Magic Binds

CHAPTER 9

ROMAN HAD DECLARED that turning into a crow for the second time in one day was above his pay grade. He whistled, made some kissy noises with his lips, and a black horse trotted out of the woods. He mounted bareback and headed to the house.

I climbed back into the swing. Flying really was overrated, but it was fast, and beggars couldn’t be choosers.

According to Teddy Jo, the pegasi couldn’t be tamed, but they could be enticed.

“They’re curious and they like adventure,” he said, as we flew southwest. “You’re going to walk up to the herd and offer them a gift of some sort. Carrots, sugar, whatever. If you’re interesting enough, one of them might come over and decide to go adventuring with you.”

“And if none decide to adventure?”

“Then there’s nothing we can do.”

Oh boy.

“Why do you need a pegasi, Kate?”

“I need to get to Mishmar.”

“What is Mishmar?”

“My father’s magic prison in the Midwest.”

Teddy Jo chewed on that. “Why?”

“I’d rather not say. But I need to get there as soon as possible.”

“Well, they are damn fast. Faster than me flying. I took one to Miami the other week. Made it in six hours. You need one as soon as possible, I take it?”

“Yes.” It had been three days since I found out about Saiman’s kidnapping, which left us with twelve days until my wedding. In Sienna’s original vision, I had married Curran and our wedding led to the battle. But with the way I was altering the future, I had a feeling the battle would happen before that.

“Then we’ll do this tonight. I’ll pick you up around eleven. Can you be packed and ready?”

“Yes. Can I ask you to drop me off at Milton’s ER? I need to check on a patient there.”

“You sure you want to be dropped off at Milton? That’s a long trek back and you have no horse. I can wait.”

“Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”

“Well, since you got my sword back, I figure I can be cordial for a day or two. It will wear off.”

“Yes, it would be awesome if you waited for me.”

“Will do,” he said.

Milton Hospital occupied a squat solid building that looked less like a hospital and more like a bunker with narrow windows guarded by grates, thick walls, and spikes on the roof. Most hospitals now looked that way. Things that fed on humans were drawn to the scent of blood, and hospitals were full of bleeding people.

“Depressing places, hospitals,” Teddy Jo said, landing in the parking lot behind some large trucks. He shrugged his shoulders and his wings vanished. “Visiting a friend?”

“Something like that.”

“I’ll come in with you. I could use a nice chair.”

I left Teddy Jo in the waiting area. An older nurse, rail thin, with pale blond hair twisted into a bun, walked me to Adora’s room. The sahanu sat on the bed, flipping through a newspaper. Her color was good. Considering that her intestines had been spilling out twenty-four hours ago, it was a great improvement.

She saw me and tried to get up.

“No, no, stay where you are,” I told her.

“Yes, Kate.” She bowed her head.

The nurse gave me an odd look. I sighed.

The nurse turned to Adora. “If you need anything, I’ll be down the hall.”

Translation—yell for help and I’ll come running. I couldn’t really blame her. I smelled like a swamp and the sword wasn’t exactly helping my trustworthy image.

I pulled up a wooden chair and sat in it.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better. I will be useful soon.”

I tried to think like Martina. Ascanio’s mother was one of the Pack’s counselors and she’d helped me before. Sadly, I had neither her skills nor her experience.

“Is it important to be useful?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“All things must have a purpose. My purpose is to serve one of your blood.”

“But you’re not a thing, Adora. You’re a person.”

“People must be useful, too.”

Well, she had me there. This wasn’t going well. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m fast and strong. I’m proficient with bladed weapons but prefer Japanese-style swords. I possess three power words but can use only one at a time. Among my generation, I’m ranked fourth.”

“Why fourth?”

She hesitated. “I’m very fast, but I have a limited magic reserve compared to two others and a limited kill ratio compared to three others. Also I kill better at short range.”

“How many sahanu were in your age group?”

“Originally, twenty-two.”

She wasn’t surprised by the word. Julie’s information seemed to be accurate.

“What do you mean by ‘originally’?”

She hesitated. “Some people died. Some people were taken from the fort before completing their studies, because they were needed elsewhere.”

“How many completed the course of study with you?”

“Nine.”

“I saw a large dark-skinned woman who wears chain mail and carries a hammer.”

“Carolina. She’s ranked eighth.”

She didn’t seem worried.

“There was also a man with a patched trench coat.”

“Razer.” She paused. “Ranked first.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Carolina is powerful but not as fast as me. Her magic produces a telekinetic push that’s devastating at a range of up to five meters. A quicker fighter or a ranged opponent can take her out. She’s best in a team of two or more, where someone can watch her back.”

