genocide of Cornelius’s own primordial brothers and sisters. Oceans of blood had flowed that day. It had to be done, and Cornelius had chosen then to save the young members of his family by murdering the elder Titans.
Had not the same thing happened to him? Had he not killed his own father at the urging of his mother? 70
This time, however, something was different: it was not just his family-but the Infernals as well.
The fallen angels were insane and wielded far more power than the League. They were also alien and more evil than the primordial deities had ever been.
And where was the League’s leader this time to stop the gods’ petty disputes and rally them?
Cornelius’s gaze fell upon his computer and Fiona’s passionate e-mail.
Her, perhaps,
Violence-why was that their solution to everything? Were not there other ways?
Yes. . but none better to permanently solve problems. He had seen so much: He knew this was the unpleasant truth. Or was it
“Open the vault,” Cornelius whispered. “Retrieve the Death Warrant for Eliot.”
The others looked at him.
“Why do you say this?” Gilbert demanded. “More coldhearted mathematics?”
“This is not based on calculation,” Cornelius replied, “but rather that Fiona’s brother among all the Immortals and Infernals has been her greatest ally. . and is now her greatest vulnerability.”
Aaron looked as if he wanted to challenge this assertion, but he instead cupped his hand over his chin, thinking.
“What if she follows him as she ever has?” Cornelius continued. “But this time to the other side? Or worse, what if Eliot becomes so twisted that he. .”
Cornelius didn’t need to finish that thought. They had all seen brothers and sisters among their ranks murder one another.
“Very well,” Lucia said. “Kino? Cornelius?” She strode to the vault door, slender key already in her hand.
Kino joined her, and Cornelius fumbled out a key ring from his pocket.
Amid the keys to his VW bug, the trailer he lived in, post office box, and pool room, was the one required: the worn metal cylinder with vein-like ridges (more circuitry than mechanical lock).
He walked to the hinge portion of the vault door and found a proper keyhole.
Lucia and Kino held their keys. “On three,” Lucia said. “One, two-three.”
They inserted their keys.
Cornelius then dialed in the combination, sliding tiles encrusted with ancient symbols into the proper alignment.
As he did this a series of clanks and clacks and mechanical ratchetings vibrated within the vault door. . but there was also a grinding noise that he’d never before heard.
Lucia’s brows scrunched together at the noise as well.
Kino pulled on the door, his muscles tensing as tons of metal swung on a perfectly balanced hinge. He entered the vault chamber.
Cornelius peered through. Within were rows of sealed, spirit-filled Ming vases; jars of blue fluid containing floating brains, a lockbox kept for The King’s Men whose extra-dimensional spaces were best left forever sealed, Leonardo da Vinci’s one true notebook. . and similar, dangerous and fascinating objects.
Kino grabbed two alabaster scroll tubes and marched out.
Lucia hovered near Kino’s side, looking childlike next to his great height. Kino unstoppered the containers and shook out their contents-one for him and one for Lucia.
As they unrolled them Kino’s dark features turned pale, and Lucia’s face flushed deeper and twisted in outrage.
She held up the document for all of them to see: it was not the vellum Warrant of Death they had put in there for safekeeping, but rather a rolled-up
“Where are they?” she demanded.
“The vault is impervious to force,” Kino said. “Proof against any thief.”
Cornelius approached. He took the newspaper crossword and held at arm’s length, squinting.
“Thirty seven across reads: fastest bird,” he said. “That would be a peregrine falcon.” Cornelius noted and recited the penned-in answer:
Only one among them had the talent to enter the vault without the keys. And only one spelled so poorly. . even when he was sober.
“Proof against any thief,” Lucia screeched, “but not
Cornelius slowly shook his head and took his seat. One might as well try to bottle the four winds.
He saw that his computer simulation was almost done. Good. Objective analysis would be most welcome at this point.
“We must draw new warrants,” Kino suggested.
“No,” Aaron told him. “I will not debate this without Audrey present.”
“You will do as this Council tells you,” Lucia said.
This was a mistake. Push Aaron, and he pushed back. Push him a second time-and he was likely to push hard enough to end the matter.
Aaron’s hands curled into fists, but then he relaxed and gazed at them all. He smiled-turned, and strode from the temple.
“If you leave in the middle of a session,” Lucia told him, “I will remove you from this Council.”
“Remove this.” Without turning to face her, Aaron held up his hand and made a gesture most ancient.
“So be it,” she murmured. “We shall vote in a new member to replace him.”
“Maybe,” Gilbert told her. “But we’re done for today. We no longer have a quorum.”
Lucia sighed with frustration.
A ping sounded from Cornelius’s computer tablet. His simulation to predict which side would prevail in a conflict with the Infernals ended.
The result flashed at the bottom of the screen: zero divided by zero. That was an unbounded result, one in which there is never enough information to define a true value as it bobbled between all values between zero and infinite.
There had been no programmatic error.
So what did it mean?
Dread congealed within Cornelius as he feared this meant that
70. Cronos was offspring to the primordial entity and then self-proclaimed “ruler of the universe,” Ouranos. At the urging of his mother, Gaia, Cronos and all his brothers gathered to ambush their father. Only Cronos had the courage to do so. Even as he wept over his father’s body, the young Titan Cronos was proclaimed leader over the first generation of his kind.
There was tension in the air. It made the hair on the back of Eliot’s neck stand. Something was about to happen-why else had Miss Westin canceled their last class and marched every freshman into the Grand Spring Ballroom? They all stood facing a podium. . waiting.
From the grim silence that solidified around even the chattiest girls (Tamara Pritchard and her elite social circle)-Eliot knew this couldn’t be good.
Fiona stood next to him, arms crossed over her chest, looking annoyed and nervous and bored all the same time.
Where was Jezebel? Sealiah had said she would be back for the last day at Paxington. She had to know about the weird time effects in Hell.
