The Wicked Within

“She wants the Hands of Zeus. She offered her immortality to the one who brings them to her.”

“Her immortality?”

“Yeah. As in immortality plus all her powers.”

It took a long moment for the implications to totally sink in. The paranormal world had all manner of creatures—many created by Athena herself. They lived long lives, some extraordinarily long, but they weren’t immortal, not in the truest sense of the word, not like the gods—immortal unless killed by another god, or a god’s weapon . . . or me. Athena’s offer would set everyone on the trail of the Hands, making my job that much harder. But why would she highlight the Hands and let everyone know she wanted them?

Actually, it made sense. “She’s ensuring the Hands will remain safe,” I said. “If this many people know about the offer, it makes the Hands too valuable to destroy.” And with the statue out of her control, she’d need to make sure it was safe.

And this little game changer made sure Josephine thought long and hard before doing something stupid, like destroying the statue because of some feud she had with Athena. Even Josephine wouldn’t be able to deny their value now.

But Athena was also ensuring her own mortality. Why would she do that? There had to be some kind of larger endgame, because I couldn’t see Athena giving up her power. Unless—a nagging thought surfaced—she loved her kid so much that she’d give up everything. . . .

“And this new god,” I said, glancing up at Zoe’s apartment, “just adds more fuel to the fire. It’s easy to put two and two together. A god wants to rise. He has his sights set on Athena. . . . ” I paused. “He could be the father of her child.”

“She’d anticipate the father coming into play, though,” Bran said. “She’d know about the chatter, about what filters in to the gods who sleep. And I can tell you, she wouldn’t mind one bit letting another god rise and destroy this city to get what he’s after. Athena will pick up the pieces in the end and have exactly what she’s wanted.”

“If I wake this god and my curse is lifted, Athena loses. I won’t be able to resurrect her child.”

“Maybe. But this god might want you to resurrect the child as well. He might want exactly the same thing as Athena once he’s awake.”

They both come. The River Witch’s words echoed in my head. Great. If this kid’s mother and father were coming, Bran was right. We were screwed.

“How does one wake up a god?” Sebastian asked. “Why can’t they wake themselves up?”

Bran shrugged. “Sleep means two different things to the gods. There’s sleep as in rest, and then there’s Sleep as in retiring from the mortal and godly planes. It’s a choice made by very old gods, those who are tired and done with life. It is a decision that, once made, they cannot reverse themselves. They can only be revived from Sleep if they are woken, and the means to do so are a mystery to all but a few. Waking a god requires great power and comes with some serious consequences.”

“Well,” I said, thinking out loud, “maybe this god can help us. . . . ”

Bran shot me a dark look. “Are you on meds, Selkirk? We’re not waking a god. Did you hear what I said? We’re talking old gods here. Primal gods. Supreme deities. The big dogs.” He parked his hands on his hips and let out a heavy breath. “If this god wakes and has it out for Athena, it’s gonna get messy. Trust me on that. The gods don’t care who they hurt to get what they want.”

“Speaking from experience?” I asked, thinking of Bran’s descent from an old Celtic war god.

“My grandfather would slice open my belly and wear my entrails as a necklace if it got him what he wanted. And that’s why I thank the heavens every night that he chose to Sleep. There’s no way you’re waking a god like that, Selkirk.”

“A god like what? Who is it?”

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look, gods can only speak like that through their descendants. Otherwise the god would have spoken to you directly. Zoe and her family are just a handful of those left related to the Egyptian pantheon.”

Sebastian let out a low whistle.

“Yeah,” Bran agreed. “Waking an old Egyptian god equals huge fucking mistake. You need to find another way to end your curse,” he said to me. “Because this way will mean the end for a lot of innocent people. We have enough problems with Athena. Her offer is going to make every power-hungry member of the council insane. And the news will leak, if it hasn’t already, and then we’ll have even more idiots to worry about.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Sebastian said, “but all the guards and the lockdown thing kind of waved a flag that something’s up.”

“I wasn’t allowed on the third floor of Presby,” I added. “The offices are off-limits—talk will start going around. Eventually someone will spill.”

“Yeah, well, the exterior guards weren’t my idea, but the majority vote won out on that one,” Bran said.

“What about the library?”

“It’s on lockdown until the council agrees what to do with the Hands. Until then, no one goes inside.”

“So there was no break-in,” I said, relieved. “A lockdown only helps if the Hands are actually in the library.”

I exchanged a glance with Sebastian. We were the only ones, besides the kids, who knew the Hands might be misplaced. Quickly, I filled Bran in on the fact that the Hands were either missing or hidden within the library. I told him that the Keeper was doing inventory to find them, and that we suspected Josephine of hiding them within the library or taking them.

“You might have told me this sooner,” he said flatly. “Getting someone inside to see if the Keeper is done with inventory is going to be impossible now.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said. “Already tried that last night. In the time it took me to leave the meeting, talk to Hunter, and get to the third floor, there were already guards posted.”

“That’s my job, Lamarliere,” Bran said. “As soon as Athena’s message was delivered, I texted my crew. They were inside the study, guarding the library before you and the other heirs left the meeting.” He paused, shaking his head and looking disgusted by the events unfolding. “We should have sent Zaria’s head back to Athena on a platter,” he said gruffly, before waving us off and heading back into the apartment.

Cold slid into me. Zaria had been Athena’s messenger.

I’d watched her drink Sebastian to the brink of death night after night in Athena’s temple. I’d watched her tempt him with the blood of one servant after another. And I’d watched Sebastian, changed and blood drunk, hanging with Zaria and Athena like they were old friends. Or more.

Numbness settled into my psyche. The wind blew in from the Mississippi, making the low oak branches that stretched over us creak.

“It was Zaria,” I echoed with a sharp laugh. That’s who Gabriel was talking about. During our entire conversation back at the house, Sebastian had neglected to mention her.

My throat stung. Did she have some hold over him? “Were you even going to tell me you saw her again?”

He didn’t answer, and I wasn’t sure if he knew the answer himself. He’d had several opportunities to confide in me, and he’d chosen not to. As though it was a secret. As though I wasn’t part of his life. Well, to hell with that. To hell with him.

“I’m done,” I muttered, shoving past him.

I felt his eyes on me as I marched away, part of me angry, part of me hurting like hell and wishing he’d say something, call me back, give me some kind of explanation. . . . But he never did.

ELEVEN

HE WATCHED HER WALK AWAY, her long stride eating up ground, widening the space between them. She hadn’t gotten far, but it seemed like a canyon had opened up between them. His fists clenched at his sides, so tight his short fingernails cut into his palms. Every part of him screamed to go after her. But his body wouldn’t move.