“And Razer?”

“Razer is faster, stronger, and more precise than me. His magic is more powerful than mine. He kills his opponents and sometimes he eats their flesh.”

“Is Razer fae?”

She nodded.

That’s what I thought. There had been reports of children born to seemingly normal parents with facial features and abilities consistent with those of the fae as described in legends. Mostly in urban areas up north, ones with a large concentration of Irish immigrants, such as Boston and Weymouth. By the last census, six percent of Atlanta’s population had claimed Irish ancestry. I knew this because the Pack had detailed maps of the city and at one point I was asked to help tag them by the mythology of their culture. In the post-Shift world, where you were from mattered because the myths and legends of your homeland followed you.

Nobody knew exactly what the fae were capable of. Some called them elves, some called them fairies, the fair folk, or Tuatha Dé Danann, but everyone agreed that they were bad news.

“What are his powers?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I only fought against him twice. He didn’t use magic to win.”

That meant he won on speed, strength, and skill and she had more than a normal human’s dose of all three. Razer would be fun.

“Are there any other fae among the sahanu?”

“Yes.”

“Among the nine?”

“Irene is fae,” Adora said. “I think.”

“What are her powers?”

“I don’t know.” Her mouth quivered. She didn’t want to disappoint me and she must’ve been worried about my disapproval. She was under enough stress already from everything I had put her through. I had to move on.

“Thank you. When you feel better, I’d like you to write down everything that you think is relevant or useful about the other sahanu of your generation. Is there an age category older than yours?”

“No,” she shook her head. “We are the first generation. There are younger generations.”

Ugh. “How old are you, Adora?”

“Twenty-four.”

Only four years younger than me, but there was an almost childlike simplicity about her. Her world was clearly defined: making me happy and serving me was good, being useless to me was bad. She was giving me all of the information I wanted without any hesitation. Two days ago she would’ve likely died to keep that information secret from me, but now, with her allegiance shifted, Adora kept no secrets, like a young child who instinctively recognized an adult as an authority figure and was eager to prove she was smart and resourceful. Most people were at least somewhat jaded by their midtwenties, but for her there were no shades of gray. It wasn’t the naiveté of someone who believes the world is a nice place; it was an innocence, bolstered by the childlike belief that she was doing the right thing, because a person of power and authority assured her she was.

I needed to put a crack into that worldview. There had to be something in her psyche that rebelled against the view of my father as perfection wrapped in golden light.

“How long have you served my father?”

“Since I was seven.”

“Is that when you were brought to the place where the sahanu are trained?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have a family before you were brought there?” If there was any human emotion in her, I should get a spark now.

“Yes. Some children were orphans, but I wasn’t. My mother and father were very well compensated. I was chosen because of my magic.”

My father, never missing a falling star. “Did you miss your family?”

She hesitated. I held my breath.

“Yes. But now the sahanu are my family.”

And yet she gave me information that would help me kill them without any hesitation.

“Were you angry that your parents sold you? Did you feel abandoned? Did you think it was unfair?”

She opened her mouth and closed it.

“My father isn’t here. Your instructors aren’t here. It’s only me and you. Did you think it was unfair?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I cried. And I missed my mom, my dad, and my sister.”

“Do you think other children might have missed their parents, too?”

“Yes.” The strain was showing on her face. Too much. I had to change the subject.

“Have you ever killed for my father?”

“Yes.” She exhaled. We were back on familiar territory.

“Who did you kill?”

“During training I killed several martial artists and weapon masters.”

“Why did you kill them?”

“For practice.”

“Were they forced to fight?”

“No, they were paid to kill us.”

That was a familiar tactic, one my father learned from Voron. “What about after your training was complete?”

“I killed the Followers of Guram. They had taken one of Sharrum’s people and killed her, and he was displeased.”

I’d run across the Followers of Guram before. They were a nasty sect and they liked skinning people with tattoos, which they considered a mortal sin, to curry favor with whatever god Guram prayed to. Guram was a prophet of sorts and the rumor was that once you heard his sermon, you would become a devotee. Law enforcement stomped them out, but they were like a hydra. You crush one head and another pops up in a different city. Although I hadn’t heard about them for a few years.

“How many of the followers did you kill?”

She smiled a small smile. “All of them.”

Wow. “How long did it take you?”

“Two years.”

“What about Guram himself?”

“I killed him, too.”

“How did you feel about killing all those people?”

