. Beatriz, you’ve got the undead market. I don’t know what your business is, but I’m not stupid—you're moving something. Jessa, you run a bar that caters to people who travel the seas and keep our city running. People treat them as if they’re invisible—which means secrets are spilled around them constantly, so get nosy, ask questions. And Doorman, well, you have the House.”
Beatriz’s mouth flapped open wordlessly as she sputtered at being found out, but her girlfriend just patted her hand and shushed her.
Jessa frowned. “What about you? You’re the one who can sniff out a secret like a dog’s behind.”
Elysia grimaced. “Thank you for that, Jessa. What a painting of my skills. I will assist all of you, but... I will also visit the librarians and the office in charge of the census. Find out if any of the death priestesses survived the aftermath of the Fall. Oh, and I want to see if that old meela is still around.”
Jessa leaned back on one elbow. “I thought it was common knowledge that all the priests and priestesses were killed by the king’s edict after the Fall, and I hate to break it to you, but the meela is long gone. She never stays more than the days it takes her to get to Bellia.”
Elysia shook her head. “There were some priestesses so powerful that they were afraid to kill them. The thought being it's best not to murder those with a supposed direct line to the gods even if magic is gone.”
Everyone fell silent at that. Lost in thoughts of abandoned temples, rituals, and magic long buried. The people they knew and didn’t know who had lost their lives over the years for so much as a spark of magic surviving.
“It’s not likely we’ll find anything. There’s every chance we’ll be right back where we started and I’ll regret not getting on a ship out of here, but what we’re doing matters. If there’s a chance that someone else can grow up differently... then it’s worth it,” Elysia said quietly.
The words were as much for herself as they were for others. Even though the women in her living room knew that none of them called her on it. Instead, they raised their long-cold teas in the air.
Beatriz shoved her mug against the others. “To the women whose names are never known who fix the mistakes of men that we all may have better lives.”
Chapter 35
Topp Blatz had found himself in some strange and unfortunate places in his life. Much like today, it was usually completely and entirely his own fault. He was made for direct confrontation, not hiding in cabinets half his size. Yet here he was, feigning he had any skill at this sort of thing.
The blinding pain in his knee felt like it might be an indicator that he definitely did not possess any skill for subterfuge. To be fair, it had only been a few days since catapulting out of Elysia’s window, and his body still hadn’t entirely forgiven him for that little stunt. Shifting his already contorted frame, he tried to pretend the ache in his knee was not trying to murder him. One false move and he would be found out, so he bit down on the pain, refusing to so much as breathe wrong.
He’d been waiting in his father’s office when he heard not only the king coming but also Terrin. He would say that Terrin reminded him of a weasel, but he’d rehabilitated a weasel once, and that would be rude to vermin everywhere. Terrin was King Blatz’s favorite sort of advisor. He had no wife or husband or lover of any sort, no kids—he had nothing.
Nothing but ambition and his king.
And by the gods, did Topp hate the miserable man. Anyone with their nose that far up his father’s ass ought to be made a snack for a pig. Or just needed a good punch to face. Either would be fine, so long as he didn’t have to listen to Terrin snivel anymore.
Topp tried to adjust his shoulder against the confines of the cabinet only to find his arm now dead and numb to the point that he couldn’t even tell if it had moved at all. He gave an inaudible sigh. Throwing yourself into a cabinet in order to eavesdrop on someone was downright uncomfortable. He much preferred intimidating people into confessing what he needed to know.
Except his father was the one person his tricks would never work on. Never had, never would. That was the problem with family. Anyone who's seen you butt-ass naked, waving your cloth diaper in the air as you run through the castle halls, is never going to see you quite the same as anyone else, even when you are a grown man.
His arm throbbed painfully as it decided to come back to life. He didn’t know how Elysia did this sort of thing all the time. She was rather bendy. The thought almost helped him forget the shooting pain spreading from his knee to his thigh. Almost.
Hearing his own name tossed out amongst the rubbish they’d been blathering on about, he tilted his head to peer out the small crack between the door and the framing.
Money. Killing off that irritating group of vigilante magic users.
“Was surprised Topp led that charge, Your Grace.”
His father edged his response with the appropriate amount of derision. “You question my son’s loyalty, even now?”
Topp focused on keeping his breathing both silent and steady—hearing them speak of the dead rebels triggered him to retreat into himself, but that wasn’t an option at the moment. He needed to listen even if he’d rather disappear than hear about his failures. Years of hiding and studying other culture’s magic as he traveled—and what had he accomplished? Nothing.