“Sharrum wanted them dead.”

I finally realized why she disturbed me so much. She was what Voron had wanted me to be. A killer without any remorse, without any doubt or questions. Point and watch the blood spray.

My father had done that to her. Like he told me, he’d given her serenity of purpose. And she was serene. The only time she became agitated was when I tried to send her away. My father was the closest thing to a god she knew. When your god orders you to kill and accepts full responsibility for it, it frees you from guilt, shame, and doubt.

This had to stop. My father had to be stopped.

“Adora, what do you want to do?”

“I want to serve you.”

“And if I said you couldn’t, what would you do?”

“I would kill myself.”

No doubt in her big brown eyes. Nothing except complete devotion.

“You wouldn’t go back to my father?”

“I would be killed. I wouldn’t be useful any longer. But if I had no choice, I would return to Sharrum.”

I had to walk her back to civilization if it was the last thing I did.

“Why don’t you like me, Sharrim?” she asked in a small voice. “I’m not the highest rated, but I’ve trained the hardest. I’m diligent.”

“I don’t dislike you, Adora. I don’t want to use you because people shouldn’t be used. People should follow their own paths in life.”

“But I want to serve you. That’s the only way I can get into heaven.”

When we stood over Jene’s body, Ascanio had said that Deputy Holland’s identity was wrapped up in being in law enforcement. But Holland didn’t grow up being a law enforcement officer. He likely had friends outside the sheriff’s office, family members, people he went to high school with. A whole net of people to catch him if he stumbled. Adora had no one. She grew up as sahanu. That was the only thing she knew. She’d lost her family and devoted her whole life to being the best assassin she could be because my father assured her she would get to heaven.

I would have to shatter that belief. I would have to explain to her that everything she had done, all the training she worked so hard on, all the lives she took were in the name of a lie. It would be like taking a lifelong devout Christian and showing them irrefutable proof that God didn’t exist. Her whole world would collapse. I spared her life and now I would have to dismantle everything she’d held as truth for the last seventeen years. It wasn’t just cruel. It would be devastating. It would crush her. It would’ve been kinder to kill her.

I looked at her and my insides churned. I hadn’t spared her because I was impressed with her skills or because I thought she was worth saving. I hadn’t saved her because I saw myself in her. I’d saved her because I wanted to send a big loud “Fuck You” to my father. Him sending her into my territory offended me. It made me angry in a way I hadn’t been angry for a very long time.

Deep down, if I listened to the voice inside me, I wanted to march into his castle, crush him, and take every scrap of land he owned. It wouldn’t be enough to win. I wanted to humiliate him and take his land. To hoard it like a dragon.

What the hell was happening to me?

“Are you well, Kate?” Adora asked.

I was a piece of shit. She was a person, an actual real human being, and I had decided to play God with her life. When I had a chance to turn her into a slave, I stopped because I recognized that Curran wouldn’t like it. I should’ve stopped because it was the wrong thing to do. Because I didn’t make slaves.

“Kate?”

How could I have gone so far? How do I fix this? If I went any further down this road, Adora would be the first of many.

“Kate? Are you sick?”

No. I had to find whatever it was that made me me and hold on to it. And I owed it to Adora to tell her the complete truth as gently as I could. I would need help. I would have to go very slowly. Baby steps.

“Adora, what is it you like to do? When you’re not working for my father, I mean. When you have free time.”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“What is your favorite food?”

“Candy.”

Okay. Candy I could do. “I’m going to travel for a couple of days. I’d like you to stay here and recuperate, so the doctors can continue to treat your wounds. My Herald will come and check on you. Let her know if you need anything. However, if you don’t want to stay here and want to leave, you don’t need my permission. You are not a prisoner. If my father’s agents contact you, you don’t have to go back with them, but you can if you want to. It’s your choice. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I’d almost made it to the door when she called, “Kate?”

“Yes?”

“You will come back for me?”

“Yes.” If I don’t die.

“And then I will be useful, yes?”

“Yes.” I would go straight to hell. When I died, a hole would open under my feet and I would shoot right down there.

I walked to the waiting area and stopped by the cashier. “I’d like to pay for the next week.”

She gave me a number. I pulled out my wallet, took out a check—I’d learned to always keep a couple in there, folded in half—and wrote it out. I added fifty bucks to the check and pointed to the little gift shop and bakery behind me. “Also, I would like a small bag of each kind of candy you have brought to her.”

“If her doctor says it’s okay.”

“Let her have the candy.” Knowing how thorough my father was with his tools, Adora would likely heal fast.

I’m about to destroy your world, here is some candy. Ugh.

Teddy Jo stood up and we walked outside. “Who is she?”

“Were you listening in?”

“It’s only a few feet down the hallway and I have sharp hearing.”

“She’s what happens when my father wants a weapon who never questions him. She also might be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.” I climbed into the swing.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he said.

It was bad. Sooner or later I would have to explain it to Curran, too. We didn’t keep secrets from each other. We talked. Given a chance, I would explain what Adora was and convince him she wasn’t a slave. Curran loved me more than anyone I’d ever known. He would hear me out. That wasn’t what stopped me. If I let him see Adora, he would ask me why I didn’t kill her. I couldn’t lie to him. I would have to tell him everything, about my father, about wanting to take his land, about watching Adora bleed and puzzling over sealing her into service as if she were an object to be owned.

I didn’t want him to know how far into the dark I went. It scared me when I thought about it.

I did it. I owned it. Like it or not, I would have to deal with it after I came back from Mishmar. If I came back.

“I’ll need to stop by a smithy,” I murmured, and realized I’d said it out loud. “Sorry, was talking to myself.”

“They have medicine for that.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“You’re welcome. Why do you need to stop by a smithy?”

“To buy powdered iron.”

I SAT ON the back porch outside, waiting for Teddy Jo. The sky was black and deep. A spray of glittering stars shone from above. The night breathed.

I’d stopped by the Guild and talked to Curran. He’d put a team together for Saiman’s rescue. The Pack shared what they had learned scouting and Curran did manage to find a merc with the ability to communicate long distance. They called her a mouse witch and I found her sitting in Barabas’s office, with two bats hanging off her clothes, a squirrel on her shoulder, and a tiny owl in her hands. Tonight the owl and the bats would fly to the castle and attempt to find Saiman. If they did, she would be able to talk to him though them.

I told Curran about my meeting with Chernobog. He told me about Christopher. The moment the magic wave ended, his wings disappeared and he stopped struggling. They pulled him out of the ground. He picked up Maggie and went back to his house. Barabas tried to talk to him, but Christopher curled up in his hammock, hugged his dog, and refused to communicate. Barabas stayed home to watch over him.

I’d hugged Curran and kissed him good-bye. He kept asking me nonsense questions. He didn’t want me to go. I didn’t want to go either, but eventually I had to leave to gather my things.

I stopped by the smithy and bought a pound of powdered iron. Legends existed for a reason.

At home I called Jim and asked him to have the remains ready tonight, in three hours or so. He said he would.

I made a call to Martina and explained about Adora. I didn’t sugarcoat it. She said she would talk to her and she wanted me to come and have dinner with her as soon as I could. I promised I would. Then I talked to Julie about it. She would check on Adora while I was gone.

I’d packed some clothes, jerky, nuts, and bread to last me a couple of days into a backpack. I took two canteens and a roll of toilet paper. Considering the excursions Voron used to send me on, my supplies made me feel downright pampered. There was nothing left to do but wait.

Teddy Jo was taking his time.

The noise of the back gate opening made me turn. Christopher walked out from behind the house and came to sit next to me.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hi.” He smiled. It was the same shy smile I was used to seeing on his face. Like shaking hands with an old friend. But his eyes no longer had that faraway dreamy look, as if he were seeing things that nobody else could see.

“Where is Barabas?”

“He fell asleep,” Christopher said. “We had a long day.”

“You’re up late.” Small talk with the god of terror.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been useless for too long.”

Oh boy. Not the useless thing again. “Christopher, Teddy Jo will be taking me.”

“I won’t fight with him again.”

“Your wings disappeared with the magic. The tech is still up. I don’t think he can carry us both.”

Red smoke spiraled out of his shoulders and the massive wings snapped open.

Right.

“Everyone was tired out from fighting me,” he said. “All of them wanted to be reassured that I wouldn’t snap again.”

“So you pretended to lose your powers when the magic wave ended?”

“It was the considerate thing to do. I’ve been so privileged to have people worry for me that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have people afraid of me.”

“We weren’t afraid. We were worried.”

“The part of me that is Deimos knows fear, intimately. Barabas was afraid. He was so afraid that his fear shone like a beacon.”

“Barabas will adjust. I don’t think he was afraid of you, Christopher. I think he was afraid for you. I was, too. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Christopher nodded.

“Is everything okay between you and Barabas?”

He looked into the distance. “Things are complicated at the moment. Before, I wasn’t in my right mind. Now he doesn’t know who I am.”

Who are you, Christopher? “What about you? How do you feel about it?”

“I love him.”

I wished I knew what to say.

“There is something in your backpack,” he said. “It keeps tugging on me.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out a small mason jar with a tiny yellow spark in it. “Hold this for a second.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s a flare moth.” I dug some more in my bag. “When you release it, it flies up and the higher it flies, the brighter it is. Here. Is this it?” I fished out a simple yellow apple and offered it to him.

He took it gingerly from my hand and held it up. “The apple of immortality. Where did you get this?”

“Funny story. Teddy Jo dropped them off one night out of the blue. He said he didn’t know what to do with them and he was pretty sure I could handle them given my family history. I made them into a pie I was going to feed to Curran on our big date. I’d lost a bet to him and promised to serve him dinner naked.”

Christopher smiled.

“He stood me up. It wasn’t his fault, but I didn’t know it at the time and I was really pissed off, so I trashed the food and I buried the pie.”

“Buried?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time. I had enough apples left to make Curran another pie later. Anyway, a few months after that I came back to my house near Savannah and found a brand-new apple tree. I talked to Teddy Jo about it and we decided that the apples were way too dangerous to leave unattended, so we dug out the tree and he replanted it by his cabin. He brings me apples every time some grow. He says the tree wants him to do it.”

“Have you eaten them?”

I nodded. “So far no immortality. But they do make a killer jam if you add some lemon peel. I thought the pegasi would appreciate them.”

He gave the apple back to me and laughed quietly.

I held out my hand. “Kate Daniels, daughter of Nimrod the Builder of Towers, Guardian of Atlanta.”

He looked at my hand and then took it with his long slender fingers. “Christopher Steed, twenty-second Legatus of the Golden Legion, god of terror.”

We shook.

“Legatus of the Golden Legion.” I whistled. If a Master of the Dead was especially gifted, he was selected to join the Golden Legion, the elite of the elite among my father’s navigators. The Legatus led them, the same way Hugh used to lead my father’s soldiers. The Legatus answered directly to my father.

“I climbed to power,” Christopher said. “It wasn’t given to me; I excelled and took it. I have . . . regrets.”

We all have regrets. “Let me tell you about my friend. His name is Christopher. He thinks he could fly if only he remembered how. Turns out he can. He’s kind and gentle. He tries to help even when things are difficult and he’s terrified. He once went into Mishmar to rescue me. He takes care of his little dog and he tries to cook for Barabas, because we all know that Barabas is awful in the kitchen.”

“He isn’t . . . Yes, he is.”

“That’s the only Christopher I know. I never met the Legatus of the Golden Legion. No desire to meet him.” I looked at him. “It doesn’t matter what you were. It matters what you are now.”

“You forgot one title in your introduction,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Kate Daniels, daughter of Nimrod the Builder of Towers, Guardian of Atlanta. Savior of Christopher.”

“Don’t,” I told him.

“I would’ve died in that cage.”

“My father shattered your mind and tortured you. I tried to correct his wrong.”

“Nimrod didn’t shatter my mind. I shattered it myself.” Christopher looked up at the night sky and a shadow of something vicious crossed his face. “I was the most powerful Legatus on record. One night your father invited me to dinner and made me a proposal: he had developed a way to implant a deity into a human host. The process had some limitations. The deity had to be well known enough to have a distinct presence, but not self-aware enough to interfere with the human host’s ego. It had to have almost no followers, so the host’s will would not be affected. The human had to have a vast reserve of natural magic, enough to sustain and feed the deity’s powers. He compared it to standing in the middle of a storm and absorbing all of its fury into yourself. Such a person, he said, would surpass both the Legatus and the Preceptor of his Iron Dogs. He would truly be his second-in-command. He was very persuasive.”

“Did you say yes?”

“I said no.”

“You said no to my father?”

“I did. I told him that a storm could power you or tear you apart and I didn’t want to be ripped to pieces.”

That took some serious balls.

“He said he understood. I told him that d’Ambray would make a better candidate. We all worshipped your father, but he had Hugh the longest, since Hugh was a child. He would do anything Nimrod asked of him.”

And what a wonderful reward Hugh got for his devotion.

“He said the process wouldn’t work on Hugh. His healing power was too strong and would reject the alien magic. We mused about it. We finished the dinner. I don’t remember getting up but when I woke up, we were in Mishmar and he had already started. I remember pain. Excruciating pain. It didn’t stop for an eternity. I decided then that if I lived, Nimrod would never benefit from what he had done to me, so when I absorbed Deimos, I turned all of my power inward. There is only so much terror a human psyche can handle.”

The willpower required to do that to yourself had to be staggering.

“I don’t know what to say. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t seem adequate. My father really hates hearing ‘no.’”

“He doesn’t hear it often.” Ruby light rolled over his irises.

“Did he try to put you back together?”

“Yes. But he failed. The damage was too massive and I wanted to stay broken. After months of treatment and torture he sent me with Hugh to the Caucasus as a last-ditch effort. He didn’t want me in Greece—too many native powers and too risky—but the Black Sea coast was close enough for Deimos to feel the pull of the land. He hoped that proximity to Greece would draw me out, so he told Hugh to put me in a cage, so I could see the sky and feel the wind, and starve me. But I was too far gone. I would’ve died in that cage, and then you took me out, and you and Barabas took care of me ever since.”

The memory of him in the cage triggered an instant rage. No human being should’ve been treated like that, starved, dying of thirst, sitting in his own waste.

“What will you do now?” I asked.

He smiled, baring vampire fangs. “When you fight your father, I will soar above you. I want to be the last thing he sees before he dies.”

So far I had the god of evil and the god of terror on my side. My good-guy image was taking a serious beating. Maybe I should recruit some unicorns or kittens with rainbow powers to even us out.

Teddy Jo walked out onto the porch. “Here you . . . damn it.”

Christopher gave him a small wave.

“Can’t feel him with the tech up?” I asked.

Teddy Jo ignored me. “What do you want?”

“I’d like to come,” Christopher said. “In case something goes wrong. I won’t be any trouble.”

Teddy Jo opened his mouth.

“Don’t be mean,” I said.

“Mean? Me? To him?”

“Yes.”

Teddy Jo’s face turned dark. He sat in the chair next to me. “Answer me this, how do you exist?”

“Forced theosis,” Christopher said.

“How?” Teddy Jo asked.

“Ask her father. I remember only pain. It probably began as implantation, a forced possession, but how exactly he went about it is beyond my recollection.”

“Did you . . . ?” Teddy Jo let it trail off.

“Absorb the essence of Deimos? Yes.”

Teddy Jo shook his head. “It’s not apotheosis. Apotheosis implies reaching the state of rapture and divinity through faith. It’s not an appearance avatar.”

“No,” I said. “That would imply the deliberate voluntary descent of a deity to be reborn in a human body, and from what I understand there was nothing voluntary about the process. Deimos wasn’t reincarnated.”

“There is no word for it,” Christopher said.

Teddy Jo rocked forward, his hands in a single fist against his mouth. “That’s because it goes against the primary principle of all religion—the acknowledgment of forces beyond our control possessing superhuman agency.”

“With the exception of Buddhism,” Christopher said.

“Yes. The key here is ‘superhuman.’ A deity may consume a human or another deity, but a human can never consume a deity, because that implies human power is greater than divine.”

Just another night in Atlanta. Sitting on my porch between a Greek god who was really a human and an angel of death who was having an existential crisis.

“This shouldn’t be. You can’t be Deimos.”

“But I am,” Christopher said.

“I know.”

“It’s the Shift,” I said. “The power balance between a neglected deity such as Deimos and a very powerful human is skewed toward the human, especially if there are no worshippers.”

“It would have to be a really powerful human,” Teddy Jo said.

“I was,” Christopher said. “I suppose I should say I am.”

“Do you retain any of your prior navigator powers?” I asked.

“No.”

We sat together on the porch, watching the universe strip herself bare above us.

“Theophage,” I said.

“What?” Teddy Jo said.

“You wanted a word for Christopher. Theophage.”

“The eater of gods?” Christopher smiled.

“That word is for the sacramental eating of God, in the form of grains and meat,” Teddy Jo said.

“Well, now it’s for literal eating.”

“We should get going,” Teddy Jo said.

“So, can I come?” Christopher asked.

“Where? Where do you want to go?” Teddy Jo asked.

“To Mishmar. I could carry her. She wouldn’t need a winged horse.”

“No. Even if you could carry her that far, you couldn’t get there fast enough.”

“He’s right,” I added. “The plan is to escape Mishmar before my father arrives, but it’s possible he will catch me there. For whatever reason, he is reluctant to kill me, but he won’t hesitate to fight you. If you saw him, what would you do?”

“I would kill him,” Christopher stated in a matter-of-fact way.

Well, he would definitely try.

“So that’s right out,” Teddy Jo said. “You understand why? You come with her to Mishmar, neither of you might get out alive. She’s safer on her own.”

Christopher nodded. “Well, can I come with you to see the horses? I promise to be good and not scare them.”

“Sure, why not.” Teddy Jo waved his arms. “The entirety of Hades can come. We’ll have a party.”

Christopher stepped off the porch in to the backyard, spread his wings, and shot upward. The wind nearly blew me off my feet.

“Thank you,” I told Teddy Jo.

“He gives me the creeps,” Teddy Jo growled.

“You’re the nicest angel of death I know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get in the damn swing.”

THE FOREST STRETCHED in front of me, a gloomy motionless sea of branches sheathed in leaves. The waters of the Blue River streamed past, quiet and soothing, the light of the old moon setting the small flecks of quartz at the bottom of the riverbed aglow. Thin, watery fog crept in from between the trees, sliding over the water and curling around the few large boulders thrusting from the river like monks kneeling in prayer.

I sat quietly, waiting, a saddle and a blanket to go under it next to me. Teddy Jo had dropped me off and retreated into the woods, adding, “Don’t treat them as regular horses. Treat them as equals.” Whatever that meant.

Christopher glided above me, somewhere too high to see. Watching him in the sky had made me forget about being suspended hundreds of feet in the air with a whole lot of nothing between me and the very hard ground. Christopher had remembered how to fly. He would climb up, bank, and dive, speeding toward the ground in a hair-raising rush, only to somehow slide upward, out of the curve, and soar. Teddy Jo had rumbled, “You’d think he’d act like he had wings before,” then caught himself, and left Christopher to the wind and speed.

Now all was quiet.

Even if I did manage to bond with a pegasi, I’d have to ride on its back as it flew. My stomach tried to shrink to the size of a walnut at the thought. If it bucked me off, I would be a Kate pancake. Life had tried to kill me in all sorts of ways lately, but falling off of a flying horse was a new and unwelcome development.

I had to get a horse. Not only did my idiotic plan depend on it, but Curran’s did, too. He would walk his mercs into my father’s castle, and he was counting on me to provide a distraction to get them out. Sienna foresaw a flying horse. So far she hadn’t been wrong.

A shape moved to the left, in the woods. I turned. Another. Then another. A single horse emerged from the gloom; first, a refined head, then a muscled chest, then thin elegant legs. A stallion, a light golden palomino, his coat shimmering with a metallic sheen as if every silky hair were coated in white gold. Two massive feathered wings lay draped on his back.

Not a Greek pony. Not any local breed either. He looked like an Akhal-Teke, the ancient Turkmenistan horses born in the desert.

I took the apple out and held it in my hand.

The stallion regarded me with blue eyes, shook his mane, and started toward me.

I held my breath.

He clopped his way past me to the river and began to drink, presenting me with a front and center view of his butt. More horses came: perlino, white, golden buckskin, bay . . . They all headed to the river, drank, flicked their ears, and pretended not to see me.

I was out of luck. I sat there and watched them drink, holding the stupid apple in my hand. Should I go up to them making cooing noises? Teddy Jo said not to move and to let them come to me. Well, they weren’t coming.

What else could I get? What could I do to get there fast enough? A car wouldn’t do it. I had saved an ifrit hound from ghoulism a few weeks ago. Maybe he could carry me away from Mishmar long enough for me to escape my father. No, that was a dumb idea. He wouldn’t be fast enough. My dad would catch us and then we’d both be killed.

A single horse peeled away from the herd. Dark brown and so glossy she didn’t look real, she stood about fifteen hands high. Her crest and croup darkened to near black, while her stomach was a rich chestnut. On the flanks, barely visible under the dark wings, the chestnut broke the dark brown in dapples. She looked at me. I looked at her. She walked three steps forward and swiped the apple from my palm.

“Hi,” I said.

The horse crunched the apple. That was probably as good a response as I was going to get.

I reached out and petted her neck. The mare nudged me with her nose.

“I don’t have more magic apples. But I do have some carrots and sugar cubes.” I reached into my backpack and held out a sugar cube. “Let me put a saddle on you and I’ll give you one.”

And I was talking to the magic winged horse as if she were a human being. That’s it. I had officially gone crazy.

I reached for the blanket. Her wings snapped open. The left wing took me right below the neck. It was like being hit with a two-by-four. I fell and scrambled to my feet in case she decided to stomp me.

The horse neighed and showed me her teeth.

“Are you laughing?”

She neighed again. Behind me the herd neighed back. Great. Now the horses were making fun of me.

I held out a sugar cube. She reached over and grabbed it off my hand. Crunching ensued.

I extracted the second sugar cube and held up the blanket. “Alright, Twinkle Pie or whatever your name is. I put the blanket on, you get more sugar. Your choice.”

SWOOPING DOWN TO the Keep’s main tower sounded like an awesome idea when I originally decided to do it. For one, it would let me avoid being seen, and Jim could meet me up there with my aunt’s bones, avoiding most of the Keep’s population. At least that’s how I explained it to Teddy Jo when I asked him to go ahead of me and tell Jim to meet me there.

In theory it all sounded good. In practice, the top of the Keep’s tower made for a very small and very difficult target. Especially from up here.

After the first fifteen minutes of flight I decided that I could stop clutching at Sugar every time she beat her wings, which signaled to her that it was time for aerial acrobatics. She threw herself into it with gusto, neighing with delight every time I screamed. I managed not to throw up, she managed not to kill me, and by the end of the thirty-minute test flight we had reached an understanding. I realized that she didn’t plan to murder me and she realized that I meant every word when I promised to drop the bag with sugar to the ground if she didn’t stop doing barrel rolls. Christopher watched it all from a safe distance. I heard him laughing a few times. I’d never live it down.

However, landing on the Keep’s tower presented a whole new challenge. We passed over the mile-wide stretch of clear ground around the Keep and circled the tower. Below me, Jim, Dali, Doolittle, and Teddy Jo were talking. I couldn’t see Jim’s face from all the way up here, but I recognized his pose well enough. It was his “what the hell is this bullshit?” pose.

Dali looked up, saw me, and waved, jumping up and down.

“Take it easy,” I said. “Let’s land right here . . . oh God!”

Sugar spread her wings and dropped into a swan dive. Wind whistled past my face.

“Sugar.” I put some steel into my voice. We were going to crash. We’d smash against the stone and there would be nothing left of us but a wet spot. “Sugar!”

Teddy Jo threw himself flat. Jim leapt at Dali, knocking her down to the floor. I caught a flash of Doolittle’s face as we whizzed by, Sugar’s wings clearing his head by about four inches. He was laughing.

“You’re a mean horse!”

Sugar neighed, beat her wings, and turned around.

“Control your horse!” Jim snarled.

“You control your horse.” Oh wow, now that was a clever comeback. He’d surely drop to his knees and bow before my intellectual brilliance.

Sugar touched down on the stone.

“A pegasi!” Dali pushed her glasses back on her face and reached out to Sugar.

Jim grabbed her and yanked her back. “What’s wrong with you?”

She pushed out of his arms and gently patted Sugar. The pegasi lowered her head.

“See? She can sense my magic.” Dali rubbed the mare’s neck. “You are so beautiful.”

“I don’t want to dismount,” I told them. “I don’t know if she’ll let me back on.”

Teddy Jo picked up two big sacks sitting next to Doolittle, slowly approached us, and handed them to me. I hooked them up to my saddle.

“Blood is in the left, bones are in the right,” Doolittle said. “The bones are vacuum packed. The blood has been chilled and is split into three different thermoses.”

“Thank you,” I told him.

Dali raised her arms. I bent down and hugged her.

“You can do it,” the white weretiger said. “You will kick ass.”

If only I had her confidence.

“Do you have your food and water?” Teddy Jo asked.

“Yes.” He’d already asked me that this morning.

“And your compass?”

“Yes.”

“And you brought the ski mask?”

“Yes. It’s not cold, though, even up above.”

“It’s not for the cold. The pegasi like to chase birds. Birds don’t like to be chased.”

“Okay.” Whatever that meant.

Jim picked up Doolittle, wheelchair and all, and raised him up. I hugged the Pack’s medmage.

“Good luck,” he told me.

“Thank you.” I would need every drop.

“Remember, try to bond with the pegasi.” Teddy Jo said. “Treat her as a friend, not a horse.”

“I would try to be friends with her but she’s too busy being a smartass.”

“Now you know how the rest of us feel,” Jim said. “Who the hell is that?”

I glanced in the direction he was pointing, where a man rode the air currents on blood-red wings. “That’s Christopher.”

“Who?” Jim looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

“Christopher. He remembered how to fly.”

Dali laughed.

Jim stared at me. I had to go before he suffered an apoplexy and the rest of the Pack, with Dali at the head, came after me. “Bye!”

Sugar galloped off the edge of the tower and then we were flying again, the remains of my aunt secure in my saddlebags.